Friday Bird Blogging

Add another to the life bird list...

Polioptila caerulea, the blue-gray gnatcatcher.

The bird is a little bit bigger than a hummingbird -- I think this is a breeding female. Well, in fact, I'm pretty certain it is, because my wife & I stumbled upon its nest...

(Note the beak of the nestling. There were three by my count.)

Gear: Nikon D2H with 70-200VR AF-S, 1.7x teleconverter, on Sandisk digital film.

Bonus:

A downy woodpecker, cropped and coverted to B&W:

Sit Down & Stay Awhile!

I doubt that this was the sort of courtesy for which the South is so famous, but there are big doin's over at Capitol Hill today. See Sharon Cobb's running account. She's even nabbed the attention of Michael Moore, who's working on a documentary about healthcare, so I imagine Governor Bredesen is understandably worried.

Hey, speaking of which, I ran into him on Sunday at the Green Hills McDonalds, lookin' a little peaked. Ironic that his 2-cheeseburger combo was brought to him and prepared by people about to be hard hit by his proposals, but then, I suspect that he knows that his constituents don't necessarily know what their best interests are nor who best represents them. Fact o' business, I think that's how he figures to stay in office.

Anyway, I recall ol' Phil is not a Nashville native. Neither am I, but I have been learning gradually about its rich history.

He might do well to remember...



...Nashville pretty well invented the sit-in right here.

Terms of Endurance

Wow, is this ever rich:

Condi Rice, on Fox News Sunday, June 19, 2005:

"The administration, I think, has said to the American people that it is a generational commitment to Iraq.

(source)

And this little nugget:

From the ashes of abandoned Iraqi army bases, U.S. military engineers are overseeing the building of an enhanced system of American bases designed to last for years.

Last year, as troops poured over the Kuwait border to invade Iraq, the U.S. military set up at least 120 forward operating bases. Then came hundreds of expeditionary and temporary bases that were to last between six months and a year for tactical operations while providing soldiers with such comforts as e-mail and Internet access.

Now U.S. engineers are focusing on constructing 14 "enduring bases," long-term encampments for the thousands of American troops expected to serve in Iraq for at least two years. The bases also would be key outposts for Bush administration policy advisers.

(source)

Generational commitment? Enduring bases? Whuuuuuuuuuuuuuh???

What happened to...:

George W. Bush, May 1, 2003:



What happened to elections being an important precursor to the transfer of power to the Iraqi people? What happened to that civilian police force that was coming along so well?

Oh, right. They weren't being honest.

They lied us into getting involved in a war, and now they're lying to us about getting us out.

No small coincidence, I think, that they use the word "enduring" to refer to the major combat operation itself and their new plan to build 14 permanent bases on Iraqi soil.

Don't bother talking about democratization anymore. It's just bullshit. Democracy does not exist at the point of a gun.

That Which Makes Music City Worthwhile, Vol. I:

Outside the Bound'ry…

The Rose Pepper Cantina (1907 Eastland Ave., 615-227-4777).  The lynchpin in the redevelopment of commerce along the Eastland corridor, the Rose Pepper sports an ample outdoor covered deck, quirky yet authentic southwestern recipes, and a Mexican martini which is about the best this side of Austin, TX.  You get a selection of three salsas as you're seated (mild, spicy, and verde), and all of the concoctions on the menu which my wife & I have tried are excellent -- both for value and for whallop.  The décor is tasteful and modern, with understated lighting and ample seating throughout.  Live bands appear occasionally, and its state is normally best described as "packed," especially on weekends.  Long-time Nashvillagers will remember this location as Joe's Diner, but it's come a long way since (as has the neighborhood).  I believe that the restaurant is the upscaled counterpart to Inglewood dive Es Fernandos (4704 Gallatin Pk., 615-227-3060), which is always worth a stop for massive portions at minimal price. 

