Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Bisket Gets Lucky


Bisket Gets Lucky
OK, to start off, we never did decide on how to actually spell this cat’s name, so for the purposes of this essay, I am sticking with Bisket.
Bisket had been wandering around our neighborhood for a few days before we took her in. We had noticed that our neighbors had also noticed her and they asked us if she belonged to us. We already had two cats – Sylvie and Rico.
Finally, we took her in and started to ask around to try to find her owners. The moment I picked her up I fell in love. She purred so heavily and heavenly and she loved being held. Rico and Sylvie were not so sure. They let it be known right away that should she become a resident in our house, it was going to take some time.
We put up signs all over the neighborhood that we had found a cat. We took her to the veterinarian and got her shots and then we took her back to get her fixed. And that was when the first surprise hit. Bisket loved to eat. She ate so much that one of my wife’s colleagues at work suggested that perhaps Bisket was, good God, pregnant!
The vets called hours sooner than the time they said they would call for me to pick her up. “Mr. Rosso, you can pick up Bisket and we have a surprise.” “Oh, no,” I said, “She’s pregnant.” “No,” the vet said, “She’s a he.” They had already shaved her/him and anesthetized her/him when the discovery was made.
I picked him/her up and he/she staggered all over the house for a few hours until the anesthesia wore off and I stopped calling him her.
Over time, Sylvie and Rico started to accept Bisket. They still had their moments, but they also slept together, shared space together and ate together. Rico is all black, except for a small white patch under his chin. Bisket is all white. Sylvie is black and white. A perfect feline trio.
Last weekend, Susan and I took down many of the signs we had put up. It had been almost a month and no calls seeking a lost cat. Bisket was a member of the family.
Until this morning. At 7:15 this morning. That is when the phone rang. Gary was asking about a lost cat. Yes, Gary lived just a block away. His girlfriend got mad and left and let his cat out. Is your cat white? Yes. Gary said he could come by at 9.
A little before 9, Gary called again. This time Gary volunteered that Lucky, formerly known as Bisket, had a kink in his tail. Yes. That was Bisket/Lucky. Gary said, he and his father, who had a paper route had been out when his father ran over the cat. Gary retrieved it and nursed it back to health and has had it ever since, until his girlfriend put it out into the street.
Gary came to the house and I was holding Bisket and Gary yelled, “Lucky.” I handed Bisket/Lucky to Gary and he told his story again and how much he appreciated our taking him in and taking care of him and how happy he was to have Lucky back and we gave him the vet papers and he offered to pay for the shots and we said no and he said we could come visit and we said we would take him if he goes away on vacation and he told how he found Lucky and whey he named him Lucky and how his girlfriend let him out in the street and how much he appreciated us taking care of him and we had to go and we were happy he had him and I brushed a tear away and Gary hugged Lucky and we shut the door.
And Bisket is Lucky
And I cried.

Friday, March 26, 2010

familiar fear mongering

Ahh, yes, Armageddon. This health reform bill will destroy our great United States of America. Does it sound familiar?

Here is Ronnie Reagan arguing against Medicare in 1961:
“The doctor begins to lose freedoms; it’s like telling a lie, and one leads to another. First you decide that the doctor can have so many patients. They are equally divided among the various doctors by the government. But then the doctors aren’t equally divided geographically, so a doctor decides he wants to practice in one town and the government has to say to him you can’t live in that town, they already have enough doctors. You have to go someplace else. And from here it is only a short step to dictating where he will go.”

With an echo from Republican Sen. Carl Curtis of Nebraska in 1965:
“It is socialism. It moves the country in a direction which is not good for anyone, whether they be young or old. It charts a course from which there will be no turning back.”

And what about that terrible Social Security and all the many sins it will rain down on our country. Listen to Republican Senator Daniel Hastings from Delaware in 1935:
“I fear it may end the progress of a great country and bring its people to the level of the average European. It will furnish delicious food and add great strength to the political demagogue. It will assist in driving worthy and courageous men from public life. It will discourage and defeat the American trait of thrift. It will go a long way toward destroying American initiative and courage.”

