Defending the Worst Amongst Us

Greetings All:

I have been away from the blog for about a month, regrets on that.  Part of the reason is for work-related travel and also from being engaged in other endeavors.  I try to put out posts that are of interest to me and I hope those reading it will find the same way, at least to some degree.  I hope that I keep a balance between the serious and the not-so-serious.  Here is one that is of the more serious version.

I recently read the obituary about Jacques Vergès who died on August 15th.  I had never heard of the guy but the headline of the obituary in The New York Times caught my attention.  Here's a photo of the man decked out in his formal court attire, puffing on a cigar.  He has the, "I don't give a f--k what you think of me" expression on his face.  Having read his bio, I think this photo captures the man about as perfectly as possible.

(Photo credit above, fair use claimed- http://image.dnevnik.hr/media/images/644x322/Aug2013/60841958-afp-dzavolji-odvjetnik-odvjetnik-francuz-jacques-verges-verges.jpg)

So who was Jacques Vergès?  He was a French attorney who made a name for himself defending the worst of the worst.  Born in 1922, he came of age during World War II.  He was spared by circumstance from living under Nazi prosecution due to living on one of France's colonial possessions.  He headed to London to fight with de Gaulle’s Free French forces.  After the war, he became a lawyer and a pretty good one at that.  He cut his teeth defending Algerian terrorists, attacking France's colonial policies as much as the evidence against his client.  From there, he moved up from minor league ball to the "Major Leagues" of defending the worst of the worst. As his resume showed, he defended some of the worst out there.  From Klaus Barbie to Pol Pot, (oh, and for good measure, also Carlos the Jackal.)  It was as if he had a file cabinet full of clients who would be on the same dorm floor in Hell.

So why do it?

I'll give you that the attention had something to do with it.  I'm pretty sure the attention had something to do with it.  This was a guy who seemed to relish it.  

I think it is fair to say that he also had a non-selfish motive.  He thought that the "system" was wrong and he wanted to hold them accountable for it.  He had to know his client's cause was hopeless and yet by putting the system on trial, he was able to play prosecutor in the court of public opinion.  It did not help his clients much at sentencing but it sure made for great press.  The photo below is of  Vergès outside the trial of Klaus Barbie.  Here's how "Jake" put it during the Barbie case, speaking to The New York Times: 

“I practice the ‘defense de la rupture," (an attack on the system of justice as a whole) “My law is to be against all laws. My morality is to be against all morality.”

(Above photo source, fair use claimed- http://i.huffpost.com/gen/1302299/thumbs/r-JACQUES-VERGES-large570.jpg?6)
 
So here we have a very talented and not at all shy attorney thumbing his nose at the system.  And then there is the bit about defending those who perpetrated evil on a grand scale.  Barbie engaged in acts of barbaric cruelty and cool bureaucratic deportation to death of thousands, including children.  Surely, this man deserved no trial.  In fact, he was tried in absentia  by the French after the war.  The reason for him being absent from his trial was that he was out of the country, Bolivia, to be precise.  Humm, wanted war criminal somehow dodges justice and gets halfway around the world?  Wonder how that happened?

Surprise, surprise, old Klaus had help of folks who were willing to overlook his transgressions (also known as brutal crimes) on the grounds of ideology.  After all, there was a new game in town- The Cold War.  You probably heard that there were anti-communist/anti-Soviet individuals who helped Nazi war criminals get out of dodge.  You may be surprised to hear that our government was in on the act.

Yup, we helped some of the worst of the worst get away.  Although I am leery of what I find online, I discovered this report:  Here's the link: http://www.paperlessarchives.com/barbie.html

"In 1983, a 240-page report of the results of a Department of Justice investigation, titled, "Klaus Barbie and the United States Government: A Report to the Assistant Attorney General, Criminal Division," was released. This was the U.S. government's first examination of the role that the Counter Intelligence Corps played in postwar Europe. While Allan A. Ryan, director of the Justice Department's Office of Special Investigations (OSI) and the author of the report, focused primarily on the Army's relationship with Barbie, he also uncovered the extent of the CIC's rat line and its dealings with Father Dragonovic. The Barbie Report and the declassified documents in the Appendix provide a valuable account of CIC's activities in Germany and Austria.