While you're around East Nashville, and you're in the mood for bar-hopping, check out the Family Wash (2038 Greenwood Ave., 615-226-6070) for excellent crudites and a good, unpretentious selection of beverages.  I have yet to visit the 3 Crow Bar (1024 Woodland St., 615-262-3345), as it supplanted the legendary Slow Bar, but it gets a lot of buzz.  I don't know if it's well deserved.  The buzz about Margot (1017 Woodland St., 615-227-4668), however, is richly deserved.  Intimate, upscale, and -- yes -- a bit pretentious, but nothing that they can't back with the menu.  Creative, sumptuous specials always available, but expect to spend some money.  It ain't food; it's COO-zine.  Reservations strongly recommended.

Celebrating Father's Day

From an article my dad penned the Thanksgiving after he'd been diagnosed with the cancer which would eventually take his life two years later:

Robert H. Wilson, (c) Danville Commercial-News, Nov. (?) 1988:

---------------------------

Life has never seemed sweeter.

You see, I wasn't supposed to be alive this Thanksgiving -- much less be looking forward to Thanksgivings, Christmases, birthdays and other anniversaries yet to come.

So what if I have to walk around with a tube strung through my chest and medicine trickling into me from a battery-powered pump? It beats dying.

So what if the medical bills are piling up? They'll get paid -- eventually.

"Eventually" was a word that dropped from my vocabulary for a while. It feels so good to have it back again.

Five months ago, my death sentence was delivered by the surgeon who opened up my innards to see what was going on in there.

"Your husband is full of cancer," he told my wife in the surgery waiting room. "If I were you, I'd get in the car and take a long vacation."

The exploratory surgery found a mess of small tumors all through my abdominal area and a bigger one partially blocking my colon.

How long did I have? The surgeon said anywhere from days to weeks. (To borrow an old vaudeville line, "Doctor, you've got to be kidding!")

The surgeon's prognosis scared even him -- seelng that he was about my age.

My wife and I -- to say the least -- were devastated. We had so much going for us up until then.

We were expecting our second child in about six weeks. Now the doctor couldn't guarantee I would live to see it born.

Our first child was about to turn two. I was shattered by the thought that this light of my life would grow up without her dad -- without having any memories of me except old pictures.

My first-born son was finishing his freshman year in college. My oldest daughter had just graduated from high school. Now I wasn't likely going to be around to see them finish college, start their own lives.

I had always planned on spoiling grandchildren of my own someday. Oh well, so much for that.

To top it off, my wife and I were in the process of buying a new house -- an old house, that is, that we fell in love with as soon as we saw it.

Everything had seemed so bright. Then life for me fluttered away like a house of cards in a hurricane.

Forty-one is not a ripe, old age -- especially when it's you who is 41. I cried a lot -- especially when I thought of leaving my wife and kids behind.

But then the good things started to happen. Enter my oncologist, Dr. Ken Rowland of Carle Hospital, the first person to cast a little optimism over the gloom. He told to me to ignore what the surgeon said and to keep in mind that people a lot sicker than I was have survived. He talked me into going on chemotherapy.

Enter my parents, who headed for the hospital as soon u they heard and who convinced me they were not about to outlive any of their children.

Enter my siblings, who phoned, wrote, visited from their far-flung homes and offered their moral support. One brother even sent me not one but two copies of Dr. Bernie Segal's book, "Love, Medicine and Miracles," which extols the importance of attitude in surviving so-called "terminal" illness. (I guess my brother thought if one copy would help, two would help even more.)

Enter my in-laws, uncles, aunts, other relatives, friends and colleagues -- who urged me to get well, brought over meals for us after I got out of the hospital, helped us move into that new old house.

Enter those fellow cancer patients -- some of whom have died since then -- who told me I could make it.

All these people helped me remind myself that we are all in this together -- that, indeed, no man is an island even in the depths of despair.

And, of course, enter that new daughter, Emma, who is now almost four months old. Not only did I live long enough to find out if No. 4 was a boy or girl; I was right there in the delivery room to snap her picture as she joined the human race.

I have stared down the gullet of The Beast, and I'm still here.

I'm back on my feet, back to work and back in the swing.

I have always been a big fan of wildflowers, autumn leaves and the other beauties of nature. But never have they seemed so beautiful as this year. Never have I taken them less for granted.

The sunrises and sunsets have never been more awe-inspiring. The rivers and lakes have never sparkled more brightly, piggybacking a child at bedtime has never been more comforting. Thanksgiving has never seemed so aptly named.

