None of the above

One of the most encouraging aspects of last November's general election was that 29% of the ballots were cast by "other" voters. More Americans than ever before are declaring their independence from the two dominant political parties -- and that's a very good thing.

Yesterday, the Program on Public Values at Trinity College released the results of its American Religious Identification Survey, an intriguing study which brings us similarly heartening news -- 15% of Americans claim no religion.

These so-called "Nones," as a segment of the U.S. population, have swelled from 8.2% of Americans in 1990 to 14.2% in 2001 to 15% in 2008. More significant, I think, is that over the last seven years the percentage of Nones increased in every state -- the only group in the Trinity survey to have done so.

The percentage of Americans calling themselves Christians has declined from 86.2% in 1990 to 76% today. Catholics accounted for 25.1% of those surveyed, up slightly from 2001 but down from 26.2% in 1990. From the report's "Highlights" summary:

"The challenge to Christianity in the U.S. does not come from other religions but rather from a rejection of all forms of organized religion."

It's interesting, at least to me, that the estimated 34.2 million Nones outnumber Americans who identify with the old "mainline" Christian denominations (29.4 million). Nones also rival the number of Baptists (36.1 million). Fewer than 2.2 million Americans are self-proclaimed evangelicals or characterize themselves as "born again."

For the first time in the survey's history, respondents were asked if they believe in "the existence of God." Only 69.5% affirmed that belief, prompting the report's authors to make this observation:

"If 76% of Americans self-identify with Christianity and 80% with a religion then many millions do not subscribe fully to the theology of the groups with which they identify."

For Americans, it seems, religion is somewhat less about believing than it is about belonging -- more fellowship than faith. Go figure.

I was amused to see that the ARIS report offers right-wingers, evangelicals and other -phobes a few convenient targets -- like Vermont, which has a higher percentage of Nones than any other state (34%). Muslims now make up 0.6% of Americans, twice their 1990 share and up from 0.5% in 2001. (That's about 1.4 million, if you stay awake nights keeping score at home.)

As for real heathens, an estimated 1.6 million Americans, or 0.7%, claim to be atheists and nearly 2 million (0.9%) are agnostics. And on the "existence of God" question, 2.3% of those surveyed affirmed atheism and fully 10% expressed some form of agnosticism.

Closer to home, for what it's worth, the survey found that Ohio's population is 76% Christians and 17% Nones, compared with 88% and 8% in 1990. The state's percentage of Catholics fell from 24% to 20% over the same period.

Back in July, I wrote about the menace posed by religion's extremes:

"Religious fundamentalism, regardless of the form it takes, decimates individual liberties, assaults the foundations of our society and threatens the country I love."

Not every American who professes this or that religion is a dangerous fundamentalist, of course, and I wouldn't presume to deny any citizen their chosen personal faith. I make no apologies, however, for my valuing independence above all else -- and that includes religious as well as political independence.

Crafting one's own ethics free of the artifice of religion is, in my opinion, an expression of true independence. I stand in respect and applaud the 34 million Americans who, like me, do just that.

Read the Trinity College report: American Religious Identification Survey (pdf).

What a difference

Yesterday's high temperature here was 77°F. A year ago today, we were shoveling two feet of snow.

The real month of March, like the truth about most things, lies somewhere between the extremes. Then again, as KintlaLake Blog approaches its first anniversary, I look back and see 12 months of extremes.

After that record snowfall, we had unprecedented rain and flooding in June and a memorable windstorm in September. The nation elected its first black President. For a while there, we paid more than four bucks for a gallon of unleaded gas. And month after depressing month, we've been slogging through an unparalleled economic crisis.

For me, these days are full -- very full. They're also as difficult as any days I've ever known.

Perhaps it's time to acknowledge the elephant in the room. By way of introduction, then, my very own personal pachyderm goes by the name of Chapter 7 bankruptcy -- the weighty, distasteful product of two years of struggling and juggling.

As I pushed heavy snow from our driveway last March, I was already a year into wrestling my way out of a tight financial bind brought on by the unexpected loss of my job and the subsequent failure to establish my own business, all exacerbated by a turbulent economy. This time last year, I still had my optimism, my professional chops and my work ethic, as well as an above-800 credit score.

To be clear, no, my family and I didn't make reckless financial choices. We weren't wrapped up in a sub-prime or an adjustable-rate mortgage, we never took out a home-equity loan and we certainly weren't in denial.

Facing adversity, we did the responsible thing -- we cut back. We simplified. I sold my cars and we tapped our emergency funds. I applied for every job I could find, sending out thousands of résumés, and I continued to scratch for contract work.

It was like sowing seeds on a sidewalk.

As 2009 dawned, it became obvious that I no longer could postpone the inevitable. I sought competent legal advice and filed my petition with the U.S. Bankruptcy Court late last month. Every material possession I've earned over the last 30-plus years and every red cent I have left is now under the control of the court and soon will be discharged under the supervision of a trustee.

My family and I will surrender this oddly wonderful house, which (fortunately) is in my name alone, and over the next few months we'll move in with my wife's parents across town. I hope to retain, thanks to statutory exemptions, some items of sentiment and importance. My motorcycles will be sold by the trustee, with the proceeds to be distributed to my creditors. If I'm to keep my truck, I'll need to scrape together the difference between its value and the exemption I'm allowed. I think I can do that.

