T e n / b y / T e n

Not Magnolia

Ladies & Gentlemen, I present to you:  Kalachuchi.

Magnolia?  Not even close.  I find it interesting that folklore attributes it alienating properties ("In some regions, it is not planted in the immediate vicinity of habitation, believed to cause difficulties with personal relationships and separations.") given that I found it near a mausoleum, a place of separation. 

Hot, flat and crowded

It is a peculiarity of international flight that, apparently, I've arrived before I've departed. Kind of like Superman the Movie where Christopher Reeves goes back in time by causing the world to spin backward and instead of 100 foot high tidal waves and disrupted weather patterns, Margot Kidder lives to see a half-awesome sequel and two mediocre ones.  Anyway, I'm back safely, having landed 3 hours before I took off.

But the flight wasn't without challenge:  up against the front bulkhead in the upper deck on a 747 is the worst seat in the house. Crammed against the front wall, you have less legroom than other seats.  You stare at the front wall the entire flight. Worst of all, you have no ventilation - not even a fan nozzle - so while the rest of the plane is noticeably cool, that row is not.  As Thomas Friedman might say, you're Hot, Flat and Crowded. It's the kind of seat that, over the course of a 12 hour flight, makes you think it was devised by the CIA once waterboarding became illegal.  My advice?  Try to check in early online, and if you find you're on a 747, avoid this seat at all costs.

Oxygen

The unfettered idealism of an artist who wrote the song before he was 19, "captivating" is how Willy Mason's Oxygen has been described.  After all this time, the song still brings a catch to my throat.  

I wanna be cooler than t.v.
For all the kids that are wondering what they are going to be
We can be stronger than bombs
If you're singing along and you know that you really believe
We can be richer than industry
As long as we know that there's things that we don't really need
We can speak louder than ignorance
Cause we speak in silence every time our eyes meet.

I'm not alone.  Youtube is filled with videos of fans' heartfelt chanting of the lyrics.  This video, I found particularly moving because Mason unexpectedly alters the song around 2:56.  Maybe my copy is a radio edit, and everyone else on the planet has heard this, but then, maybe not.  Because it seems to me that the crowd stops chanting the lyrics and falls into an oddly respectful silence. 

An economy of word(s)

Apparently, I managed to miss this during the primary campaign.

Andy Roddick loses crown, wins over crowd

What a valiant performance.  Andy Roddick's stirring run to the Wimbledon finals ends with a five set loss (Spoiler alert!  Sorry, need to work on my timing.) to Roger Federer.  The final line?  5-7, 7-6 (8-6), 7-6 (7-5), 3-6, 16-14. I picked it up at the beginning of the third set and was standing at the end.  Like SI.com's Joe Posnanski wrote,* you knew Roddick was merely delaying the inevitable, but you still appreciated his grit.

Earlier, Roddick related how crushed he was last year when he was ousted in the second round.  He found himself at the airport, listless, mulling over his future in tennis.  But he started watching the Nadal and Federer match, widely heralded as the greatest tennis match of all time, and Roddick ended up missing his plane.  And the greatness of that match helped motivate him to buckle down and start training.

After the match, the BBC reporter simultaneously consoled him and while shrewdly trying to prick a response, murmuring how the sport of tennis could be so cruel.  "No," said Roddick quickly, "I'm one of the lucky few who gets cheered for here.  So thank you for that.  I appreciate it."  And the crowd roared in homage.  Pete Sampras looked like he was choking back a tear.  Even Federer looked stylishly grave.  And before the interview began, it was hard not to notice that when the players were announced and handed their trophies, although the fans cheered for Federer, they cheered even louder for Roddick and chanted his name.

*  Not sure why it took Joe Posnanski half the article to get past the self-indulgence to the good stuff, and I'm perturbed to learn that "tennis at 42 is not like tennis at 36."  But he's usually entertaining when he's not out jinxing Ohio sports teams.  Bastard.

The doctor-patient privilege

Recently, Roger Clemens went on radio to proclaim that he would never use steroids because they weakened the heart and that he had a history of heart trouble in the family.  Turns out he was referring to his step-father.

It's in this light that I reproduce below a particularly clever piercing of hypocrisy.  Usually, I ignore political scandals, but Senator Ensign's affair seems to have struck a vein of schadenfreude as deep as any silver mine in Nevada.

One of Ensign’s roommates [at the Prayer House], Senator Tom Coburn of Oklahoma, was described by Hampton as being particularly vocal about the importance of cash contributions to “make these folks whole.” Coburn denies this, although he won’t say exactly what advice he gave to his erring colleague. Coburn told Roll Call that he talked to Ensign as a “physician and as an ordained deacon” and that he will therefore have the right to keep mum even if he’s dragged into court or a Senate committee hearing.

This makes me sort of hope that some kind of investigation takes place just so Coburn, who’s an obstetrician, can explain how exactly doctor-patient confidentiality figures into this.

For the full op-ed piece from the NY Times, click here.

Meet ROTUS

In a droll reaction to the multitude of acronyms (POTUS is president of the United States; FLOTUS is the unflattering acronym for the first lady), President Obama likes to introduce his receptionist as:  ROTUS.

“This is the receptionist of the entire United States,” Mr. Obama said, introducing Ms. Page to Attorney General Eric H. Holder Jr.

“How long was your confirmation hearing?” Mr. Holder asked with a smile.

And who might ROTUS be?  Some dour battle ax with a stiff upper lip?  She's Darienne M. Page, a 27 year old former army sergeant who served in Iraq who seems surprisingly pleasant and down to earth for someone who has to bear the nickname ROTUS. 

She still wears a metal bracelet on her right wrist inscribed with the name of Sgt. Maj. Cornell W. Gilmore, her commander, who was killed when enemy fire struck his helicopter in late 2003.

“He taught us to lead, but to lead with a smile and be calm under pressure,” she said. “A lot of lessons that I learned in the Army help me here....”

For NY Times article, click here.  Even better is the two minute interactive here.

Cathedral Rock

"To the west of Mordor was the narrow land of Ithilien
with the city of Osgiliath and the great river Anduin."

The trail up Cathedral Rock is traced with switchbacks and steps cut into the stone.  The cooler air met a group of friends and I as we trekked upward.  The valley below was 102 degrees, so the mountain temperatures, 10-15 degrees cooler, were welcome.  Living in a desert makes one forget how lush a land can be, so it was a pleasant surprise to find honest to goodness trees and wildflowers on the trail. 

If you hustle, you can probably complete the trek up and back in just over an hour.  We took two.  But we had company.  Our group had dogs, five in number; almost more than people.  Two of the smaller dogs struggled to scamper over the rough hewn steps.  Every step for them, an adventure.  But they were enthusiastic. 

The largest dog frequently slumped over on the trail, his sides heaving.  I wouldn't use the word eager to describe him.  His eyes plaintively spoke volumes:  is it time for breakfast yet?    His owner coaxed him back up with promises of crispy bacon. 

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Strange and fey beasties on the trail