I can't just stop and smell the roses anymore. I revel in them.

---------------------------

One of the few articles I kept.

You know, those things never seem really important when you're aged 20 years, but knowing now what I know then, I'd sure enough have collected a lot more than I did.

That said, hope everyone had a good Father's Day. I celebrate with my memories.

SKB Placeholder

I don't know if I'm getting hits thanks to the flap about the coerced outing of South Knox Bubba, but I thought that I would leave this space as an accomodation to Brian Conley, Ellen Mallernee, Molly Kincaid, or anyone else interested in taking any personal stuff with me where it belongs: to me. I am in SKB's blogroll and I do leave my blog in my signature over there, so logically, maybe someone will saunter over here and decide to leave a comment.

I'll offer a weak apology here: I'm sorry if you were offended by my (admittedly pointed) remarks. Seems like I hit a nerve, otherwise you wouldn't worry about being called "skeeze" or "skanks" or "Buffys" or "overindulged" or whatever it was that I said. Seems hardly to matter now.

All this aside, your depth of offense gives you no right to conduct a campaign to destroy someone's career, or to shut them up, or to embarrass them -- especially since your primary beef, Brian, was with the things that I SAID which Bubba let stand. Heck, that'd be like me signing off on an expense report where I knew that my employees were on assignment and driving drunk at the time. I can only assume what your staffers' thoughts on the matter are, since you seem bound and determined to shield them from criticism. Maybe I was overly frank with my thoughts on the quality of that article, but I took some offense of my own. Apparently you're the only one in the universe that has the right to act on that, however.

If you're considering widening your campaign of personal destruction, don't bother. The details of my life are shamefully boring by Knoxville standards, as it were. I'm a photographer by hobby and a sales engineer by trade. I brew my own beer. That's about the most edgy thing I'm into these days.

Thankfully, while I'm not always proud of the things I've said, I have no regrets to follow me through this debacle. While I may have come off like a reactionary, bloviating asshole, at least I've spared myself the indignity of looking like a world-class borderline personality case.

Friday Fledgling Blogging

Very juvenile (2-day fledgling) cardinal.



My wife had noticed this bird coming of age in the nandina bushes around the house. After we had a scare with the bluebirds, we were happy to find this guy flitting around the parking lot. Not one bit afraid of us... this shot taken from about 3' with a Nikon 24-120VR.

Comparison shot for scale purposes:



That's a pickup truck tire below, just to give you some idea of how little this creature is.

One! One Public TV Network! Tw... Wait, There's Only One.

I've been following a number of developments leading up to the announcement that the Bush Administration is cutting funding to the Corporation for Public Broadcasting by 25% this year. For all of their vitriol aimed at the unabashed liberalism of Bill Moyers, and their frustration with the actual reporting happening on Frontline and the McNeill News Hour, I think can pinpoint the real target of the Republican campaign to cripple public television:

Sesame Street.

Now, as I think about this -- what other non-profit company has been as committed and as successful as the Children's Television Workshop in promoting child social, emotional and educational development? What other concern addresses children's motivation and interest in the arts, or pre-school literacy, and introduces concepts in math and science as well as CTW? All noble aspirations, right? So why take them on? What makes them a target?

Well, in order to send a message to "liberal" news organizations, that's why. To wreak revenge on the perceived political enemies of the state. And in order to bust a cap in Bill Moyers absent butt, they're willing to scrap the network which has brought real value and continues to demonstrate real value to our society. To our CHILDREN. These family values hypocrites seek to destroy the medium which has taught three generations of children the honest community values brought to you by Elmo, the letter Q, and the number 8.

What am I talking about?

Self-esteem. Sharing. Co-operation. Tolerance. Pluralism. Imagination. Creativity. Love. Innocence. Friendship. Communication. Multiculturalism. Integrity. Honesty. Coping with loss (remember when Mr. Hooper died and someone had to explain that to Big Bird?).

Sesame Street communicates all of these things on a daily basis to millions of children here and around the world, and all without a single mention of GOD or THE BIBLE or JESUS.

