I have become increasingly discouraged with the leadership of this country. We have become a petty, backbiting nation that abuses power, has no respect for freedom of speech or individual privacy, and uses power for vengeance against political enemies rather than to work for the greater good of the country.

We also show almost no competency in actual management, the art of negotiation or the ability to bring our diverse population closer together. We emphasize differences rather than similarities, and it seems our politicians have lost touch with the ability to compromise.

We send people to Washington who are so full of themselves that they find no room to understand others. Party politics has become the driving force, and has evolved into a take-no-prisoners war in which negotiations can only involve unconditional surrender.  

We need to develop leaders who actually understand the breadth and depth of this country: that understand that it is not one-size-fits-all.

I think the only way to do that is to demand some minimum qualifications from those who want to run for President: things that would ensure that they have some understanding of the real world and the needs of our citizenry, rather than just the needs of the most powerful lobbyists or special interest groups.

Leaders of the Free World (Granite Grumblings: Life in the Live Free or Die State, 2011) was my attempt to establish some possible parameters for our presidential candidates and also our voters. It seems even more critical today.

 

Glenn K. Currie

 

Leaders of the Free World

 

Did you ever wonder how we got to be the “leader” of the free world? It is hard to believe that it is the result of the quality of our politicians.

Most of our leaders seem to be in Washington because their other careers went dead, or maybe they never had another career. And a lot of them aren’t able to apply themselves well at this job either, based on the amount of time they actually spend representing us at the various legislative meetings.

But once elected, they don’t appear to have much to worry about, because our voters don’t seem to care. Apparently our voters are so dumb they can’t even figure out a butterfly ballot, let alone determine if their representative is earning his paycheck.

No wonder the rest of the world is a little worried about us. Our election standards are even lower than our education standards.

Right now, any idiot who is a natural-born citizen and is at least thirty-five years of age, can run for President. And a lot of them have taken advantage of that opportunity. The election process isn’t doing a very good job of culling the herd. We, as voters, keep putting people into office and then complaining that they are in office. Then we nominate an even bigger idiot to try to replace him or her.

I think, as keepers of the first real primary, we have some responsibility to ourselves and the world, to establish a few minimum requirements to be eligible to be a leader of the free world. And maybe we should also impose a few demands on our voters as well.

For our would-be presidential candidates, I suggest the following eligibility standards:

1)      Live in an apartment without a doorman for at least a year.

2)      Serve at least one year in any combination of the following non-supervisory jobs:

Food service, manufacturing, sales, health care, transportation, construction, or education.

3)      Complete two years of service in the military, the Peace Corps or an equivalent (without a valet or PR person to assist).

4)      Ride a public bus across country, stay at least one night in a flop house, and spend at least two weeks in a place without indoor plumbing.

5)      Demonstrate the ability to successfully run an organization that is not inherited, funded by family trusts, or classified as a non-profit.

6)      Personally fill out and file a federal income tax return.

7)      Demonstrate a sense of humor and the common sense to recognize BS when it is up to the ankles.

8)      Read at least one trashy novel and watch a week of daytime television.

9)      Demonstrate a working knowledge of baseball and football.

10)  Spend a month as a teacher’s aide in an inner city public school.

 

As for the voters, my expectations must be much more limited. But even with that realization, it seems that there should be a few basic requirements, none of which are currently being enforced.

Voter standards should be as follows:

1)      Prove they are United States citizens.

2)      Only be allowed to vote once in each election.

3)      Be required to identify themselves at the polls. (If they don’t know who they are, they probably shouldn’t be voting.)

4)      Be declared ineligible if they are convicts or persons legally rendered incompetent.

5)      Be a human being. (No more dogs or parrots getting the vote).

6)      Have a pulse.

7)      Be able to state the last name of the person for whom Washington, D.C. was named.

 

None of the above requirements are particularly demanding for either the voters or the future leader of the free world. They might, however, go a long way towards ensuring the humanity and common sense of those involved in the election process.

