Reflections | - Part 7

It’s July 4th, Yet Again…

Posted by Justin at 22:58 Coot Smirk, principles, Reflections

Jul 022013

English: The earliest known draft of the United States Declaration of Independence, a fragment in the handwriting of Thomas Jefferson. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Hey folks, if you haven’t noticed, this post is simulcast both here on Catharsis of the Bogue and Cantankerous Old Coots. It is almost the 4th of July here in the United States, one of my favorite holidays.

This image was selected as a picture of the week on the Malay Wikipedia for the 26th week, 2010. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

If you didn’t know, July 4th celebrates the day when a group of British citizens here in the American Colonies decided to give the finger to King George and make their own country. July 4th is the day when those men we now call Patriots, signed one of the most important documents in the history of the world, the Declaration of Independence.

This is not just another day. This is our Independence Day. This is the day John Adams wrote to his wife about, saying,

“The Second Day of July 1776, will be the most memorable Epocha, in the History of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated, by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival. It ought to be commemorated, as the Day of Deliverance by solemn Acts of Devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more. You will think me transported with Enthusiasm but I am not. I am well aware of the Toil and Blood and Treasure, that it will cost Us to maintain this Declaration, and support and defend these States. Yet through all the Gloom I can see the Rays of ravishing Light and Glory. I can see that the End is more than worth all the Means. And that Posterity will tryumph in that Days Transaction, even altho We should rue it, which I trust in God We shall not.

Those brave men who wrote, and then ratified that Declaration were so far from the milquetoast government that we have now. They knowingly put their names to a document that labeled each and every one of them traitors to the most powerful country on the Earth at that time. And they knew what they could make out of this country. They knew that King George was not the way. They knew that we had to have our own laws, our own officials, our own taxes.

And now, this country, with all of the problems that we do have, still shines as a beacon to the world, a democracy, a republic that has lasted for over 200 years. This Thursday is July 4th, when we should be with our families. We should raise a flag at dawn and salute whilst saying the Pledge of Allegiance. We should read that Declaration of Independence and understand what they were fighting for. We should read the Constitution and know what our country is built on. There is no better time to be a patriot.

Tonight, Tuesday the 2nd, I took it upon myself to teach my Cub Scouts about the Declaration of Independence. They range in ages from 8 to 10. Most of them had only heard of the Declaration (and no, Abraham Lincoln did not have anything to do with the Declaration, despite the insistence of one 8 year old). I gave each of them a copy that they could read with their families. We read it together and discussed what it meant. The other leaders and I tried not to realize that We, as Citizens of the USA, need to send a slightly edited copy of this document to Washington. But I digress. I know it is important to teach the Declaration and it’s meaning. And to debunk the map on the back. It exists only in Hollywood.

The Fourth of July, Independence Day, should not just be the day we watch fireworks. It shouldn’t be the day we finish cleaning the car, or mowing the lawn. We should be thankful for this country. We should give thanks to whatever God we worship that we are here, and are free of tyranny. We should thank our Service Men and Women for defending that freedom that we began fighting for back in 1775.

I love going to community festivals on Independence Day. I really like to be with others, celebrating this country and the fact that we are Americans. I love the “Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations” that John Adams predicted. I love to stand and remove my hat as the flag passes by during the parade, even when most people don’t bother. I love to sing that National Anthem with a field full of people, all of like mind.

Many people say “Happy Birthday America.” I do to. But more importantly, I say , “Happy Independence Day.” May you all have a great Independence Day, go out and celebrate, don’t let it be just another day.

-Justin

The Fourth of July

Justin

Justin is the young Coot with a Cantankerous Soul who continues to be educated by older, more cootish Ralph and Bob. His Cantankerosity is his own.

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What Kind of Woman

Posted by Ralph at 04:34 Ask A Coot!, principles, Reflections

Mar 112013

Can put up with a Cantankerous Old Coot?

