A Welcome Bit of Madness

The 2016 NCAA Men's Division I basketball pairings (NCAA/CBS), fair use, photo by J. Berta.

Greetings All:

It's that time of year, the college basketball tournament.  Commonly referred to as "March Madness," it is arguably one of the major sporting events in America.  It started last Thursday and now the field, started at 64, is down to eight.  By Sunday night, it will be cut in half, with the "Final Four" selected to play for the National Championship.

I've never followed college basketball closely.  However, this year, Iowa gave us genuine hope that this could be "our" year.  Long story short- it wasn't.  Although we made the tournament and won our first game against a tough Temple team, we ran into a buzz saw in the form of the Villanova Wildcats in the second round.  It wasn't even close.

Still, the tournament has had its moments of fun, of excitement, living up to the "Madness" name.  Case in point:   Last Friday night, The University of Northern Iowa, UNI, won a game against a highly favored team with a miracle shot.  Paul Jesperson chucked the ball at the hoop from damn-near half court, hitting the glass and bouncing into the net as the backboard turned crimson.   

I have a video link below in the credits to this amazing shot.  Madness indeed.

After Sunday's loss I pretty much tuned out basketball.  Let others revel in the "madness," and to those lucky few who had picked the "right" teams to lose in the first rounds, my hat's off to you.

For those of you who might be wondering what I mean about picking the right teams, I'll elaborate.  One aspect of this tournament that is unique from other sporting events is the seeding of the teams.  The opening photo is how the 64 teams are ranked and how they winnow each other down to the eventual champion.  The best ranking is a #1 seed, the worst, #16.  In fact, there are a few teams who have to "play in" for the chance to get into the tournament.

As you might imagine, this generates the...opportunity for folks to try their luck/skill/wild guesses to figure out who might win it all.  It is estimated that over 40 million people have filled out one or more such brackets were filled out in 2015.  I've got a link to this story and others about this uniquely American sports phenomenon below in the credits, please check them out if you'd like.  

I did not fill out a bracket this year.  I had several opportunities and decided that this was a great opportunity to practice some selective "saying NO" to non-essential things.  I was glad I did, considering how some of the "favored teams" did not make it out of the first round.  Those poor souls had their "bracket busted."  More importantly, at least for me, I found myself not spending time wondering how my "bracket" was holding up and could do other things.

Still, on Monday I was a bit sad that Iowa was out of the tournament.  I had secret hopes that maybe, just maybe we could find a way to re-capture the lighting in a bottle we had in January.  Yet I knew the chances were slim.  Slim gave way to nil before the first half of the game on Sunday was done.

I was happy for my friends who still had a team in and would likely watch at least some of the remaining games with passing interest.  I suppose I was disappointed that I no longer had a reason to follow the tournament and that it was back to the normal, the mundane.  


Then Tuesday happened.

Most of us awoke to learn that another terror attack had befallen Europe, this time Brussels.  Once again, cowards chose to kill those with no chance of fighting back.  It was a shameful and senseless act.  I can live to be 100 and never begin to understand the rationale for such evil acts.

As of this writing, BBC News reports 31 civilians have been murdered with another 60 in critical condition.  Hundreds of others have also suffered injuries, both to the body, brain and soul.  

I saw this picture on Facebook and thought it was such a fitting, beautiful, silent tribute to the resolve of the Belgium people to stand together and stand up to the purveyors of mayhem and terror. 

The Brussels Main Train Station, lit up in the colors of the Belgium flag, March 23, 2016.  Photo credit to SNCB, (Belgium public transportation) Facebook, fair use claimed, full citation below.

I doubt there are many folks in Brussels who are following our little sporting event here.  I can't blame them.

As I mentioned, I was not going to fill out a bracket this year.  Then the opportunity came to enter a a friendly competition with a few friends for the remaining 16 teams.  I decided I could use the diversion, however momentary.  Here are my picks:

My "Sweet 16" bracket, 7 of 8, not too shabby.  Photo by J. Berta

There will still be many moments of hardwood drama to come in this year's basketball tournament.  There will be last-second heroics and heart-breaking missed shots.  To whatever school cuts down the nets and hoists the championship trophy, I offer my hearty congrats.  It is an accomplishment of note, perhaps even worthy in the annals of intercollegiate immortality.

Still, let us remember that for some, this week was not about bouncing balls but exploding bombs, of screams, not cheers.  For some, for many the diversion of sports, of any entertainment is simply not possible.  It may be a long time until they are able to enjoy such carefree fun.  For now, they are too busy looking over their shoulders and clutching tightly their child's hand.