Sesame Street represents a secular culture that teaches all of the things that you're supposed to learn in Sunday School, and all without indoctrination in the Scriptures or instilling fear or shame in our children as a means to control them throughout their lives.

You know that has to scare the living crap out of the prime Republican movers in the wingnut Christian community.

Think I'm off base? Who lost their mortal cool about the purported sexual proclivity of the Teletubbies? Jerry Falwell. Who had public conniption fits about the perceived flamboyance of a cartoon sponge? James Dobson. You think for a second that they really have any love for Elmo, Grover, or Kermit? I'm sure they've also expressed grave reservations about the sinful nature of the cohabitation of Bert and Ernie.

The coordinated Republican campaign for "fairness and balance" in media is so reckless and so shameless that they're willing to kick Wishbone, Reading Rainbow, The Electric Company, ZOOM, and Clifford The Big Red Dog to the curb. But I don't believe in coincidences. If this administration is willing to lie about terrorism in order to establish control over oil, then it's not so much of a stretch to believe that they'll carp about Bill Moyers when what they really want to do is take Big Bird away from your children.

Oscar may be a Grouch, but he's a paragon of virtue compared to these power-mad, lying schmucks running our country and dominating our discourse.

This madness must stop.

Support your local public broadcasters. In Nashville, WPLN 90.3 FM/1410 AM on the radio; WNPT on UHF & cable.

Friday Flower Blogging



Found outside of a K-Mart in Hopkinsville, KY.

Friday Bird Blogging

Pileated Woodpecker, near the primitive Methodist Church in Cades Cove:



Eastern Meadowlark, in Cades Cove near Myatt Lane, sunset:



[EDIT: Whoops! Almost forgot one!]

A Canadian gosling, stretching out by the side of the road in Great Smoky Mountain National Park.

Thursday Landscapes

At Roaring Fork:



At Cades Cove, sunrise:

Not Dead

Here's a little placeholder for visitors to this site. I have not sworn off blogging, nor am I going on a deep dive from which I will never surface, to become a curiosity viewed best from the keel of a glass bottomed boat.

No, that is not my fate, nor is that the fate of One Reporter's Opinion. However, life has managed to intervene most successfully in my erstwhile Blogerian efforts.

So, that said, here's my shortest short list:

* The "nuclear compromise" is a colossal ripoff in the ascendant tradition of Democratic BOHICA.

* Digital Landscape (http://www.digitallandscape.org) is a worthwhile way to spend a few days, even if you come back with a serious grocery list for photographic goodies. Anyone wanting to know, I'm in the market for Nik software, a Wacom Intuos3 6x8 USB tablet, and an Arca B2 ballhead.

* Integrity on Survivor is about as worthwhile as bringing a bucket of saline water to camp for drinking. That was a disappointing end to what have should have been one for the books.

* New releases from John Doe, the Go-Betweens, Robbie Fulks -- all on Yep Roc Records. (And it looks like they've signed Bob Mould. Good stuff.)

* Check out the Flaming Lips Fearless Freaks DVD. More good stuff.

Look here in the next few days for some posts from DLWS. Turks & Caicos to follow in mid-June.

Peace.

A couple of days after Friday Bird Blogging



A pair of bluebirds in the front yard. We have hatchlings on the way. The first one is already out:



Bonus:

Black vulture on the wing...

Lest We Forget

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.



It is altogether appropriate that we remember and honor *all* those who died to protect our freedom.

Kent State, OH 5/4/70

Friday Bird Blogging

I don't think this can be topped, really.



(Photograph of a pair of stuffed ivory billed woodpeckers at the LSU Natural History Museum.)

Congratulations to Cornell University, The Nature Conservancy, the Fish & Wildlife Service, and the yeoman efforts of all those who made the (re-)discovery of this bird possible.

I'd say welcome back to the land of the living, but that's a totally selfish and anthropocentric point of view, innit? Fact is, they've never left the world. They simply had the sense to find somewhere on the continent that we were not. The fact that they've managed to stay in self-obscurity for so long is a testament to their adaptation to human encroachment and their innate drive to survive.

Let's not screw this up for them a second time, 'k?

If you're looking for somewhere to cast a few dollars, you could do much worse than The Nature Conservancy.

