I Have A Question

I had the privilege of dinner with my boss and his son this evening. We went to watch the Lakers play and as fate would have it the game was a blowout. For me, being one of the first times I actually went someplace to watch a basketball game, it was kinda boring.

Now, just for the record, this was not a baby sitting father and young son night out. Mark and Michael are both adults. They are co-managing the company as the elder imparts years of wisdom in the younger. Their conversations are varied and often passionate.

I can't help but smile at the struggle I know they have as the wisdom doesn't quite hit home for the younger and the unbridled passion to jump in with both feet escapes the conservative nature of the elder. I know my sons and I had these same struggles and I wonder who in my life was watching and smiling as I do now.

As the three of us sat half not watching the game the conservation took many paths, work, the people there, LA, the mid-west... politics.

The younger says to me "my dad wants to ask Obama a question. Has he told you? Dad, tell DNR what you want to ask President Obama."
The elder says to me, "Why do you want to change this country? I hate communism [socialism]. He is trying to make this country into a social state. Take my money and give it to people that have never worked. Not poor. Never tried. This is a wonderful country, you can be anything you want, you want a lot of money, you can make it. You want to be President, YOU can be President. When I left my country they were bringing about change. We were a strong country. Our currency was accepted all around the world... now &%€@ [cursing in another language]. My question for my Obama is this, 'what did you have when you were eleven?' [looking at me with great passion in his eyes] What did Mr Obama have when he was eleven?"
"Nothing." I replied. Half expecting an 'ah-ha' gotcha. But he simply asked "what does he have now...? He is President. Why does he want to change this country?"

So, Mr Obama, we have a question. After nearly 50 years, you have gone from (by all accounts) nothing to President. If it worked for you, Why do you want to change this country?
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1.2 Miles

Not 1,200 or 2,400 like it used to be.

Life finds me now living one and two tenths miles from the beach. Today is my second or third trip to the place where sand meats water. Since the kayaus that was my life recently has subsided I took time this visit to look, to see.

Remember back in the 70s, there was a PSA commercial where an American Indian would stand someplace and observe the trash blowing up at his feet and we would see a tear fall down his cheek?

Today I watched the tattered remains of a gallon milk jug wrestle with the surf. Ten feet out, two feet, stuck in he sand, lifted back up and taken another six feet out. Ultimately is settled on the shore, partly stuck in the sand. I'm guessing it will stay there till next high tide, then be pushed further up on shore.

Where I sit right now, maybe 20 feet from the water, there are cigarette filters galore, packing peanuts, foam coffee cup scraps, a literal plethora of plastic bits and pieces AND too many other things to mention. I know on the coasts they don't necessarily use landfills as much as us inlanders do. They use ocean dumps. Now, I don't know if the stuff here on the beach with me is just trash from last years beach crowd or if it is the ocean returning to us what is truly ours but I do know it's shameful.

I know why coastal living folks are so pro recycle. This 'stuff' is literally in their back yard.

As conservative as I am, I, personally, need to do a better job reusing the stuff that I have.

As for the milk jug...
I put it in a trash can but I can't help but wonder, will it be back?

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