Silence is NEVER golden

It's the battle against nothingness, against silence that concerns me most tonight, and every night, actually. This is my eternal struggle, the one I never seem to conquer.

This is the weekend when Americans en masse celebrate acting. Tomorrow night will be the Oscars. My kids and I will be watching, as we always do. We'll make a bit of a party around it, although this year, I do not believe I have seen any of the nominated films, and I'm not sure they have either.

Maybe this was just a bad year, or maybe what Hollywood chose to do had nothing to do with us? If so, it wouldn't be the first time, although, I confess, in recent years I thought the film industry was coming a bit closer to the world I know, and my kids know.

Of course, acting is arguably the weirdest profession of them all: Pretending to be someone you're not.

I do not mean to criticize actors. The ones I have known, including several fairly famous ones, have struck me as every bit as authentic human beings as anyone else who has come or gone from my life.

But pretense exacts a price. You can only pretend to be someone other than your essential self so many times, in so many situations, before your actual identity will collapse, and you will too.

This is my observation as an investigative reporter, a hunter, essentially. And also my conclusion as a human being.

It all comes back to silence. If you cannot tell the truth to those around you about the choices you've made, as painful as that truth may be, you will die a fake, a liar, a manipulator of another's emotions.

It's far better to tell the truth. The whole truth.

But, hey, I'm only a journalist.


-30-

Right before my eyes

When I first looked up at the plum tree this morning, it had blossoms, like a girl partly-dressed.

A couple hours later, it was rich with blossoms, like a woman ready to party.

Do trees break out that fast?

I do not know.

But it was a hot day here, a day when women in the city chose short skirts and sundresses. Apparently, spring has arrived.

We have had very little rain this winter. We have a drought. Those who love winter sports can't find enough snow at Tahoe to satisfy their desire.

But little plants in my backyard are choosing to make their less flashy statements. They claim that spring is here, this year.

So spring is when we fall in love, something I first experienced a half century ago.

Somehow I think that spring is no longer what it used to be, for someone like me. Now it is nothing more than another excuse for a tree or a woman to do what she is going to do anyway, whether I notice her or not.

Because she couldn't care less that I am still here, watching, hoping, waiting.

In the end, as a mere scribe, with whatever value that entails, if spring has indeed arrived, I admit I feel no hope, no expectation of new love. The beauty is lovely, but it is not for me. The cycle goes on, for the benefit of others. For me, the air feels cold, and the moment feels over.

I already feel the heavy sadness when the over ripe plums will drop, rotten to the dirt below. No one will catch and save them. No one will taste their sweet juices.
Because time is relentless. And fruits uneaten rot on the ground, joining our ancestors building the only thing that ever lasts, which is the soil beneath our feet. The bodies of our ancestors.

You and I will be there soon enough. And then, the blossoms will once again break out, as if none of us ever understood what this all is really about,

-30-

My home state + the math of it all

So I grew up in Michigan, which holds one of the key upcoming primaries for the GOP. Conventional wisdom is that if Romney loses what was originally also *his* home state (Hi Mitt, glad to meet ya), the Republican race will remain competitive, perhaps up to the convention, which has hardly ever happened in modern times.

But honestly, having watched the last debate, I suspect that Romney will in fact secure Michigan, and so probably limp his way into his party's nomination. Santorum just is not quite ready for prime time yet, and his religious conservatism does not resonate beyond the small, aging 20 percent or so of social conservatives who, frankly, are going to die off before they ever see "their" man as President of this large, diverse, socially liberal country.

But, take a look at the polls. It really doesn't matter who wins on the GOP side when it comes to the general election. Michiganders know that their savior is the incumbent, Barack Obama.

The President has a double digit lead against any Republican and that is not going to change. Why? Because he saved the auto industry and everyone knows that.

As goes the auto industry, so goes Michigan, for better or worse.

In our era, thanks to Obama's bailout of GM and Chrysler, that equals better.

So, whatever happens in Michigan's primary, Obama wins Michigan in November. But that is only one state. Ultimately, under our electoral vote system, you have to do the math, state by state.

Since I clearly expect a Romney vs. Obama election, it will be time soon to track how that might turn out. It's clearly an open question as of now. Once I have a bit of time, I will crunch the state by state polls, match those with the electoral vote map, and do what I do every cycle, and make a prediction.

