Tag: news (Page 3 of 9)

Quick Notes

November 8, 2017 / DB

A few assorted notes for the middle of the week.

Election Night

A little less traumatic than a year ago, for sure. The result I was most interested in was the vote on the new airport in Kansas City, which passed overwhelmingly. There’s no doubt that KCI needed a facelift, but I’m among those who still love it. It’s the most convenient mid-sized airport I’ve ever been to. You can literally get dropped off at the curb and be through security, at your gate, in less than 10 minutes if conditions are right. Compare that to Indianapolis, where you have a 10-minute walk just to get to security. And then likely another 10 minutes to get to your gate. And IND is a small airport!

That said, I’m all for my hometown building a single-terminal airport. IND is really nice, and when you throw out the unique KCI, it’s comparatively very fast to get through. Hopefully Kansas City will follow Indianapolis’ lead in building something that has space for the future but keeps the middle-sized city compactness to it.

Colts

Andrew Luck’s season is over without it ever beginning. There are rumors – some substantiated, some disputed – that folks within the organization are calling out Luck for his inability to play – well practice – with pain. Let’s not forget it was the Colts who built a terrible offensive line in front of Luck that forced him to flee for his life or get pummeled on every snap. Let’s not forget it was the Colts who, likely, mismanaged several of his injuries over the past two years. I understand frustration with an injury that seems to be defying what the medical experts forecast in terms of recovery time. But there doesn’t need to be any throwing of Luck under the bus.

Oh, IF he comes back healthy next year, he’ll begin the year having just turned 29. And the offensive line will still be shit.

We thought we had the next Elway when the Colts drafted Luck, and a worthy successor to Peyton Manning. It’s looking more and more like Luck’s career will mirror Archie Manning’s that Elway, Peyton, or even Dan Marino. Moments of brilliance but ultimately disappointment at a missed opportunity.

KU Basketball

I watched their exhibition game last night. Kind of sorry I did. They did not look good at all in the first half, only mildly interested and lethargic. My first thought was they had been run really hard in practice on Monday and were suffering. The mantra the past couple years for KU hoops has been “this team has less margin for error than in the past.” That’s even more true this year. We’ll see how they look when the games count, but right now, on November 8, I think this could be the year the Big 12 title streak finally ends.

Sick Days

We had our first sick kid day of the year yesterday. C stayed home not feeling well. Ironically she had the first sick day of the year last year, also on November 7. I know that because of a Facebook post from that day. S suggested she watch A League of Their Own and said Madonna was in it. C’s response, “Who’s Madonna?” I guess I’ll go ahead and mark her down for absent on 11/7/18.

Leaves

What a weird fall. Hardly any leaves fell early. Colors changed quickly and a bunch come down last week. But we still have trees that are normally bare right around Halloween that are full of leaves. It’s made for easier gutter cleaning than normal. And we only spent an hour blowing leaves at the lake Saturday, although that may have much to do with my finally investing in a gas blower instead of S and I using two electric blowers like in the past.

Good Information To Have

October 13, 2017 / DB

Men are idiots.

I say that with shame as a man, and with fear as a father.

I’m honestly not sure why people are shocked and surprised about the Harvey Weinstein news. We should be disgusted and horrified, but surprised? Hell naw. His years of sexual harassment and abuse of women going public is kind of like Louisville getting hammered for paying high school basketball players: you damn well know this isn’t some isolated case. CEOs, regional directors, and store managers have been using sex as a weapon against the women who work for them as long as women have been in the workforce.[1]

Fortunately for all the guys out there who can’t seem to understand that women who work for and with them are not their personal sex toys, Anne Victoria Clark put together this informative primer on how to deal with women in business and social situations.

The Rock Test: A Hack for Men Who Don’t Want To Be Accused of Sexual Harassment

It shouldn’t be that difficult, fellas.

Some, not all, I should make clear. ↩

Is There Anybody Out There? Anybody At All?