I don't qualify for any of the government's homeowner-aid money, and to be honest I'm not sure I'd reach for that aid even if I thought I might benefit temporarily. I may not have made careless or naive choices, but nevertheless each of us creates our own circumstances and I accept responsibility for mine.

Looking for someone who feels like a victim? Look somewhere else.

Beyond my personal situation, I have strong opinions about this dysfunctional economy. I believe that myopic greed, at all levels, has strangled the capitalist ideal -- if the status quo demonstrates anything, it's that pure trickle-down capitalism is an abysmal failure.

I believe that our nation's wealth must be rebuilt on the broad base of citizen-consumers first, communities second, small businesses third and multinationals last. I believe that fiscal policies founded largely on deregulation and tax breaks for businesses, regardless of size, are political ploys, period, and won't produce sustainable economic strength. I believe that taxpayers are entitled to -- and are justified in demanding -- benefits equal to the billions squandered on banks, insurers and automakers.

And I believe that any moron who proposes to fix what's broken with the same fiscal depravity that broke what needs fixing can go straight to hell.

Last week, the big financial-services company that'll soon commence foreclosure on my house announced that it'll consider accepting three months of reduced payments from their mortgage customers who are unemployed. The announcement came on the day that the company's stock closed at 98% off of its October 2007 highs. Talk about shutting the barn door after the horse is gone...

By the time the markets closed on Friday, that company's stock was cheaper than its ATM fee, for cryin' out loud. One share of Office Depot stock costs less than one box of Office Depot paper clips. A gallon of gas for my TrailBlazer is more expensive than a share of General Motors.

These companies and myriad others are collapsing because they hitched their wagons to investors and put their customers out to pasture -- a short-sighted strategy that virtually guarantees failure. Simply, they forgot that long-term survival depends on commercial success.

Throwing more taxpayer money at GM, AIG and the banks will solve nothing. The grand experiment of laissez faire, top-down capitalism is over. The foundation of American capitalism must be laid again, solidly and over the objections of ideologues, right where it belongs -- with The People.

I'm not advocating the dreaded "redistribution of wealth" that puts simple-minded conservatives into a full-body pucker, nor do I favor perpetuating a culture of entitlement that raises generation upon needy generation of sucklings. I'm talking fundamentally about re-asserting economic power -- not in the capital markets, but in the commercial marketplace.

Capitalism begins -- and ends -- at home. Or, in the vernacular,

"If Main Street ain't happy, ain't nobody happy."

As for my family and me, once we navigate a household move we'll be fine. Failing to triumph over circumstances has broken our bank but not our spirit. We'll begin rebuilding by setting our foundation on solid ground.

Our nation would be wise to do the same.

Images: Film rewind

Acadia NP, Maine (2000)

Lexington, Ohio (2002)

Disturbance

Around 9pm last night, Mrs. KintlaLake and I were sitting in our upstairs office, digesting dinner and unwinding from the day. One spawn was seated at the dining room table with his math tutor. The other was getting ready for bed.

Our peace was broken suddenly by the panicked cries of a small animal, perhaps a rabbit, coming from the side yard. My wife and I headed downstairs and peered out of the living room windows, but we failed to spot the source of the sound, which continued.

I grabbed a flashlight, walked out onto the front porch, scanned the yard and solved the mystery.

Pepe LePew found himself a real screamer this year.

Without further thought or delay I ducked back inside, shut the door behind me and we all had a good laugh.

When the amorous young skunks ceased their affection shortly thereafter, love wasn't the only thing in the air. Fortunately, the master bedroom is at the opposite end of the house.

Abuses

Florida's gene pool must be getting shallow. Take this 911 call placed by 27-year-old Latreasa Goodman in Fort Pierce last Saturday:

"The (McDonald's) manager just took my money and won't give me my money back, trying to make me get something off the menu that I don't want. I ordered chicken nuggets. They don't have chicken nuggets, and so I told her, 'Just give me my money back,' and she tells me I have to pick something else off the menu. She is not going to give me my money back, and she don't have the right to take my money."

The operator responded, dutifully, that neither a McNuggets shortage nor a refund dispute qualifies as an emergency. Goodman's reply:

"This is an emergency. If I would have known they didn't have McNuggets, I wouldn't have given my money, and now she wants to give me a McDouble, but I don't want one. This is an emergency."

Goodman, who ended up calling 911 three times, was arrested and charged with Misuse of 911 Communications. Now, as if to prove that she truly is dead from the neck up, she's doing TV interviews defending her actions. Idiot.

Abuse, like stupidity, takes many forms. For every Latreasa Goodman with a cell phone there's a latter-day Father Coughlin with a microphone -- and thousands of disciples hanging on every word.

Neal Boortz is one of the few talk-radio hosts I can tolerate. The popular libertarian voice has some advice for his megalomaniacal colleagues:

"...when you get on talk radio, don't ever get the idea that these people are your followers. They're not. They're your listeners."

To the soft-headed masses who venerate talk-radio hosts as "thought leaders," Boortz offers this revelation:

"Let me tell you what my job is, what a talk-show host's job is. It's just this easy: I attract listeners to a radio station and I hold them there long enough to play commercials for them. That's it. That's what we're supposed to do. Now, we happen to do that with political thought, political commentary, maybe a little humor thrown in here and there. But we are there to hold listeners for commercials, so they'll go out and buy stuff."

Talk radio's followers will, of course, take issue with Boortz, and I doubt that he presumes it possible to "fix stupid." Still, I find his candid perspective refreshing.

