There are so many reasons to shake one’s head at Donald Trump and what he’s doing to our country. His cabinet are a bunch of sycophantic idiots, ruining the Fed, the Supreme Court, the CDC, the DOJ, efforts to encourage diversity, efforts to discourage racism, relationships with our traditional allies…seems like this sentence could go on and on.
Sometimes the destruction goes beyond the irreparable harm he’s doing to our country and its reputation. This week I am disgusted at what they are doing to discourage and cease any efforts to stop the ruination of our planet. The federal government and as many people and institutions in the USA as can feasibly help should get involved in supporting efforts to curb climate change. Do we still have people who believe climate change is a hoax? Are there still people that ignorant?
Why then discourage efforts at developing new energy sources like wind power? Why keep harping on the need to support the oil and coal industries? Is it because you think there are voters out there, or donors out there from those industries who will provide important support of some kind? If that is even true – is it more important than trying to keep our planet healthy for our children and our children’s children?
I’ve never been more pessimistic about the direction of our country. I don’t know what to do, how to help fight this narcissist and his minions. I don’t know how we will recover from four years of this destruction.
I never felt this way before – things done poorly by Bush, Clinton, Obama, Nixon, Reagan….none of those eras compare with what Donald Trump is doing and how it makes me feel.
Steve is a chicken. She (yes, Steve is a she) is the black one in this photo, taken when we still had several chickens. This is the story of Steve.
My wife likes chickens. Something about them makes her feel good. She had a big chicken coop made outside our home, and even a big fenced in garden, so the chickens can run around, safe from marauding foxes and other miscreants. She takes care of them, and on sunny afternoons she lets them out of even their private garden, so that they can free range around the yard, pecking and digging things up, and generally just amusing her.
She’s had a number of chickens – I think at least 6 at one time, but I forget. She got them as tiny chicks. She encouraged our kids to come up with names for them. Pancake was a big white one, Mufasa was another, Suarez was another. Our youngest son came up with the last chicken’s name – he said that the little black one should be called Steve, and he wouldn’t listen to anyone who said that Steve is generally recognized as a boy’s name. He just thought it was funny….so Steve it was. And Steve outlived them all…by a lot.
Over time, the chickens left us, one way or another. A hawk took one while free ranging in the yard. My wife was outside at the time, with our youngest, and witnessed the kidnapping. “Will – go get her back!” Not wanting to disappoint Mum, he took off after the hawk with the young chicken in it’s talents…not quite sure what he was supposed to do, but… As you can imagine, things did not end well for the chicken. Others died in various ways, some peaceful, some not so much.
Steve was the last of them. Steve lived quite a life, for a chicken. Steve had that huge coop and garden outside our home in Connecticut, and when we decamped to Maine for the summers…well, Steve came with us. We built another coop and another big beautiful garden outside our home in Maine. As such, Steve would summer in Maine, and winter in Connecticut. Quite the life he (sorry, SHE) had. Steve didn’t seem to mind being the only chicken. Why would she, with the luxurious living quarters she enjoyed.
In the late afternoons, my wife would open the gate to Steve’s garden and let her free range around our house. Steve never wandered far. In fact she usually made a bee line for the house, knowing there was always extra dog food to snack on. Our dogs learned early on that Steve was part of the family and should be treated as such. In fact Steve and Rooney, our yellow lab, became good friends, hanging out in the dirt together like old mates. Here is Steve’s garden in Maine….
Steve was 10 years old this year. She was a miracle. She was even laying eggs still, at this old age. Other “chicken people” thought it couldn’t be true that Steve was that old, much less still laying eggs. In the last couple of years, I started calling her Stevie Nicks, which is of course a gal’s name. Seemed right.
My wife really enjoyed Steve.
Steve died last week.
Steve was just a chicken. She was an old old chicken. We didn’t pet her or cuddle her. Sometimes we could pick her up, but she wasn’t like a dog or a cat. It was hard to tell if she had a personality of any kind. Yet, she was part of this silly family somehow. I assume that Steve just died of old age, but the fact that on a hot day she was out of water, disturbed us…did we inadvertandly kill Steve? Might she have lived on if we had taken better care of her? I don’t know, but I admit it bothers me a bit to think we might have had a hand in her ending. I hope she just died peacefully, of old age.
My wife cried. She still cries and she won’t talk about it. I buried Steve, right there in her garden. I made a little grave for her, but my wife won’t look at it. It’s crazy, but I also have admit this….I miss Steve. There was something about the ritual of getting up early and letting Steve out of her coop (we locked her up at night for her protection), of feeding her greens during the day, of letting her out in the afternoon and watching her wander quietly all around the house and garden. Steve was somehow soothing and was definitely part of the whole vibe of our house….and now she’s gone. I let Rooney (her best friend) say goodbye before I buried Steve. Rooney is old too (almost 14). Here she is…
I made this little grave for Steve (and for my wife). Note the chicken statues around her – they were a birthday present for my wife last year. She really did like chickens.
