Mary's "Conversations with Dad"

I overheard Dylan talking to his friend Kiley on the phone the other day.

"Both of my grandfathers are gone, and it's really made me sad lately."

There are many good things about being an older parent. I think I'm much better at being a dad than I would have been in my twenties. But thinking about my dad and Rhonda's dad makes me sad too. They would have both loved being granddads, and Dylan would have loved being around them.

So, oh yes, there are minuses to being an older parent too.

***

I read this post from Mary this morning, and I liked it so much that I had to share.

Swinging from a Winter Vine

My bride's friend Linda came to visit us from down San Luis Obisbo way. She and Rhonda have been good friends since they were both probation officers in Los Angeles in the eighties. Linda became a grandmother last year, and she'll be moving to be closer to her daughter, granddaughter, and son-in-law.

It was cold and windy, but Linda was game for visiting Turtle Bay Exploration Park here in Redding. The Sundial Bridge spanning the Sacramento River is one of our area's main attractions, and I often wonder why I don't walk across its span more often.

Geez, it's just so easy to take people and places and the other gifts of life for granted. I do that. I wish I didn't.

Linda stayed for the for a long weekend, and left yesterday. I picked Dylan up from school, and he was sad that she'd be gone when we got home. She's one of the warmest people I've ever met, and Dylan has always loved being around her.

We have the family we're born with, and the family we choose.

**

I had lunch with Dylan at his school yesterday. He liked having me sit there with his friends. He'll be in sixth grade next year, and the day could come when he rather hang out with just his friends. I thought of that yesterday, and it put a golden highlight on the moment.

**

A few nights ago, I dreamed that I went to feed the chickens, and our Barred Rock rooster struck up a conversation with me. I don't remember much of what we talked about, but I do remember that he sounded like Billy Idol.

Sad Endings

I haven't been writing much. Sorry that a batch of sad news prompts me to join you today, but sadness has long been the best writing prompt I have.

My uncle Darrell, whom I wrote about here, lost his battle with brain cancer early this month. He was the first family member to show up at my parents' house the day my dad died. When I was a little guy, I thought Darrell was some kind of superhero. Dylan bonded to him as a baby more than any other extended family member, and I wasn't surprised. He chose not to have a funeral. That doesn't surprise me either. Our family will get their chance to remember him together, though: my uncle Sid--older brother to Darrell--and my aunt Bettye will celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary this summer.

**

We have a Mexican food place here in Redding called Burrito Bandito. Rhonda and I visited it right after they opened several years ago, and we liked it immediately. But, we lamented that it probably wouldn't make it because of its less than ideal location. But, not only have they "made it," they've succeeded due to great service and fresh, tasty food.

I got to be friends with a guy named Al who worked there. Since lunch hours were always crowded, I would go in before or after the work crowd. Al was a warm, engaging guy, the kind of guy who asked, "How you doing?" not as a mere salutation, but because he really wanted to know how you were doing.

I hadn't visited Burrito Bandito in a few months when I stopped by there last month. As I was waiting in line, I saw a photo of Al on the wall. On the top of the photo were the words, "We fondly remember."

Al fell from some height, hit his head, went into a coma in the hospital, and died several days later.

**

I've known Sherri since the sixth grade. I met her son Jeff and her daughter Jennifer when they were little. Jennifer was an adorable little girl, and Jeff was a bright, engaging little guy with an infectious smile.

This week, Jeff jumped to his death from the Cold Spring bridge, in the backcountry of Santa Barbara County. I've only communicated a couple of times with Sherri since Jeff's death. She's shipwrecked, of course. As for me, I'm having a lot of trouble reconciling my memories of that happy little kid with the young adult who became so overcome with darkness that he ended his own life.

Still, when I look at Jeff's Facebook page, it's clear that Jeff was a light in the lives of many, despite harboring his inner demons. It's also clear that Jeff will be remembered much more for the light he shared with others than the darkness that ultimately claimed him.

**

Right now, I'm pissed off at life. I should offer something better than that, but I won't. I'll get over it, and I'll be back.

Major General Smedley Butler

Maybe you've never heard of Smedley Butler. He was born in 1881, and died in 1940. He served 34 years in the U.S. Marines, retired as a Major General, and is one of 19 Americans awarded the Medal of Honor twice.

By some reckonings, he may be one of the biggest heroes in the history of the United States.

When FDR won the presidency in 1932, smack in the middle of the Great Depression, he quickly started the ball rolling on his New Deal. Many Wall Street titans thus came to view him as a traitor to his own class. They dreamed up a plan to get rid of him.

They chose the highly-decorated Butler as their point man. Their idea was to have Butler lead a huge veterans' march on Washington, and subsequently pressure FDR to install Butler as the "Secretary of General Affairs." Eventually, as the plan went, FDR would hand over the power to run the country entirely to Butler. In essence, the United States would be run by a Wall Street-installed dictator.

It's easy to understand why the Wall Street titans chose Smedley Butler. As a seasoned combat veteran, he'd served the economic interests of the rich and powerful before: He'd admitted to rigging elections in Nicaragua, and led military forces in other parts of Latin America to keep countries on a path favorable to U.S. economic interests.

What they didn't know was that by the time they approached Smedley, he'd come to believe what could best be related by a quote oft-attributed to him: "War is a racket." (Later, in a speech, he said, "I spent 33 years being a high-class muscle man for Big Business, for Wall Street and the bankers.")

Agents of Wall Street approached Smedley with the offer of an $18,000 bribe, but he spilled the beans to Congress. He gave testimony behind closed doors, and a House committee confirmed the bribe offer. At about that time, the commander of the VFW, James Van Zandt, stated that "agents of Wall Street" had also approached him about taking part in putting a U.S. dictatorship in place.

The House committee's investigation went nowhere. The transcript of the interview with Smedley Butler was printed with the names of the accused Wall Street titans deleted.

General Butler went on to give talks against the futility of war, but he didn't get much press coverage for his efforts.

I tend to believe that General Butler's name should be as familiar to us as that of Paul Revere or George Washington, but I'd wager that few of us ever happened upon his name in a history textbook.

"The problem with history is, the folks who were there ain't talking. And the ones who weren't there, you can't shut 'em up." Tom Waits