My letter to the editors of Time "Magazine."

Editors:

I am deeply offended by Time Magazine's decision to run a cover story about Ann Coulter on the 10th anniversary of the Oklahoma City bombing.

As a major media outlet, I would like to think that your company had more sense than to write a puff piece on Ms. Coulter, especially given her animosity to mainstream media in general. She is a partisan demagogue devoted to destroying the great democratic tradition of this country by being a tireless advocate of single-party Republican rule. Her "humble" beginnings as one of "The Elves" -- a band of neo-conservative idealogues bent on the destruction of Bill Clinton's presidency -- should give anyone pause when assessing her journalistic credibility. Her role in the "new media" was to spread misinformation about the political positions of the American left as surrogate for the Republican Party in general, and Richard Mellon Scaife in particular.

Her vile invective against people with whom she does not agree has no place in the public discourse. Comments like "my only regret" about the people that perished in the Oklahoma City bombing "was that Tim McVeigh did not go to the New York Times building," even with the shoddy disclaimer that she only wished that reporters and editors had been killed, is simply beyond the pale. Not only does it dishonor the memory of the senseless murder of 168 innocent people, the fact that a bastion of American journalism would glorify the career of a woman who advocates the murder of journalists -- even in "jest" -- disgraces, debases, and dishonors the practice of journalism.

There is a long tradition in the journalistic craft within my family. My grandfather worked for the Chicago Daily News and the Chicago Sun-Times, my father worked for the Danville Commercial-News, and my step-father works for the Battle Creek Inquirer. I shudder to think that anyone would find her comments about murdering journalists "cute" or "part of the agitprop" were some terrorist bomb to have blown up one of these institutions of the Fourth Estate in lieu of destroying the Murrah Building.

And as far as the notion that she is merely being provocative? Please. Lenny Bruce, she is not. Bill Hicks, she is not. H.L. Mencken, she is not. Hunter S. Thompson, she is not. She is neither comedienne nor journalist, nor is she possessed of any special insight or genius. She is a sorry footnote to a sorry campaign to destroy American progress in the name of conservative hegemony.

Has Time Magazine sunk to such depths of self-loathing that it feels it must demonstrate kinship with one of the most disgusting practitioners of right-wing conservative advocacy, even at the expense of whatever shreds of journalistic integrity that your institution still might pretend to hold?

Sincerely,

[Andy Axel]
Nashville, TN

Live in Memphis

The new DVD of Elvis Costello & The Imposters, Live at the Hi Tone in Memphis, is outstanding.

The concert keeps the small-club feel of the show intact, and has several listening options (Dolby stereo, Dolby 5.1, and DTS). The set list is very much in keeping with the recent show at the Ryman, including a mini-set with Emmylou Harris.

The extras include a cultural tour of Memphis.

I have got to get back in West Tennessee sometime soon.

Check it out.

Outrage Overload
-- or, "Justice Scalia, you'd have to answer that question in Texas in order to adopt, buddy..."

The Texas House of Representatives just approved a measure 135 to 6 which would (a) require people to declare a sexual preference in order to become foster parents, (b) if they admit to being homosexual, they are immediately disqualified, and (c) if they are already foster parents when this bill becomes law, Child Protective Services will immediately disrupt foster families if the foster parents are known to be gay.

These foster families below are at risk...



...because these dipshits below (Rep. Suzanna Gratia Hupp, R-Kempner, left, and Sen. Jane Nelson, R-Lewisville)...



...think that how people reach orgasm has something to do with their fitness as parents.

(Maybe the problem is that those two frigid dipshits have forgotten what an orgasm feels like.)

Time was, I didn't know the meaning of risk. I can remember pulling up stakes from an increasingly comfortable situation in Chicago and moving to Boulder, CO with little more than an instinct that I needed to get away from the insanity of big-city life.

Did I have a job? Nope. Did I have prospects? Nope. I had a few cats, some meager possessions, and available credit on my Discover card. And I had the idea that no matter what happened, it couldn't be any worse than my situation was in Chicago.

