Just a comical interlude today.  Deb came in from three days on the road, and once she had done all her usual routines to shed the trappings of work travel, came down to ask me something.

Now, Deb has varying tones for yelling at the dog.  Usually it’s Leonidas, the miniature Schnauzer, who is not a good dog.  He knows what he’s supposed to do; he just doesn’t care.  He’s figured out that no matter what he does, he’s not going to get tortured or killed, therefore, he’ll just screw up and take the consequences.  Abominable little animal.  One of his favorite pranks is to take a dump in the house.  Once he did it right next to Deb while she was sorting out Christmas ornaments, unrepentant.  Anyway, I can usually tell from the feminine yelling upstairs what the dog has done wrong.  And there’s a certain high note, an anguished shriek of the kind you’d normally associate with hearing of a death:  “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”  I don’t hear real well in the lower pitched tones, but higher sounds penetrate all the way to the skull.

This time it wasn’t the dog.  Deb recently got a summons for Federal jury service in Yakima, but it hasn’t yet turned into any actual service.  So she’s about to head back upstairs, and I say the magic words to her:  “Don’t forget your jury summons.”  (It was from Benton County, not Federal.)

“I already dealt with that,” she said, annoyed at my evidently lousy memory.

“Look behind you on the cornet case,” I replied.


You’d think Leo had just decorated the floor again.

I don’t blame her a bit.


Why I don’t wear green on March 17

It’s something I get every year, especially with a last name that’s more Irish than a spraypainted sheep.  It’s easier to just explain it this way.

  • St. Patrick’s Day is not merely a Christian holiday, it celebrates a Christian victory over paganism. I’m not a druid (though some of my dear friends are), but I’m a Germanic Heathen–more akin than not. For me to celebrate this would be like UCLA fans getting together to remember and celebrate all the times USC beat them. In what universe would I be glad for this?
  • It’s more an Irish-American holiday than an Irish holiday. I have that on good authority from the Irish themselves, who surely are greater authorities on Irishness than Irish-Americans. One Irishwoman told me about her horror at an Irish festival in California, watching people collect money for ‘the struggle.’ She called them ‘the shamrock people.’ Remember, these are her words, not mine. Her further comment:  “Either the shamrock people are Irish, or I am, but we both can’t be.”
  • Because of that, what you get is millions of people going as overboard as possible on what they see as Irishness: leprechauns, green beer, green stripes on roads, green clothing, red hair, freckles, alcoholism, and so on. There are bits of truth in that, sure, but it’s not how I see Ireland. I see Irishness as hospitality after a brief period of caution, eagerness to talk to strangers, a passion for all arts (musical, literary, visual), and yes, a history of suffering and in some cases terrible violence. Leon Uris got it right: a terrible beauty. To me, St. Patrick’s Day doesn’t look very Irish.
  • Speaking of alcoholism, do we really need to push that stereotype harder? In the past, it was part and parcel of oppressive stereotyping by the British occupiers (and the Americans who looked down upon Irish immigrants: the drunken Mick, face shaped in simian fashion, feckless, slumped in an alley, presented as proof that Irish were a lower form of life. Here’s one for you: alcoholism in Ireland has all the same consequences it has in the United States. Shortened lives, failed commitments, bad decisions, battered wives, beaten kids, damaged families, avoidable road fatalities, cirrhosis, addiction battles, stupid sayings, and so on. It might seem funny from here, maybe not so much so if you think about the families it harms.
  • What of the Irish whom the orange bar on the flag represents? They too are Irish. How can they be left out? How can one think this will help promote unity in the old country? If you care about Ireland, how can you not want its differing faiths and ethnicities to get along, united in Irishness? St. Patrick’s Day claims to represent all things supposedly Irish, and all the Irish groups make a big deal of non-sectarianism. Ask an Ulster Protestant how really part of it she feels. When she does feel like part of it, it’ll be a win.
  • Irish-American nationalism is often bound up more than a little bit with support for terrorism. Yeah. Sorry, but it’s terrorism when you terrorize civilians. It’s one thing to attack the enemy’s armed soldiers; if you want to declare war and prosecute it, do so, always remembering that it has consequences and they may be fatal (perhaps to you). But when you carry your war deliberately to noncombatants, you are more organized criminal than freedom fighter. It’s just as true of the Protestant terrorists as the Catholic terrorists. Would I like to see a united Ireland with a truly non-sectarian leadership and equal rights and peace? Without doubt. Is it worth killing civilians to bring about? Not in my view.
  • Finally, I’m not much moved by part-time Irishness. Therefore I am prone to say: “Tell you what. I understand some Irish (Gaelic). If you can lecture me in Irish as to why I should wear green, I may not do it, but I will hear you out. If you want to get down with your bad Irish self, study the Irish language in all its complexity and beauty. And when you do, and you want to pressure me about this, we will have that discussion. In Irish.  Until then, I’ll pass, thanks.”

Not to be a stick in the mud, though. If you’re observing the holiday, have a happy one. Honestly.

