Quick (and very random) Takes

Only a few hours left in this month of September, so it's time to wrap up this month with a few utterly disconnected thoughts and observations:

1. Pop quiz. What's the official Oregon state bird?
a. Great blue heron; b. Western meadowlark; c. Stellar's jay.

Correct answer: b.

So how odd was it that I saw my very first Western meadowlark, with its distinctive V-like marking on its yellow breast,* perched on a wire fence in a meadow in Klickitat County in Washington state?

*Copyright photo: Kendall W. Brown
http://www.utahbirds.org/birdsofutah/BirdsS-Z/WesternMeadowlark.htm


2. Have a nice day! Not...

Around Portland, I'm used to seeing the bumper sticker "Coexist." I didn't think twice when I spotted it on a nondescript compact car (I think it was a Toyota) bearing New Mexico license plates. What did set me back was the other bumper sticker: "How about a nice cup of shut the f*** up?"

Whoa. Made me wonder what would prompt a person to essentially raise a middle finger to the world in that way. Was he trying to be funny? Is he really that crass? Just another sign of the eroding civility in this country. Made me think back to the guy in front of me in line at the grocery store. When he bent over to pick up something he'd dropped, his T-shirt rode up and there, on his lower back, in elegant script were these words: "F*** the world." Yeah, you too, buddy.

3. I've got the TV tuned to ESPN and I'm watching with glee as the Detroit Tigers are pounding the Minnesota Twins -- 7-2 in the seventh inning -- and taking another step closer to the American League's Central Division title. Given all that Michigan's largest city has been through in recent decades -- race riots, crime, illiteracy, civic corruption, horrible schools and, now, collapse of the auto industry -- it would be nice if the Tigers could bring a ray of sunshine to their beleaguered fans. Of course, even if they make the playoffs, they'll need to get past the dreaded and colossally overpaid Yankees.

I saw the Tigers in '84, the year they won their last World Series title, and have been a fan ever since. Go, Detroit!

What if no one died?

Can you imagine living in a country where one day, out of the blue, people simply stopped dying?

Would you initially think that was a good thing? That you'd never have to say goodbye to your loved ones? And that you, yourself, could look forward to eternal life?

But what if the reality of that set in and you began contemplating other scenarios: How would morticians, gravediggers and coffin-makers earn a living? What would you do with a worthless life insurance policy? As the population aged, leaving a diminishing cohort of younger workers, how would the government meet the financial and health care needs of its people? How would the church justify itself in the absence of the hereafter?

What if you reached the point of desperation where the burden of caring for near-dead relatives who simply did not expire became too much? Could you imagine the criminal element offering -- for a price, of course -- to transport those sickly relatives across the border and disposing of them in an adjoining country, where people continued to die? Would you be surprised at the pushback from that neighboring country?

These are among the many provocative questions raised in José Saramago's new book, "Death With Interruptions."

I picked it up on a whim at a local bookstore, having read -- and loved -- his book "The Double," which is about the complications that ensue when a divorced, depressed school teacher spots his exact double on a video and decide to pursue him.

Saramago, if you don't know him, is a Portuguese novelist who was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1998. The New York Times Magazine profiled him in 2007 in a piece called "The Unexpected Fantasist," noting that he's an atheist and a hard-line member of his country's Communist Party. His work has been compared to that of fellow Nobel laureate Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

Saramago, 87 years old, is prone to extraordinarily long sentences that go on and on because he routinely uses commas in place of periods and favors lower-case instead of upper-case for proper names. Once you get used to him, though, you appreciate his brilliance.

If you're creeped out by my brief description above, it's best to move on and read something else. If, on the other hand, you're intrigued by the moral questions raised by such a scenario, this book (238 pages) might be worth your time. Without giving anything away, I can tell you a patient reader will be rewarded as the second half of the book develops, wherein death (Death with a small "d") takes on the human form of a female and confronts her own thoughts and feelings on fate, death and love.

