6 June 1944

Sixty three years ago today, the United States and its allies -- Britain, Canada, France & Poland -- stormed the beaches, and glided via parachute and glider into the fields of Normandy. This daring move started the final climactic thrust into continental Europe that would, elven months later in May 1945, end the war and the Third Reich.

The courage of those troops, and the daring of their commanders to attempt such a landing are unparalleled. I can only imagine the terror of waiting for the ramp to drop on a landing craft or the green light telling you to jump into the night, over hostile territory. I can only admire the professionalism and courage that it took then to fight and accomplish the mission. Thankfully, we were on the winning side of that conflict and thankfully we had leaders who felt it necessary to win, and permitted the armed forces the latitude they needed to do so.

Take a moment today, and recall the courage, sacrifice and honor of the men who invaded Normandy, all those years ago. They are growing older, and someday there will be no veterans of World War II left among us. It is our duty to remember them and what they did on 6 June 1944, now and always.

Attributes of Manliness

City Journal has a nice review of a book, The Dangerous Book for Boys, by Conn Iggulden and Hal Iggulden (Collins, 288 pp.), that sounds like a great little read. The reviewer says that the authors of the book, brothers, "set old-fashioned male virtues on two stout heels." He then proceeds to quote a quote from the preface that I think is good advice for boys of all ages, and something that one needs to remind oneself of:

“Don’t grumble. Plug on. . . . Don’t swagger. The boy who swaggers—like the man who swaggers—has little else that he can do. . . . Be honest. Be loyal. Be kind. . . . Remember that the hardest thing to acquire is the faculty of being unselfish,” which is “. . . one of the finest attributes of manliness.”

-- Sir Frederick Treves, Bart, KCVO, CB, Sergeant in Ordinary to HM the King (1903)

(Cigar) Smoke Gets In My Eyes

I smoked my last cigar probably ten years ago. This past weekend I smoked two.
On Friday night, Mrs. Agricola and I kicked off the summer in style and finally set up the porch and invited our neighbors over for a drink.

We were drinking Italian and French Roses when our neighbor pulled out a couple of cigars -- Cubana Julianas (I think) that we smoked without delay. My parents had stopped in, after an evening out, and it was a very convivial time. The company was great, the wine was flowing and the smoke was floating. As I worked my way through the cigar I remembered why cigar smoking is so pleasurable -- especially when smoking terrific cigars and drinking good wine while sitting on a porch on a warm, late-spring night with great company.

The second cigar, a Macanudo, was smoked yesterday afternoon at a boil that we did with the same neighbors (Boil, Boiled, Fed). It sparked the appetite between rounds one and two of the feed. While it was not as delicious as the Friday-cigar, it was still pretty good. A weekend of good smoke, good times, and good food make for a difficult Monday transition.

Fed

Rd 2

Boiled

Boil

More Liberal Bumper-stickers

Coming into work this morning I saw another stupid, liberal bumper-sticker:

"Support Our Troops By Telling the Truth"

What does that mean? Can we define "truth?" To what "truth" is the owner of that car referring? Is it the the liberal "truth" that Bush lied? The liberal "truth" that the war is lost? The liberal "truth" that war solves nothing?

The great irony of the liberal bumper-sticker-displayers crying for troop support by "telling the truth," "bringing them home," etc. is that they don't support the troops because they don't support the troops' mission. They want to bring them home to score points against the stupid and hated W, and really don't care at all about the troops. Listening to liberals speak of the troops they actually regard them as country-boy-hicks (lots of Red-Staters) with retarded social views (no gays in the military, you know) who aren't smart enough to do anything else but carry a "gun" in the American Imperial Army . . . (Jean-Francois's "joke"). It makes me crazy that the troops have been so politicized by the Left in the service of the Left's political aspirations.

Kusa Dogwood

Memorial Day

"It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived." -- George Patton

"I am well aware of the toil and blood and treasure that it will cost to maintain this Declaration, and support and defend these States. Yet through all the gloom I can see the rays of ravishing light and glory. I can see that the end is worth more than all the means...." -- John Adams

First Lieutenant Andrew Bacevich, RIP

There's a great opinion piece in the 22 May New York Sun about a Boston-area man, First Lieutenant Andrew Bacevich. He died in combat in Balad, Iraq on 13 May, 2007.

He,like most of the men and women of our armed forces, answered a higher calling and served his coutry out of devotion and commitment. We are sadder for the loss of men like 1st Lt. Bacevich but richer for having his example to follow. Perhaps the Sun should re-run the article this Monday, Memorial Day.

One of the eulogists at the funeral commented on the values embodied by 1st Lieutenant Bacevich: "valor, strength, character, commitment." Indeed.

Run Fred, Run!

“But as Americans, our optimism comes not from an analysis of how things are, but from our belief that we can change what we see for the better. We have road maps—at least two of them in fact—the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution—to guide us. How can we look at the world without thinking about inalienable rights, and doing everything necessary to protect our country? How can we think of fiscal policy or even health-care policy without remembering the limitations appropriately placed upon government and the importance of individual freedom? This is a message that needs to be delivered.”

—Fred Thompson

Patriot Vol. 07 No. 21

Highway Prioritzation

Unfortunately I need to drive to work every day. I'd prefer it if I could take the train, but I can't. I live in a part of the Boston 'burbs that would require me to take a 40 minute car commute and turn it into a highly scheduled, 90 minute train commute. In my time in the car, commuting to work I've become quite familiar with the dismal condition of the Commonwealth's road ways. While the roads aren't as bad as the roads found in the Himalayas, they are certainly sub-par for a First World Country such as ours.

Potholed, uneven surfaces patched many times over, water collecting dips and severely sinking man hole and storm drain covers make for a tough ride, regardless of municipality and local tax base. The roads around here stink.

Imagine my surprise when I noticed the paving crews alongside Nonantum and Soldiers' Filed Roads (that I drive twice-daily) -- alongside being the operative preposition . . . They were digging up and resurfacing the recreational path that sits between the road and the Charles River. It's a nice section of road, one I've often thought I'd like to run, or bike. I commend the Commonwealth for improving the user experience of this trail along the river.

however, I ask, did anybody in the bureaucracy look at the road alongside which they replaced the path? Did they not think it important to fix this road so that the substrate is not exposed? Do they think rim bending potholes do not warrant repair? The prioritization process that lead to the upgrade of the recreational trail over the roadway that carries people to and from work every day is laughable, and a classic example of how the leaders of the commonwealth think, or don't. I was talking about roadways with a friend of mine and mentioning how a regions roads tell much about a place. The roads in and around Boston speak volumes.

Competitive Fire

I've been avoiding the political posts for a while, focusing on the hearth and home. Partly because, well, I'm very focused there right now, and partly because what is happening in Washington is so revolting that I can't really begin to fathom how to respond.

Yesterday's 67-29 vote in the Senate defeated the latest Democrat effort to lose the war by defunding the troops -- and thankfully so. The Republican party is hardly above fault in all things, but the Democrat party is as heinous, venal, short-sighted and despicable an amalgamation of people as has ever been assembled. Their one, overarching motivation is the humiliation of Bush and the retaking of the White House. They are chumming the water with barrels of the nastiest, basest gruel imaginable in order to fire up their grassroots. The only problem is that they are also attracting and emboldening other sharks with this practice.

The Democrats and the left want to lose the war in Iraq. Given how the war has been conducted to date there is no guarantee that we will win, but the surge needs to be given a chance and our troops need to be permitted to fight, and kill as many of the enemy as humanly possible. The Democrats, however, insist on playing silly and dangerous political games, giving aid and comfort to our enemies in the guise of defeatist sound bites that fire up the Savages to fight harder and longer against us.

At some point, the American people must stand up and say "No, we don't want to lose!" Don't they? How can a culture, such as ours, obsessed with winning, obsessed with rooting for teams, drivers, players etc., sit back and watch the (so-called) leaders of this country concede defeat and voluntarily pick up our ball and go home?

Why does a fan's team's pending defeat in the playoffs or wherever send us into paroxysms of anguish, but the prospect of losing a fight we can still win elicit nothing more than a blank stare. Where is our competitive fire? Where is our will to win? When will we stand up, start chanting U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! and cheer our team to victory. Of all the games we play we can't lose this one.

Ever-Bush, RIP

While I was out back, finishing up the next phase of the porch refurbishment, Mrs. Agricola was out front dismantling Ever-Bush - a blue green evergreen of indeterminate shape that occupied the front corner of the Quarter Acre.

We'd been talking about removing it almost since we moved in and finally got around to it this weekend. Ever-Bush was homely, large, shapeless and difficult to trim to attractiveness. It dominated the front of the property, hiding the house and the very nice lamp post that we have. It met its match on Saturday afternoon.