And now that we will be turning our attention to immigration, let’s not forget who we may be allowing to enter our sacred grounds. Let’s remember the prophetic words of Democratic Congressman Compton White of Idaho in 1943 on why Chinese nationals should not be allowed to immigrate to the United States or become U.S. citizens:
“I do not think we can take the Chinese with their habits and mentalities in this year and time into our great American melting pot and in ten years or a hundred years bring them up to our standards of civilization.”

And speaking of the Chinese, don’t forget that good ol’ standby threat – Communism, as expressed by the National Association of Manufacturers in 1938 coming out against minimum wage and guaranteed overtime pay (some of this may sound very familiar):
“[The Act represents] a step in the direction of Communism, bolshevism, fascism, and Nazism.”

And then there is Lee Iacocca, sounding very Ayn Randish in 1970 coming against regulations against airborne contaminants:
“[T]his bill could prevent continued production of automobiles . . . [and] is a threat to the entire American economy and to every person in America.”

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Stand up and say ENOUGH!

Just sent this to Democrats: I have contributed money. But we need to do more than contribute money. We need to reawaken the silent majority. While we listen to the angry, insulting, racist, threatening screaming diatribes most Americans shake their heads and worry. Now it is time to stop shaking our heads and start speaking. It is time for Democrats – and Republicans – to start taking vocal and public stands and say ENOUGH! Enough of the threats of assassinations. Enough of the racial insults. Enough of the gay bashing. Enough of the bricks thrown into windows. Enough of the non-stop lies about what the legislation does. Enough of the distortions. Enough of members of Congress acting like children and spoiled brats. It is time for them to engage in intelligent, deliberative debate that involves listening to all sides, quietly and with the single goal of reaching an agreement on the best route that will serve all of the people. These are bad times that require good intentions. These are bad times that require dedication of the whole for the whole, not of the few or the special interests or the special egos or any one party. This is not time for any more division and the American people have had enough. It is the responsibility of all of our leaders to start leading, start speaking up and start insisting on decorum.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

My Father And Einstein

My father always wanted me to be a journalist. I learned this in a few ways -- a couple very indirectly. The most direct was when I announced that while attending College of Marin in Marin County, California, I was majoring in music. He let it be known he was devastated.
"You are a writer," he told me, adding, "What are you going to do with a music major?"
I told him I wanted to teach and follow the example set by one of my favorite high school teachers, Byron Jones at San Rafael High School.
One day, my music professor, who was also our choir director, Drummond S. Wolff, came up to me after class with one of my attempts at composition. It had a lot of red marks all over it. He looked up at me. He was very short. And he said, "Why don't you go into journalism?"
The indirect came many years later, after my father had died. Immediately after he died, I found a letter he had written to me. He talked about his days at a newspaper with the old printing press and my days at Syracuse University and how someday I would be a great journalist. He attended Syracuse University. I did not. The letter was a class assignment. It was written when I was four years old.
The second came many years later in a book about Einstein written by Walter Isaacson. I quote from the section about my father:
He once helped a 15-year-old student, Henry Rosso, with a journalism class. Rosso's teacher had offered a top grade to anyone scoring an interview with the scientist, so Rosso showed up at the Einstein home, only to be rebuffed at the door. The milkman gave him a tip: Einstein walked a certain route each morning at 9:30. Rosso snuck out of school and accosted him.
But the student, flummoxed, didn't know what to ask. So Einstein suggested questions about math. "I discovered that nature was constructed in a wonderful way, and our task is to find out [its] mathematical structure," Einstein explained about his own education. "It is a kind of faith that helped me through my whole life."
The interview earned Henry Rosso an A.
So, I guess it was in my blood. But I don't think I ever got an A.