Listen To The Tales And Romanticize

I have to say, Mongo had one of his best Hammerfests of the whole year. I was strong (for me) on all the climbs, and I got a legitimate fourth place in the Sprint. I know... Clay wasn't trying and "Boonen" and "Irish Brian" gave up, but...fourth is fourth!

If Mongo could give up the Dutchie and the Ben & Jerry's, then my cycling potential would improve exponentially.

Happy birthday, Lori

Sleep in late, wake up to fresh mountain air, go for a morning hike. Eat a casual lunch at a roadhouse restaurant that's been around since 1932, have a leisurely drive home while looking out the window at the spectacular Columbia River Gorge. Open a few birthday cards, indulge in a light dessert and head off to bed early.

What could be more low-key than that?

It was Lori's day today and I know she appreciated the chance to just kick back this weekend. Our overnight visit to Mt. Adams Lodge turned out to be just the tonic to cope with the stresses that come from trying to balance so many balls -- work, home, networking, planning for a wedding shower and the wedding itself.

We stayed in a log cabin with a big porch that looked out to the trees where we did our hiking. We made friends with the resident kitty, a silky black mouser named Nikki. We drove into Hood River for a delicious meal at Nora's Table and walked around downtown afterwards. But, mostly, we just chilled, courtesy of lodge proprietors Julee Wasserman and Tim Johnson.

The main photo is of the pond on the 80-acre Flying L Ranch where the Mt. Adams Lodge is located, just outside Glenwood, Wash. The secondary photo is of Mt. Adams, taken from the parking lot of Glenwood High School.

We're glad we discovered this little gem. Hope to return again sometime.

800

"Say what you have to say, not what you ought. Any truth is better than make-believe."

(Henry David Thoreau)

W N I D: T S R: This Time It's Personal

Has anyone ever made you so mad that you just knew that you were going to do everything in your power to make them pay? It feels good, doesn't it? You become so hyper-focused on retribution that nothing else matters. Mongo had the opportunity today to unleash the fury and lay waste to the worst kind of douchebag...the "child endangerer".

The Sun finally came out and Mongo was anxious to get out there and test out the temporary spoke. Unfortunately, my cat, Snacks McGee*, forced me to watch two hours of ESPN so he could get some last minute information before he called the bookie. So, at about twelve thirty, I put on the team kit and rolled out the driveway heading towards the Silver Comet Trail.

I made a quick stop at the shop to chat with "Shady" and "Boonen" about the "Cadeltastic" World Championships, and then started what I thought was going to be a forty mile shakedown ride. I realized early on that the new spoke was going to be fine...or it was going to break...and I had no control over either...so I was going to ride like I normally did. And by the way, so far so good. Mongo is quite the "artiste" with a spoke wrench.

I had a smooth twenty miles on the way out, dodging the crowds, crossing paths with teamates, who were all obviously training for the resumption of the Fall Classics 23/2300 Hammerfest season tomorrow night, and generally having a good ride. The way back was another story.

As soon as Mongo turned around at the twenty mile marker, I was jumped by three guys. After I dispatched them, I got jumped again by a TT guy. Finally, after I lost him and was cooling down at about 19 mph, feeling annoyed and tired, a guy comes flying past me like I'm standing still. W.T.F.!

As a cyclist, if that's ever happened to you, there is an immediate gathering of information. Where did he come from? What kind of bike is he riding? Does he look like a legit rider? Was he drafting me the whole time? Do I need to chase him down?...After gathering all the information, Mongo decided that this guy was going to be a worthy opponent...but very manageable.

Mongo really enjoys the cat and mouse game of the weekend smackdown. If someone wants to be social and work together, I'm happy for the company and I'll adjust my speed accordingly. If they want to be an ass and try and drop me immediately, well...they're gonna get "served".

This guy was on a carbon Fuji with some nice Cane Creek wheels and Ultegra all the way around. I got to see it up close as I would draft him mercilessly every time he would try to break away from me. Every once in a while, due to traffic, I would go to the front and slow it down on purpose so he would think I was getting tired. He would always come around me at full steam looking back to see if I'd answer. I wouldn't do anything until he turned back around, then I would sprint up to his wheel. The shock on his face was priceless when he turned around again and I was drinking water while coasting in his draft.