When I think about the terror attacks of Tuesday against the backdrop of this tournament, I realize just what a charmed life I lead.  While I shudder at the images on the TV, I know this is many miles away.  I am able to pull my gaze to a bracket and indulge in a trivial endeavor, knowing that winning or losing is a meaningless result.  There is comfort in such action.  Filling out a bracket is normal, it's what we're supposed to do this time of year.  

In short, it's a welcome bit of madness.

Be well my friends,
Jeno

Sources:

http://www.sbnation.com/college-basketball/2016/3/19/11267450/northern-iowa-stuns-texas-with-halfcourt-game-winning-buzzer-beater

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/NCAA_Men's_Division_I_Basketball_Championship

http://www.forbes.com/sites/darrenheitner/2013/03/17/march-madness-employee-productivity-problem-is-overstated-yet-influences-corporate-change/#3faac000b2b8 

http://espn.go.com/chalk/story/_/id/12465741/estimated-70-million-brackets-9-million-bets-ncaa-tournament

http://www.theguardian.com/world/live/2016/mar/22/brussels-airport-explosions-live-updates

http://www.bbc.com/news/live/world-europe-35869266

https://www.facebook.com/SNCB/photos/a.844798168903527.1073741830.484217188294962/964964226886920/?type=3&theater
 

The Mirror of a Half-Century Ago

Senator Kennedy in Indianapolis, 1968.  Photo credit, Wikipedia, fair use claimed, full cite below.

Greetings All:

Last Friday night, things got rough in Chicago.  A certain candidate for a certain Federal office called off a campaign event.  It was probably for the best, as tensions had risen to an untenable level.  Even with the event cancelled, there was still violence.  Last Saturday night in Kansas City things were less violent.  However, whenever the police deploy pepper spray, it's a sign that things aren't exactly calm.

I watched some of Saturday night's rally with a mixture of profound disappointment and a sense of gallows' humor.  Here was an example of our democracy in action, or perhaps "acting out" is a more precise phrase.

This election year has gotten particularly vicious.  It makes me long for the days of Bill Clinton's sex life plastered all over The Star and other check-out line tabloids.  I have to shake my head at just how dysfunctional things are right now.  If Tuesday night's primary results (March 15th) are an indication of what the future holds, it's going to get worse before it gets better.

I don't watch a lot of TV, but last Saturday night I watched CNN's series on the 1960s.  This episode featured the year of my birth, 1968.  It reminded me that we Americans have a long (and certainly not proud) tradition of mixing violence with our politics.  Certainly not to the extent of certain third world nations where losing an election can be a death sentence.  

Still, go back a generation (wow, am I that old, I guess I am) to '68 and you'll see that Chicago was the setting for another violent clash.  It was the Democratic National Convention.  While there was tension, even physical altercations in in the hall, that was nothing compared to what was going on in the streets.  

There, police brawled with protesters and reporters.  I've got a link to the story below in the sources.  As the TV cameras rolled, Americans were engaged in the pitched street battles of 1920s Germany.  As arrests were made the chant of, "The whole world is watching!" mixed with the whine of police sirens and the burning stench of tear gas.  It was ugly.  

The Democratic Convention was the third act in that year's tragedy.  The previous act was two months before with the assassination of Senator Robert Kennedy.  The opening act was yet another killing, that of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  That crime occurred in April.

Robert Kennedy, then campaigning for president, was in Indianapolis.  It was there that he gave, at least to me, one of the greatest speeches of the 20th Century.  I have a link to it here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nGTW5Gq03KM

To me, this This thing I admire about Kennedy's speech that sad April night is that he viewed the crowd as fellow citizens, as peers.  Peers not in the sense of wealth or influence or power or privilege.  No, instead, peers in a more genuine form of measurement:  shared grief.  

He crystallized this when he quoted Aeschylus, a ancient Greek poet.  It is both hauntingly beautiful and heartbreaking:


"Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, until in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God."

As I look back on the sad and tragic events of '68, basically a half-century ago, I can't help but think it is a mirror of today's event.  A mirror, after all, gives an imperfect image of what one is viewing.  The reflection is close, yet not perfect.

We live in a time of strive, without question.  There is a LOT of anger out there and unfortunately, I do not see a cooling off period anytime soon.  Yet we're Americans.  We find a way to get through our times of struggle and come out on the other side better, stronger.

Perhaps things are not as bad now as we think they are.  Then again, perhaps we haven't learned a damn thing in the last half-century.  I like to believe the former.  In support thereof, I turn to Mr. Tim Ferriss and his praise of the Stoic philosopher, Seneca.

Ferriss is a fan of the Stoic movement and has just released an audio book, The Tao of Seneca.  I have in in my library and plan on listening to it soon.

