Recently, my brother Joe must have been slightly annoyed by one of my blogs. It was a bit critical of Obama’s reign: his announced plans and accomplishments in contrast to his campaign promises. I quote Joe’s memo to me. “Darn it Bill, quit quibbling. Now that we are out of Iraq and Afghanistan, friendly with Cuba, have eliminated our dependence of foreign oil, opened up our closed government, and have a vice-president who speaks only the truth you have to admit we NEEDED change. But now we have it and everything is great.”

Sheila asked me if I understood the “toxic asset” plan. I said I thought so, that it appeared rather simple. Banks which made bad loans as a result of Congressional pressure (read Frank and Dodd with Pelosi’s leadership) now had money tied up in property that wasn’t worth much. Congress would buy (with taxpayer money) these worthless notes held by the banks so that the banks could make more bad decisions as to whom they should loan money. This would, of course, require the employment of large numbers of new federal workers, which would satisfy Obama’s promise to increase employment – he never said he would increase PRODUCTIVE employment. Then in another year or two, Congress would have more toxic loans to buy up. A great plan, it only requires new and higher taxes.

Almost two years ago, we agreed to take a large black rabbit – with cage – which someone at the Cardiac Club had to unload. After a few months, we were concerned about the poor beast spending all of its life in a small cage. For a change, we rigged a line across the back yard with the cage at one end. Then we put a harness on the rabbit, permitting it the partial freedom of running across the yard and sleeping in its cage. The problem was that the rabbit kept getting out of its harness and running the yard – and my garden – freely. By fall, the garden was destroyed and the rabbit was adept at avoiding us. So, we decided to simply let it run feely in the yard, which it enjoyed. It would come close to us to be fed – it liked apples and sunflower seeds, but avoided being touched. This spring I pointed out to the family that there was no point in my attempting to have a garden, much less to raise spinach and green peppers, with the beast running free. The problem was catching her to put her back in her cage. The other evening, when I, once again, told Stephen this, he went out and came back in a few minutes later, stating the thing was safely caged. It seems that when chased, which Stephen had experience in doing, our rabbit ran to the smokehouse and leaped into a hole that led under the building. Our Stephen placed a large rock over the hole. When the rabbit, being chased, raced for the hole and leaped to enter it, there was the rock. Stephen said he simply went over, picked up a stunned bunny, I suppose with a headache, and put her back in her cage.   We are still laughing about it, but I don’t suppose our caged bunny is.  I plan on planting my green peppers in the next day or two.

I hadn’t seen Dr. Smith in some time and Megaera was ill, so I paid a visit to him. He thinks I come because he is an excellent doctor and my friend, but the truth is that there is a Publix grocery near him which sells fresh fish and spiced meats which are unavailable nearer and has a sinful bakery counter. Among Sheila’s purchases was a nine dollar package of fresh cod. She cooked it that evening. We took some for our evening meal and left the majority on the stove for the boys. Later, walking into the kitchen for a second helping, I found it all gone. But Stephen and Andrew had yet to come downstairs for supper. I had a very angry wife and a very satisfied mongrel shepherd – Yukon.

Incidentally, on the way to Dr. Smith, Sheila insisted that I take a different route which she claimed was shorter and less hazardous. True, the first two miles were easy, the next fifteen were on highway 47, which has the sharpest curves and the highest accident rate in middle Tennessee. Then we were on four lane divided highways, crowded, with a legal speed of 55 and a “keep up with the flow” speed of 75. Total trip, 49 miles – I checked. Coming home I took my preferred “long” route, two lane highway, gentle curves and little traffic. Total distance, 36 miles. Ah well, it wasn’t as bad as the time she took me a hundred miles in the wrong direction while serving as my navigator in Massachusetts.

Among the welfare animals (they produce no good, wantonly destroy our garden and consume our resources) which wander our yard is a rabbit, Suzy. I keep hoping she’ll run away, but she likes free-loading. The other morning, while sitting on the porch after feeding the dogs, cats and birds I looked over at the dog food tank. Sheba was asserting her authority by being first at breakfast and Baxter was sitting about five feet away waiting his turn. Then up hopped Suzy. She looked over at Sheba and then hopped over to Baxter and sat down next to him, turning her head to look up at him before beginning to groom herself. Our animals may be useless, but they do have a camaraderie of uselessness – much like too many people. 