The First Amendment is a wonderful thing -- while we still have it, anyway. There's legislation before Congress that would reinstate the so-called "fairness doctrine," widely regarded as a move by Democrats to muzzle conservative talk radio. It's a stupendously lousy idea, restricting the freedom of broadcast speech, but just this week we learned of far more sinister threats to our liberties.

Bush-Cheney, weighing its options after the September 11th attacks, considered employing some damned disturbing executive powers in waging the "war on terror." In an October 23, 2001 memo* from its Justice Department, the White House got the legal go-ahead for the U.S. military to attack residential buildings and office complexes inside the United States, deploy high-tech surveillance against U.S. citizens and suspend First Amendment rights.

If the Patriot Act was the edge of a slippery slope, this memo was a precursor to martial law.

Most of the actions discussed in the October 23rd memo were never taken, but it wasn't officially rescinded until seven years later, just a few months before Pres. Bush left office. And three other memos claiming executive powers to unilaterally suspend treaties, bypass restrictions on domestic surveillance and take other actions without the approval of Congress weren't rescinded until five days before Barack Obama's inauguration.

Bush-Cheney kept these legal opinions in its pocket -- just in case.

I'm having a hard time not invoking the word, "fascist." Considering how often I hear Obama-Biden's agenda referred to simplistically as "socialism," however, Bush-Cheney was at least as fascist as the current administration is socialist.

In fact, I think I'll make that a rule -- anyone who calls Pres. Barack Obama a socialist is required to call Pres. George W. Bush a fascist. I mean, either be consistent or just shut the hell up.

Ultimately, of course, those labels are irrelevant -- the Constitution matters. Individual liberties matter.

So let's stop cherry-picking the Constitution, shall we? If we value the right of free speech for ourselves, then we value it for other citizens and for the media. It means that we endorse the exercise of speech that we find objectionable, including criticism of our own speech. The First Amendment also instructs us to celebrate the right of citizens to practice religious faith -- including the choice to practice no religion at all -- free of government mandate or suppression.

Further, the way I see it, each and every citizen who's passionate about free speech and a free press bloody well better rise up and defend, with like vigor, the right of individual citizens to keep and bear arms -- in for the First Amendment, in for the Second (and vice versa). The Second Amendment establishes the one right that ensures all others, and there's no better illustration of its importance than the previous administration's plans to shred the Constitution.

And so on.

Ideologies be damned -- ideologies are threats to liberty. The Constitution is our touchstone, and independence is the foundation on which we stand.

*The newly released memos are available on the DOJ website.

March on

Popcorn, please: The elected leader of the Republican Party (a black man) and the de facto leader of the Republican Party (a talk-radio personality) are locked in a steel-cage death match. I haven't been this excited about a battle-of-wits since Palin-Biden. Yawn.

Have another: Too-big-to-fail AIG, which sucked up $150 billion in federal bailout money, declared a fourth-quarter loss of $62 billion. Naturally, the government responded to the news by pledging another $30 billion to the insurance giant.

Slip-slidin' away: Today the Dow sloughed off another 300 points, about 4.25%. Last time the index dipped below the 6,800 mark, our younger teenager was barely a toddler.

Just spectacular: Last week I got a long-overdue eye exam and, at my wife's urging, I ordered my new prescription in a pair of oh-so-hip frames. I dunno about this -- I've always said that there's nothing so sad as an old guy trying to look hip.

Sobriety check: For the first time in over a week, I'm not under the influence of NyQuil or DayQuil -- I've had an uncommon amount of trouble ridding myself of this particular common cold. My persistent snuffering didn't keep us from going out to see John Schwab play solo on Saturday night, but it did limit us to one set and two beers.

Change of address? The future of Hineygate, the world's largest tailgate party and a favorite game-day destination for Mrs. KintlaLake and me, is in doubt. At the end of this month, The Ohio State University will assume ownership of the Holiday Inn that's hosted the event since 1983, intending to turn the hotel into a dorm. Our debauchery might have to find a new home.

CPAC run

The Conservative Political Action Conference is, I'm glad to say, over.

CPAC, for the unenlightened, is the right-wing political equivalent of the ugly American tourist who expects to be understood by speaking to the natives LOUDER and more s-l-o-w-l-y.

I watched as much of it as I could stand.

Honestly, I can't fathom how three days of third-grade insults and utility-grade intellect will strengthen "the conservative movement," as I often heard it called from the CPAC rostrum. If there really is such a thing, that "movement" looks less like a political revolution and more like a biological function.

The event was not so much cathartic as colonic.

CPAC didn't merely condemn conservatism -- it underscored the failure of all narrow ideologies, whatever their goals or guises, reminding us of the danger that extremism poses to our nation.

Wise up, People.

Digital karma

I entered the world of digital photography in the fall of 2001, the day after I was teased by images from a 2.1-megapixel Canon PowerShot S110 Digital ELPH. I had to have one.

A year later, when a connector on my S110 came loose, Circuit City (may it rest in peace) replaced the camera with an S230 -- essentially the same little silver box, but with 3.2-megapixel resolution.

For over six years that camera has gone everywhere with me, capturing thousands of moments. The S230 has proven to be damned-near indestructible, giving the impression that it's capable of driving nails as well as producing great images -- an awesome camera, despite its age.

In all that time, the only issue was a handful of distorted images taken on a hot, humid day last August. I didn't seek the reason for the transient problem until a few weeks ago -- turns out that Canon had known about a defective CCD since 2005 and was repairing all affected cameras at no charge, regardless of warranty status.