The report on Klaus Barbie found that U.S. Army Counter-Intelligence Corps officers had employed him, protected him from extradition to France where he was wanted for war crimes, and organized his escape to South America. The report commented that often there is a need for information that necessitates dealing with criminals, former enemies, and other undesirable persons. Lacking an intelligence network targeted against its former ally, the Soviet Union, U.S. intelligence units turned to European anti-Communist resources to fill information gaps. These resources included former German and East European intelligence operatives and East European emigre political groups. Among them were Nazis (including Gestapo and SS members) and members of East European Fascist organizations. They were considered invaluable as informants." 

I found the link to the DOJ report and here is that link:

http://www.justice.gov/criminal/hrsp/archives/1983/08-02-83barbie-rpt.pdf

This report does not directly tie into Vergès' defense of Barbie at trial.  Oh sure, we (the United States) fell into the whole Imperialist camp, but Barbie's defense was more grand, more globally accusing.  It is without merit as far as I am concerned and am glad that Barbie spent his last days dying in a prison hospital.  Still, it is guys like Vergès who keep the system honest.  It is these "trouble-makers" who spare some of their limelight to shine a light on the imperfections of our system.  If we take the time to truly study history, maybe, just maybe we can learn from our mistakes and get better ourselves.  It does not mean we cannot punish the guilty (sorry, Jake, your guy's going to prison), we can.  But perhaps we can skip some of the self-congratulatory comments and go back to reading the other DOJ reports like the Barbie one.  Sadly, there are more than one.

The obituary in The Times is worth reading for this was truly a one-of-a-kind guy.  Here is the link:  http://www.nytimes.com/2013/08/17/world/europe/jacques-verges-88-defender-of-war-criminals-and-terrorists.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0I cannot condone his practices or choice of clients.  Then again, providing the worst amongst us their day in court is a principle that we value.  That principle only has practical application when there is a strong advocate to make the case.  Whatever I think of Jacques Vergès, he was that advocate,...even through a haze of cigar smoke.

Be well my friends,
Jeno

Adieu Bug d'éclairage

Greetings All:

This will be a short post but I am inspired to put this out before I adjourn to the deck for the remainder of the evening.  Alas, the lighting bugs or the Bug d'éclairage (don't I just sound so much smarter than my college G.P.A. when I write in French?) will not be joining us.  They, for the season, are retired.

It always is a bit melancholy to see them leave.  It is as if the balloon of internal summer is popped.  A forewarning that the warmth and long, lingering sun will leave us.  Way off in the distance, winter rolls over in his sleep.  While he still slumbers, awake he will.  Such is life.

Summer is a strange season in many ways.  It is perilously short, yet it lasts forever.  I remember the Beach Boys had an album (um, that's a pre-digital recording for you younger readers) entitled, Endless Summer. Who knows, in some ways, perhaps it was.

If you grew up in the Midwest, you likely caught lighting bugs.  You begged mom for a Cool Whip container or a small shoe box to keep them in.  You gently placed your captured bugs there, resting them on grass and weeds harvested from the yard.  In the morning, you let them go and were puzzled why they would neither fly nor light.  Alas, it was not the right time.  The sun was too high, the day too new.

As I look back on those days, I do so with gratitude.  I am grateful for those warm summer nights, of my Dad sitting on the front stoop, a Dutch Masters' cigar burning faithfully in his hand.  I recall when there was a final arbitrator of when it was time to come in, the street light.  But if there were lighting bugs, you might be able to stay in the yard and catch a few.  They were as pretty as harmless.  They were the Able to the Cain of the mosquito.  Then, they were gone.  About the time they left the yard there was the dread of whispers of "Back to School" sales.  Alas, summer was fading.  For all its warmth and fun, it was powerless against the merciless march of the calendar and its battalions of days moving closer to September.  If you were a kid, sad tidings indeed.

Those days are gone and in the final analysis, that is a good thing.  Think about it:  Without the march of time, without the loss of past summers, we are not able to have the falls that follow and the growth of our lives.  I wrote last week about seeing Les Miz and how awesomely wonderful that show was.  Had not those lightning bugs of my past left and time moved forward, I would not have had all those future memories.  You cannot have a future without letting go of the past.  In other words, weep not for the empty shoe box.  It's time has come and gone. 