Mrs. Agricola cut off the branches, and started to cut the roots. She also took some nasty little evergreen ground cover from the base of Ever-Bush. I came out and helped her finish it off by ripping out the stump. It was gratifying and we now have a blank canvas on which to work -- not that we are great landscape designers by any stretch of the imagination, but together I'm sure we'll devise something pretty nice. There is an Azaelea ready to go in and we will do so this weekend.

To date, it's been a productive spring: the porch is improved, Ever-Bush is gone (long live the Ever-Bush), mulch has been delivered and will be spread this weekend, beds are cleaned out and flowers and vegetables have been planted for Child One. Last spring nothing got done as a result of the biblical rains that we received, so this year is a nice change.

An Evening Out

The other night I took Child One and Two out for dinner. Mrs. Agricola attended a function in Harvard Sq. so I met her there after work and took the kiddies out for a burger. We ate at a little place that severs healthier fast food and had a hoot, toasting with lemonade, eating some baked-fries and burgers. We topped off the meal with milk shakes and a sit on a bench.

The night was mild, but cooling rapidly, as spring nights do, and we drove home with an open sunroof. The newly-leafed trees rustled above us as we drove, the Charles River glimmered in the dusk to our right, the Red Sox game played softly on the radio and my children slept in the back seat. A real feeling of peace and happiness descended over me.

Children, Spring, Home . . .

We vs. I

When this blog first began the posts appeared in the first person singular. In an effort to keep some distance between us and the reading public we moved to the first person plural. However, it's becoming a pain to write in the first person plural -- over on our running blog posts appear in the first person singular and they are easier, faster and more fun to write. From, now on we're going to write this blog in the first person singular.

Mrs. Agricola Earns Her Stripes

This weekend was super-productive on the Quarter Acre. We and Pater Agricola installed a chair rail on the porch -- a nice little carpentry project that will hopefully save the screens on the porch.


The project that deserves the biggest kudos though was the one performed by Mrs. Agricola on the beds in the front of the house. She went to town and hacked scrubby pine "bushes," weeded and raked the beds, dug up wild sprouted grass, and trimmed bushes. Her efforts have the beds ready for edging and mulching this coming weekend and have helped to improve the look of the Quarter Acre immensely.


In a related note we also mowed the lawn for the first time this season and that was terrific. We've tamed the lawn for the time being and it compliments Mrs. Agricola's efforts, nicely. The yard is looking very smart right now. Mrs. Agricola earned her landscaping stripes this weekend and seemed to have fun to boot.

Spring Weekend

Today has been a perfect spring day in the Boston area. We're planning on bailing a bit early today to take advantage of the nice weather. The weather report indicates that this weekend should lend itself to grilling and accomplishing some outdoor tasks -- planting flowers with Child One, starting a retaining wall and possibly mowing the lawn.

Is there anything more hopeful than a sunny, mild Friday in May?

Capitalist Workers of The World

Now that the socialists have had their little day of marching, chanting of outmoded slogans and banner waving we hope that they had fun. Unlike them, we observed May Day by working and being thankful for the opportunity. Socialism is a lovely idea until one realizes that it's not.

We are human. We have specific needs, wants and desires. We want to take care of those things for ourselves -- not have that gratification tied into some collectivist whole. The socialistic idea that it takes a village is bunkum. If we're enaged in a collectivist effort, let's face it we're going to let someone do more than we do and still reap the benefits -- we're human and we all try to find slack. Except, in the collectivist system that slack-seeking-nature gets multiplied a thousand fold until slack seeking becomes the modus operandi and nothing gets done -- crops aren't harvested (they're not even sown), children don't get raised etc. etc.

What the village needs is a bunch of hungry, aggressive people who are looking to support themselves and their families and realize there is no shame in that drive. That drive to look out for oneself and one's own has ancillary benefits to the larger community whether the socialistic utopians want to admit it. Our system is not always pretty, it's not always kind, but it's the best because it affords success within parameters defined by the individual. We invite the socialists to join our movement, the movement of Capitalist Workers -- striving for betterment of ourselves and the world through personal reponsibility and self-sufficiency.

Lawn Gods

Mother nature and her copious drenchings and our lawn fertilization have done wonders for the grass on the Quarter Acre. The lawn is very green and quite thick. We've not mowed it yet, but it's almost time. When that happens the season will be open in earnest and then Mrs. Agricola will lose her husband to, as she says, "the Lawn Gods."

We're not completely insane acolytes of the religion of the lawn, but it is an endlessly interesting task for us as we struggle to keep alive one of the most fickle plants cultivated by man. We will not go so far as to say grass is useless -- it preserves our home's resale value, helps prevent erosion, keeps our property cool and produces O2 while removing CO2 from the environment (one must keep their carbon footprint small, after all). It's a challenge that, while maddening at times, keeps us entertained all summer. It's also a task that affords the opportunity to work outside, use our disappearing muscles and a power tool and gives us a sense of accomplishment when it finished.

Hen Turkey: Two

Mrs. Agricola reports that the hen turkey was back yesterday, and this time she was kicking around the Quarter Acre. A neighbor reported that she and her family saw it walking down the middle of the street. We're looking forward to seeing if the bird decides to stick around the neighborhood -- perhaps it has decided to make a home amongst us.

This is pretty cool, but also somewhat problematic. We've heard of turkeys ruining cars by sitting on them and doing what turkeys do. They can also be aggressive birds, and with little kids around we will need to keep an eye out for the turkey to make sure she and the kids don't come to blows -- toddlers would not fare well in that encounter.

That said, it's interesting and we look forward to seeing how things develop. As we noted in a previous post nature is all around us, and we are living in ever-closer proximity to wild animals despite the seeming tameness of our surroundings. Were the turkey a coyote we might feel differently, but even if it were it would still be exciting to have the opportunity to watch nature up close, over our morning coffee.

Hen Turkey

Tonight, while cooking dinner, we looked outside the side-kitchen-window towards our neighbor's house and noticed a very large hen turkey scratching away on his lawn. We rustled up the kids and Pater Agricolae (he was dining with us this evening since Mater Agricolae is still in Chicago) and went to the front stoop to watch the turkey in action.

She spooked quickly and headed for more concealed forage across the street. We had neither the time nor the presence of mind to grab a camera until it was too late so we have no photographic evidence to back up our story. All in all though, it was very cool to see a turkey near the Quarter Acre. Increasingly we see more and more of these large birds all around the area, but, until today had never seen one in our neighborhood. She was a handsome bird, and we all got a tremendous kick out of our encounter.

Beautiful Sunday

St Clements W Demming P Lincoln Park

Sunny Saturday

Hancock Tower from Oak St Beach.

City of Big Shoulders

Patriots Day

Concord Hymn
by Ralph Waldo Emerson

By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood
And fired the shot heard round the world.

The foe long since in silence slept;
Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;
And Time the ruined bridge has swept
Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.

On this green bank, by this soft stream,
We set today a votive stone;
That memory may their deed redeem,
When, like our sires, our sons are gone.

Spirit, that made those heroes dare
To die, and leave their children free,
Bid Time and Nature gently spare
The shaft we raise to them and thee.

The Greening

The Northeast is greening up despite the cold and damp that's still hanging over the region -- the tail-end of the weekend's storm.

We suppose it should be getting greener given all of the moisture that lawns, trees and shrubs are receiving, but it's more than simple moisture that is hastening the reemergence. Buds grow larger, green grass blades overtake brown and our tulips and daffodils seem to be growing visibly each day -- the latter ahead of the former in the bloom department.

Some forsythia have finally bloomed, their yellow blossoms much welcomed in the dreary landscape; shrubs that we pass on our morning run sprout small leaves again and many trees in the neighborhood -- not just the early flowering ones -- are budding rapidly, ready to burst. It's a hopeful time of year, despite the dreary weather and desolate news reports. But, as she does each year, Nature sheds her winter garb to reveal her reborn beauty and we welcome the change with open heart.

She's returned not a moment too soon.

Tax Day

“To take from one, because it is thought his own industry... has acquired too much, in order to spare to others, who... have not exercised equal industry and skill, is to violate arbitrarily the first principle of association, the guarantee to everyone the free exercise of his industry and the fruits acquired by it.” —Thomas Jefferson


“The collection of taxes which are not absolutely required, which do not beyond reasonable doubt contribute to the public welfare, is only a species of legalized larceny. The wise and correct course to follow in taxation is not to destroy those who have already secured success, but to create conditions under which everyone will have a better chance to be successful.” —Calvin Coolidge

“Are you entitled to the fruits of your own labor or does government have some presumptive right to spend and spend and spend?” ++ “The federal government has taken too much tax money from the people, too much authority from the states, and too much liberty with the Constitution.” ++ “Government’s view of the economy could be summed up in a few short phrases: If it moves, tax it. If it keeps moving, regulate it. And if it stops moving, subsidize it.” --Ronald Reagan

Virginia Tech

What does one say when confronted with events such as transpired today in Blacksburg, VA?