Cool. After a few minutes on the phone with Canon Customer Support, I printed the repair form and pre-paid UPS label that had been e-mailed to me, packed up my camera and dropped it off at the local UPS Store. That was a week ago yesterday.

Canon kept me apprised of my camera's status throughout, and when FedEx rang my doorbell yesterday afternoon I was looking forward to reuniting with my trusty photographic friend.

The box struck me as being heavier than it should be, considering, and upon opening it I was greeted by a note:

"Due to the current lack of essential components at the repair facility, and in order to expedite your repair, we have exchanged your original equipment with a new or factory-reconditioned model of equal or greater value."

Underneath the note was a sealed box containing a factory-refurbished Canon PowerShot SD950 IS Digital ELPH, plus all accessories and software.

Sad as I am about the factory-authorized retirement of my S230, I don't think I'll have any trouble getting used to its replacement -- big LCD, image stabilization, 12.1 megapixels, Titanium housing. The only down-side to the swap, really, is that the SD950 takes a different memory card and battery than the S230 -- no worries, just a matter of picking up a spare battery and an extra SD card.

I was impressed enough with the whole experience that I picked up the phone and called Canon to express my thanks. I also offered a gentle suggestion that the 16MB memory card supplied with the SD950 might be, um, a wee bit small, since it can hold only two full-resolution images.

That's when the Canon rep, without my asking, urged me to send back all of the CompactFlash cards and batteries I'd purchased for my S230, so that the company could replace them with equivalent items compatible with the SD950 -- no charge, shipping prepaid.

Somebody pinch me.

I didn't need another reason to be loyal to Canon products, but I got one anyway. Also, to my surprise, I got a rather pleasing glimpse of my karma.

Images: Wings

Columbus, Ohio (2007)


Somewhere over West Virginia (2006)

All around & back again

Yesterday afternoon our town's police nabbed, named and charged an 18-year-old kid in connection with the arson and break-ins at the high school. Reportedly he had a younger accomplice, a student at the school, who faces expulsion as well as criminal charges.

The rash of bomb threats, according to media accounts, was perpetrated by two others, also current students, both girls. They haven't been named and, as juveniles, won't be.

Fry 'em all, dammit. (Figuratively speaking, of course.) We plan go to tonight's town meeting anyway, even though this episode presumably has come to a close.

After catching local TV news coverage of those happenings, I watched Pres. Barack Obama field questions from lawmakers and economists at the end of yesterday's "fiscal responsibility summit." My first reaction was that it's refreshing to have an engaged, articulate President who displays an IQ above the freezing point of water.

He also had the confidence to grant the floor first to Sen. John McCain, who probably meant to challenge (respectfully) the President's agenda, but who ended up practically endorsing the election results:

"Your helicopter is now going to cost as much as Air Force One. I don't think there is any more graphic demonstration of how good ideas have cost taxpayers an enormous amount of money."

Now there's a guy with a big ol' basketful of symbols and a severe shortage of substance -- I mean, a third-grader could come up with a "more graphic demonstration" of government waste. Had McCain won in November, I can imagine him suggesting that homeowners could fend off foreclosure by riding bicycles, turning off lights and taking short showers.

Despite my staunch opposition to some of Pres. Obama's policies, it's clear to me that the American electorate (such as it is) chose the more able leader.

It could be worse, of course -- much worse, and I'm not talking about John McCain. This is what his former running mate said in a recent interview:

"Obviously something big took place in the media. We’re going to seek and we're going to destroy this candidacy of Sarah Palin's because of what it is that she represents. Very frightening, I think, what the media was able to get away with, this go around."

Another Republican trying to pass off symbols as substance. Another elected official blaming the big, bad media for political failure and personal incompetence -- a sure sign, as Jack Cafferty said last week of Sen. Roland Burris, that "you're out of bullets."

A few simple-minded conservatives can't help singing right along with Palin, whining that there was no justification for turning her into a political piñata -- and I say that the media, collectively, actually short-armed its coverage. She deserved far more scrutiny and parody than she got, but we can be thankful, at least, that this vacuous vamp was exposed in plenty of time to sabotage the ticket.

I've had it up to here with symbols. I'm tired of hearing that so-and-so's speech was "short on details" when the loyal opposition has nothing substantive or credible to offer. Tossing rotten chestnuts and clinging to infected ideologies, regardless of source or subject, won't get the job done.

Just ask Americans who followed experts' advice to "stay in the market" -- and whose retirement savings now are worth less than 50 cents for every dollar invested 16 months ago. Even those with 12-year-old money are right back where they started, or worse.

If "free trade is fair trade," then someone needs to give me a better explanation of how that philosophy squares with our crushing trade deficit. If wholesale deregulation is so bloody brilliant, then how did our markets' biggest players (and more every day) end up in the toilet? If government handouts to individual citizens are profane but government bailouts for failed corporations are sacred, please tell me again -- exactly which brand of capitalist whimsy is that?

If organized labor is committed to "improving the lives of working men and women," just how are those lives improved when plants close and jobs evaporate, due in large part to unions' terminal greed? And with a national landscape that includes food lines in Wilmington, Ohio and 24% graduation rates in Detroit, how can any politician or captain of industry have the unmitigated balls to whine, to pander, to traffic in symbols?

The words of Henry David Thoreau:

"No face which we can give to a matter will stead us so well at last as the truth. This alone wears well.