One of the frequently asked questions around here is about how you get to be one of the lucky women married to a cantankerous old coot. Maybe we need to ask Bob’s new bride how she hit the jackpot. Is it luck? Propinquity? Careful planning? I can’t, of course speak for Justin and Bob’s experience. I only know my own and I have to confess that I see only luck. There is no way that my wife could have realized what a wonderful catch she had found that rainy Saturday in New Haven. In fact, it was only because she was new in town that she didn’t throw me back into the dating pool. Not that I wasn’t dashing in my baby blue combat boots and day-glow poncho (my college pick up outfit). It was just that after the introductory burst of personality, I I was still a grad school dweeb.

Even if she wasn’t swept off her feet that night, something kept us together that year and connected even after I graduated and moved 3,000 miles away. I knew I had found a keeper though I made her do the pursuing. You can call that an early manifestation of Cootness or you can just call it stupidity. Whatever you call it, my wife eventually graduated and joined me in LA. Then after some coaxing, we married, raised our family, fought and loved.

Looking back over all those years-

So here we are now in the idyllic Sierra foothills, enjoying our senior moments and trying to get the last kid out of the house in spite of the abysmal Obama economy. What has it all meant? Has it been a wonderful life? Will Hollywood producers line up to make a movie? Probably not. Looking back, I see a few things that should have gone better, priorities that got skewed but all in all at this point, as Hillary Clinton says “What difference does it make?”

Well, the biggest difference that I see looking back over 40 years is the woman I met, by chance at a Halloween party that rainy New England evening.

That’s not really an answer to the question that started this post. It doesn’t really explain how my wife got to be so lucky. She is, of course, lucky but luck is not so easily explained. There is also the complication that luck can be shared. I was lucky too; lucky that a casual conversation in the grad school coffee shop snagged me an invitation to Susan’s party; lucky that my wife got an invitation as well and finally lucky that I forced myself into an uncomfortable position of going to a party where I didn’t know anyone.

The Road Less Traveled..

Long story short, my wife didn’t have a clue that night how lucky she was because the Coot-to-be she snagged that night was disguised as an ordinary grad school nebbish.

Bottom line, I don’t know how to answer the question. Even after all these years, life is a great mystery to me. Most of the time, it is a messy experience with the wrong people making the wrong decisions about too many things that mess up my life. Most of the time, I find myself railing at the stupidity that makes my life difficult. But when the dust settles, my ranting is done and I retreat back to the safety of my home to lick my wounds and plot revenge, I realize how lucky I am.

Because of that chance encounter 40 years ago and a bit of effort from time to time since, I have a home. My wife has made a sanctuary of peace and security where a Cantankerous Old Coot can find comfort and forget about life’s problems.

Yes, my wife is a lucky woman but it goes far beyond being married to a Cantankerous Old Coot. It took a long time for me to see what she gave me and even longer to learn how to pay her back. My wife is lucky because she was willing to stick with me until I was mature and responsible enough to understand that I can never do enough for her to make up for all she has given me.

So what kind of woman can marry a Cantankerous Old Coot?

If you really want an answer to the question, ladies, this is the best I can do for you. It takes long term planning. You need to become the kind of woman that will give herself to a man that doesn’t deserve her and hope that he will rise to the challenge. Find some worthless dweeb and devote 40 years to making a home for him. Then, if you are lucky, he will develop into someone of consequence- a Cantankerous Old Coot, if you will. And you will live happily ever after.

Ralph

Ralph is the inspiration for Cantankerous Old Coots and is our Grand Duke of Cantankerousness

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Cocktails in Venice

Posted by Ralph at 03:53 Reflections

Feb 062013

Feeling Mellow.

Nothing too cantankerous for today. I’m still remembering how pleasant it can be sipping a refreshing libation in a sidewalk cafe in Venice. Bella!

Typical Venetian coctail Spritz, as it is prepared in Bistrot de Venice, calle dei Fabbri (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Drinking wine in Italy just seems natural. Hard liquor just isn’t right. Sometimes back home, I need a solid libation like a Martini at the end of a day. Not in Venice. A glass of wine at lunch. Maybe an ombra mid afternoon and then some wine and chicceti to hold you over until the ridiculously late Italian dinner hour. Wine can be white or red like at home. But there is also the Italian sparkling wine called prosecco. Without the pretension (and the price of French champagne) it is a refreshing pick me up anytime. In Venice you can find it everywhere. The message is simple and clear. You can and should enjoy prosecco often, by the glass, by the bottle or in a mixed drink, an Italian cocktail.