                

 

 

I keep reading stories about how America is falling way behind in the education sweepstakes. Our kids don't seem to know anything about math and science and we don't even teach them things like history, geography and civics. And then we wonder why they can't make change and don't know where Canada is.

We need to stop blaming the teachers and the schools for this. We get what we ask for. Parents basically let their kids focus on more relevant things like video games and reality shows. And that has become their level of expertise.

We lost the education battle when we, as a society, turned our children over to the Department of Education.Yes, the same people who have a lower favorability rating than used car salesmen have been directing the education of our children for several decades. And we're surprised that the education system now works about as well as Congress?

Ultimately, however, the parents allowed this to happen. They were so busy legalizing marijuana and making sure "no child was left behind," that they forgot to care whether children had the skills or energy to get ahead. I wrote a piece a few years ago that addressed this problem directly. Dumbing Down the Population(Granite Grumblings: Life in the "Live Free or Die" State, 2011) still applies today.

Glenn K. Currie

 

Dumbing Down the Population

 

I believe it is a waste of time to try to improve our educational system. The problem isn’t with the schools…it is with the parents.

How can we expect the kids to be able to excel, when most of the parents have had their brains operating in the standby mode since before the kids were born.

Ever since the 1960’s, we have been practicing a sort of “reverse Darwinism”, whereby the public, fresh from frying their brains on drugs and alcohol, and tuning in to television on a regular basis, has gradually lost the ability to think. These people then mated with others of similar experience, and we suddenly had a new breed of child arriving on the planet. These children are immune to learning. I call it the “if Keanu Reeves married Pamela Anderson, their kids would have trouble working a light switch” syndrome.

Now before you get too upset, I should clarify that I am definitely not talking about you or your children. The fact that you are reading this article clearly shows you are not in this group. No, I am referring to all those others out there who have demonstrated difficulty dealing with the simplest concepts, and have seemingly lost the ability to speak in sentences.

My theory on the rising level of stupidity of the general population is supported by the following:

1)      A substantial number of voters in Florida recently raised a major issue over the difficulty of reading and filling out the “butterfly ballot”. Since then, several tests of this ballot in grade schools have shown that fourth graders found this ballot to be easier to use than the water cooler. It has also been proven that a trained hamster, with good food incentives, could fill out this ballot successfully. What is the voter telling us?

2)      When discussing the recent tax cut, the media has found it necessary to repeatedly tell us that those who don’t pay taxes may not get much of a tax cut. This concept has apparently been so difficult to understand by the general populace, that reporters have felt the need to emphasize it ad nauseum. Let’s study it one more time. In order to really benefit from a tax cut, you may need to pay taxes. Apparently this surprises a lot of our population. I imagine they are the same ones who rush down to the auto dealers every time a $1000 rebate is announced. The disappointment must be enormous when they find out that, to be eligible, they must first buy a car.

3)      We have just witnessed the biggest speculative bubble in history by investors in “dot coms”. We used to laugh at the idiots in Europe a few hundred years ago who threw away fortunes investing in tulip bulbs. Well guess what? We have proven ourselves to be even bigger idiots. We lost more money, and lost it quicker, and all we have to show for it is some bad paper. At least the tulip bulb investors could console themselves with some pretty flowers.

4)      Even the general population itself, as represented by our class action lawyers, admits to being brain-challenged regarding cigarette smoking. We have all known for years that cigarettes were “coffin nails”, and there have been labels on every cigarette pack for decades telling us that smoking was hazardous to our health. And yet we can still win lawsuits for $3 billion because we didn't realize those warnings could actually mean that smoking was bad for us. When the juries rule in favor of the smoker, what they are really saying is that Americans are too stupid to be responsible for their own decisions, and too dumb to read and understand the labels.

