Absence Makes the Heart . . .

The geezer never has been much of a fan of poetry, and a few attempts to write in that format have ended in dismal failure. Over the past year of so, however, I've been delighted almost daily by the creations of Marc Leavitt, who posts his work at www.marcleavitt.blogspot.com

Marc occasionally puts together a lengthy work. I enjoy those, but prefer his briefer offerings. He has a gift for conveying a big message in a little poem.

My beautiful wife Sandy has been away for several weeks visiting friends and relatives in Wisconsin. These trips have been an annual event for a long time. Lake Michigan waters permitting, she'll be back in our Michigan home in two days, just in time to celebrate our 53rd wedding anniversary. 

Inspired by Mr. Leavitt and the impending occasion and despite my numerous previous failures, I've decided to go for it. I hereby publish my first (and perhaps only) poem:

            Your trip was barely under way

            When life here ceased to be OK

            How many times must I learn

            When you are gone

            I soon yearn for your return

"Don't Do Stupid" Ain't Stupid

The usual chorus of President Obama detractors got a boost from an unusual source recently. Fellow Democratic Party leader and presidential candidate in waiting, Hillary Rodham Clinton, attacked Mr. Obama's foreign policy on the grounds it is a non-policy.

The president's policy earlier got a strange name. Staffers leaked the news that inner circles have taken to defining it as, "Don't do stupid shit." For the more sensitive masses, the policy is being redefined as, "Don't do stupid stuff."

Ms. Clinton said "Don't do stupid" is not an organizing principle, and great nations need organizing principles worthy of their leadership role. I beg to differ. Ms. Clinton, in my opinion, did an acceptable job as secretary of state, but she got this one wrong.

If you win, please don't do stupid stuff, Ms. Clinton (Wikipedia)

It's about time a U.S. president decided to set aside lofty rhetoric smacking of egotistical American "exceptionalism" and adopted a realistic foreign policy standard. Remember how we fought  to "Make the world safe for democracy" and not may years later to establish the "Four Freedoms" on the planet? How are those types of policy statements working for us lately?  

We could make "Don't do stupid" prettier, of course. Something like, "Carefully analyze every foreign conflict and intervene only when it is clearly in our national interest" says the same thing, and obviously states what President Obama tries to do, but certainly there's nothing catchy about it. In this case, I like the negative "don't do" better than the positive "do." For one thing, it's more fun.

Mr. Obama, with Ms. Clinton as a top foreign policy advisor, has made some boo boos, as all presidents have. A recent one was prematurely declaring, "It's time for Assad to go." He forgot that Goldilocks could be leading Syria and it would have little effect on American interests. He also forgot that displacing strong dictators in the Muslim world often creates chaos. Is that part of the world more tranquil now than it was when Saddam ruled Iraq with an iron fist? Hardly. How's the serenity index looking in Libya nowadays?

We did what was in our interest in Syria. With Russian cooperation and good work by our more usual allies Assad's weapons of mass destruction--lethal poison gases--a true threat to the world and thus us, have been destroyed. We finally did what was in our interest in Iraq--we got out. We're back now in a limited way, a far cry from the days when we invaded the place with massive force over a pretext. 

Soon we'll be out of Afghanistan, leaving the kids to fight it out in their sandbox as they always have. In a strange turn of events, Assad may become part of a new coalition including the U.S. to help stabilize the Middle East. Things might actually work out well for a change now that the horrifically bad guys have come out of their closets and staked out some territory where the good people can shoot and bomb the crap out of them.

"Don't do stupid stuff" has saved a lot of American lives, and quite a bit of cash we can use to better advantage elsewhere. The policy isn't a return to isolationism. It's simply a venture into reality.

Golf for the Footloose

Our Lake Doster Golf Course has come up with a new ploy to increase play. Every Sunday afternoon, half the layout is available for a different kind of game. Players need only bring a soccer ball and their feet. They kick their ball around the course much as normal golfers move their small ball around with clubs.

We've lived in homes adjacent to fairways for 35 years, a long time to observe golfers in action. A few of them should be great Footgolf players. They've had lots of practice kicking their ball into an improved position when they thought no one was watching.

Beautiful wife Sandy for several years got special chuckles observing an older man who played the course by himself very early in the morning. He would look around to ensure he was alone, and then drop a ball down the inside of his pants leg into a good spot for his next shot. If it wasn't just right, he improved the lie with a foot nudge or two.

Of course, Footgolf hadn't been invented when the old duffer entertained Sandy by practicing cheating. He would have to wear extremely baggy trousers to be able to drop a soccer ball down one leg. But he might be a champion foot nudger.

Old Beer Drinkers Just Fade . . .

Being able to "hold your beer" in Wisconsin, land of many breweries, when I was a teenager was a badge of honor. That meant you could down quite a few lagers, the only beer readily available in most places, and act as though you were cold sober.

"Quite a few" was a bunch when an eight-ounce glass from the tap cost a dime. A dollar financed a fairly long night out at a beer bar. The legal drinking age was 18 back then, but it wasn't difficult to find bar owners who weren't at all concerned about winking at a fake draft card altered to prove a 15- or 16-year-old was really 18 or 19. Sometimes, they just took your word for it. Pete Zemlis served me my first beer at his Half Moon Lodge near Tomahawk, Wisconsin, when I was 14.

Practice may well make perfect in the beer guzzling world. By the time my real 18th birthday came around, I could walk a straight line after downing seven or eight short (eight ounce) beers. Later, I held my own at several bars during Mexican vacations at a level that would have made Jimmy Buffett proud.

I took to drinking dark ales, which had much more robust taste than the pale lagers. Ales also had slightly higher alcohol contents. I could no longer drain as many glasses without major consequences, but I still liked to think I was pretty good at "holding my ale."

Along with other things that faded with advanced age, my beer and ale capacity declined considerably. I retreated from dark ales back to light lagers. Even then, two beers became my limit. Perhaps that was good, because now I get full well before I get loaded.

 

Three Two Hearteds are two too many for me!

Nevertheless, there is room for adventure at any age. I began to take notice of "Two Hearted Ale," an India Pale Ale produced by Bell Brewery, a local brewer in our area. A newspaper article pointed out that the Beer Advocate Society gave Two Hearted a 95 rating, which translates to "world class." Another rating agency called it "outstanding." Yet another group concerned with such things announced Two Hearted Ale was the best beer in the world. After seeing that claim, I just had to try the stuff.

About then, the brewer announced that Two Hearted was being made available in cans for the first time. I found a four-pack, just enough for a trial drink or two, at the local supermarket. My son was coming over for a meal, and I thought two cans for him and two for me would be just right.

Each can held 16 ounces, four more than the usual amount. The ale tasted great, but I  barely made it through one can. A check of the label showed Two Hearted had an alcohol content of 7 percent. No wonder all those raters gave it such outrageously high marks; they probably quaffed one small glass and experienced what happens late at night to many tavern patrons when all the girls suddenly are beautiful.

Incidentally, the ale is named after the Two Hearted River in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. That probably is of little or no significance, but it's the kind of thing one might ponder after downing a couple.

Sign Writers Wanted?

If only one stone is loose, wouldn't it make more sense to pick it up rather than putting up a sign?

This sort of thing, however, does point out a possible opportunity.With a continuing tight job market for English majors and journalists, the  unemployed might do well to check with organizations such as the Michigan Department of Transportation. They might consider upgrading their writing staffs.