September 20, 2017 / DB

Well this checks a few boxes for me.

General 80s nostalgia
80s pop culture and political sub-categories
Nuclear obliteration
And Kansas City/Kansas references

Yep, The Day After was a pretty big deal. And, perhaps, as relevant today as it has been for nearly 30 years.

The Day After traumatized a generation with the horrors of nuclear war

My favorite family story about The Day After was of some college friends of my parents who lived in Lawrence when the movie was being filmed. They showed up for the open casting calls but weren’t selected. They found out where they were filming one day and drove their VW back-and-forth on the nearest street with the 4-year-old waving every time they passed, hoping to show up in the background of a scene. When the movie finally aired, they were disappointed not to see themselves out of focus behind John Lithgow.

The videos embedded within this story are definitely worth your time, too.

Looking Back

September 12, 2017 / DB

I wrote this yesterday, but forgot to post it before heading out for an afternoon of kickball.

I believe M is coming home with an assignment tonight to ask S and I what our memories of September 11, 2001 are. Her social studies teacher wrote her memories of that day on her whiteboard and shared a pic of it on Twitter, along with the warning our kids would be asking questions tonight. So, in between my normal Monday errands and tracking the remnants of Irma – hoping my in-laws’ home in Jacksonville will be dry and damage-free when they return from their European trip in a week – I’ve been thinking back 16 years.

I think most of our initial memories are of when we first heard what was happening, where we were, who told us, etc. And then how we followed the events of the rest of that morning until we all settled into a daze after the second tower fell.

As I think more about that day, I get to the evening. And the part of the day I keep thinking “Somewhere in here are the seeds for a decent novel,” but have never tried to hash out.

My evening of 9/11/01 was different because I was with a group of people that kind of went off the rails a little. That week was my employer’s annual conference that brought people in from all over the country. A group of us who worked together, but were scattered from Texas to Oregon, had planned a dinner on Tuesday for weeks. Despite the day’s events, the out-of-towners insisted on keeping our dinner reservation. Probably so they didn’t have to sit in their hotel rooms and watch the footage over-and-over.

We went to Manny’s, the now defunct Kansas City Mexican food institution. As I recall we all pounced on the pitchers of margaritas as soon as they hit our table. I’m pretty sure everyone was pretty well lit before we ordered our food. And we continued to hit the tequila hard. While the rest of the restaurant, which was serving a rather light crowd, was reserved, quiet, and somber, we were loud and laughing and likely obnoxious. I don’t remember anyone saying a word about what happened on the east coast, but instead carrying on just like it was any other night.

I also remember the other diners giving us looks. Not angry looks, but more “Why are they so happy?” looks. After making eye contact with a few people who appeared to disapprove of our revelry, I stopped looking around. Even in that moment I had a feeling that when this dinner ended and I went home, nothing might ever be the same again. If the other dozen or so people I was sitting with were down for a night of ignoring the horrific attacks for a couple hours, I was gladly along for the ride.

Things did get a little dicey as we made our way out of the restaurant. We were splitting the ticket so had to do that up front near the bar. We were kind of loud – a couple people could barely stand at this point – and President Bush was about to speak. Several folks at the bar loudly told us to knock it off. Those of us who were in halfway decent shape tried to shuffle the more impaired members of our group out the door to avoid things getting really ugly.

And then the night was done and reality hit.

Somewhere in there is a book, I bet. Maybe someday I’ll be able to find the thread that leads out of that night into a bigger story.
***
Two years ago C came home with a 9/11 homework assignment that was several questions to ask parents about 9/11. One of the questions was “How do you think life has changed in the US since 9/11?” There was a broad, poli-sci answer I could have given which was probably too much for a third grader. The answer I did give was that I didn’t think life had changed all that much. Airport security is different. No one close to me has served overseas, so I haven’t had to live with the fear of a loved one serving in harm’s way. And even then, I feel like the War Against Terror has always been in a distinct pocket in our culture. We get constant reminders about the troops, but I don’t think America in the ‘00s and ‘10s feels like a country at war the way it did during previous wars.