I was about ready to finish him off when we rolled up to an intersection crowded with other cyclists, including children. A little girl had just pushed the button for the stoplight to change when my opponent takes off through the intersection...the light was still green for traffic. Well, this little girl starts pedaling after him because she though the light had changed. Lets just say that what followed was a combination of screaming parents and screeching brakes. Luckily, no one was hit by a car... but it was close. This guy had purposely jumped a red light to get an advantage on me, and by doing so, had almost caused a horrible tragedy. He wasn't going to get away with it.

Once I realized everyone was okay, I took off after this dude with thoughts of doing bad things to him. He had such a head start that It took me a while to catch him, but it allowed my anger to rise to a boil. Finally, I caught up with him and let him have it. I wish I could say that he had no remorse and I beat the crap out of him, but the truth is a little different.

After I verbally lambasted him for being an irresponsible asshole, he actually apologized to me and turned around to go back and apologize to the little girl and her family. What a dick! He stole my thunder.

(* Not his real name)

Migration

With my personal desk now set up in the ken (pix to come), the seafoam green dresser moved to the living room. I like it better in here; it goes nicely below the" window" and holds the phone. The re-done lamp now has a more fitting home as well.

Dressing the Bike for Fall

The Concert

Our church's youth concert last weekend was a big hit, enjoyed by parent volunteers as much as by the kids. The Oswald Brothers Band was the perfect draw, three adorable and personable brothers (along with a friend) playing contemporary Christian music, a pop number or two, and their own creations. Lots of screaming girls. And the brothers were such enthusiastic entertainers, and they stayed well past the concert to sign CDs and t-shirts and even take pictures. We had food and drinks and handed out glo-stix. Fun fun night!


[Bottom two photos courtesy of Matthew Braden]

There Will Be Crying

Well, once again, Mongo had it wrong...CADEL WINS !!! CADEL WINS !!! (Whatever you may think about him...he's always had game.) Maybe now he'll stop acting like a victim and represent being World Champion in a manner equal to his abilities on the bike.

It's Got To Be An Italian

The winner of the road race will be...Damiano Cunego.

(I'm also feeling good about a possible dark horse in Thor Hushovd)

Eighty MInute Abs: The Friday Ride

Just when Mongo's extreme dislike of all things French had simmered to a passive indifference, my m****** f****** spokes have still not arrived from Mavic! From what I've heard, they've been delayed somewhere around the Maginot Line. Mongo has managed, in the meantime, to replace the broken spoke in my Ksyriums with a workable yet slightly different option. Without a thorough test ride though, I'm not going to feel comfortable at the Hammerfest on Monday. Which brings me to yesterday...

While I always enjoy riding my mt. bike/cafe racer, Li'l Pony Express, Mongo has to admit that I've missed riding my road bike, Ol' Lightnin', over the past couple of weeks. Torrential rain and flooding, along with the aforementioned lack o' spokes, has kept me away.

I was planning on testing the temporary spoke on the Friday night ride at the shop...but then it rained...then it cleared up...but being the anal bastard that I am, I didn't want to get the freshly cleaned and tuned bike wet and dirty...so I almost didn't ride at all...but then I felt guilty and hurriedly dressed in my retro-chic, full Pearl Izumi head to toe, 80's-style, Tinker Juarez inspired, M-Frame wearin', mountain bike getup...and headed off for the ride on LPE.

I always enjoy the Friday ride. On the one hand, I can chat with my buddies as the peloton moves along at a leisurely pace, and then when the action heats up on the homeward half, if I feel like it, which I usually do, I can mix it up at a fast pace for the last couple of miles...which is made more challenging when I'm on the mt. bike.