As a cynic we await the coming media-coverage onslaught. The media has already written much about this event and created multi-media content in their coverage. More will follow, no doubt, until every conceivable angle will have been covered, uncovered, dissected and reassembled until some other horrible event yanks away the media's attention. Liberals will also use this as one more opportunity to confiscate guns (we don't own a gun, the highest power in our land, Mrs. Agricola, won't permit it, so, we comply).

As a blogger we are fascinated by the user generated content especially the video phone footage, camera phone stills and the story of the journalism class that posted from inside of Norris Hall during the attack.

As a father, a husband, a brother and a human being we acknowledge the terror and the tragedy of this event. We can only imagine the pain of the parents who have suffered the greatest loss imaginable, and offer the families and friends of the victims our deepest condolences and sincerest prayers.

Nor' Easter

Taken Sunday, April 15, 2007.

Following-up a Couple of Posts

We've written a couple of posts recently about public service and taxation at the local level.

We found a great link over on Newmark's Door to an article in City Journal by Theodore Dalrymple that chronicles the degradation of the British system of public service. It rings true for us, and like Dalrymple we think it bespeaks a larger issue in society at large.

Newmark also pointed us to a terrific article by Jack Kelly in the Pittsburgh Post & Gazette about 300 that is definitely worth a read.

Corporation Beach

Lucky 13

Overridden

The override in our town, on which we voted on 10 April, passed in resounding fashion by a vote of 59% yea to 41% nay. Obviously, we will conform to the wisdom of the electorate but it is disheartening that at a time in Massachusetts politics that many towns are voting down their overrides our town approved a pair of them that may cost us anywhere from $352 to $704 in the first year -- one of the questions concerned a debt exclusion that will supposedly decrease in cost to the taxpayer over the life of the 20 year bond.

The reason for our uncertainty about the actual cost of he override concerns the definition of taxpayer. There are two people on the Quarter Acre Tax Bill -- are we considered one taxpayer, or two? We're not sure, but we'll find out when our bank sends us the notice of increase in our escrow payments because the taxes have now risen, again . . .

When will we, the people, force the government to stop reaching into our pockets? When we have budget shortfalls at home we reduce spending. The government taps the "never-ending" supply of money within the population. The big argument for the overrides was to "keep our schools strong." We live in a town with a very good school system (as far as public school systems go). Had the override not passed, teachers would have been laid off, and class sizes would have increased. No one ever said how many teachers would be fired or by how much classes would have grown. The argument was purely emotional, and couched in fuzziness though the drain on our finances is anything but fuzzy (though it is emotional).

The money that we must now pay to the town equals at least one car payment, and possibly two depending on the actual definition of taxpayer; a nice weekend away; at least a few nice meals, and possibly several in a restaurant; a new dishwasher, Mosquito Magnet or some other type of durable good. Yet, we are happy to support the schools, we don't really need those things.

We moved to our town partly for the schools -- not because we're sure we want to send our kids to them, but for the value it adds to our real estate investment. If things continue to go according to history, there will be another override next year, and our property taxes will rise yet again. Eventually, this will affect our investment by making it harder to sell our house because of high property taxes.

There will be another sob story next year, and more lamentations that our schools will be weakened . . . if you want private-school-education send your kids to private school, don't rely on the public dime to provide it. Taxation is a power issue. By claiming ever more of our money, the government removes our power to decide how we want to live. Some day it may stop -- though we fear that will be the day that we, like so many other Massachusetts refugees, flee the burgeoning Peoples' Republic that is the Commonwealth.

Civic Duty

We did our civic duty today and voted in the town election. We didn't vote for any people -- just the two tax-increase ballot questions. The strange thing about local elections is that despite their proximity we know very little about the candidates. Our lack of knowledge about our neighbors who wish to be in local politics prevents us from voting for anybody (we also never vote for those who run unopposed).

Last fall's elections in Iraq inspired us tremendously to go out and exercise our right to vote. If the Iraqi people can risk life and limb to vote, literally, then we can find 20 minutes in our day to stop by the local elementary school and fill out (some of)the ballot. We are lazy in our exercise of democracy in this country and at this present moment in time we can't afford to be.

Easter Sunday

But at daybreak on the first day of the week they took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb; but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. While they were puzzling over this, behold, two men in dazzling garments appeared to them. They were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground. They said to them, "Why do you seek the living one among the dead? He is not here, but he has been raised. Remember what he said to you while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners and be crucified, and rise on the third day."

And they remembered his words.

Then they returned from the tomb and announced all these things to the eleven and to all the others. The women were Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Mary the mother of James; the others who accompanied them also told this to the apostles, but their story seemed like nonsense and they did not believe them. But Peter got up and ran to the tomb, bent down, and saw the burial cloths alone; then he went home amazed at what had happened.

Luke 24: 1-4

Good Friday

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Oh! Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

Were you there when they nailed Him to the tree?
Were you there when they nailed Him to the tree?
Oh! Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they nailed Him to the tree?

Were you there when they laid Him in the tomb?
Were you there when they laid Him in the tomb?
Oh! Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they laid Him in the tomb?

--Traditional, African American Spiritual

The Public Till

We've lived on the Quarter Acre for about 2.5 years. Next week we are facing our third property tax vote since moving in. As a March 31 article in The Boston Globe states this month 50 towns in the Commonwealth are voting on property tax increases to cover shortfalls that will save libraries, teaching and police jobs and lifelong public employee 80% pensions.

At what point, we ask, will the government -- local, state & federal -- realize that they can't keep coming to the citizens for cash? At what point will we, the citizens, begin to demand that they stop? Last year 59 of 89 tax hike proposals were defeated in the Commonwealth. Perhaps the tide is turning, but the bureaucrats don't seem to get it and property tax-hike-proposals continue to flow to the electorate. We appreciate the opportunity to vote on them, but are indignant that the powers-that-be can't get their financial houses in order.

We understand the governmental tropes about rising health care, pension and other costs, but, at some point, things need to be cut in order to service those commitments. Decisions need to be made about what is truly important and what is not -- never an easy for a bureaucrat, but a daily decision for the taxpayer who is compelled by law to pay the taxes or else. No other "career" has such cushy bonuses and perks as does that of the "public servant" -- we're obviously excluding the UAW here.

We work in private industry, and we have no pension beyond what we save ourselves, nor will we have gold plated health care benefits upon retirement. Why should public service of twenty years equal lifetime comfort from the age of 42 until death? We think that the founders never intended for "public service" to be a career, and certainly never intended for it to confer a life-time sinecure financed by the public weal.

On the Quarter Acre we cut back in lean times, and moderate our expenditures based on cash flow -- we freelanced for a long time, so income was not always steady -- would that the government do the same. Alas, that will never happen because once an entitlement is granted, or a program started it must be honored in perpetuity. Hopefully, the voters of this state flock to the polls and defeat the latest encroachment into their pockets. We will be there, on April 10, casting our vote against all overrides in our town (there are two on the ballot) in an effort to keep more of our money where it belongs -- within our family, spent as we see fit, on things that we need, want and desire.

A Few Good Quotes

“Patriotism is as much a virtue as justice, and is as necessary for the support of societies as natural affection is for the support of families.” —Benjamin Rush

“We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honor and are shocked to find traitors in our midst.” —C.S. Lewis

“Politics, n. strife of interests masquerading as a contest of principles.” —Ambrose Bierce

From (Patriot Post) Patriot Vol. 07 No. 14 | 04 April 2007

Athlete-Media-Relations 2.0

Regardless of where you stand on Curt Schilling, he is a unique talent both on and off the field. While he rubs many the wrong way -- esp. The Boston Globe's curmudgeonly Dan Shaughnessy -- as a self-promoter, he is redefining the way athletes relate to the media and the fans.

We happen to think Schilling is terrific and we look forward to his weekly chats with Dennis and Callahan -- the morning drive guys on Boston's sports-radio-giant WEEI. He always sheds great light on the game, and provides terrific insight into how it's played at the highest level -- at least in his POV.