So it's off to the deck (and maybe a slightly better cigar than what my Pop puffed on those years ago) to enjoy the evening.  Who knows, maybe up on the hill, just barely visible, I might see one final lightning bug.  Then again, if I close my eyes, I can see all of them just fine.  That's good enough for me on this warm summer Saturday night.

Be well my friends.
Jeno

Hitler Proved Wrong, Four Times Over

Greetings All:

The above photo is of the legendary American sprinter, Jesse Owens, in Berlin at the 1936 Olympics.  Despite Hitler's wild boasts of the supremacy of "Aryan" genetics.  He was sure that his "Master race" would walk away with a huge share of the medals.  As the photo above shows, it did not work out that way.  (Photo credit, Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Germany license, specific attribution: Bundesarchive, Bild 183-G00630/CC-BY-SA.)

Hitler refused to shake Owens' hand (so much for that sportsmanship bit and being a good host).  It is worth noting that Owens received some friendly advice from a German athlete, Luz Long.  That advice might very well have lifted Owens to one of his four medals.  One of his competitors in that event- Luz Long. 

Owens accomplishments were more than a display of athletic ability.  They were a renunciation of the twisted logic and junk science of the Nazis.  On the track, propaganda goes out the window, it's pure ability.  Oh, and there were no syringes to have to get rid of. 

It is good to celebrate the amazing achievements of Jesse Owens.  He was a class act.  As we look back on these Olympics held 77 years ago this week, we can all take pride in how Owens proved how wrong Hitler was.  Master race, huh?  Well, judging by the photo above, Looks like the bronze for you, superman.

...then there was what happened when Owens got home.  From having to ride the service elevator at the Waldorf-Astoria to get to his own reception to FDR's silence in congratulating him, prejudice was alive and well in the United States.  Owens summed up the situation when he said, Hitler didn't snub me – it was FDR who snubbed me. The president didn't even send me a telegram."

Owens was eventually given the status his accomplishments warranted, including being awarded the Congressional Gold Medal in 1990.  Too bad it came a decade after he died.

Thanks Mr. Owens for what you did for us in Berlin.  Thanks also for your legacy and reminding us what the thrill of victory is all about.  It would have been nice if everyone would have been so willing to celebrate it then as they are now.
 
Here are a couple of links to this story:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jesse_Owens

http://www.jesseowens.com/

Be well my friends, enjoy the weekend and get outside!

Best,
Jeno

Portrait of an Artist

Greetings All:

The photo below is of a painting I had commissioned (wow, that sounds pompous) as a Mother's Day gift.  We're not exactly the art collecting type, although my plaster bust of Elvis is proudly displayed at my office, adorned with my 1ST Cavalry Stetson, but that is a post for another day.)

Even if your idea of art is of the "Dogs Playing Poker," print is your preferred form of wall decor, you have to hand it to Katie, this is terrific.  I sent her a photo of our kids and asked her to "work her magic."  Boy, did she ever.

I learned about her when my wife had another print done.   Here's that one:

Again, I'm not an "art guy" although I wish I was because there is a lot of great works out there I just do not know about.  Still, even I can appreciate the work that she puts into these paintings and admire the final product.  (Is art a "product"?  I suppose I should have a better term, "piece" perhaps?)  This is clearly someone who is passionate about what she does.

One of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite writers, R.W. Emerson is this one:  "Nothing great happens without enthusiasm."  I think passion and enthusiasm are akin to happy and glad.  As my Dad might say, "It's about giving a damn."  Katie has all of the above.

I exchanged emails with her and had to ask her how she got into this field.  Her reply was both surprising and expected.  She commented that she had always loved art but had put it aside to pursue the regular job.  (Sound familiar, anyone?)  Then, one day when painting her son's room, she started drawing images and in that moment remembered all she loved about art.  Fast-forward a bit and that "safe job" is way back in the rear view mirror.  She does what she loves (see above :)) and does it on her own terms.  She remarked to me that she has time to be with her kids and still has time to paint.  As for the business, well, she's doing great. I think I was about a month "in the que" as our Brit friends say, awaiting this painting.