5)      Finally, just turn on your TV and watch the doings of current celebrities like Britney Spears, Charlie Sheen and the inhabitants of Jersey Shore. Hollywood, which many say reflects our society, has come a long way from the days of Jimmy Stewart, Katherine Hepburn and Lucille Ball, and the trip (no pun intended) has not been a productive one.

I could go on, but I think you get my point. The general population of this country has been defined by juries, the media, and the voters themselves, as incompetent nincompoops. Is it any wonder that the offspring of this population aren’t winning the education sweepstakes?

So let’s stop blaming the teachers, the school committees, and the textbooks. The bottom line is that we are fast becoming a nation of troglodytes, and our kids will be lucky if they can work a garden rake by the time we get through with them.

I am just back from a sanity trip to Florida where we spent several days on Marco Island. The temperatures were around high sixties on average but still a welcome change from New Hampshire. Today it is 8 in Concord and promises to go sub-zero tomorrow. Welcome back.

I had an interesting trip down as I sat directly across the aisle from a well-known and much liked television personality from the sixties and seventies. He was still a very likeable personality but was well past the age where he should be travelling alone (which he was). Just in the boarding process he lost his ticket and spilled his coffee. A kind-hearted seatmate took him under her wing and arranged a wheelchair for when they landed, but it was a sad thing to see what probably lays in store for all of us who live to advanced age. Even the famous get old.

We also had the opportunity to see a really interesting film while we were down there. Her is an independent film by Spike Jonze and starring Joaquin Phoenix, Amy Adams and Scarlett Johannsen. It is set a little into the future and is about a man who falls in love with a computer voice which is capable of feelings, growth and emotion. This is a marketed product sold to people who basically need company.

In it you watch the real and virtual worlds blend. It leaves you with plenty to think about as our society gradually is absorbed by digital bits and pieces.

I wonder how young people will meet in the future. Kids are growing up without knowing their neighbors (no girl next door). They work in isolated, detached environments. Religion is less of a factor in most American's lives. Where do people meet for meaningful relationships? More and more it seems to be on the internet.

It seems like the movie's point may be an accurate one in that it will be harder and harder for people to discern the difference between the real and virtual worlds.

This is something I addressed a few years ago in Virtual Reality (In the Cat's Eye, Snap Screen Press, 2009). Sadly, it appears to be coming true for more of our population as people start to seek shelter from the complexities of our civilization.

Virtual Reality

 

He is a man who chases rabbits,

Dressed in a turtle’s hard-shelled habits.

One of an army of timid souls,

Hiding in plush-lined people holes.

 

Tightrope walking on a druggist’s knife,

His computer makes an avatar wife.

Ones and zeros have set him free,

To drown alone in a digital sea.

Sometimes music can take us to special places. We all have different tastes, but it is interesting the way different types of music can help set our moods and settle our souls.

Songs and performers speak to us based on our own experiences. A few years ago I picked up an album by Eva Cassisdy and her voice carried me away. I liked the way she seemed equally at home with jazz and ballads and her story seemed to come through in the way she spoke through her music.

I wrote Eva Cassidy's Message (Granite Grumblings, Life in the "Live Free or Die State", 2011) a few years ago, but her music and the message of the essay are as applicable today as they ever were.

I wish I could play the music for you, but I am sure it is available on Utube and it is well-worth finding.

Glenn K. Currie

Eva Cassidy's Message

 

I was downtown the other day, trying to track down a CD by a performer for whom I had only half a name. As usual, Mike was able to sort out the mystery. But, knowing that I am always looking for interesting voices, he also asked me to listen to a couple of cuts from another album. And he told me the story of Eva Cassidy, a young woman whose life was cut short by melanoma at the age of 33.

 

It’s hard to describe the emotions that I felt as I sat at home and quietly listened to her CD. Many of the songs were old standards. They were a mix of gospel, a little Irving Berlin, some folk and blues; actually the whole American musical experience seemed in some way to be wrapped up in it. And every song was a new one.