"For the most part, we are not where we are, but in a false position. Through an infirmity of our natures, we suppose a case, and put ourselves into it, and hence are in two cases at the same time, and it is doubly difficult to get out.

"In sane moments we regard only the facts, the case that is. Say what you have to say, not what you ought. Any truth is better than make-believe.

"Tom Hyde, the tinker, standing on the gallows, was asked if he had anything to say. 'Tell the tailors,' said he, 'to remember to make a knot in their thread before they take the first stitch.'

"His companion's prayer is forgotten."

Policy differences aside, I see this President as one our nation's "sane moments" -- which means, by intelligent contrast, that purely partisan or contrarian opposition is implicitly insane. To be sure, anything resembling unquestioning, categorical support of the administration's agenda is likewise addled.

I call bullshit on make-believe political rhetoric that gives short shrift to the facts, the case that is. I don't care if it comes from McCain or Obama, Schumer or Gramm, Limbaugh or Franken. It's time for The People to set fire to these folks' carefully tended ideological gardens -- along with our own -- and drag the powerful into our world.

First, however, we must start telling the truth about what we see -- if we don't, we're no better than they are.

Same song, next verse

Another day, another lockdown at the high school.

This time it was called "non-emergency" and "precautionary," although the sight of armed law-enforcement officers greeting students arriving for classes this morning isn't exactly routine around here. Reportedly, the move was in response to text messages last night, threatening a shooting, an explosion and a fire.

Police officers and firefighters scoured the buildings and grounds but found nothing to substantiate the threats. Still, all students were searched today before being allowed into the school.

KintlaLake and family, by the way, live close enough to the high school to hear the marching band practice on autumn evenings. While we didn't quite feel the heat from those burning vans on Monday night, if something did explode up there our windows surely would rattle. This week we've watched the parade of TV satellite trucks pass by on the road in front of our house.

That's entertainment, I guess. Other developments of note:

• Some additional "hardware" has been brought in to deal with the incidents. That hardware actually passed through my wife's hands yesterday afternoon, at her office 17 miles away, before being deployed at the school.

• Police say they're close to naming names in at least one of the incidents. One of the department's commanders is a friend of ours, and we're acquainted with the other commander and the chief -- good-to-go pros, every one. We're four-square behind these guys while they play high-stakes Whac-A-Mole.

• The whole affair has residents and especially parents (natch) on-edge, so the school will host a town meeting on Tuesday evening. Its tone will depend on where the investigation stands and whether or not there have been more incidents. Regardless, the meeting should be interesting. We'll be there.

I must confess that my initial reaction to what's been happening is, "Idiot kids." For my high-school classmates and me, it was toilet paper in trees and soap on windows, maybe the occasional potato jammed in the tailpipe of a teacher's car.

For these kids it's...well, it's just a bunch of melodramatic, look-at-me bullshit.

And then I realize that I'm living in a post-Columbine, post-September 11th world. Idiots seek attention, sure, but idiots have been known to carry out their threats.

The best thing for us to do, I think, is to dial back the drama, keep our eyes and ears open, stand by our kids and support the investigation. That's what we'll be doing.

Slap 'n' tickle

Late last year, the local high school received a bomb threat. It turned out to be a hoax, but it's still the kind of conduct that calls for swift and sure punishment.

The student who made the threatening call was administered an appallingly mild dose of punitive medicine -- a four-day in-school suspension.

I rolled my eyes when I heard that -- four days? I mean, our younger spawn got three last week for throwing a couple of retaliatory punches. Besides, what the hell is an in-school suspension?

The reasons behind school officials' slap-on-the-wrist weren't clear, but I recall commenting to my wife that they'd sent a message that would only encourage similar acts in the future.

Looks like I was right. In the last six weeks, the same school has gone into lockdown four times -- all bomb threats, all phoned-in hoaxes.

And on Monday night, two vans parked in the school's parking lot were torched, two buildings broken into and walls spray-painted with graffiti. The local Miscreants Club definitely got the message and is holding regular meetings.

Whatever happened to the "hot stove" approach? While I acknowledge the value of discretion and proportion, the stove of punishment has to be hot enough to persuade an offender (and any associates) not to touch it again. Pretty simple stuff.

Take the case of our 13-year-old, suspended from school recently for fighting. I don't know about the other kid (who was booted for five days, by the way), but the school's penalty and two weeks' house arrest from us should be enough to make our spawn think twice before getting into another tussle unnecessarily -- and if it's not enough, stiffer punishment is in order.

And then there's our 17-year-old. When the CarChip we'd planted revealed that he'd been driving 90mph in a 25mph zone, we grounded him for a month. Apparently our stove wasn't hot enough, however, because a few months later he got a ticket for 75 in a 65. His excuse?

"Other cars were going a lot faster than I was. It was totally impossible for me to drive any slower."

Right...

Naturally, we grounded him again. The county's penalty was a nominal fine, a few trips to traffic school and a pair of essays -- no license suspension. Call me a hard-ass, but it didn't seem like a very hot stove.

Sure enough, last Friday he got clocked by a state trooper and pinched for 77mph in a 60mph zone. When he broke the news to his mom and me -- four days later, which is a whole 'nother story -- he had a new excuse this time around:

"The sun was in my eyes. I couldn't even see the speedometer, so I didn't know how fast I was going."

At that moment I got up from my chair, walked to the bathroom and checked my reflection in the mirror. Just as I thought, I don't look quite that stupid.