What is the morale of this story?  Is it quit your job and pursue your dream?  Well, not really.  It is instead (in my opinion and I suppose I can offer that as this is my blog) to figure out what inspires you.  It may be that you are happy as a clam doing what you do.  If so, mazel tov.  I know I am dumb lucky to have a job I dearly love that allows me to meet my obligations and still got the Camaro running (pause for cheers.)  Alas, I digress:  Step one, find what inspires you.  Step two, figure out if that is a way to pay your way in the world.  Step three, if that which inspires you will not pay the bills then is there something else you can do to to pay the bills in as little time as possible, leaving ample time to focus on what does inspire you.

About three years ago, I listened to The 4-Hour Workweek by Tim Ferriss.  Truth be told, I only got the audio book because Audible had a sale and I thought it was a cool title.  I think Tim is great.  He's a guy who has traveled the world and figured out how to make money (and this is before the fame of his books) and do the stuff he likes.  If you have not checked him out, I encourage you to do so.  His bit about writing the "resignation letter" to the boss is worth the price of the audio and/or regular book.  Here's the link:

http://www.fourhourworkweek.com/blog/

What I really like about Tim's stuff is he does not say "Do what I do."  In fact, he says the opposite. (My paraphrase:)  If you do not want to travel the world, that's cool.  Do what makes you happy.  Here's how I did it and good luck on whatever you want to do. 

So back to Katie, I think it is great that she is doing what she loves on her own terms.  Her art is great.  Here is a link to her site, check it out if you'd like.  

http://www.KmBerggren.com

Here's to all of us finding what inspires us,...and sharing it with the world.

Be well my friends.

Jeno

The Bix 7

 Greetings All:


It is the morning after the world (and certainly Quad City) famous Bix 7 road race, or as us locals simply call it, "Bix."  The "Bix" began in 1975 in conjunction with the Bix Beiderbecke Jazz Festival. Leon Bismark "Bix" Beiderbecke was the Janis Joplin of his time. That only was he a brilliant musician who helped usher in the Jazz age, he was also, unfortunately, a chronic alcoholic and abuser (or he might have referred to it as a "fine purveyor" of the various varieties of bathtub gin. In a tragic foretelling of future musicians, he died well before his time at 28. This was largely forgotten for many years until someone discovered his music and recognize a connection to Davenport at some time, a jazz festival was organized and musicians from around the Midwest and I presume the nation with convergent downtown Davenport to play the kind of Dixieland jazz that was all the rage in the era of rumble seats. 

(Photo of Bix Beiderbecke- Doyle's Academy of Music in Cincinnati, Ohio., courtesy of Wikipedia Commons, public domain, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Bix_Beiderbecke_cropped.jpg)

In 1975, 84 runners took part in the inaugural big seven Road race. (To read more about the race, please visit the website and the history section- http://bix7.com/2013/history.php).  I am not sure why it is 7 miles. Just speaking for myself, I think the experience would be just fine at four or five miles. In any event, it became seven. The race has evolved into perhaps THE major annual event in Davenport, perhaps the entire Quad Cities . According to this morning's paper (The Quad-City Times) 15,011 runners and walkers took part in the race. For those you who are not familiar with this race, it's not just 7 miles. But it's 7 miles up to significant hills in Davenport, Brady Street and McClellan night. For me the devil is in the details as in on the way back into running a Kirkwood which is a nasty little climb the price you pay for the nifty little decline about miles two and three.

These races are something I look forward to and enjoy being a participant.  I know plenty of people who watch it and have a ton of fun.  (and after all, is not that the point?  There is a reason we go to work/school and the Bix 7 is not one of them.)  Putting on the bib, the running "D Clip" (the thing in your shoe that tells your official time start to finish line) and picking out the clothes you are going to run in (that criteria was based on what was clean and in a nearby laundry basket) are part of the process of the pre-race.  I suspect for some this process takes on almost ritualistic overtones.  For me, I'm excited just to get a good parking spot.  