I know, I know…this is a lot to write about a dumb chicken. I was over it, but this morning I read an article about Fleetwood Mac and Stevie Nicks. I guess I will always think about Steve now when I listen to Stevie Nicks.
Sorry, Steve, we will miss you….but I guess it’s pretty cool that you had such a great life, for a chicken.
When I was in corporate life, I tried hard NOT to think that my work involved zero-sum thinking. This kind of thinking means that when I win, you lose. It means that when you win, I necessarily lose. Sometimes this is the case, of course, but it was never my stated objective. I would always strive for win-win scenarios instead. When negotiating with a client, there was usually a means to that end. More for me is less for you? Or we can compromise or get creative so that we both win.
I don’t see why this thinking cannot be equally as valuable in global political negotiations…if not more so. President Trump seems to think that every “deal” (are they really deals?) he works on is a win-lose, zero sum game. He thinks that other countries have been taking advantage of USA (rather than that USA has been helping people all over the world). Now is the time to teach them a lesson and get back what’s rightfully ours?
Gee I don’t see it that way. We may be spending more than most nations…because we are a wealthy nation. Is it our obligation to help others? You can argue both sides of that, but it’s a big world and when we help others, I tend to think we are paying it forward and we get back a return on that investment, not just in goodwill, but in strong alliances.
I was out of the country last week, at my daughter’s wedding. We were in the UK for a few days and then in France. News is global of course, but somehow the volume was a lot lower. I was able to avoid being disgusted every day reading stories about Trump and his sycophantic group of idiots. Yes, I saw the news involving Kristi Noem and yes I saw that Trump insulted the President of Liberia, but…maybe I’m getting way too used to this crap every day, even insensitized to it. I also think that the volume is much higher when you are in the US.
Do I think about moving out of the country sometimes? sure. And then I think of all the MAGA idiots who would just say good riddance and I think that when good people give up the battle gets that much harder.
I’m not going to leave. I’m going to continue being frustrated, but I’m not giving up.
I will, however, take vacations outside the USA periodically!
I’m 65 years old. I’ve been out of college for 44 years, having graduated in 1981. I went to Dartmouth College, in Hanover, New Hampshire. It’s a great school, one of the best in the world, academically. It’s also a wonderful place to spend four years, and I would do it all again if I could, and would take even better advantage of all it has to offer. Dartmouth’s campus is what a college ought to look like – as if right out of a storybook about going to college.
I keep in touch with some of my college buddies – I played soccer with some of them, drank beer in the basement of our fraternity and committed a variety of silly acts back then. After graduation I got immersed in career and then family and kept in touch with college classmates only sporadically. After my kids grew up and moved out I reconnected with a number of them and that has been very rewarding. My college friends are my friends for life, that is clear now. Dartmouth binds us.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to go our 45th reunion this past weekend. I am happy being connected with my close Dartmouth friends and that is good enough for me. I didn’t see the point of going, especially as most of my buddies were not going to be there. I went, after some prodding from my wife and from Abner, one of my buddies. Most of our close knit circle of friends did not attend, so I was unsure it was the best use of my time, especially since I had to miss an important board meeting for one of the non-profits I participate in.
I am glad I went. Just driving onto campus reignites memories and feelings that only Dartmouth can inspire. It is as beautiful as ever and while many things have changed in 45 years, it still looks like Dartmouth. Dartmouth’s alumni are the most loyal and committed in the world. People who go to Dartmouth love it. If you visit and don’t fall in love with it you just don’t go there. There are plenty of reasons to go elsewhere – city life, a more bustling location that being set in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, and many more of course. The kids who do go to Dartmouth just love it – I have never (NEVER) met someone who went to Dartmouth and didn’t love it. It’s just that kind of a place. The academics are top notch of course, but you can probably do just as well at Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Stamford or a few others….but they are not Dartmouth.
I saw people I hadn’t seen in over 40 years and I enjoyed it. I talked to people I remember from my undergraduate days but wasn’t close to but somehow it was different now and we had a good time together.
My wife and I slept in a dorm room. It was uncomfortable but it’s Dartmouth and I loved it. The school did a great job welcoming back alumni and I am glad I went. I was filled with nostalgia.
If you didn’t get to go to Dartmouth College you won’t understand this level of loyalty. That’s okay – there are hundreds of wonderful places to get a great education. There is only one Dartmouth, though.
One of my good friends says “fuck father’s day. It’s just a Hallmark holiday.” He has a point and I mostly agree with him. I love my kids more than anything, but don’t see the need for them to go searching for a gift for me for this “holiday.” i’ll tell you what I like to get on Father’s Day……a call. When my kids call, just to talk to me, to wish me a happy father’s day and spend a few minutes telling me what’s going on in their life….that’s what I like. My daughter called me earlier, put me on video, we chatted about dogs and weddings, and nothing at all. It made me smile. There are enough holidays to try our gift-giving skills-Christmas and birthdays in particular. I don’t need gifts on father’s day.