One of the letters of Seneca Ferriss profiles is #13, "On Groundless Fears."  Here is a portion of the letter, right below the image of the man himself:

Inspired sculpture of Seneca, 17th Century, artist unknown, photo credit, Jean-Pol GRANDMONT, sharing authorized, obtained from Wikipedia, full citation listed in the credits.

"There are more things, Lucilius, likely to frighten us than there are to crush us; we suffer more often in imagination than in reality. I am not speaking with you in the Stoic strain but in my milder style. For it is our Stoic fashion to speak of all those things, which provoke cries and groans, as unimportant and beneath notice; but you and I must drop such great-sounding words, although, heaven knows, they are true enough.

What I advise you to do is, not to be unhappy before the crisis comes; since it may be that the dangers before which you paled as if they were threatening you, will never come upon you; they certainly have not yet come. Accordingly, some things torment us more than they ought; some torment us before they ought; and some torment us when they ought not to torment us at all. We are in the habit of exaggerating, or imagining, or anticipating, sorrow."

I wonder if people back in 1968 had the some concerns and fears we have today.  I'm guessing they did.  The parallels are too many to ignore:  A lengthy, unpopular war; political and racial unrest; economic uncertainty; and the list goes on.  Yet I choose to be an optimist and believe that we, as Americans, will get thru this current sad state of affairs.  We will do it not by focusing on the differences between us, but that which binds us close.  When Kennedy spoke to the crowd in Indy that April night, he did so not so much as a politician, but as a fellow mourner.  His own loss rendered unto him a legitimacy to cross racial and class divides.

Perhaps when my kids look back at this year, they will draw comparisons to their own time.  If they do, I hope it will be for the good things, and not the bad, they are experiencing.  I hope that is the case.  That would be a much more pleasant image to view than the one reflecting back at us now.

Be well my friends, 
Jeno

Sources:

(Opening photo) 
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_F._Kennedy's_speech_on_the_assassination_of_Martin_Luther_King,_Jr.#/media/File:RFK_speech_on_MLK.png 

http://www.bloomberg.com/politics/articles/2016-03-12/trump-calls-off-campaign-rally-in-chicago-after-large-protests

http://abcnews.go.com/Politics/trump-interrupted-times-kansas-city-rally-calls-protesters/story?id=37607094&nwltr=abcn_fb  

https://worldhistoryproject.org/1968/8/28/police-riot-at-the-democratic-national-convention

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_F._Kennedy's_speech_on_the_assassination_of_Martin_Luther_King,_Jr. 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aeschylus

http://fourhourworkweek.com/2016/01/22/the-tao-of-seneca/

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:0_S%C3%A9n%C3%A8que_-_Mus%C3%A9e_du_Prado_-_Cat._144_-_%282%29.JPG

http://www.lettersfromastoic.net/letter-13-on-groundless-fears/

http://fourhourworkweek.com/2009/04/24/on-the-shortness-of-life-an-introduction-to-seneca/



 

Death & Taxes

My friend Dave's golf ball his family graciously shared with me.  Photo by J. Berta.

Greetings All:

Early March is known for several things, at least to me.  One is the arrival of spring, or at least the end of winter.  Today the temperature flirted with 70 degrees and it was truly wonderful.  Another is the college basketball tournaments.  As an Iowa Hawkeye fan, my hopes for this year are clearly limited.  Still, whether they win one game or a bunch, I'll be cheering for them.

Then there is tax day.  Ah, taxes.  There is perhaps no other word that can inspire feelings of negative emotion than taxes.  Since the first time copper coins were collected, taxes is a subject chalk full of emotion.  This year, we get a three-day reprieve.  It is not the normal April 15th.  Instead, it is April 18th.

Even with the extra three days, we're behind schedule.  I just dropped in the mail some docs to our CPA in Jersey and there is more to come.  Every year, I pledge to be more organized.  Every year, I fail miserably.

There is the old saying, "The only two inevitable things in life are death and taxes."  I think there is some (a lot) of truth to that.  More on that in a moment.

I think it is worth  a brief tip of the hat to the role opposition to taxes played in the founding of our nation.  Our Founders were not opposed to taxes, just not having a say in how those funds were spent.

Most of us have heard the cry, "Taxation without representation!"  Otis was an early leader in the colonial opposition to taxation of the colonies without a voice in Parliament.  This movement became known as the, "No taxation without representation," cry.  One of the early leaders of this movement was James Otis, Jr.  Here's a photo of his statue.

From Wikipedia, "Bronze sculpture of James Otis, Jr stands in front of the Barnstable County Courthouse." Public domain and fair use claimed, full citation below in the credits. 

I saw a cartoon where death (an image of a skeleton wearing a black hooded robe and carrying scythe) and an IRS agent are waiting outside a hospital room.  The IRS agent says to death, "Mind if I go first?"

That leads me into the other subject of this post, death.

