|"They comin' to America"|
2. Eventual disintegration of the United States. Several conservative commentators, notably Mark Steyn and Pat Buchanan, have written about the inevitability of the breakup of the United States into smaller, regional nations. As Steyn notes in his book After America, much-smaller countries than the U.S. (e.g., Yugoslavia and Czechoslovakia) have broken up into numerous pieces when their central governments fell apart, simply because the economic, social, and cultural interests of their component parts, to put it mildly, didn't align. The deepening concentration of regulatory control in federal agencies, not to mention the existence of America's own economic basket-cases-in-the-making (cf. California, or New Mexico without a federal teat to suck on), is eventually going to render it impossible for there to be any real "governing." And certain states or regions will simply conclude that it's no longer in their interests to remain in the Union; judging from present business conditions, I'd say that process will probably begin with a new "Republic of Texas." I don't even foresee a second American civil war to preserve the Union -- what military commanders will order attacks to preserve a dictatorial, faceless conglomeration of statist bureaucrats? -- although there almost certainly will be multiple regional wars with atrocities galore. The LDS Church may well have to engage in a "literal gathering of Israel" (in Utah and environs) out of sheer desperation.
3. My weird "encounter" with Steyn. While I'm citing Mark Steyn, I may as well write about the strange sort of "cyber encounter" I had with him a few weeks ago. Steyn is selling gift certificates on his website as a means of generating funds with which to mount a defense in his libel lawsuit against climate-change poobah Michael Mann. Feeling sympathetic to his cause, I bought a $25 gift certificate but with no intention of using it -- essentially, I donated the money to him. I sent him an e-mail saying I'd thought about sending the gift certificate to a liberal friend but didn't do so because I thought my friend would use it. Instead, I requested that Steyn re-post one of my favorite articles of his, an essay on the song "Bridge Over Troubled Water" and how it ultimately drove a wedge between Paul Simon, who wrote the song and later wished, when it became a huge hit, that he'd sung it, and Art Garfunkel, Simon's friend and partner who actually did sing it. Well, Steyn re-posted the article, but with some weirdly derisive comments aimed at me: (1) he seemed irritated by what he probably regarded as the overly "cutesy" tone of my e-mail; (2) he took pains to note that he hadn't been taking "requests" for old articles for a couple of years (and didn't I know that?); and (3) he referred to me as "Ken," even though my real name was right there on the page, which of course is always a deadly demeaning give-away. (Would he have been kinder to me if I'd bought a $100 gift certificate instead?) The hurt I felt wasn't enough to kill my enthusiasm for reading Steyn's commentary -- I agree with him on too many issues, and he's too wickedly funny -- but it made me wonder if the aforementioned liberal friend's having called Steyn a "miserable weasel" (or words to that effect) wasn't more descriptive than I would have thought.
4. Growing up in the 60s and 70s. I sometimes reflect on what it was like to grow up in the 1960s and 1970s, when there were severely limited entertainment options and sources of news and other information. How would my grandkids fare now with no video games, no Internet, no cellphones, three or four television channels, only newsprint and broadcast news to rely on for knowledge about current events, music that came on vinyl and magnetic tape only, and no Blu-ray players (or home movies at all, outside of what the networks decided to air a few times a week, usually late at night)? I remember the spring of 1974, when I was still in ninth grade in junior high school. The school I attended experimented with offering recreational programs on Friday afternoons, and I elected to participate in bowling. A friend and I, always finishing early and left to hang out at the bowling alley until the bus returned to the school, would bum quarters off a girl he knew to play "Pong," the very first, very rudimentary video game. We thought "Pong" was cool, but neither of us could have imagined the sophisticated video games we have today. When I was a child, everyone played outdoors with the other kids in the neighborhood. Later on, I spent a lot of time alone, shooting baskets in our back yard and playing guitar in my room; however, indoor entertainment was pretty hard to come by for someone who didn't constantly read books. If I'd known then what I know now, I would have read a lot of books, and my parents probably would have been concerned that I was spending too much time indoors. How times have changed!
