up in the air

My oft-vaunted (and, some would say, flaunted) promise to return to Mexico is at hand.


If all goes as planned, I will be getting on an airplane at Portland Airport in about 20 minutes.  And later this afternoon, we will set down in Cancun.


A blogger friend and I will then head over to the Latin American Bloggers' Conference -- and we will then spend a week touring Mayan ruins, colonial churches, and post-modern eateries.  We will be covering the Yucatan world.


But you know all this -- other than the fact that I am actually heading back to Mexico.


To my friends in The States who urged me to stay, I have one request.  Come on down!  I will show you a great time.


And now for the ironic twist.  I have no idea when I can next post -- even at the bloggers' conference.


But if you hang in there with me, I will be back.

thanksgiving 2010

In Canada, it is celebrated on the first Monday in October.  In Liberia, the first Monday in November.  In America, the fourth Thursday in November.


The world has its schedule.  The Cottons have theirs.  And Saturday was Cotton Thanksgiving.


For some reason, our family does not celebrate holidays on their designated date.  There is the obvious reason that we are a clan of contrarians.  That explains much about the tone of this blog.


But there is a more rational (and gracious) explanation.  Our schedules simply preclude getting together.  We are a people who find joy in work.


This year there is another reason, though.  I fly away on the morning of 10 November -- and I wanted to be part of my favorite holiday.


I have always enjoyed Thanksgiving.  It is a value-laden holiday without the adrenalin and bile of Christmas.


It is a time to enjoy family and food in relaxing surroundings.  This year, the setting was not one of our homes, but a favorite restaurant: Huber's in Portland.  Where turkey dinners are always the specialty.


We are not a large tribe.  There is my mother, my brother (Darrel), his wife (Christie), my niece (Kaitlyn), my nephew (Ryan), his wife (Sara), and their son (Collin).  Darrel flew in from Virginia -- just in time for dinner.  (That is a photograph of my sainted bother and his grandson, Collin, at the top of this post.)


The turkey at Huber's is always good.  But the chance to share the evening with some of the most clever and witty people I know was even better.  Four generations of people simply enjoying one another.


And I am thankful for every one of them.


Now, I just need to figure out some plan to get all of them south of the border on regular visits.

smell of the crowd

I am an actor.


Well, I have the soul of an actor.  I love performing in front of a group of people -- almost anywhere. 


That is one reason I looked forward to coming back to my former employer -- if only for a brief stay.  I wanted to -- metaphorically -- put on the grease paint and strut the boards.


It didn't quite turn out that way.  I returned as a mentor-trainer for my replacement.  That meant I did not get to do all of the general training and related appearances that made my old job so much fun.


But I have a new outlet for my frustrated thespian gene.  I just finished putting the final touches on my presentation for the Third Annual Latin American Bloggers' Conference -- on a topic most of us should find interesting.  And I am looking forward to doing it.
The conference will mark my return to Mexico -- and my return to road trips.  I will tell you a little more about that in the next few days.


For now, I will simply tune up my vocal chords.  There is some serious acting to be done.

table manners

Like politicians, I break my promises.


I once wrote that this blog was not a place for politics.  My advice then:  take it outside!


But here I am babbling away about my former hobby.  Three posts in a row now.


And if my favorite magazine, The Economist, had not published the table at the top of this post, I would have moved on to some other mundane topic.  But the table is too interesting to ignore.


Americans love trashing the party in power.  We saw that most recently in 2008.  Mid-term elections are the perfect time to swing a sharp elbow at the guys on top of the heap.  Keeps them humble.  Lets them know who is boss.


Losing some seats in Congress is not unusual for the party holding the White House.  Only twice since the end of the Second World War has the White House avoided losing some of its purported political allies.


Some years are more remarkable for the size of the losses.  The classic examples being Truman's losses in 1946, Eisenhower's losses in 1958, Johnson's losses in 1966, Ford's losses in 1974, and Clinton's losses in 1994.  Each one signified a major political sea change.


But, look at the chart.  As major as those changes were, they were smaller than the tsunami that just hot the Obama White House.


Of course, bad political news is not necessarily disastrous news.  The midterms were bad presidential news for the Republicans in 1960 and 1976, and for the Democrats in 1980.  But both Truman and Clinton managed to survive re-election with polar opposite strategies.


All of that merely shows history is far more interesting than it is determinative. 


It will be interesting to see if the president tries the "Give 'em Hell" Harry or the "steal their clothes" Bill approach.


Anybody care to wager a few pesos?
   

the long count

The year was 1988.  After nine years of private law practice, I decided the time was right to start my political career.

If someone had dropped off their election crystal ball earlier that year, I would have saved myself the trouble.  I did not choose wisely.

I lived in a legislative district where the voter registration was about evenly divided.  The current state representative had served two terms.  And even though he was strongly disliked by most of his colleagues in Salem, he had managed to put together a local coalition of voters based on some groups that should have been my natural supporters.

I also knew I would have a strong primary election challenger -- the political director of a group in Oregon that was stirring up bad blood over some hot button issues.  And I was correct.  After a bruising primary campaign, I won -- just barely.  There was no reconciliation.

This was the year that President Bush the Elder ran for president.  Oregon was one of the swing states, and one party (not mine) sunk millions into getting their adherents to the polls.

Even with all of those hurdles, I almost won in the general election. 


But, "almost" counts in horse shoes and hand grenades.  It is worth nothing in politics.  And I had to wait almost a week to get the result.  The race was that tight.

I felt the echo of a knot in my stomach this morning as I read about yesterday's election. 