Scandinavian metal

Okay, not all of it is Scandinavian.  Not even sure it all qualifies as metal.  My moods are very heavily shaped by music in all forms, but lately people have been turning me on to a wide variety of new music.  Today I’m going to share some tunes with you.

Alestorm:  Scottish pirate metal.  Favorite track:  Keelhauled.

Dalriada:  Hungarian folk metal.  Favorite track:  Világfutó Szél.

Faun:  German/Celtic folk metal.  Fave:  Unda.

Korpiklaani:  Finnish folk metal.  Fave:  Wooden Pints.

Nightwish:  Finnish folk metal.  Fave:  Over the Hills and Far Away.

Turisas:  Finnish Viking metal.  Fave:  Stand Up and Fight!.

Týr:  Faroese Viking metal.  Fave:  Regin Smiður.


Kvass and socks

Today I was out taking my wife’s ride in for an oil change.  We have a mechanic that actually fixes things (Ralph Blair of Tri-City Battery (509-783-9000)), in a shop that gives him the tools to do so, so it’s not nearly as painful or fearful for me as for many.  On the way, I saw a sign by the street in Cyrillic:  ‘Russki magazin.’  Russian store? I love little specialty ethnic grocery stores, so I swung in and muddled through in my broken Russian.  One thing I bought was a 2l bottle of Kvass, which I’d always wanted to try.

Kvass, at least in the form I had it, was sort of like a carbonated, sweet, tamarindy black tea.  It wasn’t overly sugary.  Frankly, this stuff is delicious.  I never want to drink Coke again if I can get this.  If you get a chance to try some, by all means give it a shot.  If you’re in Tri-Cities, it’s on Clearwater (north side) between Kellogg and Edison.

Had a real adventure making the notes to go with the socks.  Jason would like a note for each pair, which isn’t difficult.  Translating it into Japanese, that’s the hard part.  I felt most comfortable feeding the English to Google Translate, then feeding the Japanese back to GT and seeing what I actually said.  Anyway, a large number of people decided they liked Jason’s idea and are following suit.  Some days, you find out that you know a lot of really wonderful people.

Socks for Japan

Jason Kelly, a fellow author (financial writing, with the advantage of a liberal arts background) lives in Japan.  He is close enough to the earthquake/tsunami disaster to have felt both, and to be able to triage aid, but far enough that he is not himself a disaster victim (except for one hell of a scare).  We’ve corresponded a bit, enough that I think of him as a kindred spirit.

Living in Japan, of course, it’s quite logical for Jason to call upon the resources of his U.S. (Colorado) upbringing to help his nation of residence.  His solution:  socks, a simple comfort item and so important for cleanliness.  Japan might be the world’s most passionate country with regard to cleanliness.  If Jason thinks sending the Japanese socks will improve their comfort and spirits, I’m going to do it.

If you want to follow suit, please follow the instructions on Socks for Japan.  His reasoning makes great sense to me.  Every time there’s a major world disaster, Japan whips out its checkbook.  The world knows Japan for many good things; Japan has been a staunch ally of the United States my whole life.  The point of Jason’s plan is that we’ll do more good if we send comfort items along with notes of caring, rather than just donating money.  Socks one may buy; a kind, honest note isn’t for sale in any store.

Sounds to me like little enough to ask.  I hope you’ll join me in supporting Jason’s project.

Off to Walla Walla

Nephew’s first away game is at WWCC, so we’re going to go take in some of it after a swing past the antique show.  Hopefully my navigation isn’t as inept as last time I went there.  For those of you not familiar with Washington, our main state penitentiary (the one with the gallows and the gurney; in Washington, criminals can still hang) is at Wally, and it’s fairly out of the way.  Undeterred, I got sufficiently lost and confused by atrocious road construction that I pulled up right outside the slammer.  Fortunately, I didn’t get invited in.

With luck, JD will get to play.  He hasn’t seen the field yet this year, and it’s a new experience for him, pining it.  (For me in baseball, it was the commonplace norm, with my many athletic deficiencies.)  It’s that way for all of us in college, or at least most of us:  “Wow.  All my life I was the best player/(or smartest kid).  Good lord…so were all these people.  I’m going to have to pack my lunch.”

Wally’s a pretty nice town, though, so I don’t mind going over there.  Its primary industries, besides growing sweet onions, are educating the young (one university, one college and one CC) and incarcerating those who declined to be educated.  It has a religious background, based somewhat on the Whitman College heritage of Methodist education (their mascot is still the Missionaries).  The university, WWU, is an Adventist school.  The Whitties get a real good education, though one pays handsomely for it–it is a very highly regarded liberal arts college.  Less known is that Wally was at one point the primary city in Washington Territory, a contender for the state capital.  Not happening now.


Satisfying as it would be to cuss our news media’s coverage of the disaster, it would really miss the point.  The point is that the event is harmful to another people, and if it matters, a people we call allies.  My condolences, Japan.

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