I received a text early Saturday morning from a dear friend about the passing of a mutual friend of ours.  He died tragically and far too soon.  I was so struck with the fitting and genuine tribute my friend paid.  Although I had not seen the Departed for over decade, it stung to know he had died on the wrong side of 50.  Still, my grief is nothing compared to my friend.  I shudder at thinking how I would react if I had been the one sending the text.

On Sunday, we learned of the passing of Nancy Reagan.   Mrs. Reagan, like almost all public figures, had her fans and her critics.  I wish to highlight a few things about her I did not know.  For example, I did not know that in 2002 she was awarded The Presidential Medal of Freedom for her work with our POW & Veterans' community, her efforts on behalf of foster grandparents and her anti-drug use campaign.  This award is the highest civilian award our government presents to civilians.  

While this is impressive, I also wanted to share a more human side of her.   Alex Hitz wrote for Town and Country yesterday.  Here are his thoughts:

"That was the Nancy I knew—she loved politics, she loved to gab on the telephone, she stayed current on gossip, and let's face it, did not suffer fools gladly. Then again, why should she?"

Why should she, indeed?

I remember seeing President Reagan's funeral.  I recall the way that Mrs. Reagan, normally an entirely private person shared her grief, that profound, genuine grief, with all of us, the day of her husband's burial.  It was both beautiful and painful to watch.

Mrs. Reagan's final farewell to her husband.  Public domain, full citation posted in the credits.

I am glad this photo is in the public domain so I can share it.  I believe it sums up love at its purest form.  It shows that no matter how "great" or powerful one person may become, at the end of their days, they pass on, like the rest of us.

That brings me back to the opening photo.  Two weeks ago, I attended a wake for an attorney I liked and respected.  As mentioned above, he was taken too soon.  At the funeral home, the family had placed a box of golf balls.  Tacked to the box was a message urging those of us who golf (or in my case, own clubs) to take a ball if we ever shared a round of golf with the departed.  Although it had been a couple of decades since I had done so, I gratefully took this ball.   The opening photo is that golf ball.  I will display it in a place of honor in my home office.  Some might say it is total coincidence that a golf ball balances perfectly on a beer bottle.  Others might say it was by design.  I suppose we will never know.

Here's what I do know.  Life is short, so life accordingly.  Have fun, but give back.  Take time to smell the roses, yet realize your roses will take some time to grow, to bloom, to give back.  In other words, love large, yet get up and go to work in the morning.

Yes, there are two constants in life- death and taxes.  While we live, we pay taxes.  When we die, we stop.  I am trying to find a cleaver way to conclude this post and have nothing.  Perhaps it is enough to say that it is better to be alive and have to pay taxes than to be dead and not.  And to that end, I'll get back to uploading docs to my CPA.

Be well my friends,
Jeno

Sources:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/No_taxation_without_representation

http://www.bustle.com/articles/146189-9-things-you-didnt-know-about-nancy-reagan-whose-accomplishments-were-more-than-just-say-no

http://www.townandcountrymag.com/society/politics/news/a5296/nancy-reagan-remembered/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nancy_Reagan#/media/File:Nancy_Reagan_says_final_goodbyes_to_RR_June_11,_2004.jpg

"That's Pride F..."

 

The movie poster from Pulp Fiction, Wikipedia, fair use claimed, full cite below in the credits.

Greetings All: 

It is the end of February.  Four weeks ago, my family and I gathered for our precinct caucus.  On that day, there were a bunch of folks running for president.  Now, the field has winnowed to two on the Democratic side and five on the Republican.  Yet one name has dominated the political landscape:  Donald J. Trump.

I will endeavor to never mention his name again in this blog.  (I'll salute him in uniform, should he win, but that's a tale for another time.)  Yet I must give credit where credit is due, he's winning.  

There are many theories as to why he has stormed the cockpit of the Republican's party Airbus.  Some believe he's going to crash it into the ground.  Others are convinced he's going to pull off a flawless landing onto the tarmac that is the "Morning in America" Ronald Reagan promised us.  Either way, we're in for one hell of an election year.

I'll just call it now to say that absent Rubio winning Florida two weeks from tomorrow, it's over.  In Cleveland, Trump gets the endorsement.  I understand the presumptive nominee does not drink.  That's OK, most of the establishment will be.

So how did this happen?  There are many schools of thought.  One being that the public was so outraged by conventional politics that the rise of any outsider was a foregone conclusion.  Another, as The Washington Post comments on below, is that supporters of this candidate embrace "authoritarianism."  Then there is the nicely written yet devoid of real facts article of Ross Douthat (a weekly columnist of The New York Times whom I truly enjoy reading) that the Republican front-runner (see, not mentioning his name) is due is some twisted part to President Obama being such a liberal rock star.  Nope, not seeing that one.  