I confess it does make me miss my own dad, but he didn’t care about father’s day gifts either.
That must be the real strategy, eh? Purposely preventing people from coming to America, even just to visit? Purposely repelling talent from joining our universities? Purposely discouraging science and scientists! Purposely disgusting our allies, from Ukraine to Germany to UK and others. Purposely discouraging minorities, gay people, and…frankly all the rest of us at the same time! Purposely discouraging the press! Purposely acting with the most unethical moves in presidency history – crypto? free airplanes? cash for pardons? unconstitutional pardons?
Add to this that he can’t string a proper sentence together, doesn’t have a sense of humor and doesn’t even own a dog.
I read something recently that called for people to think hard about whether they want to gather accomplishments for their resume or reasons to be remembered, in a eulogy.
While it’s not an uplifting thought, it made me think. I worked in the corporate world for 40 years, in the IT and finance industries. I became pretty good at what I did, leading teams, selling, taking care of customers, and developed a variety of skills and accomplishments. They probably made their way on to my resume over time. I did some business turnarounds. I managed significant teams of people. I grew businesses.
Then I retired. And a funny thing happened. Nobody cared.
It didn’t matter to any of the companies I worked so hard for that I was gone. They just got on with things. I’m sure that some people said they’d miss me and they may even have meant it at the time….but I am also sure that it wore off very quickly. The mark I made on the industries I participated in seemed important to me at the time. However, I was no Bill Gates, no Steve Jobs, or any other figure that we might think of as having a lasting impact.
So…how do I want to be remembered? I don’t want to get morbid, but I’d like to be thought of. I’d like to be thought of well – now, and in the future, even when I’m gone. How do I do that?
I made time when I was still working to ‘give back’ as they say. I did volunteer work and I played some parts in topics that I felt strongly about – education, children, the underserved, racism. When I retired I have tried to double down and spend the majority of my time on such issues. I can use my corporate experience and acquired skills to help some of these charitable ventures that are working so hard to make others’ lives better.
I’d like to be remembered for that work.
I’d also like to be remembered as kind and helpful. I’d like to be remembered as a good dad and husband. I’d like to think i get some credit for how wonderful my four kids have turned out. They are all different and have chosen their own paths…and I helped support those decisions.
I was thinking about my dad today, I was working in the garden and put on some music from Spotify. I don’t know why but I chose Will the Circle Be Unbroken. Dad loved loved loved that music. I listened to it and could hear him hooting and hollering and encouraging me to enjoy it too. When The Tennessee Stud came on – by Doc Watson – I turned it way up and sang along with it like Dad did. I felt him. I missed him and the music brought him back. I remember my Dad as a great dad. Not perfect, but flawed like we all are…but he always worked hard to do the right things – for others, and for us. I miss him.
I hope my friends and my family will remember me. I have some music they can remember me with, our pets, some books that I loved or just how I loved to be with them all.
I hate sycophants. Boot lickers, suck ups, lackeys, toadies, whatever you want to call them. They certainly exist in the corporate world and I saw plenty of them. These are the people who think that sucking up to the boss will help them get ahead. In some of my roles managing people, I saw them trying to work their magic on me. It’s pretty obvious and it made my skin crawl most of the time. I did have one manager reporting to me who was a sycophant but was also quite good at his job. I tolerated his behaviour but made it clear I found it distasteful and unnecessary. If you’re good then you don’t need to polish my boots.
Now I see it happening with our President Trump. The scenes of people – cabinet members and others who like to speak out loud about how wonderful he is….it’s nauseating. Worse – it’s happening in the press corps. Trump has punished those in the press corp who attempt to hold him accountable and ask him difficult questions. He has populated the white house press corps now with other reporters, clearly sycophants. I watched one young lady ask him about his exercise regime because he looks so wonderful he looks even more healthy than during his last regime. I wanted to throw up.
Leaders who need and encourage this kind of behavior are clearly insecure. They need to be reassured all the time, and tend to surround themselves with people who will be sure to do so.
I watch this stuff and wonder how people can not see through this.
Well, I don’t actually have a photo of myself reading to my kids…kinda wish I did…so this will have to do, just to get the point across.
I loved reading to my kids. I hope they loved it too, but honestly it would be the highlight of my day and I was distraught if I got home too late to do so. My oldest let me read to her the longest – she might have even been a teenager – as it was just such a good bonding experience.
I’m sure most everyone has read that reading to your kids has great benefit – it inspires a love of reading and an appreciation for the love between parents and their children. I feel bad for kids who don’t get this simple benefit, for reasons well beyond their control.
I started reading to them long before they could understand what I was reading, but looking at the pictures, helping turn the pages, it was all so good.
Reading is probably my favorite activity even now, and I am very glad to say that all four of my kids love to read, and do so whenever they have free time. They have also learned to write and do so with with some amount of skill.
I now cannot wait to be able to read to my grandkids! I hope my kids will let me.
mikesteinharter.com 