Three US Senate seats were still too close to declare a winner, as was the Oregon governor's race.  But the legislative races were the most interesting.  The Republicans and Democrats had 28 seats each in the House -- with four seats undecided.  In the Senate, the Democrats had 15 seats, the Republicans 13 -- with two seats undecided.

I felt for each of those hang-fire candidates.  Hearing that you have lost is a disappointment.  But being forced to watch final votes trickle in  -- and see-saw back and forth -- is pure torture.

It appears Oregon's voters (who have recently been reliable supporters of Democrat candidates) have been affected by the same malaise as the rest of the country.

As for me, I am taking my mood south of the border.  I am going to miss a lot of things here in Oregon.  But politics is not one of them.

Note:  The House races have now been decided.  The split is 30-30.  And one of the Senate races has been decided for a 15-14 split, with a good possibility of a 15-15 split.  No matter who wins the Governor's race, there is going to be a lot of horse-trading in the next two years.

I cannot let one disturbing development pass unnoticed.  Oregon elections are startling to take on the patina, if not the rust, of Illinois politics.  State-wide races always start with a big vote count from the Portland area.  Then the down-state votes are counted.  Only then are the remainder of the Portland votes tallied -- usually tipping the election to the same party in every close election.  Maybe we want to be known as the Louisiana of the Pacific Northwest.
 

stamping my ballot

It is election day in America.


For Oregon, it has been election day for several weeks.  We tend to be a bit eccentric -- both in our politics and in our political institutions.


We have not had polling places for several years now.  Instead of greeting our election board neighbors and the raptorian poll watchers every two years or so at the local school, we have reduced the civic exercise of voting to mail-in ballots.  So, my fellow citizens have been voting and mailing for a couple of weeks.


I understand that most other states have eased up their absentee ballot procedures -- to the point that some voting districts receive a majority of their ballots before election day rolls around.


The best part of the early-voting process is that it throws off the candidates and their campaigns.  Political advertisements once built to a climax on the weekend before election day.   


No longer.  We are now barraged for weeks on end.  With candidates hoping they can manipulate us into a moment of weakness -- just as we are looking at our ballots.


Without television, I miss most of the nonsense.  But I have seen a sample this year. 


I was on the exercise bike at the club the other evening.  I usually read my Kindle while I try to pedal away a bit of fat.  For some reason, I glanced down at the built-in television on the handlebars.


The news was on.  But during a break -- that I swear lasted five minutes -- the political advertisement started running.  They were all attack ads.  And they were often positioned with each opponent's ads being juxtaposed -- making each of them sound like five-year olds trading "did"/"did not".


Attack ads have classically been designed to suppress voter turnout -- or to enrage the true believers.  And they appear to be working this year.  In most states, the Democrats are dis-spirited.  And the Republicans and Independents are invigorated.


I saw that recently.  I was talking to a Democrat friend of mine this weekend.  He was tidying up his place, and I noticed that one piece of mail he was throwing away was his ballot.  When I asked him about it, he simply said he had no interest in voting this year.  He was disappointed with all politicians.


The sentiment is one I can appreciate.  I long ago stopped thinking that politicians could do much good.  If America proposers, it will be despite its political leaders.


But, I cared enough to vote this year.  Not because I am invigorated or enraged.  It is simply something my generation does.  Like bringing flowers on the first date.


And I want to followup later this week on that topic.  Generational politics.


But for today, we will simply wait to see the mood of the American public.  I suspect the outcome is going to be challenging.

old and kicking

Old geezer fantasies are a classic recipe for Hollywood.  The last two Indiana Jones flicks being perfect examples -- especially, Kingdom of the Numbskulls, or whatever it was titled.


To avoid the few children that come begging for candy on Halloween, I headed off to the movies on Sunday night.  And saw one of the best geezer fantasies I have seen in some time.


The best of those films usually involves an older man retired from some physical activity, who returns to his old job and shows up all the young pups.  Sometimes, he even gets to indulge in the pornography fantasy of winning over the much-younger woman.


Red has it all.  And does it well.


Bruce Willis is a retired Black Ops agent, whose bleak suburban life is spiced up by talking with a young government clerk, Mary-Louise Parker, about his lost pension check.  A check he destroys monthly merely to continue the flirting.


All of that changes when an assassination squad tries to bump him off.  The plot goes on a roller coaster spin where Willis kidnaps Parker and joins forces with Morgan Freeman (who trots out his noble Mandela for us), John Malkovich (who can play loony and paranoid with the best), and Helen Mirren (imagine Elizabeth II as Annie Oakley).


Willis's old gang -- and his new love interest, Parker -- then take on the entire power structure of the United States to do The Right Thing.  What that Thing is doesn't really matter.  It is the fact that old people are doing it -- and doing it well.


Watching Bruce Willis pummel a twenty-something agent in an old-fashioned bar fight is enough to get the Geritol Set's blood rushing.


But this isn't all fantasy.  Three years ago, several Americans on a cruise were visiting Costa Rica.  Three robbers accosted them and demanded their valuables.  An American, in his 70s, put one of the robbers in a head lock and broke the robber's clavicle.  The two other robbers fled.  The injured man died.


I remember when that story appeared in the newspapers.  The guy who defended his fellow cruisers was an immediate hero.  To no one's surprise he was a retired Marine.  My Marine friends like to point out: "Once a Marine, always a Marine."


Red is a fantasy.  But it has a germ of truth in it.  Many of us may be retired, but we are not gone.


And we have a lot of good years to offer.  Just not in our old jobs.