There are practically no hills on this twenty five mile ride. There are steady inclines and declines, but the grade is never more than four percent. This allows many people to believe that they are faster than they actually are. I always smile when I see these guys on the ride because I used to be one of them. As all cyclists finally learn the hard way...you ain't shit unless you can climb!

I did have a good chuckle to myself though when a guy surged to the front and I tucked in right on his wheel. After a mile or so he was noticeably struggling and he kept looking back for someone to come to the front...no one did. Finally, when he was obviously dead, I jumped him and did a mini breakaway. Later on he was bitching about being "hung out to dry". I wanted to tell him all he had to do was pull over and then ease back into the draft, but it's all part of the learning process and he has to take his lumps just like we all did.

It turned out to be a fast and spirited ride. Even though I was on twenty six inches of rubber, only "Boonen", "G.C.", and "No Nickname", were faster than me... and had some of the J.V. riders pulled at the end, Mongo might have had a chance for a sprint victory. Instead, I ran out of steam with about a mile to go...and then Mongo and the wheelsuckers got swallowed up by the peloton.

A double celebration

Three weeks ago, we observed our 34th anniversary. This weekend, we celebrate it. We're headed -- no, not to Chicago, despite the above photo -- but to Mt. Adams Lodge at the Flying L Ranch. It's roughly 90 miles east of Portland in the Columbia River Gorge on the Washington state side.

We'll arrive in the early afternoon and just hang out, with a little time set aside for hiking. We'll go into Hood River for dinner, then head back and settle in for the evening.

When we wake up Sunday, it will be Lori's birthday. So...there's the double celebration. We planned this weekend away several weeks ago. Given how crazy busy we've been of late, this will be a nice respite for us.

A word about the photo: It was taken at Wrigley Field on July 27, 2008. We saw the Cubs beat the Florida Marlins in a game that featured five home runs. We headed out to the game the same day we joined hundreds of others in a hotel ballroom, where we were part of the audience that saw Barack Obama, then a presidential candidate, interviewed on CNN.

That was quite a day. And this will be quite a weekend...

A Poseur Is A Poseur Is A Poseur

You also might need a derailleur there, Tupac!

I fear...he's from Mount Vernon

Every time we travel up to our vacation property in the San Juan Islands, our path takes us through the town of Mount Vernon, Washington. It's an agricultural community of about 31,000 people 60 miles north of Seattle. When we pull off I-5 to pass through town, heading west to Anacortes, we know we're about a half hour away from the ferry landing .

We've often stopped for lunch, and have become quite familiar with the retro downtown, which gives off a vague '70s vibe. So I was mildly surprised when I caught a news item the other day saying that Mount Vernon's mayor had proclaimed Sept. 26 (that's tomorrow) as "Glenn Beck Day" to honor the conservative commentator who's rocketed to fame on CNN as a wild-eyed, flame-throwing critic of President Obama.

Turns out Beck grew up in Mount Vernon, although he moved to Bellingham, just south of the Canadian border, and graduated from high school there. He is probably best known as the guy who recently declared that Obama has "a deep-seated hatred for white people." And he seems to everywhere you turn -- TV, radio, books, magazine covers, the Web. I'm more familiar with Rush Limbaugh, the mouthpiece of the rabid right, so I suppose it was morbid curiosity that drew me to a recent TIME magazine cover story, "The Agitator," to see what I might learn about Beck.

Sure, I already knew he was "the hottest thing in the political-rant racket, left or right," and "a gifted entrepreneur of angst," as the TIME article noted. But reporter David Von Drehle provided more:

Beck is 45, tireless, funny, self-deprecating, a recovering alcoholic, a convert to Mormonism, a libertarian and living with ADHD. He is a gifted storyteller with a knack for stitching seemingly unrelated data points into possible conspiracies — if he believed in conspiracies, which he doesn't, necessarily; he's just asking questions. He's just sayin'. In cheerful days of yore, he was a terrific host of a morning-zoo show on an FM Top 40 station. But these aren't cheerful times. For conservatives, these are times of economic uncertainty and political weakness, and Beck has emerged as a virtuoso on the strings of their discontent.