If I sound like I am contradicting myself, it’s probably because I am. This young lady sang these songs in a way that made them different and unique to her. This pure voice, with a range the breadth of Oklahoma, traveled through me like a midnight train. Quiet vibrations, attention-getting power, a rush of emotions, and then a backflow breeze that left me with chills from my head to my heart. And as I listened, I was overwhelmed with what all of us had lost. As the recordings followed one after the other, her music seemed to speak for all those glorious, talented people in this world who have never had a chance to realize their potential. She seemed to sing for those whose voices and skills were lost to wars and disease and sometimes just bad luck: for John Seel and Dennis Barger and too many other friends from Dartmouth whose lives were cut short by Vietnam, and for Gary Dillon and Michael Briggs and all the other sons and daughters whose lives were never fully lived. People who might have filled our world with humor and friendship and perhaps great art or literature or medical miracles. Eva Cassidy’s soul seemed to pour itself out in these songs, railing against the inequities and reaching for the heavens.

And as the album finally ended, soaring gently into silence, I could only feel an overwhelming sadness, because, in this case, I did indeed know what I had missed. This  rare talent cut across all the false musical boundaries of race, religion, culture and style. And as I shut my eyes and listened to the beauty that flowed from “Over the Rainbow”, I could hear her also singing for all those others, whose voices were silently passing with her over that rainbow.

I apologize for the delay in posting. I have had a few computer issues and it has been a busy time.

I thought it might be fun to finish the year with a little humor.

Getting Together for the Holidays (Granite Grumblings, 2011) is a piece I wrote a few years ago after a particularly exciting holiday season. I suspect many of you have had similar experiences.

Cherish these experiences because it is such a blessing to have the oppoprtunity to get together with your loved ones. Just remember to keep your sense of humor.

Have a great New Year.

Glenn K. Currie

 

Getting Together for the Holidays

 

Christmas is over, and we have survived. But, lately, it seems like every holiday is a close call.

Our family is getting older. The kids are married and in their late twenties, and while we are blessed to still have three of our parents who are able to share the holidays, they are also getting older and less mobile. The combination has made for some interesting celebrations.

Last year, for Thanksgiving, the kids could not make it back from Colorado and Texas, and my brother-in-law was convalescing with us after just having major back surgery. Nevertheless, we decided to get the rest of the family together. It resembled a Red Cross treatment center.

In the kitchen, my wife, cool and efficient on the outside, as she prepared a twenty-two pound turkey and sixteen different vegetables, was internally running on a treadmill as she tried to maintain order in the chaos that reigned throughout the house.

My dad was spending most of his day in the bathroom trying to deal with an elderly affliction that would eventually relieve itself in a way that sent our plumbing system to its knees, begging for mercy. My brother-in-law was spending his time flat on his back in the living room, sharing his misery with a changing audience of wheelchairs, walkers and canes, that were in almost constant motion as they sought entry to that major attraction, the only downstairs bathroom.

As the day moved along (at a walker’s pace), my father, exuberant from his recent victory over our plumbing system, decided to walk without his walker, and tripped over our 110 year old (in dog years) dog. The poodle, who is also deaf and nearly blind, never saw it coming, and, as far as I can tell, never knew it happened. My father did a remarkably agile rolling fall, and emerged unscathed, except for some slight dizziness.

We then all sat down to a wonderful dinner filled with warm talk, remembrances and laughter. The events of the day were catching up with me quickly, however. And after getting everyone home about 4:30, I decided to make a quick visit to the Emergency Room to see if I should be concerned about the heart palpitations that started hitting around the time of dad’s fall. After several hours of tests and observation, it was determined that I was simply suffering from (surprise) stress.

Susanne, meanwhile, had managed to get her brother back upstairs to bed and we ended the day burying the stress under turkey sandwiches.