I was already sold on prosecco. What surprised me was the ways Venetians used it. They don’t just stop at drinking it straight. They mix it in a cocktail. I discovered that there are two signature cocktails in Venice- both using prosecco- the Bellini and the Spritz. Nothing provides a deeper insight into the Venetian mind than a comparison of those two drinks. They are as different as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Nothing in my life had prepared me for either drink but we intended the Venice trip as full exposure to the Venetian lifestyle and we had to try them both. We already liked prosecco (the common ingredient for both drinks) so why would we not like the cocktails. Billa, the neighborhood supermarket in our Venice neighborhood stocked bottles of pre-made Belinins and we bought some on our first visit. They were pleasant enough but not anything to write home about. It wasn’t until we stopped into a bar near Rialto later in our visit that we had a chance to experience a real Bellini and watch a master craftsman carefully preparing the beautiful elixirs. We found the Bellinni’s delicious. They were fresh, fruity and sparkling. Bellini’s are indeed sublime.

Start with the prosecco

Then carefully add the peach nectar

Glass by glass

by glass

Then another afternoon we tried a spritz. We stopped in at a small bar in our local square after an afternoon exploring. I ordered spritz’s for us and the waitress asked if we wanted Campari or Aperol. I didn’t have a clue which to choose- and there was no point in trying to ask so I said Campari. I had at least heard of Campari even though I had no idea what it tasted like. I was soon to find out that Campari has quite a medicinal overlay. I expected a light, refreshing drink and found myself sipping bitter herbs. The drink was garnished with an orange slice and an olive leaving me to wonder why anyone would waste good prosecco in such a concoction. It is nearly undrinkable.

Later on I realized that the spritz is the perfect drink for the restaurant/bars you find all over Venice. You have to buy something to be allowed to sit but once you buy something, you can sit there as long as you want. With most drinks, I sip away and before long I’m calling the waiter over for a refill. Those view tables in the squares can be pretty pricy and before you know it the travel budget it seriously strained. Not when you are drinking a Spritz. One spritz can last me forever. My wife didn’t even finish hers and we enjoyed a pleasant afternoon sitting in the square for cheap, one drink was plenty.

I hear that Aperol is less medicinal but for me the bloom is off the spritz. I’ll just stick to an ombra of prosecco or a Bellini from now on.

Ralph

Ralph is the inspiration for Cantankerous Old Coots and is our Grand Duke of Cantankerousness

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I can’t rant!

Posted by Ralph at 04:32 rants, Reflections

Jan 292013

Al Capps Joe Btfsplk the worlds greates jinx.

I might end up like Joe.

I’ve lost it. It used to be no trouble at all to erupt in outrage at the drop of a hat even about the most trivial thing. For example, I can remember going off because I could never find a ripe avocado at the store for guacamole. I remember the feeling. I was completely and self-righteously overwhelmed with the absolute certainty that I and every other human being in that store was entitled to find a perfectly ripe avocado right there, right now. It was impossible for me to accept any thought that the store should be allowed to do business if they were only able to supply un-ripe ones. I wanted guacamole. I wanted it now and there was no excuse for any store that expected my business not to know that and have at least one perfectly ripe avocado awaiting my desire. My expectations were perfectly reasonable to me and I let my rant fly without a hesitation or doubt.

But these days my resolution waivers. “Who am I?” I ask myself “ to believe that I should get what I want.” What has happened and why have I turned into such a sniveling wimp? It is troubling.

Maybe guacamole is not a life changing event. Maybe it isn’t really important to have guacamole when you want it. It seems trivial looking back- especially today when guacamole is not my prime directive. There are ways to handle a ripe avocado deficiency and amazingly most people can survive without guacamole. My point, though, is not about the importance of guacamole. It is about rants. Rants have nothing to do with being reasonable or responsible. Rants are about knowing that you are important and matter and the belief that because you matter, someone will at least notice.

