Screen © Patrick T. Power

 

Crossbar © Patrick T. Power

 

Open © Patrick T. Power

Tree Line

Tree Line © Patrick T. Power

Delay

I've been thinking of things other than this blog. I've suddenly gotten bored with flickr and have begun photoblogging elsewhere. So, I'll probably pick up here by the beginning of the month.

I know... you're on pins and needles!

Change

In commemoration of the last day I contributed to this blog (January 22, 2007), it is my intent to shift gears dramatically and turn this into a photoblog. My plan is to blog a photo a day. Some days, I'll add text that has something to do with the photo; other days perhaps just the photo. But January 22 is the day!

Sometimes I Lie Awake At Night

Sometimes I Lie Awake At Night © Patrick T. Power

It's not all that often that I have trouble sleeping, but last night (this morning) I did. I've had a cold for the last few days, and while it's on the wane, I was subjected to major coughing fits for most of the time I lay in bed.

Of course, at such times, thoughts conspire with the scratchy throat and before long, I'm taking a photograph of the shadows on my ceiling cast by the crabapple tree outside my bedroom window. Since I was awake, I just had to upload it to flickr.

It's almost dawn as I type this and I think I'm going to go out for a walk, get some cold air in me and come home and go back to bed.

Tigers vs. Cards

Zachary (circa 1988) ©2006 Patrick T. Power

This year's World Series is a bit special for me. Of, course, it's special for any Tiger fan considering the rarity with which the team gets to the playoffs, much less the Series, but this year is the first time my son gets to see the Tigers in the Series after having been a huge fan of theirs since he knew what baseball was about.

For me, one of the coolest things about Zachary getting to see the Tigers play at this time of year is that the last time the Tigers made it to the World Series, he was there — in his mother's womb. In what was probably one of the worst baseball games I've ever had to sit through (San Diego pitchers set a record with eleven walks; if memory serves, there was a hit batsman in there as well), Penny and I, her whole family and then some had what were probably the worst seats in Tiger Stadium — in the lower deck grandstand in right-center field. I recall that I was able to see third base, second base, the pitcher, the right fielder and (every once and again) the centerfielder. I recall that there was a miniature television in our section toward which we and others would occasionally crane our necks.

We did manage to see Marty Castillo's home run land in the upper deck in left field, as well as Chet Lemon making a nice over the shoulder catch of a drive to deep center off the bat of San Diego's catcher, Terry Kennedy. Frankly, we didn't see much else.

The Tigers won, of course, 5-2, and took a two games to one lead in the Series, then went on to win the next two games and the Series.

It was the year that Darrell Evans hit a home run in his first at bat as a Tiger (in the Metrodome in Minnesota) and with his first swing of the bat in Tiger Stadium. I can still vividly recall the excitement in the voice of the Tigers' radio announcer, Ernie Harwell, as he called that home run... I recall thinking at that time that he knew something special was about to happen to the Tigers that season.

I'd like nothing better than to see the Tigers win it again this year, as the first time that I got to see them in the World Series — in 1968 — they won. I was nigh on thirteen years old and their opponent in the Series? The St. Louis Cardinals. There is something about the idea of having the circle complete itself that I like.

Yep, Yep!

Mon Nom

HowManyOfMe.com

There are: 28 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

Because I'm a copycat!

Senior Moments

Last night, as I made my first few steps out the door of the nearby grocery store, it occurred to me that I might have left the water running in my bathtub — flowing at a fast enough rate that surely, the tub was overflowing.

It was one of those moments of panic. I had begun filling the tub with pretty hot water with the notion that I'd go to the store and come back to a body-friendly temperature and a warm, steamy bathroom. I wanted to rest against a warmed wall. I wanted to relax immediately, without the annoyance of such chilly surfaces.

Suddenly, that notion evaporated with the vision of water spilling over the tub's edges, onto the floor and down to the downstairs neighbour's apartment. I imagined the apartment manager and maintenance crew standing with hands on hips in my bathroom, wondering where the hell I was and why there was water running in my absence.