Yes, he's grounded -- not so much for having a lead foot (he's a teenager, after all) as for refusing to be accountable for his actions and their consequences. Now we'll see if a county judge has the stones to suspend his driver's license for six months, which is exactly what should happen.

Look, I'm not begging the county or our school district to impose idiotic "zero tolerance" policies, the kind of knee-jerk rules that slap a 14-year-old with a year's expulsion for coming to class with a Nerf dart pistol.

I'm simply asking for common sense -- and a hotter stove.

* * *
Update, 10:26am: This text message just arrived on my phone:

The high school has received a threatening note. Police Depart are conducting a full search. All students are secure in their

I'm guessing that the third sentence would've ended with the word, "classrooms." Or maybe "beds." (Probably not "sexual identity.") As long as the district's communications genius is still on the job, it's hard to say for sure.

Anyway, let's review, shall we? The high school was hit by arson and vandalism Monday night. A threat yesterday morning and another today makes a total of five lockdowns since the first of the year.

Somebody needs to turn up the heat, dammit.

Reno redux

U.S. Attorney General Eric Holder, still warm from the confirmation oven, is making news. Plucked out of a speech today marking Black History Month, here are the words kicking up all the dust:

"Though this nation has proudly thought of itself as an ethnic melting pot, in things racial, we have always been, and we, I believe, continue to be, in too many ways, a nation of cowards."

Pish-posh -- I can't even bring myself to be mildly interested, much less offended. Hell, he actually may be right, though I'll grant that our nation's chief law-enforcement officer probably shouldn't engage in such rhetoric.

If we're able, just for a moment, to break our addiction to ah-ha! sound bites, we'll realize that these are the words that should be making news:

"Recognition of an expansive individual right to keep and bear arms for private purposes will make it more difficult for the government to defend present and future firearms laws."

"Argument: The Second Amendment Does Not Protect Firearms Possession or Use That Is Unrelated To Participation In A Well-Regulated Militia."

"...(the Supreme Court of the United States) should adhere to its view...that the scope of the Second Amendment is limited to furthering the institution of the well-regulated militia..."

Those are excerpts from Brief for Former Justice Department Officials as Amici Curiae Supporting Petitioners, taking the side of the District of Columbia in the landmark Heller case, which last June resulted in the Supreme Court affirming that the Second Amendment to the Constitution does, in fact, guarantee an individual right to keep and bear arms.

The first of the brief's 13 signatures belongs to gun-grabbing former Attorney General Janet Reno who, for Second Amendment advocates, needs no further introduction. The third signature is that of Reno's former Deputy -- Eric. H. Holder, Jr.

According to conventional wisdom, it's fear of Obama-Biden's gun-control agenda that's responsible for skyrocketing firearms sales. Just last month, the FBI's National Instant Criminal Background Check System registered more than 1.2 million checks, an increase of 29% over January of 2008. In November, election results triggered a record 1.5 million checks, a 42% jump over a year earlier.

Although my family and I were prepared for the threat long before Election Day, the current buying frenzy seems to me to be a reasonable reaction (or at least a human one) to a clear and present danger. We know that the danger reaches beyond the White House -- as Clinton-Gore had its Reno, Obama-Biden has its Holder.

A nation of laws has installed yet another Attorney General bent on end-running the Constitution. Don't kid yourself -- Heller or not, we're in a heap of trouble.

Μολὼν λαβέ.

Maddening excuse

This blog seldom has reason to quote former Pres. Bill Clinton, but here's a line from an interview that he did over the weekend:

"I find it amazing that the Republicans who doubled the debt of the country in eight years and produced no new jobs doing it, gave us an economic record that was totally bereft of any productive result, are now criticizing (Pres. Barack Obama) for spending money."

Whether you love him or just love to hate him, the man makes a damned good point.

Kevin Madden, who served as press secretary for Mitt Romney's presidential campaign, rises on the right to offer a counterpoint:

"We're now unencumbered by not having a Republican in the White House. And we can draw the line and say, 'enough is enough' when it comes to spending."

That might just be the all-time lamest excuse for partisanship that I've ever heard.

Oh, it's a plausible enough explanation, considering the present irony. But anyone who finds justification in Madden's words needs to put the Kool-Aid down -- now.

In two short sentences, the one-time Romney flack confirms what we already know -- that partisanship has crippled our government -- and thus he makes a sharp case for independence.

The GOP, facing Democratic Party majorities in the House and Senate as well as a Democrat in the Oval Office, calls itself "the loyal opposition" -- which presumes opposition. Loyal opposition is a smoke screen for contrarianism, not a synonym for independence.

The Democrats are no better, of course. The Obama administration's call for "bipartisanship" is itself an endorsement of ideological inertia. Bipartisanship demeans true independence.

Every politician who puts party loyalty before the will of The People has ceased to serve The People. And every citizen who pledges allegiance to political ideology squanders their birthright.

A nation born of independence deserves better -- from our elected representatives, and from us.

Keep praying, stop braying

It was bound to happen -- no, not today's lesbian wedding on ABC's "All My Children," only the inevitable self-righteous wheezing about it.

Hey, little sister, what have you done?
Hey, little sister, who's the only one?

I don't do soaps, but I can't escape all the hand-wringing over the long-running daytime drama's portrayal of two independent women pledging their love in front of God'n'everybody. Good for the girls...

Hey, little sister, who's the one you want?