Definition of RANT

a: a bombastic extravagant speech

b: bombastic extravagant language

This is what the dictionary tells us about a rant. I agree but a true rant is so much more. Not only is it bombastic and extravagant. It is also cathartic. It releases a load of frustration building from an inability to accomplish something you want. It clearly lets people know that you are somebody with standards and expectations. Finally, it gets you off the hook for any responsibility for that failure. The highest quality rants unload all of that frustration and pile it squarely and vehemently on the shoulders of someone or something else. What a relief.

Well, I’m finding that something has happened. Those rants that just used to flow naturally from normal day to day life have stopped. It isn’t that I don’t get frustrated. It isn’t that bad things have stopped happening. It isn’t that the world around me has stopped being crazy and dysfunctional. It is something else. It’s just that somehow, I can’t summon the energy to let those rants fly and I don’t know why. I have racked my brain for an answer but the ‘aha’ moment escapes me and if I don’t know what is preventing me from venting a good rant. I can’t fix it. The pressure and emotion build up and with no way to let it out, who knows what might happen. I might blow a circuit and turn into a vegetable, or a serial killer or worst of all, an email marketer. I need help.

The problem is that this pressure has turned my mind to mush and I’m impotent to act. The minute I try to analyze the situation, I become mired in infinite possibilities and my mind shuts down. I need help. Times like these are when you need a coldly detached intellect to look at reality and tell you what to do so today I’m throwing the question to readers. Help me out. Tell me what is preventing me from producing a healthy and cathartic rant and how can I restore my psyche to its old uninhibited state?

This is as far as I can take it. I will give you my best guesses for consideration but feel free to explore the universe to find what makes sense to you. So far I have only two hypotheses which are:

It is from living in California where nothing functions efficiently, government is against the people rather than for them and the only ‘good’ money is taxes especially if it is from the rich. I fear that because there is so much to rant about and no way that any individual can stop the craziness all around that my rant engine has overheated and shut down.
Senility is setting in and my mind no longer demands logic, reason and responsibility in the world.

I have to add that neither hypothesis is appealing to me which may contribute to my inability to reason this out. I’m waiting for reason from readers to get me past this. Help me out so I can get back to normal. It is more than I can handle on my own.

Ralph

Ralph is the inspiration for Cantankerous Old Coots and is our Grand Duke of Cantankerousness

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Back to the real world

Posted by Ralph at 13:56 Reflections

Jan 122013

Buenos Aires (Photo credit: SebKe)

I’m in the middle of our fourth day back from a month in Buenos Aires. About the trip back, the less said the better. Travel these days is not a pleasant experience. I don’t need to say anything about airline food except that these days the only time you get it is on international flights where, I guess they fear riots if they didn’t provide something to eat on a 12 hour flight. Believe me; nothing has improved since the old days when you used to get a meal on a long flight. It’s pretty bad. The flight itself is tolerable (at least I find it so). I can find a place for my feet and with a facemask, neck supporting pillow and a sleeping pill I can get a few hours’ sleep.

The killer is all the lines getting on the flight- and getting off. The anticipation of the trip causes me to forget the ordeal on the trip out. It’s the trip back that’s the killer. You wait in line to check in. Then you wait in line for security. Finish that and you wait for immigration. Your mind goes numb and by the time you get on the plane, you are bad tempered and ready to pick a fight about anything. We barely made it to the flight after all that. It’s not fun at all and when you are coming home you don’t have much to look forward to.

After about 26 hours in transit we finally got home. It felt good for about 30 minutes and then my wife started cleaning. I went to bed. It is the only safe place.

By now, I’ve

taken care of the important stuff. Sorted the mail; paid the bills; put away the stuff in our suitcases; stocked the pantry; called roadside assistance to start our cars. Now it is just making the final adjustments to being back home and settling back into the old routine. It was a great trip and I have a lot to share about but right now the big task is mental. I still can’t believe that the vacation is over and it is time to get back to work. It is hard to focus. I’ll just close this post down and hope that my mind will start getting focused tomorrow. Maybe it’s like getting the first olive out of the jar and it will be easier next time.

Ralph

Ralph is the inspiration for Cantankerous Old Coots and is our Grand Duke of Cantankerousness

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