In the spirit of Valentine’s Day I purchased my bride a five dollar box of chocolates the other day, not realizing that I was buying a lovely four and a half dollar box and six chocolates. On the way home, we shared one. In the morning I noted that she had erred and left the box on the kitchen table. Andrew was standing by and I congratulated him, saying it was nice that he and his brother had left their mother’s present alone. He said, “Well, Stephen and I did share one.” Opening the box, I saw only three remaining. Commenting on the one Sheila and I had eaten and the one he confessed to sharing, he quickly said, “Stephen had another one.” No one confesses to another’s sins so quickly as a brother or sister.

Telling this story in the Cardiac Club, it elicited numerous stories of children and grandchildren from our members and aroused a few memories of my own. One of my favorites concerned my nephew John, then about five, and his sister, Julie, an enterprising three. My sister reported that she had to keep punishing John for pummeling his little sister, then, one day she was in the front room cleaning. She could see John and a friend sitting on the front steps talking when Julie came out of the house, swung a fist, hit John in the back and ran in the house crying, two steps ahead of an angry brother. That day it was Julie who received the spanking!

Unlike many forgetful, neglectful and otherwise despicable husbands, I always remember Valentine’s Day. As soon as I’ve finished reading the news on the Internet, made my coffee, fed our welfare livestock, walk into the bedroom to dress for the day and see the card with the heart on it lying on my pillow, I rush to my bride and say, “Happy Valentine’s Day” and give her a big hug and a kiss. What more can a girl want? After all, she is my Valentine….

Recently, I received the bill for my most recent hospitalization at Vanderbilt. Sheila took me in on a Thursday morning and I was released on Friday morning. When I received the bill, I read it to Sheila and Stephen. Total cost for the surgery, $31,962.58. Stephen, after recovering from the shock, laughed and said, “That’s the cost of restoring a classic.”

An article I read recently mentioned “organic” foods. Could anyone please tell me the last NON-organic food they ate, not counting salt? I, for example, have never eaten a limestone sandwich or a granite cookie – other than some my son Stephen made recently out of oatmeal.

Anyone who enjoys murder mysteries spiced with humor should read some of the Hamish Macbeth mysteries by M. C. Beaton. Hamish is a constable in a small town in the north of Scotland. He uses common sense to apply the laws of the land, but always catches murderers while in the process of solving village problems. It reminds me, in a way, of Cumberland Furnace. There are important things and unimportant things. Sheila says that is why they claim we are Celtic in our approach to life. (My friend Dick Gildrie claims that is why the working people of North and South Carolina did not support the American Revolution – they had no intention of obeying the King’s laws anyway.)

As liberal as I have always been, I would never expect rampant sex discrimination to appear in my household, but it reared its ugly head recently. Our friend Joyce invited Sheila to vacation in Hawaii with her in March. I appointed out that Sheila hasn’t been feeling well recently, but that I could accompany Joyce. This suggestion was ignored by both. I can only believe that sex discrimination is overcoming common sense in this case. 

Actually, this will be the second consecutive year the two have taken off together for a week. Joyce belongs to some organization where she pays so much a month and then receives a free week for two at some vacation spot. Once before it was a trip to Austria, last year it was a cruise to Mexico, now Hawaii. Joyce must believe, and Sheila agree, that Sheila has no responsibilities at home. What about me? Who is to cook and care for me during this week? Shows how little care the two have for my welfare. Reading this, Sheila said, “poor baby,” all while laughing. I would believe in her concerns more if she wouldn’t laugh while I was explaining some grievous injury I had, or was, suffering.

Truthfully, sexism appears to be rampant in our house. Megaera babysat two young loves, Chelsea, aged seven, and Dillon, all of four, for a friend the other night. This meant that she brought them to our house while Stephen played with them and she watched television. As she had them all night, she promised them pancakes in the morning, pancakes having been my ritual over the years on Sunday morning. The next morning Chelsea was up bright and early. She stood and watched as I located pancake mix, poured it in the bowl, added milk and an egg and then stirred. She begged to help, so when I was satisfied, I passed her the fork and she stirred happily while I heated the skillets and added butter. Then I cooked them, putting them on her plate. Sheila was standing there watching and, at my request, added syrup and cut them up for her. After the first bite, Chelsea looked up at my bride and said, “You make great pancakes!”