I can't do that yet, but my gut tells me we are in for a very close outcome nine months from now.

Mom Bird on Her Nest

Taking care of my grand kids today, for the first time ever, I spotted a hummingbird's nest.

She was hovering around the tree in front of my daughter's house when I noticed her settle in.

All of the kids -- Luca, Sophia, and their three Chinese-American friends were mesmerized.

So was I.

Life in motion!

-30-

This Year's Election

Here I am, on a lonely blog outpost, but I believe I have a clear sense of what America needs this election year, and that is to overturn the Supreme Court's "Citizen's United" decision.

I don't care whether you are a Republican, Democrat or an Independent. Our next President has to appoint to the Supreme Court justices who understand what democracy means.

All true Tea Party and Occupy activists understand what I am talking about.

Romney? Obama? Forget them. This is the key political issue.

-30-

Talking With Teenagers

In the event you are not a parent of teenagers, here is what it is like when you are driving them across town, as they listen to music on their iPods, iPhones, or iPads.

"How was school today?"

(no answer)

Then one of them removes a headphone and says, "Wassup?"

"How was your school day, today?"

"Cool. Nothin' much."

Headphones back in place, they retreat again from your grasp.

A few blocks later, you forget and say something else, like, "You know, I heard on NPR that..." and start telling them about a news story that might interest them.

"Wassup?" one of them says anew.

"It's okay, I just...never mind."

As you continue driving on in silence, hearing the songs blasting into their headphones, worrying about long-term hearing damage, suddenly one of them turns off their music and sweetly turns to you.

"How was your day, Dad?"

That is a confusing question, so you stumble at first.

"Well, I was busy. No, not really busy. I mean, I drove your sister to the SPCA camp, early. Then I came back home and went back to sleep. Had some strange dreams, actually. Woke up, did some work. Posted to my tech blog. I heard this story on NPR..."

As you ramble, even while keeping an eye on the traffic in front of you, you slowly realize he has replaced his headphones and no longer hears you.

"Nothing special, in the end," you hear yourself whisper.

And there was nothing special you did this day. And no one to tell that to.

-30-

p.s. Blogging has to be the loneliest work in this world.

Best Things Ever

As I was standing outside the SPCA this afternoon, waiting for my daughter and her friend to emerge from their day's work as Junior Counselors, my mind wandered back over all my previous visits to this place, with one person or another at my side.

The girls had smiles on their faces as they emerged into the afternoon air. How sweet to taste that first bit of authority in life!

Meanwhile, I've been trying to get the cold, cold Siri to warm up to me. For the first time, I felt we had some communication tonight, as she agreed to wake me up tomorrow morning in time to take the girls back to their SPCA camp.

At lunch, at Whiz Burger, our lost-in-the-50s local drive-in hamburger joint, the boys helped me figure out how to use my iPhone better.

They were all off school, of course, because this was a holiday, President's Day. A very odd holiday, IMHO, but one nonetheless. And if you're a kid in school, holidays are the best things ever...

-30-

Mixed Emotions

At long last, I joined the world of smart phones yesterday afternoon, but at a cost. For years, I've carried three lines for my teenagers, one for myself, and one for another, who no longer is part of the family.

When so-called "updates" came along, as the cell phone carriers like to call them, first I upgraded the kids' phones. But this time, they urged me to upgrade mine, so I did, to an iPhone 4S.

Meanwhile, I gave my old phone to my daughter, to replace the one she has had for a couple years; it was her first phone. It was covered with stickers and filled with photos.

Neither of us realized that by turning in her phone (for a $30 discount on mine), we were losing her childhood photo album. The phone would be wiped, all data expunged.

Last night, after what should have been a joyous occasion for both of us, she was near tears as she recognized what had been lost.

I should have known better, but the agent who helped us tended to mumble, and I couldn't really hear some of what he said. he almost certainly explained that all her data would be lost (once her "contacts" were transferred over to her new phone), but I doubt he said that her photos would be too.

So it ended up a decidedly mixed experience, with me angry at myself -- what is $30 when we were throwing away her first photo album?

It's a confusing time to be a consumer, and I'm not the world's best or savviest consumer by a long stretch. There couldn't be a better reminder of that than what happened yesterday.