I ran. Sort of. Being almost 51 and a good [sic] twenty pounds overweight, however, my mad dash to minimize damage lasted all of about three-quarters of a block. Time. Every second was another half-gallon of water, I imagined... water was everywhere, I thought. Four-letter words spewed forth as quickly and voluminously as the water I saw in my head.

After a brief slowing of pace for some gobbling of air, I resumed my trot home, getting only twenty or thirty steps closer before having to again catch my breath. I reached into my pocket and readied my outside door key. Another tenant slowed my progress momentarily by backing out then into her parking spot in the carport. I could see my bathroom lights were out, so perhaps my fright was to be all for naught.

In the door! Up the stairs! Key to keyhole! Into the bathroom!

These moments are coming way too often for my likes these days.

In this case, I had purposely waited and watched the water level of the tub reach a point high enough to warm it and the environs. I was absolutely certain I had turned the water off before I left the apartment, but I had no memory of reaching for the valves. None.

This scares me as I don't know to what I should attribute it. Was it because I was watching baseball at the same time I was getting dressed to go to the store? Was it because my mind was simply elsewhere while I prepared the bath? Or is it the early stages of some sort of dementia?

Death Of A President

A couple of days ago, I got hold of a copy of a film — Death Of A President — a British-made faux documentary.

First, I think that whatever uproar this film's concept might (have) cause(d) — an assassination of a currently sitting President — it's not so controversial in its rendering.

In fact, anyone who might have anticipated it to be a left-wing antidote to Path To 9/11 would likely be happy to know that it shines a rather heavenly light on Bush, since most of the eye witness accounts of the murder are told indeed by housemaidens, as Palamedes aptly described them. That is wherein I have problems with the film.

As an example, Bush's speechwriter speaks of his grace under fire when protesters manage to break through security barriers and, without further incident, come in contact with the presidential motorcade in downtown Chicago. ("...and he says, 'You know, Ellie, I don't mind them having their opinions, I just wish they could demonstrate peacefully.' ") Fuh!

After his death, the newly sworn-in President Cheney (if that thought isn't enough to dissuade a potential assassination of Bush, I don't know what is!) eulogizes Bush as if he were stationed somewhere between St. Peter and John the Baptist in heaven's heirarchy.

My stomach turned as I saw the funeral caisson being prepared for its trip down Pennsylvania Avenue, the riderless horse with the boots turned backwards in the stirrups, the Air Force flyover minus a plane in the formation — all this for someone who, in my estimation, has done nothing to serve his country.

There is also a bit of a nod of approval of the Patriot Act (as voiced by one of the law enforcement characters) and, as mentioned in the film's postscript, Patriot Act III becomes permanent law.

Chilling.

Perhaps, however, that's one of the points of the film — that an assassin's bullet is apt to raise Bush's status as a leader and (Jesus help me!) visionary, as well as throw us deeper into the throes of paranoia.

Or perhaps it's what we should expect (regardless of how historians actually see his tenure in office) in years hence when The History Channel does its version of the Bush administration—a pussyfooting around the facts so that ultimately, Bush appears presidential.

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Fallen

Fallen, copyright 2026 Patrick T. Power.

I don't see them fall
but fall they do.
Each time,
I imagine a thud
of skull on glass,
then carcass on wood.
In one surely unobserved instant,
a life that was...
vanishes
and in the 5/11 of a second
that it takes
for my shutter
to open and close
I become
official biographer.

 

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Unless otherwise noted, all writings on this blog are copyright Patrick T. Power. All rights reserved.

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Free Hugs!

In light of all of the inhumane crap that comes with having to endure the Bush-Cheney regime, it is sometimes nice — if not necessary — to see something like this; to know that there remain good, kind, selfless people in the world.



Pass along this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vr3x_RRJdd4

Thanks Kathleen!

ACLU

I am registered neither as a Democrat nor a Republican, but I am now a member of the American Civil Liberties Union.