Schilling has long been an active participant on the Boston Dirt Dogs and Sons of Sam Horn bulletin boards. He's also known around these parts to sports radio listeners as "Curt in the Car." This spring Schilling launched his own blog, 38 Pitches. It must be a nightmare for team-management to have a guy as savvy, intelligent and opinionated as Schilling out and about, opining and talking about whatever he wants.
This is a perfect example of the issue of how brand owners are losing control of their brand. Ownership, understandably, wants to control, what their employees say, but they have to be even-handed and judicious in how hard, and when or if, they come down on a player such as Schilling. We think that ownership understands that they would surely lose in any war of words with Schilling. This new foray into the blogoshpere is certainly forcing them to walk a razor thin line.

For now, ownership of the Sox is showing forbearance and continuing to permit Schilling to be visible and opinionated. It will be interesting to see how long they permit this, especially as the season progresses and Schilling draws nearer to free agency. Like the Sox, Schilling also has a brand to maintain and he does so by being open and pushing his message across multiple channels. There have been athlete blogs in the past -- ESPN has contracted with marginal players to chronicle a season -- but this is about as high-a-profile a player as we know of to go the route of the personal blog.

We'd love to hear and see more players go this route as well. It will radically change the relationship between player and fans as well as player and major media outlets. Part of this, no doubt, lies at the root of the issues between Shaughnessy and Schilling. In Shaughnessy's world, the player is supposed to sit there, give good quotes to the grizzled, old-media pro and allow the latter to control the message. Alas, the days of the gate-keeping, myth-making, and mythical reporter as major arbiter of player access are numbered.

Welcome to Athlete-Media-Relations 2.0. People like Schilling are helping to change the field of play (so to speak). The ballpark scribes now need to compete with the athletes themselves for the scoop. As long as this foray into the brave-new-world of DIY news production, brand management and self promotion doesn't distract too much from on-field performance -- Schilling got lit up on Opening Day by Kansas City -- we are all for it and look forward to the evolution.

Opening Day

Opening Day is upon us, again. The Boston Red Sox are in Kansas City playing a daytime season opener and the whole summer lays out before us filled with potential and dreams of October glory.

The Quarter Acre season opener was March 31, 2007. Along with Pater Agricolae we thatched and raked all day. In what is developing into a tradition, Quarter Acre was tended first and then we travelled to Pater Agricolae's Acre and did the same. It was a great workout and a beautiful day to be outside working. The yard looks neat and clean, and though still in its latent period it is about to burst back to life. We helped things with a dose of fertilizer -- the season's first -- and look forward to the greening.

The season is open!

Friday Sky

Fatherhood

The Boston Globe's Jeff Jacoby wrote two great articles this week -- one to each of his sons who are 10 years old and 16 days. He writes one each year, and has for the past 10 since the birth of his first son, Caleb.

They are powerful, open, honest. They embody the best hope of any parent for their child, and the highest goal of parenthood. Thank you, Mr. Jacoby, for bearing public witness to this.

A Message To My Newborn Son

Messages To My Son

Hilllary, Barack & 1984

This morning's Wonder Land column by Daniel Henninger in the Wall Street Journal turned us onto this video. After reading his typically, on-target observations we wandered over to YouTube to check things out for ourselves.

A very well executed play on Mac's seminal "1984" commercial we think that it nicely captures what Hillary is all about -- actually, what the Democrat Party is all about as they seek to take care of us, the naked savages in the wilderness. That it's produced by someone connected to the Obama campaign -- Phil de Vellis -- makes us laugh. We are still 10 months from the primaries and 18 from the general election and the aspirants on the Democrat side are already bloodying themselves.

Previously, we posted some comments on how organizations are losing control of their brands -- a talk we heard at an advertising symposium -- and they need to let it happen, there is no fighting it. This latest dust-up strikes us as the ultimate inside-outside-job of late. A "political pro" (Henninger's description) uses a grass-roots tool (YouTube)to lambaste a major brand (Hillary), all the while being an operative for another major brand (Obama) and, at least for a bit, making it appear as if it was the work of some Obama supporters.

The next ten months should be fascinating to watch. Republicans, and conservatives, should just sit back and watch the Democrats shred each other in their effort to achieve their ultimate goal -- power.

Red Winged Blackbirds

This week a bunch of Red Winged Blackbirds have been visiting the Quarter Acre bird feeder. Last week, one came by for breakfast a couple of times. Yesterday, about 12 of them were out in the yard, eating the birdseed that had fallen out of the feeder. When they take off, en mass, it's pretty amazing.

One day last spring we had about 25 visit the yard at one time, around this time of year, but then didn't see another one for the rest of the spring and the summer. The Quarter Acre is not far from the Charles River and there are lots marshy areas with tall grass that is perfect for the Red Winged Blackbird. Our yard must be a quick stop on their migration back to their summer grounds. It's a welcome visit, and another sign that spring is certainly here.

"Public Service"

The Quarter Acre is situated in a town without curb-side pickup of rubbish and recyclables so we take a weekly trip to the town dump to dispose of our household waste. We actually look forward to this trip -- it's not overly difficult as far as tasks go, it has visible and tangible benefits.

During this week's trip an incident with a public servant sparked the question: whatever happened to "pubic service?" Let us remember that service is the operative word. To get into our town dump one must purchase a sticker (valid for the calendar year) that is affixed to the lower left hand corner of the windshield. A public servant sits in a booth and checks to make sure you have it. No problem.

This past weekend there were two men checking stickers. A car in front of us stopped, and the guy impatiently waved him through. Seeing this we rolled slowly into the checkpoint thinking that would help to keep things moving. But, no. The checker scowled, waved a hand for us to stop, which we did, looked exaggeratedly at our windshield and then let us pass, waving us along, impatiently.

This was a small thing, a momentary blip in the weekend, but it annoyed no end. There was no consistency in the approach. No rhyme. No reason. Pure caprice and a petty power play by a guy who, as Steve Miller sang "makes his living off of the people's taxes . . . " was on full display. Other interactions with "public servants" at the town dump have inspired similar feelings. The woman who works in the office and takes your $15 to dispose of computer monitors etc. is sullen, hostile and miserable. The guy who hovers around the dumping zones is equally miserable, and somewhat menacing.

The local town dump -- and ours is a very efficient and good dump from an operational perspective -- is about as grass-roots as one gets in the national governmental spectrum. Yet dealing with its agents is unpleasant at best, disheartening at worst and overall, very frustrating. We believe that it was Kafka that wrote about petty people with petty powers in petty jobs, and we, the citizens of this country, fund a bureaucracy -- at least three levels deep, each with myriad sub-levels -- filled with people that Kafka would most certainly recognize.

The service side of "public service" is dead. Long live the service side.

Small Signs

After our morning constitutional, during the cool down phase, we took a walk around the Quarter Acre. A week ago we got a solid, late-season dumping of snow that froze very hard. A couple of lovely spring days have melted it though, and the smells of thawing earth and melt-water once again fill the air.

Greening grass, emerges from beneath winter thatch. Tulips and daffodils, planted last fall (some partially sprouted during a weirdly warm December, and are now a bit burned) are sprouting in earnest; and, Tiger Lilies, that will not bloom until late June, have broken through the soil to begin their ascent. The sun shines brighter, longer, at a steeper angle each day, warming both earth and air.

Today, we sense a certain Spring-hopefulness. The Quarter Acre is shedding its drab winter garb and emerging from its latency. It is time we did the same, the signs are all around.

With It, Or On It

We've not yet seen "300" and may not -- it's hard enough to land baby-sitting, and when we do we typically use it to go to dinner, not the movies. We have, however, been thinking about this film, reading about it, browsed the graphic novel upon which it is based while visiting a bookstore, and watched a History Channel show about the battle of Thermopylae. We found a link to an interesting review of the film at The Weekly Standard while browsing Newmark's Door.

The reviewer, John Podhoretz, makes an interesting point about how the film is resonating with audiences. In its first two weeks in general release "300" has netted $100MM. As Podhoretz notes there are no stars involved, either in front of, or behind, the camera. The film does have striking visuals, and tells an incredible story of duty, honor, courage and sacrifice in the face of impossible odds.

Podhoretz writes:

300 is nothing more than a comic book rendering of that tale--quite literally, as it's slavishly faithful to a 1999 comic book by Frank Miller, whose violent imagery and hardboiled storytelling have now been immortalized in two successful Hollywood films (the other being Sin City). Despite the vulgarity and overheated solemnity of its approach, 300 does tell the Thermopylae story without a trace of irony. It depicts Sparta and the Spartans in all their proud, martial, vicious, nasty, unsentimental, and egalitarian glory. Director/co-writer Zack Snyder offers not even a moment of doubt that the Spartans are the good guys--believers in human freedom who oppose the Persians because they demand nothing but submission to a false god-king.