Professional whiners refuse to differentiate between being offended (which clearly they are) and actually being affected by the actions of others (which they're not). I mean, these are the same people who turned the GOP into the GOMP.*

Take me back home...

To all those who take offense at gay marriage and the like, please home-school your little darlings. Turn off the TV, strain their food and fit them with blinders. Make sure that they never learn what they don't know -- they'll be better off, because

There is nothin' fair in this world.
There is nothin' safe in this world
And there's nothin' sure in this world,
And there's nothin' pure in this world.
Look for something left in this world...

Our nation is weaker for having listened to a self-appointed "moral majority" -- which, as we've discovered, is neither. Our public servants have been distracted from the business of governing by small-minded "watchdogs" who insist that church attendance, evangelical rhetoric and private behavior matter more than (or are necessarily related to) professional competence.

For Exhibit A, look no further than the last eight years of insubstantial executive service. Enough already.

It's a nice day to start again.

Faith and values are personal concerns and, as much as it chafes the righteous, our society is undeniably secular -- always has been, always will be. Let's act like it.

(*Grumpy Old Morality Police. Lyrics from "White Wedding," by Billy Idol.)

Prattle & hum

It's been a quiet few days here in the KintlaLake household, and likewise on this blog. Life hums steadily in the background while I scan the horizon for what's next.

But besides the lookin' for, well, the findin' is always tame;
And there's nothing drives a gambler like the lovin' of the game.

Events unfold and fade without consequence or need for comment. Financial matters, both national and personal, have yet to be resolved. I'm a patient man.

Diary report: a Valentine's Day dinner yesterday, the Daytona 500 on television this afternoon, and a 17-year-old male preening for a homecoming dance this evening. A viewing of "Righteous Kill" last night reminded me that Robert De Niro and Al Pacino are the high priests of their craft.

Life is at once ordinary and rich. Rewards are wherever I happen to find them. I continue to cast about.

Still I wouldn't trade my time for a solid diamond claim.
No, I would not trade a fortune for the lovin' of the game.

The photography that I did two weeks ago has rekindled something in me. As I apply myself to re-sharpening my skills and adjusting my eyes, I find myself recalling, strangely enough, the odd assortment of gear that I've used over the years.

First came my dad's Argus C3, a WWII-era rangefinder that I never did understand. Several Kodak Instamatics, suitably childproof, were followed by my first 35mm SLR, a borrowed Pentax KX. Then a Canon AE-1 and an A-1, along with a truckload of lenses, took me through college, helped me earn beer money and served me well during a summer in Montana.

Laziness, plus a simmering annoyance with the complexity of my SLRs, led me to Olympus pocket cameras -- an XA3, the original Infinity Stylus and later a Stylus Zoom. Pleased with autofocus and Zuiko optics but frustrated without control, I picked up an Olympus IS-1, a sleek and sexy Buck Rogers design that gave me more enjoyment than perhaps any other camera I've ever owned.

The siren song of creative expression lured me back into the Canon camp in the form of an EOS Elan and a few zooms. The world has gone madly digital now, of course, and I'm still with Canon -- a pair of point-and-shoots, an SLR and a modest selection of glass.

My journey from a quaint 35mm rangefinder to a whiz-bang digital SLR spans almost 50 years and hundreds of thousands of memorable frames. Almost none of the film cameras remain in my possession today, save the XA3 and the Elan, which our spawns have used in photography classes. It occurs to me that someday my trusty 35mm EOS, now almost 20 years old, will be their Pentax KX.

Ultimately, the hardware is incidental -- the process of learning to see is what's important. Until recently I'd forgotten how therapeutic, how absolutely essential my photographic vision is to my personal vision. It's good to have it back.

Today I'm exploring the world with awakened eyes, seeing more than I have in years.

Where I'm going has no end, what I'm seeking has no name.
No, the treasure's not the takin', it's the lovin' of the game.

Once again I have my sight as well as my voice. Every now and then, maybe I'll add a little music.

(Lyrics from "The Lovin' Of The Game," by Victoria Armstrong & Pat Garvey)

Splash course

Nearly a month has passed since US Airways 1549 was forced to ditch in the Hudson River. By now we know the story by heart -- a remarkable piece of flying, a cabin crew that performed in spectacular fashion and the quick response of rescuers saved the lives of all aboard.

It's an inspiring tale with compelling characters. Warm fuzzies and hero-worship aside, and with all due respect, I'm more interested in its lessons.

Captain C.B. "Sully" Sullenberger has been in the spotlight, and understandably so. In interview after interview, he's been prodded to describe how Air Force training, 30 years of flying commercial aircraft and experience as a glider jockey combined to produce a textbook splash-landing on January 15th.

Sullenberger, however, doesn't take the bait. He knows better:

"I think, in many ways, as it turned out, my entire life up to that moment had been a preparation to handle that particular moment."

Notice that Sullenberger doesn't stow his flying, crucial as it was that day, in some separate compartment. He recognizes that Sully landed that crippled Airbus A320 -- and that Sully is a helluva lot more than a crackerjack stick-and-rudder guy.

He's also a husband and a father, a businessman, a student and an educator, an accident investigator and more, the sum and the product of 58 years. He's a lifetime of knowledge and skills, discipline and mindset, rational thoughts and human emotions.

What Sullenberger is trying to tell us, really, is that it wasn't the pilot who brought that plane down safely -- it was the man.