This year we decided to take a pass on a family get together for Thanksgiving, because the kids were still away and we had learned that we needed younger recruits to successfully handle a holiday. We decided to wait until Christmas, when my younger daughter and her husband would be with us. We knew this would still be fraught with some risk since I would be a pre-existing casualty for the season with recently completed bi-lateral hernia surgery, and would be even more useless than usual. But with extra young people around, the feeling was how hard could it be? For the record, I was still on painkillers at the time and cannot be held responsible for any participation in this decision.

The omens were not good, however, as our brand new washing machine conked out the day of the arrival of our houseguests. And let me state that although the Maytag manmay be sitting by the phone collecting cobwebs, there is apparently a two week wait to get a Whirlpool repairman to make a visit.

Despite this, however, Susanne, an expert in strategic planning, had sufficient clean laundry to see us through and she cooked the meal a day ahead of time. We felt ready to just focus on each other and enjoy Christmas Day.

Things started going wrong almost immediately. My mother’s-in-law wheelchair went missing from her room at the assisted living center and we had to borrow a different larger one which proved very difficult to get up the stairs to our house. The result was a lot of heavy lifting (but not by me). Then minor disaster struck. My daughter and son-in-law were picking up my folks, and while Craig was bending and twisting over my dad to buckle his seat belt, he popped out his back, which had probably been previously stressed working on the wheelchair. Craig, who is six feet four, then rode in the back of the Saab back to the house. It took a half-hour to get him out of the car. And we had to use farm implements (an edger and a hoe) as makeshift canes to get him into the house.

Fortunately, once in the house, we remembered that we happened to have an extra walker in the basement. (Doesn’t everyone?) This brought the vehicle count in the house to two walkers, a wheelchair (and a cane). I could go with this and write a new Christmas carol but I’ll spare you.

My brother-in-law soon arrived, still nursing a bad back after a year, and was able to provide Craig with lots of sympathy and advice.

The rest of the day went relatively well. There were a few minor collisions between walkers and wheelchairs, and the dog fell down the stairs once, but generally, it was quiet. The plumbing worked, everyone enjoyed their presents, and my father and I played Christmas carols before we all sat down to a masterful pre-cooked turkey dinner.

My daughter and wife, the only two remaining able-bodied residents (women always seem to be the survivors), were able to get my mother-in-law in her wheelchair back out to the car successfully. Then my daughter took her husband to the Emergency Room where Craig was able to get some pills that made him pretty happy.

In retrospect, despite the fact that ER visits seem to be becoming a family tradition, and the whole day played out against a backdrop of terrorist threats and mad cow disease, we all felt pretty fortunate.

We had survived another holiday, and in reality we were very grateful. We had been able to get together with most of our family, and we were able to keep our sense of humor and laugh off the minor problems, rather than crying over major ones. And it truly is a joyous time of the year for Christians. A day of warmth and remembrance and hope for the future. And I pray that we will have the opportunity for many more such holidays.

My only request is that next time, we demand that my older daughter and her husband also be in attendance. Clearly, we need a few more able-bodied reinforcements around for our kind of rowdy celebration.

Internet down will post when back up

Take A Breath

I think that we spend too much of our Christmas season shopping. I know that we now get that programmed into us from the early days of October, and the retailers have actually deleted Thanksgiving from their memories in a desperate effort to make us shop until we drop. But we don’t have to agree to their terms.

 

Think back for a minute to the best Christmas presents you ever got. Were they highlighted by the “have to have” gifts that advertisers told us we needed to ask for. Or were they the ones that stick with you over the years because you actually loved them.

For me, one was actually a train set from when my Dad was a kid. He pulled it out and helped me set it up on Christmas morning. Others were a set of blocks that looked like big dominoes and a Frisbee that we played with in the snow all winter. They were things that actually involved my parents participation. Even my first two wheel bike was special because, yes, I really wanted it, but also because my Dad spent hours putting it together, and I knew how incompetent he was with all things mechanical.

