Bye Bye Naughty Noughties

Dear Citizens:
I tried to sleep the long winter's nap to 2010 but I woke a few days short of my goal. With a day or two to spare I put together a list of helpful don'ts for the future.  
(It is somewhat an old tradition to bemoan the passing decade and hope for a new and better next ten years.)

1. Please do not Catch-Phrase an event, an idea, a program, a group or an Administration.   e.g. Wingnuts, Obamacare, Bushleague, monicagate.
        Please call by its real name. Catch-Phrasing only demon-izes. Watergate was enough--make the press work.  This includes Fox News and The Wall Street Journal.
2. It is bad form to call the President of the United States Obama.  Acceptable are the following: Mr. President, President Obama or The President.  Insist on it for all presidents. Using only a last name diminishes the office and sounds like a slur.  This applies to Senators and Congressmen also.
3. If a phrase fits on a bumper sticker it is not necessarily true.  e.g. Mission Accomplished. It is just catchy and short or just short.  Although, I kinda like: Jesus would not own a gun or vote Republican.
4. With the number of firearms in our society it is best to speak civilly especially in a public forum.  If you call someone a liar on the street you might get shot.  Sorry, change that to will be shot.
5.  Screaming "Give me back my Country!" at a catch-all rally makes no sense.  Please explain further.
6. This nation, although founded on many Judeo-Christian principles, is not a Christian country and we Christians have no more rights or privileges than the friendly neighborhood Atheist down the street.  Sorry.
7. If number six bothers you, someone has been feeding you a bill of goods--please read up on your history.
8. Read the Constitution, you will notice that the phrase "Life, Liberty and The pursuit of Happiness." does not appear and the Declaration of Independence has no Amendments to it.
9. Be nice.
10. Play fair.
And be well
A Journeyman

Ho Ho Ho

Twas the days before Christmas and all thru the House

Not a creature was stirring, not even ol' Joe the mouth.

But in the Senate there arose such a clatter,

I sprang to the internet to see what was the matter.

Good Lindsey was fussing, Senator Reid said "Now, now!"

A vote was due soon on whether health-reform They'd allow

Some said "to stop this" will come down to prayer

Others chimed "to the many uninsured we must be fair!"

The Capitol was digging its way out of snow

While Senators had their say--such a blow

When what on my old Lap-top then would appear

But an old Senator with a voice quite clear

He was wheeled into the Chamber, he looked quite able

The prayers, "Oh No, the've helped," God is Good! Teabaggers moaned to Fox Cable

The spirits of two Teddy's then helped him say AYE

Bless you Senator Byrd, I'll save you some mince pie

But I heard someone exclaim thru all that pall mall

"Happy Christmas to all and to All be well."

The World overrun by Oysters?

"I insist upon your dining with us. It will be ready in half an hour. I have oysters and a brace of grouse, with something a little choice in white wines.–Watson, you have never yet recognized my merits as a housekeeper.”
Sherlock Holmes (The Sign Of Four)


Dear Citizens:
To celebrate the new Sherlock Holmes Movie.
This Recipe is for Mark from the U.K. and Quincy, just around the corner.  No wine for Quincy.
Oysters: Altheney Jones
1. Poach 1 large jar of Oysters -1Qt- in their juices. (Quincy-dump the Oysters and their juices into a frying pan and heat) When the Oysters start to curl on the edges remove them and clean and slice up some big mushrooms.
2. Alternate on a metal skewer Oysters and Mushrooms.
3. Drizzle the mess with melted butter and Italian bread crumbs --grill under the broiler.
Eat up and be well
A Journeyman .

Christmas Cheer

Photo by Mandel Ngan

Dear Citizens:
This is the second of two recipes for this festive Christmas season and is dedicated to the Slugg and the Wasterhead.
Although not as famous as Senate Bean Soup the White House Eggnog recipe has more variations.
Thirty years ago, while working at the White House and after asking for the recipe, I was invited to watch the stewards prepare this concoction.  (The printed recipe given out at that time takes one hour or so to prepare--this recipe takes five minutes.)
1. 1 Gal. Eggnog Ice Cream partially defrosted in a big bowl.  The stewards used Sealtest brand.
2. Add to the Ice Cream and mix --Bourbon, Rum and Brandy. One variation says 2 1/2 cups Bourbon, 1 2/3 cups Rum and 1 2/3 cups Brandy.  Note to Slugg and Wasterhead I said cups not bottles.  The stewards made it to taste --but always (approx.) twice as much Bourbon as the other spirits.
3. Serve in punch cups with a grating of Nutmeg on top.
This is an acquired taste so you must have more than one.  You will notice after three you will really enjoy this eggnog.  I did.
Be well
A Journeyman