He's developed a signature catch phrase "I fear..." or "I'm afraid..." with which to stoke distrust, mistrust and outright hatred amongst his followers. And Von Drehle does a masterful job of revealing Beck's schtick.

What's this rich and talented man afraid of? He is afraid of one-world government, which will turn once proud America into another France. He is afraid that Obama "has a deep-seated hatred for white people" — which doesn't mean, he hastens to add, that he actually thinks "Obama doesn't like white people." He is afraid that both Democrats and Republicans in Washington are deeply corrupt and that their corruption is spreading like a plague. He used to be afraid that hypocritical Republicans in the Bush Administration were killing capitalism and gutting liberty, but now he is afraid that all-too-sincere leftists in the Obama Administration are plotting the same. On a slow news day, Beck fears that the Rockefeller family installed communist and fascist symbols in the public artwork of Rockefeller Center. One of his Fox News Channel colleagues, Shepard Smith, has jokingly called Beck's studio the "fear chamber." Beck countered that he preferred "doom room."

It's mildly amusing to think that Beck has raked in an estimated $23 million in salary and other earnings in the past year, when you know those revenues in all likelihood come from listeners who are the same easily manipulated small-town white folks who made up Sarah Palin's army of true believers. Do they realize they're being played?

In any case, tomorrow is Beck's big day. Check out the story about his controversial homecoming, courtesy of Manuel Valdes, a former summer intern at the Skagit Valley Herald (that's in Mount Vernon) who's now working in the Seattle bureau of The Associated Press.

Lanikai Wedding: Nelson and Tricia

A sign that read "Toes in the sand is how we'd planned," greeted Nelson and Tricia's close family and friends on Lanikai Beach. The guests left their slippers by the sign and walked down to the water's edge to watch the couple exchange vows in a short, sweet ceremony officiated by Rev. Diana Warrington. The reception dinner was held at a Lanikai hillside residence. The beautiful and delicious cake was made by Cakeworks. Congratulations and best wishes to a lovely couple!

He's No Jerry Lewis

Funnier than a mongo squirrel workin' a nut!

Larsson Is Swedish For Second

As with most sporting fans and participants, Mongo enjoys and appreciates watching athletes perform at the highest levels of their sport. A rare few superstars are able to make the gifted athletes around them look very average. This seems to be the case with Fabian Cancellara...but Mongo ain't buyin'. Remember...this is Pro Cycling! Nobody should be above suspicion.

Why then does everyone give Cancellara a free pass when he pulls out one of his super-human performances? He may never have tested positive for anything "testable", and he does have a fairly long track record of winning in this discipline, but he's also inconsistent with his fitness and his race results throughout the season, and some of his wins seem "too" dominating.

As an example, I use this years World Championships...Cancellara beat third place finisher, Tony Martin, by two minutes and thirty seconds. Two minutes and thirty seconds after Martin's time was Serpa Perez...He was in twenty second place!

In a sport where corruption and cheating are almost institutionalized, it doesn't seem out of line to at least throw the possibility out there...does it?

(Photo:Sirotti/CyclingNews)

"Persepolis"

I'm not into graphic novels but watching the film "Persepolis"earlier this week made me open my mind to the possibilities.

The movie had come up in our Netflix queue and somehow I'd missed the buzz that surrounded it when it was nominated for a 2007 Oscar for Best Animated Feature. After seeing a string of lackluster American movies churned out by the Hollywood studios, this French film was a refreshing change in terms of its subject, originality and form. (Click here to see the trailer.)