And I did.  It was not too far from the starting line and more important, a shorter walk from where I planned to conclude my race day activities.  (More on that later.)  It was by coincidence that I ended up parking here:

Now can you think of a better place to park for Bix?  Neither can I.

So there is the little matter of actually running the race.  As I mentioned, it is not a flat route and the hills do get your attention.  I had done some running before the race but as for actual "training," well, not so much.  I think the longest run I had gotten in was about four miles.  Olympian Juma Ikanga is quoted saying, “The will to win means nothing without the will to train.”


Now you tell me.

Actually, the race started fine.  I had run into Bill, my friend from work as we were making our way to the corral where we had to line up with the masses.  I stayed with him until the second water station, then lost him.  At that point, I settled into what I thought was a good but sane pace.  Along with the crowd and the several bands playing along the path, I had my iPhone and a variety of song.  Usually, I listen to books as when you run as slow as me, you do not need music.  However, for these kind of things, I make an exception.

So here I am chugging along Kirkwood, heading to Brady street and trying to figure out why it is so much longer on the way back.  Oh, that's right, I didn't train that much.  Oops.  I am getting to the end of my play list when thru my headphones comes The Boss singing "Born in the U.S.A."  Actually announcing that The Boss will  soon be on the mic is the haunting "DA, da, da, dadada..." notes of a keyboard I think.  At this point, I had no idea what was next on the playlist but that was all I had to hear.

At this point, the blister on my right big toe is yelling at me, "Hey MORON!  See what happens when you don't TRAIN?!  How's THAT feel??"  Thanks, appreciate it.  Then for some reason, my head swivels left.  There, on the corner of some forgotten cross street is a house with American flags on the fence with one large one, flying on a pole.  Here comes The Boss, "...I was born in the U.S.A.!"  I feel just fine and even the blister is shamed into shutting up.

Then the coolest part of the race happened for me.  Shortly after the flag house I saw a ginned-up slip 'n slide set up on the boulevard.  Despite the cool temperatures I saw several people take the running plunge and embrace the water and the fun.  I almost missed seeing the message spelled out in simple green letters.  "FOR BOSTON" 

You had to be there to appreciate the sincerity of the message.  I am so damn grateful I got to be there to witness it.  Blister, what blister?

So about 10 minutes later, it's over.  I've crossed the finish line.  Congrats to me.  As I walk (er hobble) towards the the post-race party, I see this:

Ah, the Palmer College of College of Chiropractic tent.  My wife is a graduate of this fine school and the school offers adjustments to the runners and walkers as they finish the event.  I met "Bill," whom I thought was a student (turns out he's just a really, really young looking doctor) who in a few moments rendered unto me that most magical of sounds: CCCRRAACKK!!!  In Chiropractic parlance, that is called an audible.  I call that nirvana. 

Now, off to the post-race party.  As I slurped down a Diet Coke, I run into Ed Froehlich.  Ed is a local legend and has directed the past 30-something Bix races.  He is Bix personified.  Although he had more important business to attend to, he was gracious enough to shake my hand.  I had to ask him as I gestured to the crowd.  "So Ed, did you ever envision this in your wildest dreams?"  He smiled and shook his head as he moved along.  Something told me he had something like this EXACTLY in mind.  All great leaders do.

There was the not insignificant matter of beer.  One of the drawbacks (among others) of being a slow runner is that by the time you get to the finish line, you're waiting a L-O-N-G time for cup of draft beet that is (at best) 1/3 foam.  I elected to head down to the street party and buy my beer.  Sometimes, you really get what you pay for.

I ran into a few friends at the outdoor set up with the bars that anchor Third Street between Ripley and Harrison streets.  Although I did not make it into Mac's Tap, here is a photo of one of the coolest bar signs I know:

And with that, my Bix experience ended.  It was a wonderful time.  As far as my time, I am pleased to report I did even better (officially) than I originally thought- 1:18.50.  Who knows, maybe one year I'll break an hour.  Then I may take the next year off and watch.  Either way, I hope that if I am in town I will be a part of Bix and if you are in town, I hope you will as well. 

You don't have to win to compete.  To me, that is what makes it all worth while.  See you at the bottom of Brady Street next year.

Be well,
Jeno

Les Misérables

Greetings All!