Bean Soup

Dear Citizens:
To help insure comity in the Senate and among my friends, at this festive season, I will submit to you in the next few days three especial recipes. Today the U.S. Senate's Bean Soup.
This recipe is for Kevin.
1. Soak two 1lb. bags of Navy Beans overnight in enough water to cover them.
(You don't have to watch the beans soak but if you want to please be my guest. I suggest reading a novel (Hound of the Baskervilles) or Senator Reid's Senate Heath Care amendment.---If time is a factor--less than 72 hours to make the soup--bring the beans to a boil, turn off heat, cover and in an hour you are ready to proceed.
2. Add more water to cover soaked beans and add 1 to 11/2 pounds of ham bones with plenty of meat on them.  (Country ham bones give the soup a slightly more spicy taste.)
3. Cover and simmer slowly approx. 3 hours --stir the soup frequently.
4. Saute a chopped onion, add to soup.
5. Correct seasonings.
Serve hot this recipe will feed 1/10 th of the Senate.
Some folks say there are mashed potatoes in the soup--but that is only done to the soup when served in very large quantities--and you will never taste them.  Trust me on that point.
Tomorrow for the Slugg and the WasterHead--White house Egg Nog.
Be Well Citizens
A Journeyman

Christmas Retiever Fever PT II

The promised day of joy came but there were only two, Paul and

 I and Mollie. Mr. Barnes, not terribly pleased at 

the small turnout, was kind enough to cajole

 his wife into cooking us a sumptuous breakfast

 and at 6 AM, on the dot and in 

the dark, we were motoring out at 

an obscene rate of speed on a skiff that might 

have last seen service on the Mekong delta, 

into the far reaches of 

Currituck sound.  

The blind was located southeast of 

Swan Island on the Atlantic flyway.

  The blind, like the hunting lodge, 

was built initially by Mr. Barnes’ father 

after WWI and was continually maintained 

and updated by father and son.  

Mr. Barnes son continues on with this legacy.   

Approximately twelve foot by five the blind was 

supported above the water 

by six logs and contained three stools,

 all the comforts of home-- if you were

 a surf in the middle ages, 

well, I take that back, it did not have a roof.  

The ply board walls were five foot high and 

this entire oblong box 

plus an extension that contained the Mekong 

flyer was covered with pine boughs. 

To any flying creatures on the Atlantic Flyway 

it must have appeared festive, indeed!

Dawn’s rosy fingered-glow illuminated the 

bay and cloudless sky while 

Mollie slept and Mr. Barnes set out decoys. 

(What rosy finger Dawn used I know not but after

 encountering very few 

in-season birds I could hazard a guess.) 

Decoys, as the name implies,

 are set randomly next to the blind in a vain hope 

of attracting live waterfowl.  

Just like putting a rubber duck in the bath water 

to attract all the neighborhood

 one year olds for their nightly cleanings.  

Both theories seem sound 

at the time but as we stood in that blind 

more work in welcoming waterfowl 

needed to be done.

As if answering my unsaid request 

Mr. Barnes sang  forth, (read bellowed),

 a number of vociferous duck sounds which, 

coming from behind and 

three inches from my left ear, 

scared the absolute poop out of me and 

awoke Mollie who thought we were facing 

the wrath of Duckzilla and 

tried to bound from our cover into the sound. 

 From somewhere out to the east came a 

halfhearted response and then silence. 

We were in for a dreaded “bluebird day”.

We encountered some birds just not any 

we were allowed to shoot.  

A large flock of what Mr. Barnes called

" Canadian Geese”, 

landed near by. I suggested we shoot a 

few and check passports—If we

 found American Geese we would keep them 

and let the Canadians wing it away. 

No one laughed.  A number of fish ducks 

paid us a call and black ducks followed by 

cormorants or “Watermelon Geese” honked a hello.  

Alas, they were all off limits. 

Our day went by with alternate long periods 

of tranquility and brief 

moments of panic, Mollie slept and I 

drank coffee.  Once in a great while 

we would all stoop down while Mr. Barnes 

called to an errant stray on 

the horizon to come over for a visit.  

Shots welcomed the newcomers but 

all was in vain. We missed.  A theme was 

starting to play out in my mind but I 

kept my council.  Finally in a moment of 

frustration I vowed that the next five ducks

would be allowed to pass our post unmolested.  

