George Harrison died yesterday. I don't believe that any eulogy I might offer would suffice, so I will just say simply that he will be missed. Now I am going to listen to some of his music.

See you later.

Posting from the sickhouse today. Heidi, I try to have sex with one of my co-workers as much as possible. The results have been fabulous, and it goes great with dinner. Shari, you know how long it took me to get done with college. I am not suggesting that you accept yer slackdom (and it didn't look like you were last night while I was at yer placing watching the Hoosiers beat up on UNC), but do accept that it is hard to keep up the pace sometimes. Meanwhile, let's bottle us some sissy brew tomorrie!

Insofar as the question of what to do is concerned, here are my 53 cents (more than they are probably worth): I think that I try always to think a long way down the road. Perhaps that comes from teaching; it's the unbelievable "patience" that we special ed. teachers all have (snicker). But really, right after 9/11, Todd Carter and I spoke on the phone, and he referred to a Chinese (I think) proverb that involves approaching real and meaningful change in terms of seven generations hence. One has to concede that the effects of our actions may not be observable in our lifetimes. Rather than casting one into a purgatory of hopelessness, such deferred gratification can lift said individual to great movements, propelled by the imminent exponential spread of better ideas and healthier living emanating from his or her decisive spark.

But just what are these "great movements?" Ned's and Phil's ideas are good--flyering, direct action, joining of groups, etc. But let's not forget conscious living and decision-making that supports the seven-generation view. Every person who refuses to go along with the crudberries of corruption, in whatever small and large ways, loosens the ability of the controllers to control. It may be buying locally. It may be refusing to buy popcorn when you go see LotR at Kerasoates Theaters (and telling them why when you go in). It may be getting rid of teevee. It may be riding yer bike instead of driving. Carpool. Turn off the lights. Write letters. Go to Washington with Kate, Heidi, Todd, and Ty in freezing cold to shout, "No blood for oil!" until you have no voice left. It may be starting a political party. It may be listening to the opposition, even when you want to scream at them (I have a hard time with that one). It may be teaching the kids, yours and other people's. It may be forgetting about it all from time to time so you don't lose hope and give in. It may mean getting arrested. It may mean supporting those who get arrested. It may mean voting. It may mean blogging.

I guess my feeling is that there are so many ways to fight back, and so many ways to lose, that everyone must choose there own path, as Princess Leia once said. We might join the Rebellion and fly an X-wing right down the trench, or we might show up when least expected to knock Vader outta the way so someone else can blow up the Death Star. The Powers that Be are many, and they are winning in a big way these days. I probably won't see them lose often. But I can live the next 60-70 years such that the fight might look a little better for the squad that takes the field when we're gone.

I could go on. But I don't want to. Have a loverly day.

There was talk about racketball tonight on Sunday. Well, seeing as the old insomnia crept in last night, keeping me awake until at least 1:30am for the 2nd night running, I humbly propose playing tomorrow night, darlings. Comment?

This may have been the best Thanksgiving holiday in my entire 31 years. Wednesday featured a warm-up drink-athon with Jennifer's pal Kandi; by 2am Nick's was closing down, we were heading home, and that red-haired spitfire was rallying the troops to Yogi's for more debauchery. Thursday was just plain marvelous: Dinner at Jennifer's mom's featured a free-range, anti-biotic-free bird (something Mrs. Jennifer said she would NEVER buy, for anyone), and truly fun conversation. I have not only found the woman of my dreams, but her family is great, as well. Later, we adjourned to Ned and Shari's for more "happy" turkey. We appropriated the go-around-the-table-and-say-something-yer-thankful-for tradition from Jennifer's mom, and it was a laugh riot. In addition to the very real gratitude for such great things as the best friends we could ever hope for (including those not in attendance) somehow the giving of thanks meandered into adult novelty stores. Ask Carrie what she's been wearing lately. Friday featured a trip to see my mom, Becky, and the Gracie clan. I love that little girl like nobody's business. The "what are you thankful for?" got pretty tearful, coz Damn! aren't we a buncho' fortunate people? Return on Saturday for a slower paced affair with Ned, Clint, and CRad. Yay.

Before I leave this topic, let me be clear, if not fairly schmarmy: I am in absolute bliss this holiday season, and the lion's share of the joy comes from having found the most beautiful and splendid person in the world. Jennifer has completely changed my life, and I couldn't be happier.

Thanks, Amos, for the little passage about Tolkien and The Hobbit. In the these times of pre-movie hype, it is rewarding to hear about the tale's humble beginnings. I am re-reading The Fellowship of the Ring with Jennifer currently, and regardless of how the movie turns out, I relish the opportunity to return to the company of my old friends Frodo, Merry, Gandalf, and the rest. I should confess that a portion of me feels a degree of envy and longing to be in the shoes of Jennifer or the handful of students I have who are experiencing LotR for the first time. I will never again have that joy. One girl, Chelsea, stops me in the hall to give me daily updates. Her excitement and curiosity are palpable. Huzzah for reading!

How do I email you, Bill Cameron?

On the war front. Phil worries things are slipping back into the same old patterns. Me too. This war itself is in the background these days. But let's not forget that the government is slowly ripping the hell out of our civil liberties. Lynne Cheney is on the board of a think tank that has compiled a list of people who have said "un-American" things. Jesse Jackson made it because he suggested that we should consider the humanitarian repercussion of the war. The government won't even tell us how many (over 1000, at least) have been detained on suspicion of terrorism. These people are likely to face military tribunals which the media can't cover and in which the defense will not have access to all the evidence. Spain has said it won't extradite eight terror suspects for this very reason. I am done viewing this thing as an "American." Put me on yer list, Lynne. It does not make me an apologist for terrorism when I point out that 3500 (or fewer--the number is revised downward daily) who died on 9/11 is far less than the 9000 civilians who died in Panama when we invaded. It's significantly less those who died at the hands of our state-sponsored terrorism against Nicaragua in the 80s. It's less than those incarcerated or killed in the cocaine-related crime propagated from the drugs the CIA sold to our own people to finance those contras. It's the roughly the same number killed by the US-sponsored regime of Pinochet in 1970s Chile. It's several hundred thousand less than those who died at the hands of the US-equipped and aided Indonesians in East Timor. It's over one hundred thousand less than the lost souls of Laos, a nation who has received more pounds of aerial bombing than any other in history, all marked "USA," which is the same legend on the millions of mines that litter that nation and others. Explain to the kids without legs in Vietnam why the invading nation that left mines behind 30 years ago continues to war on them by refusing to sign anti-mine treaties with the rest of the world. The 3500 in NYC are not entire cultures eradicated from the American continent just over 100 years ago in a term-defining genocide of outstanding proportions. It's ok, now, of course, because we wring our hands in high school history classes while saying, "it was bad, but it had to be done." No it didn't! It was wrong! Can't we just admit the truth? What the US government has done, throughout its existence, is to kill, kill, and kill again. To justify these atrocities by talking about protecting US interests or creating democracies or nation-building is to lie. It requires a racist and/or culturally superior view that, for me, is unacceptable. It is truly no worse for New Yorkers that I don't know to die through terrorism than it is for Laotians. It is equally wrong. I am a citizen of the United States, and from that, I suppose I am an American. But I am a human first, and I will not allow the happenstance of my birthplace to put some atrocities ahead of others.