The U.S. version, of course, is subtitled and presented in black and white animation. Yet, it doesn't take long to immerse yourself in the story and empathize with the main character, Marji. The movie is based on an autobiographical graphic novel, and the plot is expertly summarized by IMBd:

"In 1970s Iran, Marjane 'Marji' Statrapi [pictured above] watches events through her young eyes and her idealistic family of a long dream being fulfilled of the hated Shah's defeat in the Iranian Revolution of 1979. However as Marji grows up, she witnesses first hand how the new Iran, now ruled by Islamic fundamentalists, has become a repressive tyranny on its own. With Marji dangerously refusing to remain silent at this injustice, her parents send her abroad to Vienna to study for a better life. However, this change proves an equally difficult trial with the young woman finding herself in a different culture loaded with abrasive characters and profound disappointments that deeply trouble her. Even when she returns home, Marji finds that both she and homeland have changed too much and the young woman and her loving family must decide where she truly belongs."

It's a terrific film, with lots of emotional swings as you root for Marji, a young woman yearning for the freedom to be herself.

By sheer coincidence, I had lunch this week with a former summer intern -- let's call her "Marjon" -- whose family immigrated from Iran. Marjon would often visit relatives who still live there, but she hasn't been able to go in recent years because of the political situation. She told me of a cousin who was arrested around the time of the June 12 elections that sparked worldwide protests after Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad claimed victory in the face of obvious fraud. Her cousin, she said, was almost certainly tortured but doesn't want to talk about it.

Marjon works as a reporter at a daily newspaper in the Southwest U.S. She is one of the kindest, gentlest people I know, so I could only imagine the depth of her feeling and passion for justice when she told me she'd like to return to Iran, despite the obvious danger, to work for change. If that's not possible, she said, she'd like to fulfill a lifelong dream and work with the international group Doctors Without Borders.

How tragic that a buffoon like Ahmadinejad can command international attention with a speech at the United Nations ths same week that I sit across from a gracious, intelligent young woman who represents the flower of that troubled country. History, I'm sure, will vindicate the brave people who took to the streets of Tehran to protest the June election and earned the respect and support of freedom lovers around the world.

Season of Sharing

Every year since 1932, The Oregonian has run a fund-raising campaign to raise money to help people in need at the holidays.

In recent years, the so-called Season of Sharing has featured a Wishbook, published the Sunday before Thanksgiving, to highlight the individuals, families and nonprofit agencies on the receiving end of this charity. I know from experience, having served twice as editor of the Wishbook, that these folks express so much gratitude and humility it makes your heart hurt.

Today, I will join a handful of newsroom colleagues in reviewing the nominees for this year's campaign. Our task: to try to reduce the 53 cases to about half that number, so that reporters can vet the intended recipients and write their stories. It's an enormous challenge. In a way, it's almost like playing God, deciding whom is more worthy than another of the public's assistance. And, of course, they all are.

As you read the nominations, you feel pulled toward the personal stories of perseverance and progress in the face of multiple obstacles: drug-addicted parents, poverty, low educational achievement, abusive husbands or boyfriends (yes, it's always the men). But then you get pulled in another direction by the agencies serving entire groups of people with disabilities, medically fragile children or low-income people living just a thread away from homelessness. And there are so many more: veterans in need of counseling, children in need of mental health services, seniors who can't get out to shop for themselves, etc., etc.

I'm grateful to this year's editor, Amy Wang, for inviting me to participate. I doubt that readers give much thought to the logistics behind each year's Season of Sharing. Suffice to say it takes a small village to pull this off. The newspaper solicits nominations during the summer, convenes a committee to pick the most deserving cases in early September, then assigns reporters and photographers to interview the subjects. Editors and a page designer make it all come together in early November, and a small army of personal shoppers goes out to purchase the items -- be they gas cards or furniture, wheelchairs or school supplies -- in time for Christmas. Newsroom and accounting staff track all the donations, making sure that every penny goes to the recipients and the Oregon Food Bank.

This year, more than ever, it would be nice to see an outpouring of support for these children, teenagers, young mothers, struggling families, lonely seniors and big-hearted social services employees and volunteers who need the community's help. Click here to read more about the Season of Sharing. Click here to see more photos from the 2008 Season of Sharing. And when the Wishbook appears this fall, please consider making a donation.