I don't think this movie has a single idea about the nature of cultural conflict, the meaning of martial valor, or anything else. But here's the thing: If you choose to tell the story of Thermopylae, you cannot escape the fact that you are choosing to tell a story of Western civilization taking a stand against rampaging barbarians from the East. And it's precisely this aspect of 300--as well as its entirely unapologetic celebration of war at its most insanely bloodthirsty--that offers the only coherent explanation for its galvanizing effect on audiences.

Kyle Smith, writing in the New York Post, points out that people seeking to draw parallels between the action onscreen and the war in Iraq or the war on terror are looking in the wrong place, since 300 hews close to Miller's 1999 comic book. That is certainly true. But while Miller foresaw no parallel, the audience seeing 300 in the year 2007 is responding viscerally to a story of a clash of civilizations that takes the side of the West against the East.

We've always been intrigued by the battle of Thermopylae. Though, and despite priding ourselves on our knowledge of history we never realized (embarrassingly) that the Greeks lost. We have, however, always understood the subtext of the battle, and have always viewed it through the lens of West versus East -- "a clash of civilizations." What the History Channel show imparted to us was that the act of Spartan sacrifice was born in and helped to foster the idea of Nation. So, despite defeat in the pass of Thermopylae and the subsequent burning of Athens (payback for the Greek sack of Sardis a century before) the Greeks rallied, as a nation, to drive the Persians from the Peloponnese. What ensued was the flourishing of the culture upon which Western Culture rests -- despite politically-correct efforts to deny this. Had this idea of nation not taken root when it did, and had the Persians remained in Greece we would live in a much different world than we do today.

The elites in our government, media-entertainment industry and educational establishment no doubt look upon such thoughts as those of a simpleton -- one who fails to see nuance. Thankfully, unlike those who see only gray in our current clash of civilizations, 300 Spartans (and 1,000 never-mentioned-Thesbians) saw things in black and white, stood their ground and fought for an ideal embodied in a national culture and a way of life. Would that such stalwartness existed amongst our "best and brightest."

Perhaps, some training in a Spartan agoge -- where Spartan boys between the ages of 7 and 19 learned to fight, steal, evade, kill and survive in combat for the good of society -- would change that. Before departing for war, as they handed them their shields, Spartan mothers would tell their sons, : "Return with with it, or on it." Collectively, as a nation, we carry our shield in some nasty parts of the world, in defense of the greatest way of life in the history of mankind. Will we return from these endeavors with our shield in hand, or will we be carried home on it? There is no return without our shield, that is not an option.

Super Market Tourism

After digging out from a late season snow storm, we took Child One and Child Two to their grandparents' house. Saturday was the birthday of Pater Agricolae, and we kicked off the weekend with a visit to the Super 88 -- a huge and wonderful Asian Market with a several outposts in the Boston area.

We visited the flagship store in Boston's South End. Fans of supermarkets in general, we love Asian Markets. The breadth and depth of merchandise and the variety of produce is astounding. It's a true cultural experience. We shopped for a birthday meal that we were preparing on Sunday and it was a blast. Child One was amazed by the live fish, crabs, lobsters, beef tongue, duck necks and various fowl feet. Child Two sat quietly in the seat of the cart and took it all in, concentrating quietly and intently. We can only imagine what it must be like to a toddler and an infant, respectively, and have so much visual stimulation in a place so different from their typical supermarket experience. Pater Agricolae enjoyed it immensely as well -- sharing this experience with his grandchildren was icing on the cake.

The meal, on Sunday was a great, pan-Asian feast that was a joy to prepare, and pretty good tasting to boot (if we may be so bold). We made Thai shrimp soup in spicy lime broth; green papaya salad with tomatoes and star fruit (Viet Nam); chicken and potato curry (Laos); stir fried veggies with fermented soy bean paste (Yunnan). Wine with the meal was Champagne (Moet & Chandon) for the soup course and then New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc (Oyster Bay) when the Champagne was gone. For dessert we had old fashioned, and from-scratch, chocolate Devil's Food Cake with home made butter cream, mocha frosting.

The shopping trip was wonderful, the meal prep and ensuing feast was equally great and it was a super way to cap off the weekend and spend a Sunday. Though it goes without saying, we are happy to live near our family to be able to share such things.

March 16?

More fun!

Commute

Fun!

Mouth Wash Bum

While walking through Harvard Square the other evening we saw a mouthwash bum, the first one in a long time.

We're more likely to see some junkie on the nod nowadays than we are to see a bum hitting a bottle of mouthwash. But there he was, as bombed as could be on the corner of Mass Ave and Ellery St., carrying his bottle of golden mouthwash, CVS brand.

Convergence Culture Talk

Yesterday morning (3/14), for work, we attended the morning session of an advertising symposium in Boston. We heard a few speakers the most interesting of whom was Henry Jenkins -- co-director of the center for comparative media studies at MIT.

His area of focus is fans, and fan culture, particularly how fans influence, and alter a brand. He had a great series of dichotomies in a string of his slides that highlighted the change in the media-scape and that create challenges for the marketer and the brand manager.

Interactive
Participation

Individual Consumers
Collective Intelligence

Mass Markets
Brand Tribes

One Size
All Size

Attraction
Activation

Sticky
Spreadable

The most interesting insight that he provided, however, was that "we [marketers/brand managers]don't control the whole brand and that we've already lost control." Rather than try to control it we need to find ways to embrace this fan participation and use it to our advantage to improve both the brand and the brand's communications.

This loss of brand control was also echoed by Jim McDowell, VP of Mini Cooper USA. There is opportunity in the ambiguity -- always.

Damnable DST

Mark us, along with farmers and others who are up and at 'em on the earlier side of the day, as opponents of Daylight Savings Time.

We run, and winter is always a hard time to maintain the regimen given the cold weather and treacherous footing. The greatest hindrance, however, is the darkness: it's purely psychological, we admit, but it's a huge hurdle. Because we have children at home there is no time to run in the evening and that puts us squarely on a morning routine. The past couple of weeks have been great and relatively bright -- a nice reward for dark January and dim February. Again, with the imposition of DST we run in pre-dawn gloom rather than lovely first light.

Many of our colleagues are giddy about the fact that they get to commute home in daylight . . . we say who cares? Admittedly, it is nice to have light until 9:30 PM; but, after finishing dinner and putting children in bed it's not the most useful time of day for us. Sitting on the porch in the gloaming is nice but we realize no efficiencies from this extra daylight.

We realize that we are in the minority on DST, but in a lifestyle geared to the morning hours, waking up in light rather than gloom is preferable. Perhaps, sometime in the not-too-distant-future time will always be "standard." Until that time however, we'll lay out our running gear now so that it will be easier to find in the dark, tomorrow morning.

Mark Twain Quote

“The mania for giving the Government power to meddle with the private affairs of cities or citizens is likely to cause endless trouble, through the rivalry of schools and creeds that are anxious to obtain official recognition, and there is great danger that our people will lose our independence of thought and action which is the cause of much of our greatness, and sink into the helplessness of the Frenchman or German who expects his government to feed him when hungry, clothe him when naked, to prescribe when his child may be born and when he may die, and, in time, to regulate every act of humanity from the cradle to the tomb, including the manner in which he may seek future admission to paradise.” -- Mark Twain

Read in Patriot Post Brief March 12, 2007

Random Thoughts

We've got a bunch of random thoughts and observations that we've been hashing around since the last post on 3/3, with nothing really coalescing into any sort of coherent post. So, here goes:

Oops!
DeVille Patrick is in trouble again. He made what essentially amounts to a lobbying call to Citigroup and his old pal, and fellow Clintonista, Bob Rubin on behalf of a company for which he served as a board member. The latter is struggling and Citgroup has business interests in the Commonwealth. This side trip into an ethical gray area (nudge, nudge, wink, wink) occurred after DeVille specifically warned his staff to avoid any actions that could be deemed "unethical." Clintonistas know how to skirt the ethics line, and, somehow, to get away with it. Together we can . . .

Jumped the Gun
We spoke too soon in regards to the demise of the ice age. Arctic cold dropped like an anvil on top of Boston where it has remained for the past three days. The once slushy ice sheet in the backyard is now a solid sheet of glistening ice.

Comets on the Curb
Speaking of ice . . . the stuff that's left by the sides of the roads, covered in sand, dust and other substances is something beyond ice at this point. It's more akin to the material that makes up comets.