My answer might change if that question comes home tonight, though. I think Trump is a direct effect of 9/11. No, I’m not saying he’s a sleeper agent for al qaeda. While fear has always been a part of American politics, I think 9/11 both institutionalized perpetual fear and broadened its effects across the country. People were fearful, and rightly so, of the next attack, of anthrax, of anything that seemed a little hinky for quite a while.

Eventually, we settled down. Well, most of us did. But that fear remained strong in a significant part of the electorate, and eventually attached itself to things that had nothing to do with Islamic terrorism. The raw hatred for Barack Obama grew from this fear. The rejection of modernism, of science, of the progression of civil rights all grew from this fear. The Tea Party movement solidified that fear, both against Obama and more broadly against the modern welfare state, and injected it directly into our political process.

The blueprint was in place: if you say the right words loud and long enough, even if they have no basis in fact, you can mobilize an extremely angry and motivated segment of the electorate. Trump was the perfect – and only – candidate to capitalize on this fear. An empty, soulless man interested only in himself, who was willing to say, do, and attach himself to anything that moved his brand forward. He came along at the exactly right time, and against the exact right set of opponents, to blow that fear up into something that carried him to the presidency.

Make no mistake, not everyone who voted for him did so because of the wave of fear he capitalized on. But in US presidential politics, where mobilizing a tiny swath of the electorate can tip a national election, those folks who had lived in fear since 9/11 were the difference in Trump winning the White House.

On North Korea

June 28, 2017 / DB

North Korea has been in the news a lot lately. Between the election of a new American president who is incapable of making measured comments or rational decisions and North Korea’s continued efforts to build a nuclear weapon and missile system capable of reaching the US, it feels like we’ve reached a new and particularly dangerous time in how we deal with that country.

Mark Bowden (Black Hawk Down among many excellent books) wrote this long piece about the state of the relationship and our options, both diplomatic and military.

How to Deal with North Korea

The tl;dr summary is that there are no good options. Perhaps the best option is to just let them go and hope that, as crazy as the North Korean leadership is, they are still more interested in surviving than anything else. All the experts seem to agree that should North Korea launch a nuclear attack against the US, or Seoul or Tokyo, their country would be wiped off the face of the earth within the hour. They may be nutjobs, but the argument suggests that they aren’t so insane that they would trade one city of their enemies for their entire existence.

I hope that view is right. Regardless, this is a very informative read.

Carrie

December 28, 2016 / DB

Yesterday was one of those weird afternoons where you take a brief nap and, after waking, nothing seems quite right for an hour or so. The cobwebs seem too thick to push through and you’re left feeling like you’ve taken a bunch of cold medicine. As I was sitting there, trying to find solid ground again, I picked up my phone and began scrolling through Twitter, soon finding the news that Carrie Fisher had died. Suddenly I felt even more unsteady.

I don’t think Carrie Fisher was my first celebrity crush, but I do know I, like all the other boys my age at my school, was totally in love with her after seeing Star Wars. I’ve shared before how, the morning after I saw Star Wars for the first time, I went outside and sat on our front step and just stared into the distance, still trying to make sense of what I had seen. A healthy portion of that was caused by Fisher’s presence on the screen. I don’t think any of us ever lost that love for 1977 Carrie. I admired the way she lived her life after getting past her addictions in the mid–80s. She was smart, funny, outspoken, courageous, and brutally honest about her many failures and battle with mental illness. I can’t think of a better way to publicly live a flawed life.

On Christmas Day it was George Michael who died and sent a wave of shock through Gen X. I was never a huge Wham! fan, or George fan in general. But I did love a handful of his songs.[1] I listened to the first half of Faith yesterday. Those first four songs are an amazing reminder both of the times – when epic albums filled with massive hits were common – and Michael’s talent. He also lived a flawed life. Like Fisher he battled the expectations of fame, and fought to hold onto his sanity and manage his career on his terms. Word has it he was very generous and shared his wealth with many organizations that helped others, often doing it with minimal or no publicity.