The ACLU is perhaps the only organization willing to fight on behalf of the United States Constitution.

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September 11

September 11 © Patrick T. Power

I will not be watching television today... I will not turn it on except, perhaps, to see what the miserable failure has to say at 9:00 tonight as he pushes the Republican fear agenda... I will keep the on/off remote in hand and a puke bucket on standby.

Listening to the clown speak is akin to swabbing one's ears out with darts.

My Letter...

...to Disney's Chairman of the Board, former Senate Majority Leader George Mitchell (D-ME).

Dear Mr. Mitchell,

This is another in what has surely been an avalanche of emails written in protest of Path To 9/11... therefore, I'll keep it brief.

September 11 has been touted as one of the most important dates in this country's history, yet your company has decided to produce a film that its writers know full well has the potential to shape the way people think about the event.

To support such a project that corrupts, distorts and fabricates facts — especially when it is purported to be based on an objective, factual study — is shameful. A company such as Disney has a reputation of being family-oriented and respected for its programming. This program seems to me to be contrary to the notion that its programming is responsible, much less respectable.

So, it is my hope that Path To 9/11 be edited to present a more factual story regarding such a significant historical day, or that the project be mothballed until it's fixed.

The American people have been bamboozled enough by the current administration, and for corporations such as Disney and ABC to appear to be in cahoots with the bamboozlers can't be a good thing for their respective reputations.

Thank you for your time and consideration. Thank you for all you've done in service to this country.


Patrick Power
East Lansing, Michigan

To write yours, go to Think Progress...

This might all be moot anyway as it appears that Bush has decided to give a nationally-televised speech at 9:00pm on September 11th, a time which conflicts with this program. I have a feeling that ABC will decide to postpone the program (under this scenario) while it scurries to edit the film. Skeptic that I am, I can't help but wonder if Karl Rove didn't have a hand in all this.

Mnemonics

I subscribe to various RSS feeds from my hometown newspaper and while I was delighted to see that today's Letters to the Editor included several anti-Bush/anti-Republican letters, I laughed out loud at the last one on the page...

'Praying' For Pluto No More

I remember a conversation with my mother and grandmother more than 50 years ago in which they shared the mnemonics they had learned to memorize the planets: "Mary's Violet Eyes Made Johnny Sit Up Nights" was my grandma's device. My mom added "Praying" since she learned the solar system after 1930.

With Pluto's newly diminished status, I'll probably go back to my grandma's system, although I must admit I'll miss the mnemonic I've been using for the past 5 1/2 years: "Many Very Erudite Men Justly Scream, 'Unenlightened Numbskull President!' "

Cathy Wirzylo
Eastwick Drive

Stretch

I have raved and I have ranted about the miserable failure (who, as far as I'm concerned, has given the word "failure" a bad name!) for as long as I have published this blog. The man has done to this country (not to mention Iraq) pretty much exactly what he has done with every other enterprise he's gotten his hands on in his lifetime — driven it straight into the ground.

But beyond his more cataclysmic, er, achievements, I am really pissed and annoyed at this — from his August 21 press conference in which, by the way, he also admitted that Iraq had nothing to do with September 11:

THE PRESIDENT: Last question. Stretch. Who are you working for, Stretch?

Q Washington Examiner.

THE PRESIDENT: Oh, good. Glad you found work. (Laughter.)

Q Thank you very much. Mr. President...

"Stretch"!!

This is — as far as I'm concerned — a perfect illustration of the lap dog nature of the press. The President of the United States apparently feels that it's okay to call people he hasn't met yet by nicknames, and as has been the case since this lamebrain took office over five years ago, the press has allowed him to get away with it.

At the very least, why didn't this reporter say, "Excuse me, Mr. President, but my name is _________________________"?

One of my closest friends is a journalist, and she happens to be less than five feet tall. What if he were to address a reporter as "Shortie"? How about "Chubby"? I mean, isn't that really what we're talking about here? This pathetic excuse for a public official can't demonstrate one of the basic skills of public discourse — that to give respect is to earn respect.

