Stuck.

Flight home canceled.

Good times.

We went into to downtown Austin at dusk tonight for the nightly running of the bats. We joined thousands of people who stood on the Congress Street Bridge in downtown Austin and on the banks of the Colorado River to watch more than 1.5 million bats pour out from underneath the bridge that has become the largest urban bat habitat in the world.

Pretty cool, actually.

I’m convinced that future generations will view the current feverish hype about global warming very much like we view the witch trial hysteria that gripped Salem, Massachussetts back in 1692.

We view the Salem trials as both ridiculous and tragic. Regarding this current madness—the presence of Al Gore as a self-appointed savior of the world automatically covers  the ridiculous side of that equation. And the fact that public schools all over the nation have been given the “An Inconvenient Truth” curriculum to frighten and indoctrinate an entire generation of impressionable young children qualifies as full-on tragedy.

A few months ago I laid out a “Not-So-Concise Guide to Global Warming Scaremongery” in my other blog.

Now, before the brainwashing materials have even been fully distributed to the nations children, the much-touted “scientific consensus” on global warming has already begun to look remakably un-consensus-y. Take, for example the article Drudge was shouting about yesterday.  

It is an article by a very credible scientist/professor type person in Canada. Here’s a tidbit:

Solar scientists predict that, by 2020, the sun will be starting into its weakest Schwabe solar cycle of the past two centuries, likely leading to unusually cool conditions on Earth. Beginning to plan for adaptation to such a cool period, one which may continue well beyond one 11-year cycle, as did the Little Ice Age, should be a priority for governments. It is global cooling, not warming, that is the major climate threat to the world, especially Canada.

The real scientific consensus that is just beginning to emerge is that it is the cycles of the sun, not people-produced greenhouse gases, that is driving the earth’s cycles of warming and cooling.

. . .getting my firstborn enrolled at Baylor.  Thus the blogging is pretty light. So, here. Look at this:

There are far too many powerful groups in Washington with an interest in seeing the country flooded with dirt cheap labor from South of the border for the Immigration “reform” bill to be allowed to die a dignified death.

1. The Democrat party leaders correctly see the flood as a party-building exercise. It’s a way to shift the electoral balance in their favor for generations to come, even if it does screw the Unions, blue collar workers in general, and the working poor — all groups they claim to champion.

2. Multinational and trans-national corporations which largely don’t give a rip about American cultural identity, or national security for that matter, are also deploying their considerable influence in both political parties.

3. And then there’s the President, whose compassionate-conservativism, on this issue, is all the first element and none of the second.

 Thus, that charging bull elephant I mentioned in a previous post is about to take another run at congressional approval.

I like David Frum’s recent take on this:

I for one am absolutely open to considering an amnesty plan at any date after the FIFTH anniversary of the completion of border control measures, including an effective employment verification system.

It’s not unlike what I said on this post, i.e., “Let’s secure the borders and then schedule a time to chat about our current illegals in, say, four or five years.”

. . . because The History Channel is running “The History of Sex” again. And as I write, it’s sister channel, History International, is airing “Sex in War: Sex in Vietnam.”

A couple of times each year History Channel puts aside it’s overviews of the Peloponnesian War and rehashes of the Titanic’s sinking (all of which I like, by the way) and tries to sex things up a little bit for a ratings boost.

I guess it’s that time again.  

Received a phone call from sis on Friday. The results of the PET scan had come in. They brought confirmation of what we had strongly suspected but fervently hoped against.

Dad, on the threshold of 78, is also in the first stages of Alzheimers.

Here on this Father’s Day, may I tell you a little about my dad?

He earned a Master’s Degree in Biology from the University of Oklahoma. Until he retired in 1984, he was a college professor, the head of the Biology Department at a small state college in Southeastern Oklahoma.

Yes, he retired early. He said teaching had stopped being fun because it seemed fewer and fewer students were actually interested in learning anything. He was 54 when he quit. (Dear God, in seven years I’ll be the same age he was when he walked away.) But over the years I’ve come across dozens of former students who told me he was the finest teacher they’d ever had.

When I was a kid, taking the bus out to his campus office after school was an exotic adventure. His classroom featured, beakers and test tubes, a huge Anaconda skin, an old wasps nest the size of a German Shepherd, slimy stuff in aquariums, and unspeakable things in jars of formaldehyde. To me and my friends, Dad wasn’t a mere science teacher. He was a “scientist” and, in my mind, one of the smartest men in the world.

As long as I can remember, Dad has been obsessed with crossword puzzles. He’s long been able to work the New York Times crossword in short order. Until recently, anyway. A quiet, soft-spoken man, it’s always been ironic that a person of so few words should know so many.

Oh, yes. Words.

About a year ago, we started noticing Dad struggling to find the one he was looking for. It was usually a noun that seemed so elusive. Just here and there at first, he would not be able to come up with what a certain, common thing was called.