Doves
There are three nesting pairs of Doves in the backyard who have been riding out the cold hunkered down in some Myrtle and left-over oak leaves. They sit in the sun on the hill at the back of the Quarter Acre for hours on end, puffed up, eyes half closed. When we lived in Brooklyn we had a nesting pair who built a a flimsy little nest on our fire escape. The nest held two eggs, both of which hatched. A crow however came and upset the whole thing, stealing one baby, and knocking the other to a lower roof where the it ended up in a gutter. The parents tended the baby there and the baby dove eventually flew away -- literally making it out of the gutter.

Call of the Wild
There is a cool cat that comes wandering through the yard, on a pretty regular schedule. He's big, he's clean, his gray and white coat is thick. He took a run at the birds on the ground (see, above: Doves). Before we saw him charge down the hill some birds got skittish and started bolting -- we thought that maybe the hawk was coming in for a kill. The cat scattered the remaining birds and squirrels none of whom returned until the next day. We're not at all cat (or even animal people) but hunting, outdoor cats are pretty cool -- mini suburban tigers.

The Ice Age Winds Down

Today was a beautiful, sunny, 50 F day. The ice sheet that covers the Quarter Acre is melting rapidly and the yard is being revealed. Spring is definitely on the way. An interesting leftover from the ice sheet's retreat are large number of rocks and pebbles that washed down the hill at the back of the property. They occupy the area at the foot of the hill and the top of the lawn, piled up like glacial scree.

Another interesting leftover is copious amounts of rabbit droppings. It almost seems as if a whole herd of bunnies sits on our lawn eating and pooping all night. On close inspection the grass is fairly well cropped, and the amount of droppings is staggering. There are also some rather dense tufts of rabbit down. Our theory is that this part of the yard gets sun all year 'round and the snow melts in this area -- whereas much of the lawn sits in the house's shadow and sits under ice still. So, the rabbits come and dine on what they can find, and fertilize as they go.

The Harvard Square Falcon

On Wednesday, 28 February (this is the second post this week to start this way), while sitting in a meeting we happened to let our attention wander and gazed out the window. Across the street from our office, visible outside of the conference room in which we were sitting is a church with a tall stone spire. Perched on the cross atop the spire was the Peregrine Falcon that we had seen hunting at St. Paul's in December 2006. It perched on one of the arms of the cross, surveying the scene, primping and preening for about 10 minutes before flying away to look for breakfast.

Supporting The Wrong Team

Tuesday, 25 February, at lunch, after picking up a sandwich from a Cambridge deli we detoured through Hahvahd Yahd with a couple of colleagues. While hustling across the quad with streams of students we spied four students holding a pair of Palestinian Liberation Organization flags and a sign. I couldn't read the sign, and the students stood peacefully, largely ignored.

We commented to our colleagues that this a great place where you can stand holding the flag of a sworn enemy of our country and no one bothers you. One colleague commented sarcastically that they were exercising their First Amendment rights. We asked what would happen if we stood across from them with an Israeli or a U.S. flag; or let them know that we thought them idiots. Somehow, we knew that our exercise of our own First Amendment rights would not have been viewed as kindly upon HU's hallowed campus.

The third member of our trio is dating a Marine Aviator currently on station in Iraq. She wondered what would happen if she carried the Marine Corp flag across the quad. We laughed, because we all the knew answer.

In a terrific article in today's WSJ, Daniel Henninger writes about this divide between the men and women of our armed forces and the civilian establishment. He relates the tale of U.S. Army Major Bruce Crandall (ret.) and his recent receipt of the Congressional Medal of Honor and the lack of coverage of either the feat or the ceremony in the mainstream media.

Henninger writes the following about the words of Gen. Peter Shoomaker, the Army chief of staff:

"Look at his words and consider whether they still stand today, or whether as a matter of the nation's broader ethos of commonly accepted beliefs, they are under challenge. Gen. Schoomaker said: 'The words of the warrior ethos that we have today--I will always place the mission first; I will never accept defeat; I will never quit; and I will never leave a fallen comrade--were made real that day in the la Drang Valley.'"

Henninger continues:

"The secretary of the Army, Francis Harvey, went on in this vein: 'The courage and fortitude of America's soldiers in combat exemplified by these individuals is, without question, the highest level of human behavior. It demonstrates the basic goodness of mankind as well as the inherent kindness and patriotism of American soldiers.'"

The "warrior ethos" and soldiers as exemplars of "the highest level of human behavior" are certainly not views held by critics of the war in Iraq, the military or the bush administration. Henninger concludes:

"All nations celebrate personal icons, and ours now tend to be doers of good. That's fine. But if we suppress the martial feats of a Bruce Crandall, we distance ourselves further from our military. And in time, we will change. At some risk."

Indeed. To the protesters on the Harvard Quad, celebrate Bruce Crandall. Celebrate the (true) warrior ethos of our military. Honor the exemplars of human behavior who serve in our armed forces -- not the PLO.

Feeds

To all three of our readers, we're sure that you'll notice that we've added a new feed features to this layout. We've made a move to FeedBurner, partly to see what sort of action this site gets, and partly to play around with FeedBurner for professional reasons. If you have a feed to this site we'd appreciate it if you replaced the old Atom feed with the new FeedBurner one. It will be interesting to track stats and see what happens with this site. We have no visions of grandeur, just a desire to play around with the technology available to the hobbyist and professional alike.

Snowman

Another reason to be happy about our move.

Social Justice

A while back we read a fascinating string over on Little Green Footballs about a women's' studies prof at Loyola -- can't recall which one -- and her alleged run-in with some Iraq War Marine Veterans. Women's' Studies + American University Politics + US Marines = no hope of the truth emerging about what really happened.

The course this prof was teaching dealt with "social justice." We didn't think much of it at the time -- except that the prof was a certifiable moon bat -- however until we came across a brilliant commentary on the the new film "Amazing Grace" in the Weekend WSJ Pursuits section. The day before the film had gotten a pretty good review (as a film) in the WSJ Weekend section (Friday, 23 February). The author of the commentary piece blasts the film for ignoring the religious (specifically Christian & Methodist) underpinnings of the Continental, and eventually US, abolition movement. The film frames the abolitionists as secular humanists when in fact they were evangelical Christians who viewed slavery as a sin, not just a matter of politics and social justice.

Reading the comments on LGF, and the above article, helped us to crystallize what has always troubled us about the term "social justice." The term lacks moral underpinnings. Social justice, as preached today, is a political conceit, something to bandy about in the public arena while playing both sides of the game at once and refusing to declare one way or the other -- waiting to see who will win, yet screaming all the time at those they "feel" to be "wrong." Abolitionists like William Wilberforce -- the protagonist in "Amazing Grace" -- engaged their crusades girded by belief in a defined universe, limned by their religious faith, of right and wrong, moral and immoral. Today's crusaders for "social justice" fear such absolutes and eschew faith, never realizing that without these things nothing will ever change if left up to the vagaries of the zero-sum political game.

Sunset

Distance Training

We've started a new blog that will be a team blog and serve as a training diary. It should be a fun experiment and hopefully serve as motivation in our own training.

We've been a runner for a long time, but the move from NYC to Boston has wreaked havoc on our training. After some stern admonishment from our doctor we began training again in earnest about 4 weeks ago and have been running faithfully for that time. You can see the new blog over here:

http://distancetrainers.blogspot.com/

Governor DeVille Patrick

In a previous post we took a swipe at the Governor of the Commonwealth. Well, we're back again with another one . . . This really is too easy, it's like shooting fish in a barrell, or panning the average aspirant on "Idol."

Governor DeVille has proven himself to have nothing substantive to enact during the typical honeymoon at the start of any new term in office, and he has also proven himself completely tone deaf. As this article in today's Boston Globe demonstrates Hizzonner has come to the Golden dome with visions of grandeur, and a penchant for the luxe. The delicious irony of the whole thing is that the so-called-man-of-the-people (as if all of the people have been former appointees at Justice, sat on Coke's Board and worked at white shoe law firms) and political "outsider" (c.f. that darned appointment to Justice)who ran on vague promises of changing the political tone in the Commonwealth has demonstrated himself to be more enamored of the privileges of rank than the work that accompanies the title. Perhaps his legislative agenda will catch up with his tastes, though, given his politics we hope not. Besides, it is highly amusing to watch him fumble and watch the utopians who voted for him become disillusioned.

Why We Moved Back

Sunday, while outside with Child One, playing on the ice sheet that now covers the Quarter Acre we realized why it was we moved back. Watching Child One run, slide and sled on the ice was great. When Mrs. Agricola and Child Two came out we decided, on the fly, to head to a local golf course for some winter fun. We spent an hour or so walking around on our snow shoes -- the first time they've been used this season -- playing in the snow, exploring frozen sand traps and water hazards, collecting pine cones and enjoying the fresh, cold air. While we truly loved NYC and Brooklyn there was no way that we could have decided on the spur of the moment to go play outside and ended up in a wide-open, naturalistic place in less than 10 minutes. It was a wonderful Sunday and it helped to underscore the benefits of the choices that we made to return to Boston -- benefits that are not always readily apparent, but that exist none-the-less.