What I do see and acknowledge is that this man has tapped into something.  For all his outrageous and disrespectful comments, for his previous unabashed support for liberal causes and candidates, for his temerity (if you're an establishment Republican) for attacking George W. Bush over 9/11, he is stoking a certain fire.  A fire that continues to burn hot and bright.

So what might that fire be?  Let's talk about it.  One answer could be economics.  I have a link to a Fortune article from a few days ago that sums up the issue with this opening line:  "Mississippi’s vast flatlands, laced with the remains of a fading industrial base, are fertile ground for the incendiary populism of Donald Trump."  The entire article is linked below, as are Mr. Douthat's and The Washington Post one I cited above earlier in this blog.  I encourage you to read all of them.  They all help educate the rise that is you-know-who.

So here's my explanation for why this guy is doing so well.  Please allow me to set the stage.

It's 1994 and it's the Twin Cities.  I was in my third year of law school and my friends had been telling me, "You gotta go see Pulp Fiction!"  This movie is about a gangster, a couple of hit men, an almost washed-up boxer, the gangster's wife, drug dealers and other assorted characters.  Think of it as Seinfield with heroin and multiple gun shots.

When I saw the movie, the theater was full.  There is a scene where the washed up boxer and the gangster comes to blows.  The boxer was supposed to throw a fight and in counseling the boxer to do so, the gangster says, "F... pride."  Later, as the boxer is beating the gangster, he mocks him by saying, "Feel, that?  That's pride f___in' with you."  I have a movie link to that scene, via YouTube, below in the credits.

Fast forward a few minutes into the film.  The gangster and boxer find themselves in a truly bad spot.  It is so bad that the gangster is being subjected to a most brutal, violent and humiliating crime.  The boxer is able to escape and as he is about to flee the scene, he hears the...crime still unfolding downstairs in the basement.  In a moment of truth, he realizes he cannot let this stand.  He chooses to fight back.

He's able to find a weapon and saves the gangster from a truly horrific set of circumstances.  As this is unfolding, my fellow movie attendees and I were expressing our profound approval of how the scene ended.  It was as if justice was served. 

I think the rise of this certain candidate is both a combination of people's need to have their pride restored (however they define it) and their desire to have someone do it for them.  They see this guy as their hero.

As for me, I see the irony in this candidate's rise is that you cannot have both. You cannot have the desire/need for national pride while at the same time dividing the very people whose collective strength and energies and resources you need do the things to achieve the accomplishments that make national pride a reality.

The guy at the top of certain polls is a master of dividing people.  Either you are with him or you're a loser.  Either you're with making America great again or you're part of the problem.  Us-v-them, sadly, we've seen this before.

And back in that movie theater in Minnesota, a diverse audience came together (robustly, I might add) in our approval of not the victory of pride, but justice over a certain set of circumstances.  Justice in two enemies joined together in a common cause of a heinous scene that had to be stopped.  And it was,...compliments of a Samurai sword.

So I say to the voters still eligible to cast a primary vote, ask yourself this question:  Are you more concerns with pride or justice?  If it's pride, then you've got your candidate.  If it is the other choice, I have far from certain you'll be pleased with the outcome.

After all, this is about an election, not a reality TV show or a movie.


Be well my friends,
Jeno

Sources:

Opening blog photo:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Pulp_Fiction_cover.jpg

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/authoritarians-agree-trump-for-president/2016/01/19/407f58ec-bef0-11e5-bcda-62a36b394160_story.html

http://www.nytimes.com/2016/02/28/opinion/sunday/from-obama-to-trump.html?partner=rssnyt&emc=rss&_r=0

http://fortune.com/2016/02/24/donald-trump-south-voters/ 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pulp_Fiction

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a1f2kjXiGpw 

"Through Sheer Force of Will"

The Funeral Mass of Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia,  held on February 20, 2016.  Photo by Zach Gibson, The New York Times, fair use claimed, full citation posted below in the sources.

Greetings All:

"The cemetery is full of irreplaceable people."  Charles de Gaulle 

Today, de Gaulle's statement was perhaps never more true.  Whether one admired or strongly disliked Senior Associate Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia, there is no denying that he was one of a kind.  

He entered the Supreme Court as in a minority of one in his "originalist" view of the Constitution.  Yet that changed over time.  I put the title to this blog post in quotes because it comes from today's New York Times article.  I have a link to it below in the credits and it is worth a read.   The authors are Peter Baker and Gardiner Harris.  (Thank you both for this excellent news article.)


