The Blaisdell Blog

Angus T. Jones is 19 years old and the highest paid child actor in Hollywood .   He was 8 years old when he joined the sitcom, Two and a Half Men then starring Charlie Sheen and Jon Cryer.   At age 8 Angus was a chubby, round faced little boy.   Now he is a slim, athletic looking, but still round faced young man.   Two and a Half Men was clearly, “adult” humor when Sheen was the lead actor.   I enjoyed the show, but was always a little worried about how the general tenor of the set would affect an impressionable young boy.   Then Sheen had his melt down and was replaced by Ashton Kutcher.   At this point the show turned deadly dull and turned to sophomoric humor.   You have to be concerned when a child actor is only brought on stage to make a joke about smoking pot, masturbating or blowing off school.             Well, as it turns out, I don’t have to be worried about Angus T. Jones.   He appears to have seen the insanity and inanity of the adults around him and decided that he

For those who may not know, the latest face to be carved on the idiots’ wall of shame is that of Lindsey Stone.   Judging from her photo, she is 30-ish woman who posted a picture on Facebook so offensive that it ultimately cost her job.   It seems our little Lindsey was on a trip (paid for by her employer, by the way) to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldiers in Arlington , VA.   There is a sign at the tomb that asks for both quiet and respect.   Ms Stone, clever soul that she is, decided that this was her opportunity to mug for the camera.   After all, what cries for comic relief more than a monument to soldiers who have died in active service in so unhappy a fashion that their remains can not be identified?    Ms Stone is photographed pretending to shout and giving the, “finger” to the sign (the Monument?...the soldiers guarding the Monument?...those of us who revere what it stands for?)               When a furor arose over this obvious insult she tried to smooth things over by pos

Everyone has a favorite holiday.   Mine has always— always —been Thanksgiving.   As a child it meant the best food, unremitting talk, games and play.   As an adult it means ever so much more.             In my years of making Thanksgiving dinner I have come to believe that Thanksgiving is a feminine holiday.   I don’t mean that it isn’t enjoyed equally by both men and women.   I certainly don’t mean that the deeper meaning of Thanksgiving isn’t appreciated and revered equally by both men and women.   I just mean that the essence of the holiday is feminine.   It is a day centered on two things, the meal and the meaning.   These are feminine strengths.               Men are great cooks, but they aren’t likely to plan a meal for a week, get the baking done the day before, set the table with matching candlesticks and get up at 4:30 a.m. to get the meal started.   Men are much more the spontaneous, “slap” it on the grill type.   And I haven’t found a man yet who didn’t see an adva

This summer I took part in the Genographic Project sponsored by National Geographic.   For a modest sum I was sent a kit to collect skin cells from the inside of my cheek.   These cells allowed me to learn the path my ancestors took in their long journey from past to present.   They also allowed the Genographic Project to add my DNA to its bank of information on the human species.   I am now a part of original research, and I know a little more about my story. Of course, there are some things that are obvious to anyone even casually aware of modern anthropology.   We know that all humans evolved in Africa starting 2.5 million years ago with Homo sapiens appearing some 200,000 years ago amidst dramatic climatic changes.   We know that humans traveled slowly but constantly out of Africa, into Asia and Europe developing differences in body type, coloring and health propensities as random genetic mutations favored certain individuals.   An easy example of this is the long, thin, s

Yesterday, my husband and I went to see the movie, Lincoln , by Steven Spielberg.   It was spectacular.   It was historically spot on, clearly presented, and the acting was so good that you were aware of how good it was even while totally immersed in the characters.   The movie stars Daniel Day-Lewis as Lincoln , Sally Field as Mary Todd Lincoln and Tommy Lee Jones as the fiery, complex and barely controlled Rep. Thaddeus Stevens of Pennsylvania .   The list of excellent actors, each perfectly suited to the character portrayed, is as long as the credits at the end of the film.   Much of the movie centers on the passage of the 13 th Amendment to the Constitution, banning slavery forever in the United States of America .     I have read the biography, Lincoln , by David Herbert Donald and Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln , by Doris Kearns Goodwin, the book from which much of the movie was taken.   They bear out the accuracy of the film. Daniel Day-Lewi

Poor CIA Director, David Petraeus.   After a lifetime of meritorious service, honorable conduct and outstanding achievement he is now out of work, living in the dog house and is a media buffoon.   At the age of 60 Petraeus fell for the charms of a raven haired, athletic beauty 20 years his junior.   I am quite certain that Gen. Petraeus has no plans to divorce his wife and marry this woman.   There is nothing like day-to-day routine to suck the life out of an affair.   I would also assume that his mistress, Paula Broadwell, (now that, my friends, is an unfortunate surname) has little to offer other than the affair itself.   I have heard her speak and, frankly, it just isn’t there.   Petraeus undoubtedly knows that he has a life partner in his current wife, Holly.   He also knows that he owes her more than any divorce court could ever assign for being the glue that held his family together during the peripatetic life of a rising military star.   For heavens sake, the family moved

There is a photograph on the wall of my sister’s home that is both precious and haunting to me.   It is a restored, blown up and framed photo of my father on his way to the South Pacific during World War II.   It was taken by an Army photographer from a small tender craft as my Dad’s ship, the S.S. Monterey, left harbor.   In a happy accident, the picture was taken with a close up of Pfc. Frank G. Yatckoske front and center.   He is in the midst of a host of soldiers leaning over the rail, all smiling and mugging for the camera.   My father is leaning out from the rest, his arms braced on the rail of the ship, his smile—a straight, wide grin filled with mischief—is set in a young, lean, handsome face.   Every man on that ship seems filled with enthusiasm, bonhomie, even a sense of adventure. Those poor young men didn’t have a clue.               I don’t want to contemplate what happened to most of those men.   I know that “I” Company of the 63 rd Infantry, 6 th Division wen

Andrew Jackson is not one of my favorite Presidents.   There are some Presidents that shine so brightly that they must be enshrined more than approached (Abraham Lincoln and George Washington).   There are other Presidents with whom you want to share a drink and a hearty meal (Harry Truman and Theodore Roosevelt).   Then there are Presidents like Franklin Roosevelt and Andrew Jackson who may be many good things, but simply are not very likeable.    Jackson can be admired for his ethical consistency, historical impact and effective leadership, but he was not a pleasant man.    He was too zealous, too blinded by his own sense of right and too angry for me to be much, “taken” by him.   Evidently, I am not the only one. Jackson managed to bulldoze so many controversial ideas through Congress that he spurred an entire political movement into being.   Sen. Henry Clay of Kentucky was the leader of Jacksonian opposition.   Clay and his followers formed a political party called the,

I met Barry Goldwater once.   It was 1964.   I was heading off to college but was eager to campaign, even though I could not vote.   [For those who are not eligible for Medicare, let me remind you that until 1971 voting in Federal elections was reserved for those of at least 21 years of age.]   I was 17 when I met Sen. Goldwater.   He shook my hand, proceeded to give a spectacular speech at the Denver , Colorado civic arena, and I was hooked.   At first it was just the excitement of being a Goldwater Girl.   As I became more involved I decided politics was a great national sport.   As I got older—and wiser—it became government that I loved.                 I do admit to growing up in a politically involved family.   Mom was a Republican, Dad a part-time Democrat; politics was served at every meal and the only rule was you had to keep one foot on the floor.   The result of this early training and Goldwater excitement was an adult who loves the political machinations that make