5. My guitars. I have acquired quite a few guitars over the years. Now that Darren and Cait have returned from Taiwan and will leave shortly for California, we'll have fewer instruments in the house; however, here's a list of what I have: (1) Alvarez acoustic guitar; (2) Squier II Stratocaster (black with white pickguard); (3) Mexican Fender "Classic 60s" Stratocaster (Inca Silver with lime-green pickguard); (4) Squier Stratocaster (black with a mirror pickguard and a humbucking pickup in the bridge position); (5) Squier '51 (yellow with a black pickguard); (6) Epiphone Les Paul Standard (cherry red with cream-colored pickguard and gold-colored hardware); and (7) Ibanez 12-string acoustic (black with no pickguard). With the exception of the Mexi-Strat, all of my guitars were made somewhere in the Far East (Japan, Korea, China, or Indonesia); I don't really even aspire to own an American-made guitar. Kids today have a wide variety of inexpensive options when it comes to buying good guitars and amplifiers -- when I was young, most far-eastern imports were cheaply made, played poorly (no matter how you tried to set them up), and sounded terrible. I recently bought a pair of noise-cancelling headphones and hooked them up to my "Epi" Les Paul and old "red face" Line 6 Spider 210 amplifier, with the latter on the "insane" setting with the chorus on and a little digital delay. The stereo sound coming through the headphones is something that people, even professional musicians, would practically have killed for in the early 1970s -- but which I can get with fairly cheap equipment now.
6. My ongoing physical deterioration. Every time I have to take a break from the gym (the last one being my recovery from hernia surgery), I come back just a little less capable of vigorous exercise. My recent "5.4 mph for 30 minutes = 2.7 miles" treadmill regimen, which was a comfortable workout before the layoff, is now quite strenuous for me, and I'm not sure it will ever get any easier. I do need to lose weight -- and to that end I've recently taken the baby step of switching from regular soda to diet soda -- and of course I get older every day, but there seems to be more to it than that. Yesterday, July 18, I hiked up the La Luz Trail (from the bottom to the upper tram terminal) with Darren and Cait. I did pretty well, and we did the whole distance in exactly four hours, later riding the tram down after having lunch at the restaurant; however, I felt horrible after we were done. Usually I feel exhilarated after a hard hike in the Sandias, but this one only reminded me how rapidly I'm deteriorating.
7. Mischa the dog. Our miniature pinscher, Mischa, who's diabetic, blind from cataracts, and requires twice-daily insulin injections, has understandably aged way beyond her ~9 years. I've begun to regard her as almost a kindred spirit, inasmuch as chronic illness has taken a huge toll on both of us. I don't fawn over her, but I've taken to petting her for a few minutes after giving her her night-time insulin, and it's clear she relishes the attention. I don't know how much longer Dorine and I will feel that Mischa's life is worth preserving -- if she's clearly suffering, even we will ultimately decide to euthanize her -- but I think she and I understand each other.
8. The Eubank Chapel. The Eubank Boulevard LDS meetinghouse in Albuquerque, which was first dedicated in 1966, holds a lot of memories for me. I haven't attended church in that building (except for stake conferences and baptismal services) since the Indian School Road building, which we still attend, was dedicated in my senior year of high school in January 1977; however, I spent a lot of my childhood and adolescence at the Eubank building, and thus it's the one I remember most vividly. It's where I was baptized, attended Primary, played numerous "junior" basketball games, explored the underground system of "tunnels" with my deacons' quorum (once even crawling through an air-conditioning duct across the ceiling of the gym), became infatuated with Dorine when I was 13, first made out with a girl (not Dorine) when I was 14, rehearsed with the "band" some of us tried to put together in the 1974-75 time-frame, sang in the ward choir (primarily to be around the girls), spent a scary night with a couple of friends (complete with what we thought were evil spirits), often went to play pickup basketball with friends (sometimes even entering with keys that we'd come by -- I shan't say how -- which my dad invariably confiscated on the sly while I was asleep), attended stake dances (many with live local bands, some of which were pretty good), and pulled more than a few pranks (e.g., locking shut all the upright pianos in the building with a key from an armoire that we had at home -- funny how the powers-that-be knew to come to me when someone urgently needed to use a piano for a wedding rehearsal!). I confess to being a bit of a rogue in those days, but I was actually one of the least-wild boys in our ward. (For the record, I also had a fair number of genuinely spiritual experiences at the Eubank chapel as I grew up.)
[Update 6/19/16: Here is a photo of the Eubank Chapel when it was new in 1966 and there was virtually nothing around it.]