I also was struck by the words of Flight 1549 passenger Jim Hanks:

"One of the things I discovered is that in a situation like this, you have to survive more than once."

Think about that for a second -- "you have to survive more than once." Hanks continues:

"You have to survive the crash, the landing, which we did. And then you have to survive whatever comes afterwards, whether it's a fire or, in this case, water filling the back of the cabin very quickly. And then you have to survive whatever comes after that, which...on this day was a 20-degree air temperature...."

A critical incident -- and riding a powerless 70-ton airliner into an icy river definitely qualifies -- seldom is a single, simple event. It's a series of critical moments, each of which demands evaluation, decision and action.

Survival isn't assured until survival is secured. Misjudgment, poor choices, hesitation and inaction, alone or in combination, can draw the ominous line between survivor and casualty. The passengers and crew of Flight 1549 stand today on the bright side of that line because they survived moment after defining moment.

Hanks, Sullenberger and the others have still more surviving to do, of course. They must navigate the glare of celebrity, the inevitable emotional trauma and the expectations of family and friends who can't grasp the changes wrought by a near-death experience.

They also have much to teach. Sullenberger demonstrates that living is learning, and that it's the whole person, shaped by life, who acts. And Hanks reminds us that outcomes are the result of actions building on actions. We survive one moment at a time, standing on a foundation of choices we've made.

There's more, I'm sure. To learn, all we have to do is listen.

'We cannot escape history'

"The dogmas of the quiet past, are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise -- with the occasion. As our case is new, so we must think anew, and act anew. We must disenthrall ourselves, and then we shall save our country.

"Fellow-citizens, we cannot escape history. We of this Congress and this administration, will be remembered in spite of ourselves. No personal significance, or insignificance, can spare one or another of us. The fiery trial through which we pass, will light us down, in honor or dishonor, to the latest generation. We say we are for the Union. The world will not forget that we say this. We know how to save the Union. The world knows we do know how to save it. We -- even we here -- hold the power, and bear the responsibility."

(Abraham Lincoln, born two hundred years ago today, in a message to Congress dated December 1, 1862)

'This is surreal'

That's what my wife whispered to me as we listened to Pres. Obama address the nation Monday night.

I can't say if this is "the most serious financial crisis since The Great Depression," but I can imagine my grandparents gathering around the radio 80 years ago, in much the same way that our family sat silently in front of the television. Living in these uncertain times is, as my wife observed, surreal.

Since we've always been a nation of optimists, this is a strange feeling. Through depression and recessions, wars and calamities, nothing has kept us from improving our lot. Our children will live better than we've lived, dammit, and a free society's limitless opportunities favor honest men and women who work hard.

Now our indomitable spirit has run smack-dab into a reality we never imagined.

To be clear, I dismiss incurable doom-and-gloomers who see things as worse than they truly are. I also ignore myoptimists who wonder what all the fuss is about. Reality lies not at those extremes, or even at some fixed point in between.

Reality, for all of us and for each of us, lives at home.

That very personal reality is reflected in our President. He speaks for neither extreme, simply conveying urgency born of the truth as he sees it.

Around here, the truth is impossible to avoid. Like the nearby rural school district that's eliminated jobs, sports and virtually all bus transportation, and yet in May will ask each voter for another $465 a year -- just to stay afloat. Or an unemployed former colleague of mine, a talented guy who recently e-mailed an appeal for gainful employment, hoping that he can keep feeding his family.

I drive past stores that were open last week, shuttered today. Each day's news brings reports of companies and businesses cutting jobs.

And then there's the experience, my experience, of meeting with an attorney yesterday, trying to figure out what I'll be able to keep and what I must sacrifice. I know I'm not the only one who's dealing with that sort of ritual humiliation, and I believe I'll emerge from it in better shape than most, but it's something I never expected, never predicted.

I, along with my family, will start over. We'll simplify, reinvent and move on. We'll be able to do that because spirit -- my own, my family's and my community's -- matters more than macroeconomics.

That's just one lesson we can learn from our national economic crisis. We've already seen that trickle-up fundamentally trumps trickle-down. Wholesale deregulation, corporate bailouts and socialized capitalism ultimately betray The People. The short-sighted pursuit of short-term profit is a malicious prank played on national security.

And so on.

There's little doubt that sooner or later the bubble gum and baling wire of fiscal policy will let go. After the inevitable collapse, we'll rediscover that our nation is its People, not its economy.

Actually, we can seize that reality right now. Our national strength, after all, resides in our independent selves, in our families and our communities.

It can start today. It must start at home.

Remembering Chan

Today I'm remembering Chandler Maranville "Chan" Goodnow.

Chan, who was my age, died unexpectedly in 2001 after performing at a bluegrass festival in Stafford Springs, Connecticut. He was one of the most gifted mandolinists I've ever seen or heard, and he played a mean banjo. He also was among the gentlest souls I've ever met.

Standing onstage with Chan while he and Stony Creek Band cranked out "Lonesome Fiddle Blues" (sans fiddle) is one of my fondest musical memories. This afternoon I listened to the band's recording of that Vassar Clements classic, marveling once again at Chan's eight-string wizardry.

The world is richer for his presence, poorer for the loss of it -- and that's why I remember Chan.

I just don't know why especially today.

In this 1998 photo, KintlaLake harmonizes with Chan (center) and Stony Creek Band on "The Weight." Listen to an mp3 sample of the band's rendition of "Lonesome Fiddle Blues" here.