Do you really think your kids favorite memories are going to be focused on whether you were able to get them a Singing Elmo or the latest version of the Cabbage Patch Kids craze?

 

Retailers will pillory me for saying this, but most of the electronic gifts out there just create more distance between you and your family. Real family memories aren’t created by everyone sitting around the house playing with their IPhones. Even video games are a little questionable. Are you going to look back and remember who got the most kills or was best at stealing cars? Okay, maybe. I still remember wiping my Dad out playing the NHL Hockey table game

I spent most of a morning the other day going through some home-made Christmas and birthday cards that my children made for me when they were young. I saved them all, and rereading them is like a new gift every time. Thes are far more precious than any little gifts they tried to buy.

I guess my point is that a great Christmas isn’t necessarily created by turning yourself into a mall-walking zombie. Sometimes the best present you can give your kids or yourself is to just spend a little more time with them.

Maybe an unstressed parent who spends his or her time at home doing things with the family will make for better memories than putting yourself into the emotional wasteland that comes from battling the retail demons in search of the “perfect” gift to show how much you care.

I know every family is different, but it might not hurt to take a breath this week, reintroduce yourself to your family and have a great Christmas.

 

And whatever you do, don't get your kid a Daisy BB Gun. He'll shoot his eyes out. (Okay, I admit it, I always wanted one of those, too. And I never got it.) 

Glenn K. Currie

 

 This is that time of year when some among us bend over backwards to make sure the kids know that “Santa” isn’t real and Christmas trees are really part of a pagan celebration. They hammer us with guilt about all the power being used by holiday lights and try to make sure that Christmas Carols aren’t sung in public parks.

The Art of Christmas (Granite Grumblings: Life in the “Live free or Die” State, 2009) is an open plea for all of us to step back from the politics and intellectual gamesmanship that attempts to pierce the spirit of the season.

At the very least this is a season when people get a few days off, so even the skeptics and avid non-believers have the chance to benefit from the season. Wouldn’t it be nice if we all took this opportunity to stop looking at our efforts to change the world and took a moment to look inward at what we can do to fix the soul that powers each of us.

Let’s gently agree to disagree on lots of stuff for a few days, and see if we can agree on a central theme that has been part of the season for countless generations.

Peace on earth, goodwill to men (and women).

Glenn K. Currie

The Art of Christmas

There have been lots of Grinches out there the last few weeks, telling us why we are all idiots for having the temerity to use our imaginations during this Christmas season.

We see frequent articles and letters criticizing the folly of those who disagree with “established science” and what it can tell us about the birth of Christ and creation. For good measure they toss in critiques of Santa Claus as well. It seems that those who have all the answers, can’t wait to share them with all of us pathetic fools who buy Christmas trees, rejoice in hope and gather together to share the joy of our beliefs.

Perhaps we all need to take a step back and develop a little perspective about “established science”. Science, through the ages, has been just like politics and religion, in that those in power believe they have all the answers and consider it a grievous affront for anyone to take issue with their boundless wisdom. 

It was the “established” scientific community that decreed the world was flat, the Sun revolved around the Earth, heavier than air machines could not fly, the platypus could not exist, and no one could really throw a curve ball (it was an optical illusion). And they didn’t come running with early acclaim for Einstein or Edison either. Almost every major scientific advance came only after withering criticism or disbelief by those with all the answers. The new discoveries were advanced by people who had questions and imagination and a willingness to admit that there are many possibilities in the universe.

Today we see much the same thing happening. It is a human condition, I guess, for those with a little intelligence to often decide they have a lot of intelligence, and appoint themselves the arbiters of all things possible. We still see it in politics and religion, and we certainly see it in science.