I wrote on Facebook yesterday that, now that our generation has reached middle age, the heroes of our youth are climbing into their old age years. And they seem to be slipping away with shocking frequency. As upsetting as their deaths are, they also make sense. Muhammad Ali was 74. David Bowie was 69. Fisher 60. Prince 57. Michael 53. While the last three were still fairly young, they’re also into the years when the actuarial tables begin to catch up with them. Especially when they’ve often lived rather hard lives thanks to the trappings of fame. That doesn’t make these loses any easier.

I wrote in April that Prince’s death was the first celebrity death that ever floored me. It still shocks me when I’m walking through the grocery store and I hear “Raspberry Beret,” as I did last week, and I am reminded that he’s gone. While not to the same extent as with Prince, I did have a few moments of genuine sadness yesterday after learning of Fisher’s death. And I’m beginning to dread learning who is next.

“Everything She Wants,” “Faith,” “I Want Your Sex,” “Father Figure.” ↩

November 9, 2016 / DB

“Red Skies” – The Fixx. This is all I have right now.

The Verge Of History

November 7, 2016 / DB

Well, here we are, the day before the end of the world. Perhaps.

As I shared sometime last year, I just don’t have the stomach for politics the way I used to. I had largely disengaged before this fall, sick of how our political process had become a system not of checks and balances, give and take, discussion and compromise, but rather a zero sum, destroy your opponent, repeat lies until they become truths, never ever compromise, slash-and-burn mess. While both parties have some responsibility for this, most of it lies with Republicans, who have spent the past eight years more intent on destruction than doing anything constructive that would move the country forward.

Because of my disengagement, I just didn’t feel the desire to write about political matters anymore. A few times over the past couple months I’ve thought about putting some thoughts together. But the mental drafting process always causes my blood pressure to increase and I find it’s not worth the effort or trouble.

Over the weekend, again, I thought perhaps I should put some kind of pre-election day post together. But, again, emotions turned dark and I chose to spend my time on other things.

And then I read this piece by Will Leitch this morning. I think he largely captures my feelings on the travesty this year has been and the true choice that we face. And I think he does it far better than I could have done if I had stuck with my weak effort over the weekend.

Ain’t It A Shame

I think Tuesday night is going to be a(n) historic night in many, many ways. Hopefully most of that history is good, regardless of who wins the presidency, the senate, and so on. Despite the lack of attention I’ve given to the presidential race this year, I’m going to sit in front of my TV and soak a lot of it in. No matter what happens tomorrow, and moving forward after, I think it’s going to be right up there with 2000 as an Election Night none of us will ever forget.

Small Ones

June 15, 2016 / DB

A few random notes.

Swimming

The girls swim season is off to a solid start. L moved up an age group this year, and is now swimming full, 25-yard lengths of the pool instead of the 6-and-under, 12-yard lengths. It’s been a good challenge for her. We were especially proud of her last night. The team we were swimming against has a family that we’ve had a minor conflict with over the years. Nothing serious, silly neighbor stuff, but they’re also not a family we want to spend any time with. L was matched up with their daughter, who coincidentally was born on the exact same day, in the backstroke. And L freaking smoked her! It was probably L’s best backstroke swim ever; she only hit the lane divider once and that didn’t slow her down at all. And she scored one for the family in the process!

C and M are both doing fine. They’re in the age groups where the kids who swim year-round really begin to separate themselves. So the only time our girls swim in heat one is in relays if there aren’t enough girls for two heats. But they’re having fun.

Euro 2016

I didn’t get to start watching games until Monday, but I’m enjoying having soccer on ESPN all day. This triple-header stuff during the group phase is fantastic. I watched every minute of Belgium-Italy and was thrilled with how the Azzurri played. Just a fantastic effort in taking out one of the tournament favorites in a year not much was expected from the Italians.