Our Friends, The Austrians

Another story that we've been slow to pickup on is the emergence of .50 Caliber, Austrian made sniper rifles on the battle field of Iraq. We link to a WSJ opinion piece that appeared in that paper on 16 February.

Apparently, of the 800 Steyr-Mannlicher weapons sold to the Iranians in 2006, about 100 of them ended up on the battle field within 45 days of the sale. They, like the shaped, and more lethal IEDs that have been recently traced to Iranian sources are responsible for 170 US combat deaths and 600 wounded. While the press though impugns the Bush White House, and US intelligence nary a word is spoken about the role of the Iranians in Iraq. Rather than grill Ahmadi-Nejad, Dianne Sawyer appears in head scarf to toss him softballs, and the Democrat party and their employees in the party's media organizations berate the US.

We know we are somewhat behind, but this story has really gotten under our skin. Our soldiers are being killed by enormously lethal weapons, sold by a country who though not exactly an ally is also not a friend, to a country who is our avowed enemy and is then delivering these weapons to the battle space to kill Americans. Where is the outrage? Where is the condemnation of Iran by the majority party in congress (or the minority for that matter)? Maybe once they are finished with their non-binding resolution denouncing the planned surge they will get around to focusing on this issue. Or not.

Tax Freedom, Mass Style

Admittedly, we've been behind in our writing, trapped in February's doldrums. However, as so often happens, the end of the week brings us many things with which to deal.

There is a law in the Mass legal code that compels municipalities to petition the State Legislature for approval of the imposition or raising local taxes/"fees." Govehnuh Patrick wants to relax that rule and make it easier for towns to tax more things. While we applaud his impulse to return power to the municipal level, lessening the centralized governmental control, we feel that it's unfortunate that this has been done for the benefit of more taxation.

It's funny how "tax freedom" can mean one thing to one group, and the complete opposite to someone else. When we read "tax freedom" we thought that Patrick would lessen the levies, or help towns to do so. Silly us. A liberal can not change his spots. No, in Massachusetts, "tax freedom" means the freedom to raise more taxes. The posts on this board make us wonder who votes for these people, and why.

It's certainly not a done deal, thankfully, but it is terrifying as a citizen of the Commonwealth to think that the only thing standing between us and Patrick's socialist utopia is the State Legislature -- hardly a bastion of conservative values. Just before assuming office Bob Travaglini and Sal DiMasi -- majority heads of the State Senate and House of Representatives respectively -- told Patrick in no uncertain terms who wears the pants beneath Bullfinch's Dome. This cowed the Gov for a bit, but he's now beginning to feel more confident, obviously, to try and implement his vision. Perhaps riding around in a state funded chopper helps one feel up to the job.

Missed Opportunity

Though well into our mid-thirties we still enjoy the thought of the snow day. The Boston area -- much of the country from the Midwest east, actually -- got whacked over the past few days. We went to bed Tuesday night with dreams of "working from home" dancing in our head, and the work laptop downstairs in the front hall. Alas, the accumulations were neither earth-shattering nor travel-prohibiting, so we waited out the morning rush and headed in.

Such a disappointing turn of events . . .

Then, upon returning to the Quarter Acre we reveled in the distinct pleasure of shoveling frozen snow for nearly two hours. Despite working diligently, we only managed to uncork the end of the driveway, and, sort of, uncover the rest of it. One bonus, however was that the snow wasn't actually frozen all the way to the ground. No, no, the top was frozen solid, and the layer below was slushy, wet and heavy. February is grand.

The Longest Month

We must admit that we are sinking a bit . . . the inexorable power of the shortest, yet longest, month of the year is grinding us down. Despite enjoying the cold, and embracing the variable weather of winter-Boston there is something psychologically brutal about February. Even though the sun is rising earlier and setting later, the month's 28 days seem exceedingly long. Perhaps it is the fact that when we look outside the Quarter Acre is shrouded in a duo-tone palette of brown and gray. The brutally cold weather the past few weeks has sucked the moisture out of everything and left the lawn dessicated. The trees seem more gray, and diminished than just four weeks ago. The Quarter Acre dwellers do not love February though we take heart in the fact that on Sunday (18 February), pitchers and catchers report to Ft. Meyers, FL and the Red Sox kick-off the 2007 Season. Surely spring is close!

Removing the Monkey

As die hard citizens of Patriot Nation this is a mildly bitter Monday for us. Peyton Manning finally got the monkey off of his back and won The Big One. We watched very little of it -- some of the first half, a bit of the third quarter and the final 1:19 of the fourth. The game held little interest for us.

What was fascinating however was the post-game celebration. It may have been the rain, or it may have been utter exhaustion at finally having lived up to expectations, but the Colts were very subdued. No Colt, however, was more subdued than Manning. There was very little emotion, never mind jubilation, on his face at finally having stuffed his critics. No matter what else we may think of him, he will now, always, be a Super Bowl Winning quarterback.

He appeared nearly uninterested. Maybe he was overwhelmed by the whole thing, but it all seemed quite stilted and unnatural -- as if he were not really there in the moment. Perhaps one of the most illuminating things about the post-game ceremony was Manning's interaction with Bob Saunders -- the Colts' terrific safety. They hugged each other on the podium as if meeting for the first time. It was weird.

One of the most hilarious parts of the post-game celebration happened when CBS's Jim Nantz flubbed the pass-off of the Vince Lombardi trophy. Rather than passing it to Sanders as he was supposed to do, he had Manning pass the trophy to the team with these words: "I'm sure you can't wait to share this with your team." Perhaps he was being ironic, but we doubt it, this is Jim Nantz after all. Does he know nothing of Manning? Has he not been able, all of these years, to see through his man-crush and see that Manning hates his teammates?

We think that this is the reason for Manning's recalcitrance. The Colts' victory in SB XLI was a total team effort. Manning proved again and again that he couldn't win the big one alone as had been prophesied his whole life, and as he had come to believe. He needed his teammates to play brilliantly as well in order to win. As a result, his self image was shattered during this year's playoff run. While a terrific QB, he couldn't do it alone despite what his dad, his pre-pro-coaches, his agent and all the fawning sportswriters in the US had been telling him for his entire career. He won, but he did it as a a teammate and that, for Manning probably removed much of his joy at finally the removing the monkey from his back.

Boston Chaos

So, in the wake of the stupid marketing campaign that snarled traffic and unsettled Bostonians over a wide swatch of the city, we are left with one question: what was TBS thinking?

Obviously, they weren't thinking. As advertising industry workers we wonder how that campaign made it from concepts through final client approval. Throughout the chain of command outrageous decisions were made that lead to this past week's upheaval. The pair of buffoons who are now on trial in Boston are not solely to blame for this and we think that the creative, account, and production teams on the agency side as well as the client-side chain of command should be prosecuted . In essence, this was a conspiracy.

We think that the response of the city of Boston and the Coast Guard was admirable and impressive. They were able to deal with multiple suspicious devices across the city in a seemingly coherent and effective way -- however, if they had been actual bombs then who knows what would have happened had they detonated. The performance of the defendants, yesterday in court, give ample evidence to both their childishness and their attitude towards the terrorist threat (what terrorist threat?). Is there any doubt about how they vote, and how they regard the war on terror?

It should come as no surprise that this campaign was approved by TBS. After all, TBS is but one more brand in Ted Turner's leftist broadcasting empire. Obviously, the anti-war/Bush/conservative/American editorial bias of CNN -- the official broadcast-organ of the Democrat Party -- permeates the other properties in Ted and Hanoi-Jane's media conglomerate.

For us, this incident underscores the lack of seriousness amongst members of the left about the real threat that stands before this country. While many a liberal says there is no threat, and that we are less safe today than we were four years ago (Bush's war-mongering and all that) the appearance of the marketing devices obviously struck a raw nerve. People are on edge whether they admit it or not -- even in liberal Boston, debarkation point for the two planes that felled the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001. Given the attitudes of the Solon's of Atlanta towards the country's anti-terror efforts, it's not surprising that this campaign "went live."

Liberal Wit

One of the great joys of commuting around the Commonwealth is that we get to see all of the hilariously witty, liberal bumper stickers.

Don't Blame Me I Voted for Kerry!
Somewhere in Texas a village is missing its idiot.
Bush, like a rock, only dumber.
More trees, less Bush.