Afghanistan, reconsidered

Leave it to Bob Woodward, half of that storied team of Washington Post reporters who broke the Watergate scandal 35 years ago, to get me to thinking about Afghanistan again. Not that it's ever far from my mind.

When you have a young son who's in the Army, you read the newspapers and magazines and tell yourself that he won't be deploying for several months, maybe even a year or more, to either Afghanistan or Iraq. At the same time, you read these articles and watch the TV news reports and try to come to some understanding of what our interests are in that part of the world and whether it makes sense to be there...regardless of the soldier in your family.

It was obvious a long time ago that George Bush invaded the wrong country after 9/11. What a waste of manpower and money and public support on such a misadventure...

And so here we are eight years into the Afghanistan War, launched ostensibly to root out Osama bin Laden, with little to nothing to show for our efforts. You've got a corrupt or incompetent government with allegations of fraud in the recent presidential election, some of the most formidable terrain in the world, an impoverished and largely illiterate people whose loyalties flip back and forth between U.S. and NATO forces, the Taliban and their individual tribes, based mainly on who can help them feed their families.

As Woodward reported this week, Army Gen. Stanley McChrystal, the top U.S. and NATO commander in Afghanistan, warns that the war can be lost if we don't commit more troops and quickly implement an effective counterinsurgency strategy. President Obama and his advisers are reviewing his assessment as public opinion polls show waning support for our involvement there. Congressional leaders -- i.e., top Democrats like Nancy Pelosi -- have already signaled their reluctance to get in deeper. And who can blame them?

The parallels to Vietnam can't be overlooked. There, we tried to force our values and military superiority on a people whose resiliency we grossly overestimated. Back then, we were fighting North Vietnam, backed by China. Now, Afghanistan is our ally and the real threat to the United States is posed by al-Qaida cells in Pakistan, which we can't invade because it too is an ally -- though probably the most unstable and erratic of our "friends."

A week ago Sunday, we devoted quite a bit of space in print and online to the Afghanistan War:
-- A thoughtful analysis by Boston University professor Andrew Bacevich, asking "How committed is Obama to the Afghanistan War?"
-- A "Letter from Kabul," an on-the-ground report from a Lewis & Clark College professor, Zaher Wahab, who's been going back every year to visit his family and help rebuild his country's higher education system.
-- An op-ed piece by Los Angeles Times columnist Doyle McManus, in which he contends "Afghanistan isn't Vietnam -- yet."

We followed up with an op-ed by one of our Oregon congressmen, David Wu, who had just come back from Afghanistan and announced his support for our continuing presence: "War in Afghanistan: an ongoing threat to our security."

And today our editorial board weighed in: "The general speaks. Now what?"

I don't know that I have the answers. Like Wu, I fear that withdrawing from Afghanistan will give the Taliban carte blanche to continue recruiting young men to their cause and plant the seeds for another potential attack on Americans, here or elsewhere in the world. I understand there's a difference between the religious extremism of the Taliban and the deadly militancy of al-Qaida, but it seems like the line would get blurred awfully quickly if we were to pull out entirely.

Editorial cartoon by Jack Ohman, The Oregonian

By the Sea Vacation Photography: Lanikai, Oahu

Three brothers and their lovely families enjoyed a summer vacation in Waikiki, Oahu. They requested family photos on a beautiful beach, so, we suggested Lanikai Beach. After the photo session, the kids enjoyed pizza from Bob's Pizzeria and shave ice from Island Snow. We hope to catch up with you on your next visit to Hawaii!

As summer ends, a time to reflect

So we're doing some spring cleaning around the house -- about a season behind schedule -- and it's triggered some thoughts about memory and sentimentality.

The simple act of cleaning off a chest of drawers was liberating, in terms of reclaiming space that I'd given up to an assortment of tsotchkes -- stress balls, pens, sticky note pads, luggage tags, pin-on badges -- and other odds 'n' ends, including shoelaces, toenail clippers, ear drops, eye drops, business cards and foreign coins. It's astounding (and embarrassing, I admit) to look back at what I accumulated over a period of years.