In an especially poignant irony, the first occasion I really noticed this development, Dad was telling me about a gentleman in their church:

Dad: We got some bad news the other day about old Mr. so and so. He’s got. . . He has . . . oh, what’s the name of that thing old people get where they can’t remember anything?

Me: Alzheimer’s?

Dad: Yeah, that’s it. He has Alzheimer’s.

The missing nouns problem has gotten gradually worse over the last year and has, on bad days, made communication a challenge for Dad. Because his speech pathways have really been the only point of attack, he has been fully and painfully aware of what is happening to him. It’s been a year of frustration, discouragement, and embarrassment.

Exposing Dad to additional embarrassment is the last thing I want to do, so I won’t elaborate. (Dad doesn’t read blogs so he won’t be reading this.) The fact is, he is bearing his present circumstances with extraordinary grace and peace.

On my last trip home, we took a drive into town. Dad, who in my lifetime has never wanted to talk about anything personal or sensitive, took the opportunity to talk to me about what he was facing. No, he hadn’t received the definitive diagnosis yet, but he knew:“I just want you to know I’m not upset or sad about what’s happening to me,” Dad told me. “I’m not asking, ‘Why me?’ I been on the receiving end of too many blessings that I didn’t deserve to complain about this. It just is what it is.”

Of course, barring something miraculous, some of the most trying and heartbreaking days ahead will be faced by my mom. She was the one who, before my sister called, had tried to tell me what the doctor had said about the PET scan. Out of a 20-minute flurry of medical jargon and diagnosis and prognosis, Mom could remember only one phrase the doctor had delivered:

“Well, it looks like we’re slipping away.” he’d said.

Yes, it would appear so. But not yet. We have some time.

Time to say things you’ve wanted to say but haven’t because that’s just not what we do in our family. Things like:

“Thanks for always making sure we all had good cars and insurance and gas credit cards while you drove beaters for decades.”

“And for never once taking any of the golden opportunities I presented to berate or browbeat or second-guess or say ‘I told you so.'”

“You need to know that you did a good job. No, you weren’t perfect. You’re as flawed and damaged as the rest of us. But you got the big things right. And a lot of the little ones, too.”

“And by the way, did you know that there has never been a single day of my life that I haven’t been proud that you’re my dad?”

“And one more thing. . .some words I honestly don’t think I’ve said to you since I got too big to kiss you and Mom goodnight before running off to bed. . . I love you, Dad.”

So, I’ll sieze the precious time we have. And I’ll say what ought to be said.

Before he slips away.

I swapped email today with a friend who lives in Cape Town, South Africa. It put me in remembrance of the day I snapped this picture, right below Table Mountain in Cape Town. . .

 

It was a good day.

The shot is of the “12 Apostles”—the series of 12 peaks which stretch southward from Table Mountain toward the tip of African continent. It was late afternoon and I was standing right about here shooting South. (zoom the map out for perspective)

My traveling companion that day was a native South African so he knew the territory. We drove on South along the coast road to a beautiful beach town called Hout Bay. We had a dinner of Ostrich, Springbok, and Kudu—all delicious.

Since I was a kid, I have always loved standing out under a dark sky and watching the stars. I learned the constellations and the planets early on but since I have lived most of my adult life in major cities, the chance to stand under a truly dark sky is a rare treat. And thus I couldn’t resist asking my friend to pull over before we headed back to Cape Town so I could stand under a set of stars I’d never seen before.

As Crosby, Stills and Nash said, “When you see The Southern Cross for the first time. . .”

Well. . .as I said. It was a good day.

This week, Sen. Reid , insulted two of the most decorated and accomplished leaders in our military. Two men with lifetimes of unblemished service to our country.

I think it’s time to bring Dennis Miller back out. Here Dennis shares some thoughts about the distinguished Senator:

It is maddening to think that this guy is now Senate Majority Leader solely because a couple of states that should know better threw a Bush-fatigue hissy fit in the last election cycle.

Thanks Montana. Thanks Virginia. Nicely done.

I’m a big fan of the old Wallace & Grommit claymation films. In recent weeks I had been seeing some CBS promos for a new series by W&G creator Nick Park in which regular Americans (meaning eccentrics, oddballs, and neurotics) are interviewed and then the audio is put into the mouths of claymation characters. It’s hard to explain, you just have to see it.

I had missed the debut program so I was grateful when friend and colleague, Jon, over at www.talkmulch.wordpress.com sent me a link to the CBS site where the entire program, sans all but a couple of commercials, is avialable for streaming.

If you have a pretty fast internet connection and 21 minutes to laugh out loud, I say go to Episode 1 of Creature Comforts as fast as your clicky finger can take you. {Note: I’m not being able to link directly to Episode 1 so you’ll need to click “Watch Full Episodes” and then choose “Episode 1.” Turn up the audio you won’t want to miss the first few seconds.}