We also see it too often in the news. If something cannot be proven “scientifically”, it is discarded as the ravings of lunatics. Perhaps this is very similar to the treatment that would have occurred one thousand years ago if someone had started talking about the internet or cell phones or electricity. In those days such rantings would probably have gotten you burned at the stake. Today the punishment is more humane. Individuals are just pilloried with ridicule and scorn if they let their imagination soar into areas like the mysteries of creation. Those with all the answers have shown no real love for inquisitive minds or goodwill toward men.

It is frankly astonishing to me to see how agitated some in the scientific community get when someone implies that there are certain things that may be beyond all our understanding. They lash out with vituperation and personal assault, demanding that absolute proof be provided for every belief.

If a bumblebee were forced to prove he could fly, he would probably never make it off the ground. Sometimes, it takes a little faith. But unproven theories are the beginnings of all the great discoveries. And new revelations confound “established science” with great frequency. It has been a mix of imagination, wonder and a little humility, along with intelligence, curiosity and persistence that has led to most of the great discoveries in history. In all areas of religion, politics and science, the great minds needed to be able to see beyond the “established” thinking of their times. 

Perhaps some day there will be another revelation for those with all the answers. Until that time, however, maybe these people could take a break. Why not take a nice vacation with those foolish days off that you have received. And give those of us who still take some things on faith, the chance to enjoy the wonders and the joys of this season. Let us give wings to our imagination and our exploration of the secrets of the universe, and let our children still enjoy the excitement of Santa Claus. Mostly, just give us all a chance to relax in the pleasure of loved ones and share the gifts that we give and have been given.

And maybe all of us can take a moment to step outside on a cold starry night and reflect on the wisdom of thinking we have all the answers.

 

In keeping with the feelings generated by our latest snowstorm (about ten inches) and the fact that most of us will soon be out running around in the stuff, it seems like an appropriate time to let all of you outsiders know what makes New Hampshire natives tick.

Without a doubt, we are a strange group that engages in activities which are hard to explain to the casual observer.

Winter Insanity (Granite Grumblings; Life in the “Live Free or Die State”, 2011) is a piece I wrote a while ago when I felt a need for therapy during a particularly long winter.

 

Glenn K. Currie

 

Winter Insanity

  

Down south they love to show pictures of the winter storms that assault those of us who live in New England. They know it’s good for the tourist business, and it also reinforces their notion that most of us are crazy.

 After three months of weather like we have had this year, there may be more than a little substance to the insanity charges. All you have to do is look at some of the video of recent storms, and you can see ample cause for thinking that people might be on the verge of some kind of breakdown.

I see tortured souls with glazed eyes peeking over head-high snow banks, and cars upside down on median strips. There are pictures of snow-clogged roads where you need Lojack to find the car you parked the previous night, and icicles precariously hanging over entrances, promising instant death to the unwary. And let’s not forget the bursting pipes causing picturesque frozen waterfalls down the sides of unsuspecting homes.

Even in ordinary times it is hard to refute that at least some of us may be a few shingles short in the roof department.

One clear example is the image that many of us project by the clothes we wear. Sure, we feel we are being practical, but to the outside world we conjure up visions of Johnny Carson in red plaid. Headgear is the most visible part of our winter dress and sends a powerful message to others. The mix of psychedelic ski hats, earflap caps, mufflers, face masks and ear muffs (sometimes in combination), makes us look like a bunch of hicks (and yes, I am aware that is the look that many of us are going for). When this is combined, however, with the multi-layered, double-wide, coat look, we have a presentation that causes others to speculate about our sanity. I even wonder myself sometimes, since I have heard of people slipping on the ice and lying there for hours because there hands can’t reach the ground and there head is too muffled up to yell for help. 

And then there is the general skepticism with which much of the world views our choices of exotic winter sports. Let’s analyze why some might say we are crazy for participating in some of these.

Snowmobiling- Think about this. Bikers (perhaps not the most solidly-grounded group to begin with) put away their big hogs for the winter because they figured out, probably after years of study, that riding around in 10 degrees below zero wind chill isn’t the most fun in the world. But some of our citizens love nothing better than to jump on snowmobiles, stare frostbite in the face, and head out across frozen lakes, where they risk becoming submersible popsicles. The ultimate pleasure, I am told, is to race these noisy vehicles into the wilderness, where they can enjoy the quiet beauty of a winter wonderland.