As I read this line, it struck something in me, "Through sheer force of will."  Justice Scalia believed what he believed.  From what I hear, he was not someone to be taken lightly in oral argument.  While Justice Thomas is well known for not asking questions, Justice Scalia was the opposite.  He relished oral argument.  It was as if he was a guest at a wedding who walked down the aisle just before the bride.  OK, that might be a bit much, but it is true that he loved the Supreme Court and being a part of it...a HUGE part of it.

It is worth noting that President Bush (43) appointed John Roberts to be Chief Justice.  It was a brilliant political move, ensuring for at least several decades (barring health concerns) he would be on the Court.  (We are talking lifetime appointments, after all.)  I thought that Justice Scalia deserved the gig.  After all, if a Republican President is appointing not just a Justice, but the Chief Justice, it should have been Justice Scalia.  Yet the practicalities of politics got in the way.  Such is life.

In retrospect, it likely did not matter.  Justice Scalia had, by that point, achieved a degree of celebrity that transcended any additional status offered by the title of Chief Justice.  If anything, it might have diluted his "brand" as the original "originalist."  Besides, there would have been more paperwork with the other job.

There is no doubt, Justice Scalia changed the Supreme Court.  His opinions were biting, angry, caustic, full of great writing and at times, historic.  The Heller decision is perhaps his most famous work.  I have a link to the case, (Wikipedia, with links to links) in the credits below.  However, I also find his dissents to be meaningful, perhaps more so, to who this man was who sat on the bench for three decades.

I sum him up this way:  He did not care what people thought of him, at least for his professional life.  Yet on personal levels, he did care, and greatly so, about those around him.  His friendship with Ruth Bader Ginsberg is significant not just because of its genuineness, but because it was so real despite of their remarkably different judicial philosophies.

Justice Scalia has passed on.  I a convinced he is in Heaven and has been embroiled in discussions and debates with the Founders about the issues he so championed while on Earth.  I understand there are those of you who were not a fan of his.  That' fine, it's your right as a citizen.  Yet Justice Scalia is due our respect for how seriously he took his job and advocated for his position.  We can all, in our own ways and lives, be like him.  You don't need a robe, just the belief you are right.  (Now, I'd suggest being damn sure you know the why behind you think you are right, if only for your own purposes, but that's just me.)  Who knows, whatever your issue, your cause, your passion, you might just convince others, perhaps only a few, more more than one is enough, to come over to your side.  

If that occurs, then by through your own force of will, you can influence events that matters to you.  If so, then you can inspire others to carry forth your vision.  By doing so, you will have disproved de Galle, that the cemetery is not full of irreplaceable people.  Instead, they are still walking the Earth, thanks to you.

As I looked at the photos of Justice Scalia's funeral, I saw many people who were similarly motivated by him to carry forth his vision.  And only in America can we share something in common with a Supreme Court Justice in influencing others.  

That's a force of will I like to think the Framers would gladly applaud.


Be well my friends,
Jeno

Sources:

The New York Times article link, including photo credit to Zach Gibson, http://nyti.ms/1oA8oHv

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/District_of_Columbia_v._Heller

The Smouldering Cigarette and the Whiff of Wisdom

The iconic sign for "Mac's Tavern" in downtown Davenport, from the Travel Iowa post on Facebook, April 18, 2015, fair use/public domain claimed.

Greetings All:

About a quarter-century ago, I had the best summer job an aspiring attorney could have, a law clerk ("prosecuting intern" was my official title) for the Scott County (Iowa) Attorney's Office.  I made $7.00 an hour and all the coffee I could drink.  Also, without question, the best part of the job was getting in court.  Although it was low level criminal misdemeanor stuff, it was still court.  It was terrific.  Bill Davis was the County Attorney and he went out of his way to help us feel welcome.  I was so giddy to have this gig that I got my shirts starched and wore suspenders.  Bill told me, gently at first, to stop dressing better than the attorneys.  I thought he was kidding until he told me a second time. 

I also learned a lot about how the real world worked, at least as far as the legal system was concerned.  For instance, although a clerk may not have a position of prestige, make no mistake, they had power.  Woe be unto the attorney who crossed them.  They could easily humble the most hubris-filled barrister.  

One of the places where my informal education took place was "Mac's Tavern."  I nick-named it, "The Fourth Floor of the Courthouse."  It was a place where the judges would gather for lunch.  Mac's would bring in lunch to juries.  On any given day, lawyers, off-duty law enforcement and others connected with the judicial system would gather.  Mac's had the best meatloaf in town.  Back then, Bill Collins (now the proprietor of "Me and Billy's") was holding court and treated everyone as a dear friend.  And they were.

I learned a LOT about how the judicial system worked by hanging out at Mac's.  I may have graduated somewhere between the basement and the wine cellar of my law school class, but I was the damn valedictorian of informal education that summer.  God, how I loved that summer.  It took another 16 years until I had another summer as memorable as that one.