The Mr. Barnes and Paul both 

laughed and claimed they would make 

no promise of that sort.  

During that discussion five buffleheads, 

fair game, flew over our little 

cuckoo’s nest and on into the west. 

Guns were brought up, too late, 

but then duck with a black streak around the 

eyes appeared and landed 

between the farthest decoys.  Paul and Mr. Barnes 

blasted away but the shot 

patterns were too broad.  The shot fell all around him. 

 The duck defiantly stared 

at us, raised a wing as if to say ‘is that rain/’ 

and then flew away into the setting sun.

“Who was that masked Duck?” I thought Paul said.

“The Lone Widgeon.”  I said.

Mollie growled at me and the other two

become uncommunicative.

Later Mr. Barnes tried to console us. 

“Sorry, no ducks,” He said, “But I can tell-- you’ll be back.”

Mollie glanced at Paul with that -next time just you and I, look.

I pretended not to see Paul’s nod.

Report to the Commissionaire:

The Great Dismal Dawgs Retrieving and Foul Water Hunting 

Alliance successfully completed its first Annual Muddy Creek 

Mollie Invitational Duck Hunt on the brilliant Saturday 

following Thanksgiving.

You may of heard that all did not go as planned but nothing 

could be further from the truth.  

Trust me, it happened this way.

If you remember Mollie’s initial Hunt Test was sponsored by 

the Knotts Island /Back Bay

 Hunt Club at least 150 Miles from Knotts Island and the 

Back Bay. 

(Knotts Island/Back Bay Hunt Club, indeed, so many of 

these Clubs have affectatious monikers, don’t you think?) 

Well, I was curious as to where Knotts Island 

and the Back Bay were, why a Hunt Club so named tested its

 dogs far from its native environs 

and whether there was even hunting in said locality?  

In short I’m nosey, or maybe just curious, 

and you know what they say about curiosity...

I can tell you one thing I learned from that weekend, 

curiosity never killed a Duck!  But I digress, I googled 

Knotts Island on my trusty computer and found 

the Barnes Hunting Lodge and its phone number.

A grand plan, inspired by an hunter’s oil painting, had 

been shaping itself in the recesses of my brain 

since Mollie’s first attempt to win a ribbon.  

I would hunt ducks with Mollie far from the artifice and 

pretense of an AKC Hunt. 

 Man and his trusty companion facing and 

triumphing over elemental forces of nature, 

hunters from the far reaches of the country would 

join me, ducks would fall from heaven 

like feathered manna and Mollie would retriever every 

last one of them.  

She would redeem herself and me.  

I called the number to the Hunting Lodge 

and spoke to a lady named Kay.

“No, Mr. Barnes is not here.”

“He might be here next week, call back.”

“He only takes out parties of six hunters.”

I sensed it Kay’s job to dissuade me from bringing 

the grand plan to fruition but my soul and my dog’s 

heart were pure so I called back and then ventured 

forth to Knotts Island to set up the hunt.  

(Finding Knotts Island on a map and actually 

getting there are two completely

 different endeavors.  

I found my innate sense of direction stymied and finally 

admitted defeat, stopped and asked directions

 of three ladies in a town called Pungo.  

(How they carried on with winks and sly looks. 

You would think those three women in the Pungo Deli 

had never given directions to a man before.)

I met Mr. Barnes at his hunting lodge and finalized 

arrangements. 

 Four to six hunters, all lined up, would make the party with 
guides and food, ducks and Mollie.  

All things bright and beautiful, we would have a 

superb end to a holiday weekend.

But sometimes, as Burns penned,

The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men

Gang aft agley,

An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,

For promis'd joy !


More to come...

Christmas Retriever Fever

Dear Citizens:

While I shop furiously for gifts this season I thought you might enjoy a holiday story about my Chesapeake Bay dog. This happened a few years ago.