Then, this one, seen today, the crowning achievement of liberal bumper sticker wit:

Where are the Republicans taking us and why are we in this handbasket?

None of these are funny. None are witty. None are that interesting. If you replaced Kerry, or Obama, or Hillary for Bush, and changed the state to match, lefties would get mad and say that conservatives are puerile and stupid. Yet, they cover their vehicles in this inanity and somehow think that they are being funny. The "don't blame me" bumper sticker is a holdover from the first Clinton Presidency. It was only mildly amusing then, and now, co-opted for use against Bush it lacks a certain impact, yet, there it is, shouting in our face at many a stoplight.

These silly little liberal tropes really sum up for us the inanity of the left and its lack of seriousness. All protest and no program. Sound and fury . . . signifying nothing. We wonder why the level of debate in this country is so low. The answer is on the leftist's SUV in front of you at the light.

Mass Weather

As evidenced in this photo post it's cold today in Massachusetts. It is the first truly cold day of the year and of the winter. Despite weeks of warm, wet, strange weather prior to today, people are crying about this short cold snap. They also complained about the mildness and wetness. They will complain, no doubt, in the summer when some insufferable weather descends upon us in that season.

To live in Boston is to live in a place of highly variable weather. We will not go so far as to say "extreme," but definitely variable. Boston is far enough north that it gets blasted with some very arctic air in the winter -- as it is today. However, it is not so far north that it avoids stretches of oppressive heat and humidity each summer. This makes residents of this region quite hardy, and adaptable, we think.

When the first sub-50 degree day arrived in NYC many residents broke out the down coats and wrapped their faces in scarves. This is not so in Boston. There are many Bostonians, even today, wearing light coats, with faces uncovered, going about their business. We admire this stoicism and take pride in it. We enjoy it when the the weather is this cold. We also like it when it gets very hot in the summer. This is what the seasons are all about, this is why we live here.

On another level, days such as today make us grateful for what we have -- a house, 5/8 of a tank of home heating # 2, and food on the table. We are blessed. We also appreciate the cold because it's a bit jarring to the system, it knocks us out of our complacency and imposes some discomfort on lives that are often too comfortable. Bring on the cold.

Minus 4 Fahrenheit

The coldest morning yet on the Quarter Acre.

Winter Morning

Winter finally comes to Boston.

End of Day

Winter Beach

Off Season

Save Us From Oursleves

Two thing caught our attention today. The first was that a proposed law in Bangor, ME became actual law. People smoking in cars with children under 18 years of age can be ticketed and fined $50. The state of California is mulling over an idea to ban spanking of children under four years of age.

We see people smoking in cars with kids and think it somewhat dumb -- though the research behind second hand smoke is shaky at best, and we don't smoke, why take a chance with your kids. Telling people they can't spank their kids is silly. How and when to discipline children is a parent's prerogative. Also, there are already rules that define abuse and prescribe punishments for it. Is this rule necessary? If someone spanks their child enough to warrant a trip to an ER they should be prosecuted under the existing rules.

We are not sure where stand on spanking. It has not yet been necessary on the Quarter Acre. We know that we received a couple of spankings in our youth. It was a painful, but effective way to make a point. We don't think that we suffered any long-lasting physical or psychological effects. We don't hate our parents, nor do we blame them for anything. How could the state have prevented the spanking? This measure is one of those typical, liberal moves meant to make the sponsoring legislator feel good about themselves and appear to be protecting the constituents of the home-district by imposing an unenforceable law on the populace.

It strikes us as a direct violation of privacy to say we can't spank a child or smoke in our cars with our children. When will they pass a law that says we can't smoke in a house with children under X-years of age? Where is the outcry? Why does such inanity not arouse the public. Most people we bet simply shrug, say "that seems silly, but they mean well, it's for the children after all," and move on. Never do we realize that one more regulation has been enacted that chips our rights, all in the interest of protecting us from ourselves.

Growing the Middle Class

Be very afraid. With the commencement of the 110th congress one of the stated goals of the newly minted Democrat majority is to help the middle class grow. Oh no. If you want to do that, then get out of the way. Reduce regulations on people's businesses. Preserve the Bush tax cuts. Let people keep more of their money. Get an economic clue and learn that the government doesn't help to build up business and make people rich -- people permitted the freedom to spend their capital as they see fit do.

Since we're talking about the middle class let's define it. At what income level does the middle class start? Where does it end? While we are at it, please define "Rich." At what income level does one become rich? Does exiting the middle class (upward exit, of course) mean we are now rich? We've seen rich defined as $100K annual income. For a married couple filing their taxes jointly, that's not exactly what we'd call rich. It's time for the Democrats to stop playing class games, define the terms they are using and lead the country. It's what they've been craving since 2000, now is their chance. However, based on a goal like "growing the middle class" we fear we are in for typical American-progressive squishiness that only succeeds in growing the size of government and creating an ever larger bureaucracy -- not exactly something we need.

Epiphany

When Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, in the days of King Herod, behold, magi from the east arrived in Jerusalem, saying, "Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star at its rising and have come to do him homage." When King Herod heard this, he was greatly troubled, and all Jerusalem with him. Assembling all the chief priests and the scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They said to him, "In Bethlehem of Judea, for thus it has been written through the prophet: 'And you, Bethlehem, land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; since from you shall come a ruler, who is to shepherd my people Israel.'" Then Herod called the magi secretly and ascertained from them the time of the star's appearance. He sent them to Bethlehem and said, "Go and search diligently for the child. When you have found him, bring me word, that I too may go and do him homage." After their audience with the king they set out. And behold, the star that they had seen at its rising preceded them, until it came and stopped over the place where the child was. They were overjoyed at seeing the star, and on entering the house they saw the child with Mary his mother. They prostrated themselves and did him homage. Then they opened their treasures and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed for their country by another way. When they had departed, behold, the angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, "Rise, take the child and his mother, flee to Egypt, and stay there until I tell you. Herod is going to search for the child to destroy him." Joseph rose and took the child and his mother by night and departed for Egypt.

Matthew 2:1-14

The Real Estate Knockdown

Our town is filled with knockdowns -- those unfortunate, less-than-spectacular but solidly built mid-century American homes that don't meet Americans' current definitions of real estate grandeur, success and the good life. In place of the older, more modest homes, owners, builders and speculators build McMansions, replete with farmers' porches, multi-car garages, gas fireplaces and a total lack of consideration for lot size, landscaping and even coherent roof lines.

On the lot next to the Quarter Acre, a quarter acre lot itself, stands a large house. It's not a bad looking house, and the interior is actually fairly nice. However, not six feet from the back wall of the house stands a retaining wall that holds back a hill that was cut into to make room for the foundation. As a result, there is no real yard in which kids could play. Yards, apparently, are no longer part of the American Dream -- just really large houses.

On a lot down the street some neighbors tore down their modest Cape to build a new home. The exterior is basically complete -- walls, glazing, roofing and siding are in place. The interior work is about to commence and from what we see as we drive by the new place looks to be a nice house. A bit of interesting back-story shows how common the knockdown and rebuild is in our area. When the owner of the house was sharing the plans with neighbors at a cookout, a nine year old girl looked at the plans and said that the house looked big for the lot. She had a point.

Another bit of startling commentary on real estate came this fall, from Child One. She mentioned that if you build a house and don't like it, you can always knock it down and start again. On some level, houses have evolved into disposable assets, even in the mind of a toddler.

When we were children we never saw a blueprint in person, much less understood how to translate what was on it to real world space. We also certainly had no idea that you could knock down a house. Kids who can read a blueprint and understand houses to be impermanent objects demonstrate a tremendous change in perspective. Obviously, not everybody knocks down their solid little house to build a big dream house, but enough do that they have altered the next generation's understanding of "House" -- and possibly even "Home." This altered understanding will transform further the American suburb as this younger generation grows up and buys property.

A Really Great Article

Over on ESPN.com, in his weekly column, John Buccigross has a really nice exchange with a member of the 10th Mountain Division, currently based at Bagram Air Base, Afghanistan.

We are hockey fans on the Quarter Acre. We are fans and supporters of the US Military (though we never served, we have the greatest respect and admiration of the men and women of our military who serve in harm's way). We are a fan of John Buccigross. His passion for the game of hockey is unbridled, but not more so than his passion for people. He is a true voice of the fan, a.k.a the ordinary guy. He writes sentimentally, openly, unapologetically, and un-cynically, as a fan, for the fans. For that we thank him. "Bucci" is always worth a read, but the aforementioned lead-in makes this week's installment one not to be missed.

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year to any and all Quarter Acre readers (all two of you). May you and yours have a happy, healthy and prosperous 2007.