There is one memory that sticks out of that summer and of Mac's Tavern.  It was a Friday afternoon, probably around 5:00 and I was there, at Mac's.  Sitting at the bar was an attorney named Richard "Dick" Larson.  Dick was a well-loved and respected attorney.  He'd faced his own share of adversity and before I knew what resilience was, he personified it.

On this Friday, he and I had a conversation.  He was sitting at the bar, sipping Scotch and smoking cigarettes.  Although his face was lined as one of his age might be, his eyes sparkled, taking it ALL in.  For some reason, he struck up a conversation with me.

I recall it went something like this:

Dick:  "So, you're working for Bill this summer?"

Me:  "Yup."

Dick:  "You likin' it?"

Me:  "Absolutely!  The hardest part of the job is getting up in the morning."

Dick:  (pausing)  "So, you want to be a lawyer?"

Me:  (a bit surprised and pausing to think what to say)  "Well, yeah.  It's what I've wanted to do for a long time."

At that point, he stared at me.  Not the "death-stare-through-your-soul" type of stare.  Instead, it was the stare I could not appreciate at 22 or 23 (or even 32 or 33).  It was one of perspective.  It was one of someone who had seen much and remembered most of it.  

All this while, there was the smouldering cigarette in his hand.  (This was back in the day when smoking in bars was both common and accepted.)  He took a drag of his cigarette.  The smoke, in parallel paths, exited out his nose.  He didn't smile yet he didn't scowl.  It was as if he knew what he wanted to say, yet was debating the best discourse to offer.  Then, like a jury with a verdict, he offered this advice, this whiff of wisdom.

"Kid," he said, decreed actually,  "Your job may be being a lawyer.  But your business is keeping secrets."  

That was it.  He bought me a beer, wished me well on my career and someone else circled into his sphere and our conversation was over.  It was brief but it was enough.  

I have been thinking about that conversation lately.  I wonder if it is because I am doing more law work or if it is because I have a jury trial starting Monday.  I wonder if it is because even when I get my hair cut was a "1" on the sides, there is still gray, faint yes, but still there.  I wonder if it is because we live in a world where there is no true privacy, where our wants are tracked on Facebook with an eerie speed and accuracy.  I wonder about this and other things.  All I know for certain is that the older I get, the more true Mr. Larson's words echo in my memory...and my mind.

Epilouge

A few years after that encounter, Dick passed away.  His memorial service was a celebration of his life.  Yet there was a true heaviness at the funeral home, where the true weight of his passing was felt by all.  After the service, a number of us headed to Mac's.  My friend Rita mused when we got there, "You don't take death home."  These were wise words indeed.  Of course, one does not have to go to a bar.  A church community room or other sober environment works just as well, if not the only appropriate venue, depending on whom the mourners are.  For us, however, Mac's was the perfect place to go for a final toast to our friend Dick.

Dick, as an attorney of many years, must have had many secrets indeed.  By all accounts, he not only attended to his job but his business.  Now, he was free of that burden.  I only hope I can be as good a steward of my business as he was.

This was perhaps the most important lesson learned, case heard during that summer and at that special place, the fourth floor of the courthouse.  I'm grateful I had that opportunity to have that whiff of wisdom, even if it was wrapped in the smoke of a smouldering cigarette.
  
Be well my friends,
Jeno

The Game of Friends

Keeping score in Euchre the traditional way.  Photo by J. Berta

Greetings All:

A Friday night in February, in Iowa, winter's grip is strong.  We're inside.  What to do?  How about playin' some cards?  Sounds good to me.  What game?  Why Euchre of course.

For some of you, this game may (and hopefully will) trigger fun memories.  For others, you're scratching your heads.  "Euchre, what the heck is that?"  Only the best card game ever.  Read on, gentle readers, I'll explain.

But first, let's set the stage for last night.  After an absolutely moderately above average meal of Mongolian BBQ, Dawn and I got together with a couple of great friends to hang out in their basement and play this wonderful game.  On Direct TV was the 80s-New Wave station and it was the perfect background sounds.  (New Order, English Beat, Public Image Limited (yes, that is the song, "Rise" you are thinking of but could not remember, you're welcome) and others floated in the air.

Meanwhile, on a green felt table, cards were sliding, tricks were taken, points were made and great fun was being had.  There was no place I would have wanted to be at that time for those few, wonderful hours.  

Some of you reading this are nodding your head in approval.  "Euchre with friends on a winter night, super idea!"  Others of you are saying, "OK, I get it, some kind of card game.  But what kind of card game?  I never heard of it."