Things have wound up pretty good in the intervening decade. While I've bounced around more than some, I've made more money year over year, I've landed in Nashville, got married, I've had steady work, I have a good life overall, and I really don't need for anything.

Except a willingness to risk.

Wow, what a subtle trap. And I walked right into it.

Marla Ruzicka

I had no idea who this woman or her organization was until I heard a broadcast on NPR this morning. (Yeah, now that Air America has put Jerry Springer up in what used to be Lizz Winstead's time slot, I've gone off the XM Radio for my morning commute.)

Apparently some people have little sympathy for her, for her friends, nor for her family because her politics weren't correct. And for those who don't know the story, she founded a group called CIVIC which is dedicated to assisting the human "collateral damage" of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. They do this through documentation, advocacy, and actually walking on Middle Eastern soil to demonstrate a genuinely American commitment to help the innocent victims of warfare.

I know a lot of Bush's apologists don't want to examine that dimension of the conflict; they'd rather slap a "Support Our Troops" magnetic ribbon on their SUVs and bitch about high gas prices. But real people are subjected to real harm here, and if our national commitment is indeed to alleviating the suffering of the people of Iraq, then we could do worse than to honor this woman's service to humanity.

It brings to mind these words:

...this is why we are drifting. And we are drifting there because nations are caught up with the drum major instinct. "I must be first." "I must be supreme." "Our nation must rule the world." And I am sad to say that the nation in which we live is the supreme culprit. And I'm going to continue to say it to America, because I love this country too much to see the drift that it has taken.

God didn't call America to do what she's doing in the world now. God didn't call America to engage in a senseless, unjust war as the war in Vietnam. And we are criminals in that war. We’ve committed more war crimes almost than any nation in the world, and I'm going to continue to say it. And we won't stop it because of our pride and our arrogance as a nation.

But God has a way of even putting nations in their place. The God that I worship has a way of saying, "Don't play with me." He has a way of saying, as the God of the Old Testament used to say to the Hebrews, "Don’t play with me, Israel. Don't play with me, Babylon. Be still and know that I'm God. And if you don't stop your reckless course, I'll rise up and break the backbone of your power." And that can happen to America. Every now and then I go back and read Gibbons' Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. And when I come and look at America, I say to myself, the parallels are frightening. And we have perverted the drum major instinct.

But let me rush on to my conclusion, because I want you to see what Jesus was really saying. What was the answer that Jesus gave these men? It's very interesting. One would have thought that Jesus would have condemned them. One would have thought that Jesus would have said, "You are out of your place. You are selfish. Why would you raise such a question?"

But that isn't what Jesus did; he did something altogether different. He said in substance, "Oh, I see, you want to be first. You want to be great. You want to be important. You want to be significant. Well, you ought to be. If you're going to be my disciple, you must be." But he reordered priorities. And he said, "Yes, don't give up this instinct. It's a good instinct if you use it right. It's a good instinct if you don't distort it and pervert it. Don't give it up. Keep feeling the need for being important. Keep feeling the need for being first. But I want you to be first in love. I want you to be first in moral excellence. I want you to be first in generosity. That is what I want you to do."

And he transformed the situation by giving a new definition of greatness. And you know how he said it? He said, "Now brethren, I can't give you greatness. And really, I can't make you first." This is what Jesus said to James and John. "You must earn it. True greatness comes not by favoritism, but by fitness. And the right hand and the left are not mine to give, they belong to those who are prepared."

And so Jesus gave us a new norm of greatness. If you want to be important — wonderful. If you want to be recognized — wonderful. If you want to be great — wonderful. But recognize that he who is greatest among you shall be your servant. That's a new definition of greatness.

And this morning, the thing that I like about it: by giving that definition of greatness, it means that everybody can be great, because everybody can serve. You don't have to have a college degree to serve. You don't have to make your subject and your verb agree to serve. You don't have to know about Plato and Aristotle to serve. You don't have to know Einstein's theory of relativity to serve. You don't have to know the second theory of thermodynamics in physics to serve. You only need a heart full of grace, a soul generated by love. And you can be that servant.

--MLK, Feb. 1968

Thank you for having the courage that so many of us -- me included -- don't have, Ms. Ruzicka.

You were a servant.