The Blaisdell Blog

What would the New Year be without a list?   Here, in order, are my top 10 blogs by number of views. 1 .   Peter W. Higgs, A Nobel Prize and the Music of the Spheres (October 9)   I was delighted that a science blog took first place.   “Unlike the Nobel for Literature, which seems to go to any dull, obscure 2 nd world writer who sees the world as a forlorn and gloomy place, or the Nobel Peace Prize which has turned into a political joke with America as the punch line, the prizes in the hard sciences: physics, economics, chemistry, and medicine are genuine acknowledgments of expertise and merit.   This kind of knowledge challenges mankind.   It makes us test ourselves on every level from physical to metaphysical.   It makes us better people through an appreciation of the music of the spheres.” 2.   Lenten Sacrifices and Stranded Whales (February 26) featured my husband (a trained member of the coastal rescue for the Texas Master Naturalists) “He and the others will

Christmas is not my favorite religious holiday.   I like Christmas and I do not mind the mixture of secular with religious messages that it holds.   It is just that for religious significance Easter and Reformation Day hold stronger messages.   But today is Christmas Eve and I am enjoying the spirit of the season despite the above disclaimers.   It is Christmas’s secular trappings that always draw me in. I love Christmas trees (pagan), Christmas cards and letters (Hallmark), Santa Claus (a Turkish monk), and all the glitter of wrapped gifts.    Oddly, I hate opening the packages.   They look so lovely, their contents a magical mystery of endless conjure.   Even as a child I would sit back and watch everyone else open their gifts and I would defer, defer, defer.   I still do.   There is an endless supply of great Christmas movies.   George C. Scott is amazing in A Christmas Carol.   Jimmy Stewart in It’s a Wonderful Life; the musical schmaltz of Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye and Ro

Today is the 100 th anniversary of the Federal Reserve System, affectionately and reverently known as the, “Fed.”   Since the creation of our country, we have created two documents that show real and enduring genius.   One is the Northwest Ordinance and the other is the Federal Reserve System.                 I do realize that many members of the lunatic fringe think the Fed is part of some nefarious system of world dominance.   They are paranoid, ignorant and, yup, I’ve double checked this—wrong.   The Fed is a central, independent governmental agency.   Its Board of Governors oversees the work of 12 regional Federal Reserve Banks in districts across the country.   The Fed sets the nation’s monetary policy, supervises and regulates banks, and helps to maintain the stability of our financial system.               You need only look at the difference between the financial stability of our country, and those without an independent central bank to see the value of the Fed. The

I don’t watch Duck Dynasty.   It was recommended to me; I tried and didn’t last 5 minutes.     My idea of, “reality” television means real writing, real dialogue, real acting and real production values.   The venue of the program does not bother me.   While I certainly won’t be out in the cold, itchy, buggy wilds to bring down a duck, I will eat all of them you want to bring home.   In fact, if you will do the messy gutting and plucking I will cook the bird, all side dishes, provide the wine and clean up afterwards.   Yup, I’m a city girl, no apologies offered.   That being said, I simply do not get the angry response to Phil’s interview in GQ.   First of all, GQ wanted this interview to fill a certain niche.   If Phil had come off as a closet liberal who simply likes to go to a vanilla flavored church they would have shelved the whole interview.   They wanted him to say something that rings bells, and, clever business man that he is, he not only rang a bell, he applied a mallet

I was called for jury duty today.   The jury pool of some 200 souls was a predictable buffet of humanity.   We got through security, checked in and were shown a video on the joys, responsibilities and misconceptions of jury duty.   Then we waited. A brief questioning thinned the herd.   One by one they went through a list of disqualifications and people got up to leave.   “Under eighteen?”   Excused.     “Over 70?”   Excused. “¿Se puede leer y escribir en Ingles?” Can you read and write in English?   No?”   Excused.   “If you have been convicted of a felony or are currently under indictment for a felony or misdemeanor you are excused.”   I figured that might cause some hesitance or chagrin.   Nope!   There were a handful of the loud, proud and in the crowd who left with a smile on their face.        “Those of mental instability or moral turpitude…” were asked to excuse themselves.   That one had no takers.   I guess if you know you are weird or depraved you keep i

It is a few weeks before Christmas and my husband and I were making some last minute shopping stops before heading home to settle into uninterrupted rest and football time.   It included the hardware store, because that makes Tom happy, and the liquor store, because that makes me happy.   We picked up some bourbon (also for Tom), some scotch (for me) and joined the line at the cash register.   That is where I go a short lesson in voting equality.   In the very long line at the register of that south Texas liquor store there were both men and women.   There were lots of Latinos, a few blacks, at least one Asian and my husband and I.   We were there along with a few other, “Winter Texans” who all look as white and mid-western as a ‘50’s sitcom.    Here is the instructive part:   person after person who came up to the two working cash registers handed over a credit card to pay for their purchases, and every one of them was asked to show a photo I. D.   And guess what?   They all d