I've got some links to the game below for those of you who are so inclined to read up on it.  However, for those of you who are fine with a quick overview of the game, here goes:

Euchre is a "trump" card game.  You play with a partner and 24 cards are utilized.  Someone deals and after everyone has five cards, the dealer turns up one of the remaining four.  That is your prospective trump card.  If hearts is turned up, hearts is in line to be trump.  Unlike other games, the ace is not the highest card.  It is the jack of whatever suit is trump.  So, in our example, the jack of hearts is the "right bower."  It's the highest card in the game.  Next is the jack of the same color suit.  Thus, if hearts is trump, the jack of diamonds is the "left bower."  You and your partner need to win three of the five hands to earn a point.  If you get all five hands (called "tricks") you get two points.  However, if you call trump and only get two "tricks," look out, you just got "set" and the other team gets two points.

Then there is that magical moment when someone has enough trump in hand to "go it alone."  If you are so fortunate to be that person and get all five tricks, you have just earned four points.  It does not happen often, but when it does, it's a LOT of fun.  All your partner does is collect your tricks.  

You can play to any number but traditionally, winning is at 15 points.  You can keep score on paper or use the traditional way of the 7 and 8 to keep track.  To me, it just adds to the quaintness of the game.

Here's a bit of information about the current state of affairs with Euchre in America, from our friends at Wikipedia:

"The game has declined in popularity since the 19th century, when it was widely regarded as the national card game, but it retains a strong following in some regions like the Midwest; especially the states of Indiana, Iowa, Illinois, Ohio, Michigan, and Wisconsin^{[citation needed]}."

As to the call for "citation needed" I'll respectfully disagree.  All one has to do is walk into a VFW, bar, church hall, or basement on a weekend afternoon or evening in these states and I'll bet you'll find a game in progress...or three other folks more than eager to play.

It's true Euchre's popularity has faded.  At it's height, it was likely a national game and even was memorialized in song.  Please see below:

From the Library of Congress, a song about (I presume) Euchre, fair use claimed, full cite below.

Such is life, things change.  Who knows, perhaps in a few generations, Euchre will be a distant memory, resigned to nursing homes and senior centers.  I hope not, but if it is, I'll be be one of the old guys yelling, "What's trump again?"

Although as mentioned above, it's still got a strong following here in "flyover country."  Here's an advertisement for a Euchre Tournament at "Governor's" in Bettendorf.  (A place that has one of the BEST tenderloin sandwiches around, I might add!)

"Governor's" Eurche Tourney ad, sorry about the sun glare.  Photo by J. Berta

 Euchre is not a terribly mentally taxing game. You can carry on a conversation, listen to music (watching sports might be pushing it) and not worry about making a costly error.  Even if you do, no one really cares.  It is a fun game.

However, there is also a sense of friendly competition.  As we were playing last night, all our games were pretty tight.  Some hands were won by smart play and others by luck.  Either way, it was a super time.

It was a tight game indeed!  Photo by J. Berta

At one point in the evening, our friend commented about how he learned this game from his Father-In-Law.  I could tell by the sincerity in his voice that those were good times indeed.  On the walls of the basement were photos of that man.  Maybe it was just me, but I sensed the smile in the picture grew just a bit sharper as I looked at them, as if he was watching with approval of all of us having fun and playing a game he dearly loved.

As I type this, I think about my own family connection with this game.  My Dad is from Hungary and did not play this game until he came to this country.  I remember how he and my Grandpa Mike would play cards for hours, this game.  They would sit in the small living room in Ottumwa, Iowa, at an old coffee table.  On that table were vintage metal cups that were filled with "highballs."  I didn't understand it, but I knew it was something special.  

They had some version of single-player Euchre.  I'd like to learn it, I suppose, yet the desire was never strong enough to actually figure out how.  Perhaps I am more motivated by keeping the memory undisturbed of the two of them playing.  It's like, at least for me, a photograph of nostalgia hanging on the wall of my mind.    

Chess has been called the game of kings.  Bridge can have (unfairly or otherwise) a snooty association.  Poker is a game that has made some wealthy and many, many more poor.  Other games involve physical exertion and lots of equipment.  However, Euchre is unique.  Sure, there's an objective and points are kept.  Someone wins and someone loses.  But not really.  No one (at no one I hang out with) will say, "Hey, remember how we took three tricks without any of the bowers?"  Nope, not a chance.  Yet what is remembered is the good time that is had.

That is why I think of Euchre as, "The Game of Friends."  I'm a fortunate person indeed to have gotten to spent last night and any night, for that matter, playing this most special game.

Be well my friends,
Jeno

Sources:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Euchre

https://groups.yahoo.com/neo/groups/EuchreScience/conversations/topics/6254 

http://www.amazon.com/Columbus-Book-Euchre-Second-Edition/dp/0960489460

https://www.loc.gov/resource/ihas.100003373.0?st=gallery