I was able to watch a good chunk of Iceland-Portugal yesterday before swimming. It was magical watching the Iceland fans sing their national anthem. Those were some happy folks! They got even happier when their side tied the heavy favorites in the second half on a beautiful goal by Birkir Bjarnason. Even better was noted ass Christiano Ronaldo complaing about the Icelanders celebration after the game. Some folks have suggested that he’s doing a Kobe and playing up his image as the villain. I don’t buy it. I think he’s genuinely a selfish, shallow person who was bothered that a country playing in its first-ever major tournament were excited about earning a draw against one of the best teams in the world.

Speaking of magical, former German national and Arsenal goaltender Jens Lehmann posted this video from Paris.

What a magic! I’m saying that constantly for the next month.

I’m very much looking forward to the ancestral battle tomorrow, as Wales battle England. When it comes to my ancestry, I’m pretty watered-down. I believe most of Northern Europe is in my blood. If I did an exhaustive tracing of my roots, I have a feeling I might be more French than anything else. Which is terrible to consider. But my last name came from Wales, so I generally call myself Welsh.[1] Since I generally dislike the English national team, I’ll be rooting extra hard against them tomorrow.

Big Events

A couple huge world events have passed without any comment from me. The first, the death of Muhammad Ali, came while we were on vacation. Because of that, I missed much of the coverage that followed. I did learn of his death in the most old school manner possible: the next morning I went for a walk around the Fenway area and, passing through our hotel lobby, saw the complimentary copies of the Boston Globe that had the new written in huge typeface above the fold. I had shut down the old Twitter machine roughly 15 minutes before the news broke the previous night.

Anyway, I did not grow up loving Ali. I had an odd, contrarian streak in me even as a very young kid. If things seemed to be loved by all, I went the opposite way. I hated the Beatles growing up because my parents and all their friends loved them. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I finally acknowledged the Beatles are the best band ever.[2]

My dislike of Ali came later, as my parents weren’t big boxing fans. I just remember when I first learned about him hearing how he was “The Champ,” was aging, and that a lot of people thought he shouldn’t be fighting anymore. So I decided I didn’t like him, without knowing anything about him. I remember waking up and hearing that he had lost to Leon Spinks in 1978. This was huge news where we lived, in southeast Missouri, since Spinks was from the St. Louis area. I was thrilled that a local kid had topped the aging icon.

Over the years, I slowly learned more about Ali and came to admire him. But he wasn’t like a big part of my life or anything. This was a moment that was obviously coming based on his age and his disease, so it wasn’t much of a shock. If anything, it came as a relief, as Parkinson’s is a mutherfucker.

Like so many public figures, Ali was a complex dude. For every thing I admire about him, there are also aspects of his life that make me cringe. But I’ve always measured people on the concept of balance. I think Ali did more good and worthy of praise than bad and worthy of scorn.

The Red Sox game I attended was the day after his death, and the team offered a moment of silence in Ali’s honor. In the brief accounting of his life, the PA announcer pointed out that Ali rose from the streets of Louisville to the most recognizable man in the world. That’s a hell of a thing, isn’t it?

Second, Orlando. There is no correct word to use to describe my reaction, or feelings. Because we’ve used them all before. Like the “thoughts and prayers” our elected leaders keep offering after mass shootings, saying I’m shocked, devastated, furious, depressed, etc by the latest one does nothing.

We keep being shocked, devastated, furious, depressed, and offering thoughts and prayers, but nothing changes. This will happen again in a week. Or month if we’re lucky. But this is the world we’ve chosen. This is what happens when guns are not viewed as a symbol of freedom, but as freedom itself. This is what happens when a minority of the country views a document written before the discovery of electricity, before radio and TV, before we landed on the moon, hell, before we freed the slaves, as something that can not be altered. A document written when our weapons were slow to load, difficult to aim, and unreliable. Not when weapons spit out highly accurate, incredibly destructive ammunition at the rate of dozens per minute.