It is the weekend and at the risk of hubris, have to say I feel a bit like Hemingway, or maybe Hunter Thompson is a better fit.  In any event, I feel that way as I am banging out this blog post while sitting outside on the porch and puff on a cigar.  I have no delusions that this exercise of a minor vice will allow me to conjure their literary powers but then again, it can' t hurt.  (And hey, it is a nice way to get this post rolling.)

This has been a big weekend with the 39th running of the famed Bix 7 road race.  That should be a post in itself and depending on how motivated I am this weekend, I hope to crank that out as well.  In the meantime, let's talk about Les Misérables.

 

(The above image should be in the public domain and if not I claim fair use and if that does not work, here's a plug, "Go buy the book and the DVD and the soundtrack!"  Ah, the occupational hazards of being an attorney and writing a blog...)

The show has been around a long time.  We saw it on Broadway a few days before we got married and loved it.    Here is the website link to the show:

http://www.lesmis.com/us/

The story, in a nutshell, is about a convict in the first half of nineteenth century France who is imprisoned for stealing a loaf of bread.  He obtains parole, but finds life is not a whole lot better on the outside.  He ends up "breaking" his parole and is able to start a new life.  However, the old one keeps coming back in inconvenient ways.

Here is the link to the book, compliments of Wikipedia:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Les_Mis%C3%A9rables

I will skip a detailed review of the story as the real point of this blog is the production I saw this weekend.  Center for Living Arts is in Rock Island, Illinois.  http://center4living.com/

My friends Dino and Tina Hayz run it and it is a celebration of local theater.  Regular readers of my blog will recall I have an appreciation for theater and especially locally-produced theater.  Which leads me to this show:

In the summer, the Center has a camp for junior high and high school kids.  This year, as Dino said, "...was a game-changer."  They avoided traditional or "safe" material and swung for the fences with this show.  They hit it out of the park.

Full disclosure, my daughter and several of her friends were in it so of course I am biased.  Then again, I (gladly) sat through it again today and that was after running that little race I mentioned above.  In other words, I can say it is great, great theater.

The cast is, without exception, talented.  More significant, they all bring a passion and pure joy to the stage.  They are still honing their craft.  And yet what they have to share is amazing to watch.

This is a tough show with rough material.  High School Musical it ain't.  There is death, poverty, prostitution, war, rebellion, betrayal, abandonment, heartbreak, and that's just the first act.  Well, I am being a bit sarcastic, but you get the point.  After all, one translation of the title is "The Wretched."

Central to the story is Jean Valjean.  He is the former convict who through a positive twist of fate becomes successful.  The young man who plays him, Liam  Baldwin, brings to life the anguish of regret that Hugo put down on ink.   His nemesis, the dreaded Inspector Javert, is played with equal passion, Matthew McFate.  As for the ladies, Bethany Piottner offers a heart-wrenching performance as the distraught Fantine.  Her haunting rendition of "I Dreamed a Dream" challenged any eye in the theater to stay dry, myself included.  The show was not without comic relief.  Max Moline brought down the house as the corrupt nar-do-well innkeeper, along with his wife, played by Liz Coin.  But again, the whole cast, and I mean everyone, was just super. 

I recognize this is a sad story.  At the same time, there are positive, dare I say it, uplifting aspects to the story.  Jean Valjean renounces vengeance against Javert, despite having a lifetime of accumulated rage.  Fantine's daughter, Cosette, having been dealt a terrible early hand in life draws the ace on the river and ends up marrying the handsome Marius.  At the end, Jean Valjean dies with grace.  The same cannot be said for Javert.

As I reflect on this show, I cannot help but be bursting with pride for the young people who brought this story to life.  They showed a maturity beyond their years.  The stage was not a Broadway one but it was their stage.  With every note sung, young voices celebrated the beauty of theater.  The promise of this story is that something better awaits, that fate is not some chain upon your soul.  When I saw this on the big stage years ago, that message resonated.  In hearing it told by young people, it resonated more.  As it concluded, all were on stage singing the Finale.  Here are the final lyrics:

"Do you hear the people sing?
Lost in the valley of the night
It is the music of a people who are climbing to the light
For the wretched of the earth
There is a flame that never dies
Even the darkest nights will end and the sun will rise

They will live again in freedom in the garden of the lord
They will walk behind the ploughshare
They will put away the sword
The chain will be broken and all men will have their reward!