Merry Christmas!   There, I’ve said it.   If you absolutely have to say, “Happy Holidays,” or, “Seasons Greetings” feel free, but don’t hesitate to look me in the eye and jump in with a, “Merry Christmas.”   It is both joyful and triumphant. But I don’t want to stop there.   Let me add a few other greetings.     For all of my Jewish friends: Gut Yontiff and Happy Hanukka.   For those of you who are part of the West African diaspora, “Habari Gani?” which is Swahili for, “What’s the News?” This is the traditional greeting for each day of Kwanzaa.   I offer a Joyess Kwanzaa to all of you.   And I applaud your celebration of the seven corps principles.   I’m not done yet.   How about Namaste, “Salutations to you” in Sanskrit.   For that matter, since Hindus celebrate Dawali, their “Festival of Lights” in the fall, may I add a hearty, “Sat sri akal.”   [Of all the foreign spoken references that celebrate seasonal days of note, this is the one I find the most charming.   It mea

I am, by birth and training, an unreconstructed Capitalist.   People who make money—even obscenely large amounts of money—deserve to keep it.   Why?   Because it is THERE’S!   They earned it.   If you make your money legally I have nothing but admiration for you.   Those Americans who, through talent, training, initiative, hard-work, or even dumb luck, have been able to get rich deserve credit, not scorn.    I am not a 1%-er.   My childhood was not one of privilege.   If you can remember a time when your wardrobe included exactly three dresses, one for church, one for school and one to trade off with your younger sister for variety, you were growing up, “poor.”   The first bedroom I remember clearly was in the unheated upper story of a Minnesota house.   I shared a bed with two sisters; we had an orange crate turned on end with a piece of muslin hung across the front to hold our folded clothes, and a broom handle, suspended by wire behind the door, for a closet.   Now, I tend to

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

I became aware of CLIMB Wyoming this summer when my husband and I were attending the FMCA convention.   The Family Motor Coach Association held its annual convention in Gillette , Wyoming , and CLIMB was the designated charity for the event.    After a presentation of this program and its results, Tom and I gave generously.   CLIMB is a private, nonprofit organization that trains and place s low-income single mothers in careers that successfully support their families.    They have been given one state grant, but use no federal money.   How are they doing?   Look at this:   Category                     Before CLIMB                       After CLIMB   Monthly income                   $1027                                      $2440 Employment                                46%                                        76% % on public healthcare             32%                                        10% % on food stamps                      49%           

4583 uninsured people could be given Cadillac insurance plans with the money conned from Medicare by one small clinic here in Texas .   Unfortunately, no one in a position to notice, care or act on this fact gives a damn.   Let me tell you what is currently making my teeth itch. This may take some time.   I am so livid with indignation that I frequently have to stop and sip some very good scotch to get my nouns and verbs in sync.                  The Lower Rio Grande Valley is not a metropolis.   This story shows a microcosm of what is happening all across this country.   In McAllen , Texas this story is vexatious.   Magnify it to include the entire nation and it changes to a deadly wrong that could very well poison this entire nation.    If you want to know why I don’t trust the federal government to manage 16% of the economy, just look at what they allow (nurture, encourage, enable…) to happen with Medicare.               On Thursday, November 21, my local paper, Th

What happens when your family gets together?   Some families make music.    Others dance, fish, play cards or softball; a few argue and we all eat.   In my family we seem to have only one skill—we talk.   Boy do we talk!   If there are eight people in the room there are ten conversations going on and you better be able to juggle three at once or people will consider you, “stand-offish.”               We learned this skill at our parents' knees.   Mom was a dyed-in-the-wool Republican, Dad was a Democrat and politics was served at every meal.   The only rule was that you had to keep one foot on the floor.   The lessons have stayed with me.               I love politics.   In its purest form it is a chance for humans to exercise their better angels.   True, we seldom see it, but the opportunity is there.   Good legislation requires the magnificent concept of compromise.   A good compromise makes good legislation because it forces all parties to use a hierarchy of mind and hea

My mother once was head accountant for Stapleton International Airport in Denver , Colorado .   Mom was a busy, cheerful woman who could travel farther and faster on high heels than any woman I ever knew, then or since.   Another thing you need to know about my mother is she was mad (mad!!!) about Lawrence Welk.    No, I can’t explain it.   Yet, on a weekly basis, we all had to sit down in front of the television while Mom watched the only program which didn’t put her immediately to sleep, the Lawrence Welk Show.   One day word reached mother that Mr. Welk had just flown in and was in the airport.   Mom wasted no time in heading to baggage claim.   She had a bead on him in a heartbeat and walked up to personally welcome him to Denver .   She then proceeded to ask him a question that had been preying on her mind.   “Why don’t you play as many polkas as you used to?”   Welk told Mom that he still played lots of polkas and then proceeded to grab her in his arms and started vampi

I am Wendy Davis’s worst nightmare.   On the surface of things, I should be one of her, “sure” votes.   While certainly no Democrat, I am a feminist of the first water.   Being a generation older than Ms. Davis, I was fighting her battles when she was in training pants.   Here is what she needs to know, but doesn’t. I marched for Civil Rights.   I fought for the Equal Rights Amendment.   I was the first teacher in my district to teach the full term of a pregnancy and did so under considerable duress; the first to seek a principal’s certification; the first to act as picket captain during a teachers’ strike.   I have beaten my head against one glass ceiling after another for my whole life. I did NOT do all of this so this self-serving, opportunistic woman could launch a run for office by enabling the Kermit Gosnell’s of this world and killing viable babies in the womb! While Ms. Davis and her minions would love to paint me as some, “Pro-Life” nut (as opposed to a Pro-abortion