But at the same time, going through all that stuff was touching. I came across postcards I'd bought after museum visits in Tucson and Atlanta, as well as a card my sweetie had given me just to say "I love you." I tossed out old receipts, product warranties, even an old watch.

But I also rediscovered a small stack of handwritten notes I'd kept from a reporting trip to Oaxaca, Mexico, 20 years earlier. (It's pronounced wah-HAWK-ah.) Seeing all those names, addresses and other information in Spanish made me think back to those weeks in early December when a photographer and I traveled in the Mixteca Alta, the mountainous countryside outside the city of Oaxaca, to report on the economic conditions that drive poor, mostly undereducated Mexicans to the United States in search of a better life. I could visualize the evenings we spent dining and drinking at the zocalo (the town square), the delicious meals we ate at roadside shacks, and the kindness and generosity of people everywhere we went.

Tenderly, I examined the pages torn from a reporter's book with phrases from an indigenous language -- Mixtec -- and their corresponding meaning in Spanish. I'd had to rely on a translator to tell me in Spanish what a local resident was saying in Mixtec so I could in turn tell the photographer in English. An amazing trip, that was. Without a doubt, the highlight of my years as a reporter.

There was one mystery item: a key chain attached to a four-inch piece of macrame with six metallic letters spelling out GEORGE. As best as Lori and I could figure, it might have been a parting gift from one of our Japanese exchange students years earlier. Ayako, the first one, was around 12, as I recall. Chiho, the second one, was 19 or 20, I think. They'd be in their late 20s or early 30s by now. Wow.

I couldn't have spent more than two or three hours going through everything. Some items were easy to toss out. Others, not so much. The whole exercise made me slow down and really think about some things I'd held onto: When and where did I get them? What specific memory did they trigger? Did I care enough to keep them? If so, where in the heck would I put them?

We'll be doing more house-cleaning in the next few weeks. These questions will pop up again as I consider saving or tossing favorite items of clothing, old record albums and more.

Photographs: Copyright 2007-2009. Tanyo Ravicz. All rights reserved.
http://www.mixtecindian.com/Mixtec_Foto_Album.php?aa=0&si0=9

Mongo Is Appalled...

...There's no hyphen in skateboarding!

Enough Already Haiku

Been raining for weeks

I'm getting depressed and fat

Let's move it along

Forty Days And Forty Nights Of Ballin'

Did you know that the only cyclist to start and finish all three Grand Tours in 2009 was...Julian Dean (Garmin-Slipstream)? Huh!...Mongo wouldn't have guessed that.

Telling It Like It Is

Well...the final Grand Tour is over and the Pro Cycling season is slowly coming to an end. After the World Championships, there are pretty much no more meaningful races. Soon all we'll be left with is "Eurotastic" cyclocross and "Nobody gives a shit" mountain biking. With all it's drama, stories, and impressive performances, 2009 has been a great year. Who knows, maybe even doping is on the downswing...Yeah right! The 2010 season looks even better, with new teams, riders, and rivalries emerging weekly.

I do want to talk about the Vuelta specifically though. Mongo compares it to the Australian Open in tennis, and the PGA Championship in golf. Though they are all major championships in their respective sports, they are the least contested, and coveted, titles.

No one can argue that a podium of Valverde, Sanchez, and Evans, is quite impressive, but when you look a little closer, the peculiarities really stick out. A couple of examples...David Millar won the final Time Trial. He hasn't won anything significant since he stopped doping! Guess which team won the Team Competition? Not Garmin...not Saxo...not Astana...not Caisse d'Epargne...not Cervelo...not Quickstep. Who then, you might ask? It was the mighty Continental powerhouse, Xacobeo Galicia. That's what I'm talkin' about!

Valverde is probably living on borrowed time, and a suspension is still likely. While we all know about Cadel and his wheel-sucking, man-purse wearing, crybaby, ways, Mongo does legitimately like "Sammy" Sanchez...and wishes he had won.

(Photo:Sirotti/CyclingNews)