It is possible to have reasonable conversations about guns. I don’t like guns, but I don’t think that people who have been trained to use them shouldn’t have access to handguns or hunting rifles. But there is no reasonable argument for allowing the general public to have weapons created for the sole purpose of killing or wounding the greatest number of enemy soldiers as quickly as possible. Not one. Yet suggesting that we get rid of assault rifles and ban ammunition designed for warfare is seen as an idea that will cripple the core concepts our country is formed on by enough people in power to keep it from ever happening. If Sandy Hook didn’t change anything, nothing ever will.

Which, I should point out, I – and much of my family – thought we were actually German until the 1990s, when an uncle did some research and discovered our family came from Wales rather than Germany. I’ve also got Irish and Danish blood in me. ↩
Please note not my favorite. That would be the Clash. But the Beatles are in my top 5. ↩

April 22, 2016 / DB

I’ve always secretly made fun of those folks who get all emotional when a public figure dies. No matter what effect their work had on your life, I didn’t understand how an actor or singer or whoever dying would cause you to show public grief.

I think I understand those people a little more today.

Yesterday sadness for Prince’s death slowly grew within me. I spun his tunes, I listened to the two SiriusXM stations that had his songs on repeat and were taking calls from fans, I watched MTV – which had his videos in constant rotation – and VH1 – which was showing Purple Rain on repeat – and checked in on the news channels to catch parts of their pieces. I read tribute pieces online and watched the handful of videos of his live performances that he could not get removed from YouTube. All that slowly combined to make me pretty damn sad by the end of the night. At one point I was reading tributes that other celebrities had posted. While scrolling through those, “The Cross” came on my iPad and it was almost too much. Watching the performance of “Purple Rain” at about 12:10 AM with some bourbon in my system was not a dry-eyed moment.

I thought about how silly that was. Yes, I was sad that a man who meant so much to me had died suddenly. But why? I had not bought an album of his in nearly 20 years. The last album of his that I put in high rotation was *Diamonds and Pearls* in 1991. The majority of my best memories of Prince came from 30 years ago.[1] Those songs, videos, and movies are not disappearing with his death. I’ve been listening to them again all morning.

So why do we get sad when a person we never knew dies?

I guess a chunk of that sadness is actually our way of saying thanks. Regardless of your view of what happens to people when they die, I think being sad is a way of sending out signals that you appreciate what that person did when they were alive to contribute to your happiness.

There’s probably some kind of yearning for our youth wrapped up in it, too. But since I hate that kind of discussion, I’ll skip it.

Our own, personal grief certainly gets wrapped up in it as well. I never saw Prince live. I was supposed to back in early 1998, but came down with the worst case of the flu I’ve ever had and sold my ticket. I was so sick I went to my mom and step-dad’s house for two days and she brought me Advil and Sprite and chicken noodle soup while I laid on the couch moaning. I was thinking of that last night, and remembered that concert was about six weeks before my mom died. I’m sad my step-dad is gone, too.

You can’t help but pull these moments that are specific to your life into this larger, universal moment of sadness.

I was comforted that, through Facebook, texts, emails, and regular conversations yesterday, I saw that so many of my friends were having similar feelings. Well, I’m not happy so many of my friends were sad, but you know what I mean.

I’ve never felt that way I do now after someone I admired, but was not related to, died. In a weird way, I guess there’s no better tribute than that.

And now, “Sometimes It Snows In April” just came on and I think I need another minute to myself.

I used to cry for Tracy because I wanted to see him again

The ones that stood out the strongest: seeing the “1999” video for the first time; hearing “When Doves Cry” and “Let’s Go Crazy” constantly in the summer of 1984; the first time I heard “Raspberry Beret” and, like so many people, not appreciating its genius immediately; watching the “Kiss” video with my classic rock loving uncle, who hated every second of it. ↩