Ski Jumping- Here is a sport where the objective is to go downhill as fast as you can in order to launch oneself off a take-off pad that sends you flying off the mountain. You then try to execute a controlled crash a few hundred feet below so that you don’t kill yourself.

Snowboarding- This appears to be a combination of downhill skiing and demolition derby. Participants get out on the side of a mountain, strap a board to their feet, and then slide down the mountain while dodging trees, skiers, and other snowboarders, most of whom are fifteen year old kids. These are kids who have not yet learned fear, relish being out of control, and will not be eligible to drive a car for another year; at which point, they will become the most dangerous people on the highways.

Polar Bear Clubs- This is supposedly a sport. It consists of screaming, near-naked people who run across the snow in the middle of the winter, dive into ice cold water, jump around for a couple of minutes turning blue, and then drive to the nearest hospital.

Snowshoeing- Participants in this growing sport snap on a pair of clown shoes, and then go wandering in the deep snow into the most inaccessible parts of the forest. This is only good news to the hungry carnivores who live there and like warm-blooded mammals who are slow afoot.

Ice Fishing- This sport involves sitting in a smoke-filled wooden hut, huddling around a hole in the ice and waiting to freeze to death. Once in a while an unsuspecting fish will be caught because the poor fish couldn’t imagine anyone being stupid enough to sit out on a frozen lake all day holding a long string.

I could go on but I think you may be getting my point. The message we are sending to the rest of the country could be misinterpreted and lead to the conclusion that we are all idiots.

Now some of you are probably smiling and thinking that you would never get tarnished with those accusations because you go to Florida in the winter. This is not necessarily an indicator of superior intelligence and doesn’t really help our reputation. Let’s analyze Florida for a minute. This is a flat, hot place covered with swamps, parking lots and golf courses. The average age is 106, and it is the only place in the world where the sixteen year old driver is in a low risk insurance category. No one uses the beaches, it is suggested that golfers wear helmets, and the only time people smile is when the 6 o’clock news shows the latest New England blizzard.

The single valid reason a person would go to Florida is to watch spring training, which only occurs in March. The rest of the year, a trip to Florida is almost prima facie evidence that the winter has indeed made you crazy. You say you are going there to see Mickey Mouse? Think about that for a moment. You are hopping on a plane and flying 2000 miles to see a fake mouse. That will certainly convince the skeptics.

I guess you can see why some people get the wrong impression about us. They don’t understand that all of this is just a way of blowing off a little steam as we enjoy the challenges and rewards of being hardy New England residents.

I know that, personally, I find these long winters very relaxing. They give me the chance to appreciate the beauty of the changing seasons and to be a little more introspective. And I have found a winter sport that makes a lot more sense than the craziness that attracts some of you. I have become a major participant in the art of indoor bike riding. I just hop on my stationary bike and log in the miles. This gives me all the exercise of riding a real bike, and I don’t have to go anywhere. I can just pedal and pedal…and look out the window at the snow…and I’m still right here…looking at the snow…and pedaling…

 

 

I love The Song (In the Cat’s Eye, 2009) for its simplicity. The symbolism of this little poem is, perhaps, too obvious, but it speaks to the power and the impact of a single voice.

It seems appropriate to use it here as part of the celebration of the life of Nelson Mandela, whose quiet voice did  in fact break down the wall of silence around apartheid and awaken a sleeping world.

 Glenn K. Currie

The Song

A lone bird,

Resting in the arms

Of a tulip tree,

Sang.

His song carried

Across glazed fields

And into the snowy wood.

I stood

At a stone wall

Between forest and farm,

And listened

To the simple notes

Awaken

A sleeping world.