The Education of Mollie

Report Part I

see above

Be Well
A Journeyman

Coffee in a Grand Cup

Dear Citizens:
This morning I made the coffee and instead of drinking it from a mug I poured it into my classiest china cup.  I used its saucer also. They were remembrances from the wait staff after a bit of tom foolery on my part with them during a superb breakfast at the prestigious Grand Hotel in Oslo, Norway.  That morning I also received a silver sugar spoon and a kiss. Of course, I drink from this cup on special occasions only.
Coffee in hand, I turned on the TV and watched the President's Nobel Lecture.
He was a reluctant recipient, like Wilson, and controversial, like Roosevelt, but he explained his reluctance with grace and aplomb.  And he spoke of war.
"Still, we are at war, and I am responsible for the deployment of thousands of young Americans to battle in a distant land. Some will kill. Some will be killed. And so I come here with an acute sense of the cost of armed conflict - filled with difficult questions about the relationship between war and peace, and our effort to replace one with the other."
(Alfred Nobel worried about these same issues when he instigated the peace price through his will.)
It is interesting to note that only once during today's lecture did it receive applause..
"Where force is necessary, we have a moral and strategic interest in binding ourselves to certain rules of conduct. And even as we confront a vicious adversary that abides by no rules, I believe that the United States of America must remain a standard bearer in the conduct of war. "
Is it not sad that this speech will garner no political points at home with Democrats or Republicans?  It comes from the heart and it makes much sense.
Be well Citizens
A Journeyman

Peace on Earth only 'Cept

Dear Citizens:
It will surprise no one that before blogs etc. I ranted and raved--sometimes not very civilly.
Here is a letter I wrote ten years ago to the News Leader, a local Staunton, VA paper, when I lived in that western Virginia community.  Clearer heads prevailed and it was not published but it was my first rant that I made a conscientious attempt to be civil.

It was beginning to look and feel a lot like the holidays as I walked up Lewis Street that crisp Tuesday after Thanksgiving.  The message board aside the Second Presbyterian Church proclaimed “Christmas Peace,” holiday lights were already in place on a nearby bank, the downtown was decked out for the season and Staunton’s Christmas parade was history.  All this accomplished before December 1st. Our city was prepared for the holidays a week before Hanukkah and three and a half weeks before Christmas.

The residents of the city played their part also placing candles at the windows and seasonal greenery about those lovely old homes. All the symbols for our many varied holiday celebrations of peace and light seemed in place. Staunton does like its holiday lights.

At the crest of a hill rested an old anti-bellum style home. It sat high above the sidewalk and back in trees, the bushes around it’s porch trimmed in festive lights and a small decorated evergreen presented holiday joy to passersby.  For me the decorations so epitomized this sense of  “peace on earth, good will toward all”  that I turned back to view them one last time. It was then I noticed flying from the porch a large Confederate battle flag. Now this interested me.

I will admit that, frequently, I walk downtown and back home.  It is a time consuming indulgence but the walk is good exercise. More than that, it slows me down, gives me time to think and since I am new to Staunton observe the city close up. My excuse for doing so was that I needed coffee.  That day I had bought two pounds of my favorite, The General’s Blend. Named for Washington and Lee, this potent aromatic mixture of light and dark beans is roasted and blended in Lexington and sold here.

As I walked home Tuesday, my coffee under my arm, I wondered if the residents of that lovely old home considered the mixed signals that Christmas trees and Confederate battle flags presented together sent to many of our citizens?  How do the members of the nearby Churches view the house on the hill?

In tandem could those symbols be viewed--”Peace on earth, ---”only ‘cept”?” The caveat of “only ‘cept,” always bothers me. The “only cepts” get in the way of the peace statement, don’t they?  What about “Good will towards all”? When we display holiday symbols that mean “Peace” and “Goodwill” don’t we accept a small measure of responsibility to make it happen? 

I would inquire.  I called the owner.

Unfortunately, I presented my case rather badly to the resident putting him on the defensive, and for that I am sorry. To his credit he was more generous than he needed to be with his explanation but he informed me: I had my opinions and he had his.  At some point I recall the words "Damn Yankee" being used.  End of conversation.  I received a good history lesson about "our hallowed ancestors" and even better civics lesson concerning the 1st amendment of our Constitution.  I love history, thank the Good Lord I did not point out his beloved Ancestors fought to be free of our Constitution, and I understand that the symbols for peace and war can get easily mixed especially in a state that celebrates a Lee, Jackson, King Holiday. I had no axe to grind, no agenda to present to the resident. I just wanted his viewpoint.

But, now, I have an observation.  We celebrate our wars more than our peace. If this continues our past will cloud our future more than it now does our present. General Lee was right when overlooking the Union's preparations, before the battle of Fredericksburg, he said, “It is well that war is so terrible -- we should grow too fond of it.”

I would suggest we take a moment and reflect during this holiday season on the symbols we use to represent ourselves to others. Could we not engineer a flagless Armistice during the holiday 
season? Would that not be the best way to honor all our ancestors? Staunton, the birth place of President Woodrow Wilson, our own Nobel laureate for Peace, deserves it-- And if we do come together to talk about it, let me bring the coffee. 


Be well
A Journeyman