Will you join in our crusade?
Who will be strong and stand with me?
Somewhere beyond the barricade is there a world you long to see?
Do you hear the people sing?
Say, do you hear the distant drums?
It is the future that they bring when tomorrow comes."

Dino made some wonderfully poignant  remarks at the beginning of the show about how a story told stays in one's heart forever.  This story, and the people who told it, told it well.  It was a privilege to be in the audience.  The title of this story may reference misery but this story, as performed, filled me with pride and joy.  Thanks to all of this production of Les Misérables, this is one story that I will surely carry in my heart forever and will do so with gratitude.  Thanks.

Always Saturday

Greetings All:

It's Saturday morning here in Bettendorf.  I trust that for those of you who have the weekend off are doing something fun and are are able to get together with family and friends.  (For those of you working, especially our service members on duty far from home, my thanks and I hope you get some time off soon.)

Ah, the weekend.  There is a universal sigh of relief when Friday arrives and Saturday morning, especially in the summer, is usually a time to linger longer around the kitchen table, have another cup of coffee, putz around online (perhaps read my blog for instance :)) and reflect that the work week is a few days away.

I was in college in the 80s and there were a myriad of bands that made a slash on MTV/college radio and then faded away, much like the flashing of a lightning bug.  One of these bands is Guadalcanal Diary.  The one CD they put out that got some traction was "Flip Flop."  Probably the one song that got the most play was Always Saturday.  Thanks to YouTube, here's the link to the wonderfully cheesy video:

http://youtu.be/EPwtNm5pfqE

(The song is not on iTunes, but hopefully soon, this is one worth having in your collection.)

One of the lines from the chorus is, "I wanna live where it's always Saturday."  Not surprising it is featured prominently in the song as it is the title.  It is a pretty simple premise- I want everyday to be a day of fun.  It is hard to argue with that concept.  This gains even more significance when we move into college football season. (Go Hawks!).  Alas, I digress, back on topic. 

However, that is not the case.  In 36 hours, most of us will be acutely aware the a new work-week looms on the other side of the next sunrise.  For most of us, that rarely triggers a release of endorphins.  In previous jobs, Monday brought a sense of dread for the piles of work that awaited.  Thus the reason that Saturdays are important.

I would be remiss not to acknowledge that today for some is not a day of casual leisure, but religions observance.  If you are an observant Jew or a Seventh Day Adventist, today is your sabbath.  Faith is an important thing for many and the concept of a day of rest (whenever observed) is a good thing.  One could argue in our over-connected technological world, "un-plugging" for a day may not be such a bad thing.  Laura Vanderkam wrote in her book, What the Most Successful People Do on the Weekend, about one extraordinarily successful woman executive accountant who is also an observant Jew.  This person commented that while it was difficult to tell her boss she would not work on Shabbos, even during tax-season, it became easier for her.  When she moved into management, she made sure everyone on her team got one day off.  It really is a great concept.  We do need downtime.  (I have written about Laura's work before and here is a link to her webpage:  http://lauravanderkam.com/books/successful-people-do/)

But riddle me this Batman:  What if there was a way that we could harness the great feeling of Saturdays and carry that with us through Monday morning?  It is something I have been thinking about lately.  I personally do not believe we want nothing but leisure.  That would lead to boredom and perhaps eventually sustained debauchery.  We are wired to work, to create, to produce.  Heraclitus wrote something that summarizes this concept for me:

"Always having what we want may not be the best good fortune.  Health seems sweetest after sickness, food in hunger, goodness in the wake of evil and at the end of longday labor sleep."

(From Fragments, Brooks Haxton, translator, Penguin Books, 2001).

So our weekend, is that modern version of sleep after the week of "longday labor."  I  choose to believe there is a way to capture and keep the fun of the weekend into the following work week.  One part of that is goal-setting, something I plan on writing on in future blogs.  However, for now, it's off to breakfast.  After all, it is Saturday.

Have a SUPER weekend!

Best,
Jeno