Quote Meme

Quote Meme

I was tagged (Thanks for the nudge, Trish!) the other day and I'm finally getting around to writing something. The rules are simple: look through random quotes and pick five from this list that in some way identify you. Then, explain why that identification is appropropriate. Here goes...

There is one piece of advice, in a life of study, which I think no one will object to; and that is, every now and then to be completely idle – to do nothing at all. — Sydney Smith (English essayist, 1771 - 1845)

I think that I have fallen into this way of living for the past year or so. As many of my friends know, I've dubbed the past eighteen to twenty months as my Year Of Living Aimlessly! What?!? So, I'm stretching the definition of "year" a bit! Of course, I don't really consider my life as aimless, but it has seemed to be a major time of discovery for me. Some might call it a mid-life crisis, but that's because clichés are a bit easier to hang one's hat onto. (I've yet to buy a sleek new sports car so, technically, I don't think I quite fit that cliché!)

I said to myself, I have things in my head that are not like what anyone has taught me – shapes and ideas so near to me – so natural to my way of being and thinking that it hasn't occurred to me to put them down. I decided to start anew, to strip away what I had been taught. — Georgia O'Keefe (American artist, 1887 - 1986)

About thirteen years ago, I began thinking a little bit more critically about art and life and the world, and I found some very odd thoughts passing through my head. While I've never read the entire Unibomber Manifesto, I felt I could empathize a bit with what I understood his issues to be (although let me be clear that I absolutely do not agree with his methods for resolving them). Our world has so become a slave to the economy that we have virtually lost touch with our humanity. While I was a supporter of President Clinton (for the most part), I have remained at odds with his "It's the economy, stupid!" campaign theme. This world — and particularly the United States government — no longer seems to base decisions on how they might affect communities but on how they might affect economies (and, subsequently, chances for re-election).

You see things; and you say, "Why?" But I dream things that never were; and I say, "Why not?"— George Bernard Shaw (Irish playwright, 1856 - 1950) [from Back to Methuselah (1921), part 1, act 1]

This quote, of course, has often been attributed to Bobby Kennedy (he indeed used a slight variation of it), one of my personal heroes. I believe that a lot of what our country supposedly stands for died with him in 1968. In my opinion, he was the last politician that seemed to actually stand for something; that seemed to have the courage of his convictions. Seeing his son (Bobby, Jr.) speak a couple of years ago reminded me of that courage, that conviction as I saw the same spark in his eyes. Perhaps I've been blinded by the Kennedy "mystique"... I don't think so, however. While certainly every politician has a not-so-honourable side, I sincerely believe that both Bobby and John Kennedy understood the idea of public service; that their service in the government was purposeful; that the betterment of their country and the world was the aim of government — an aim that I believe is 180-degrees the opposite of that of the miserable failure and his band of crooks and liars.

Every English poet should master the rules of grammar before he attempts to bend or break them.— Robert Graves (English poet & novelist, 1895 - 1985)

I cringe at the treatment of the English language these days. Every noun, it seems, has turned into a verb; those whom you'd think would have an appreciation for the language (especially those that call themselves "journalists") are often the worst offenders. I get sick of hearing this crap about "living language" from those who don't seem to have a knowledge of it in the first place. I'm not a fan of capital punishment, but sometimes think really bad thoughts when I hear supposedly learned people saying such things as "from whence it came." !!! Really.... Don't get me started!

Calendars are for careful people, not passionate ones.— Chuck Sigars (The World According to Chuck weblog, September 8, 2003)

While I was in Paris last November, I missed my original flight home. Perhaps it's because I don't travel with a Blackberry, or a pocket calendar (like I once did), but I'm grateful for not being the most anal person on the planet. The extra nine days I spent in Paris due to my goof-up were amongst the best days I had while I was there. Hmmm... now I've got to tag somebody else! How about Rebekah, Leslie and Kathleen...