Sinners in the hand of a political hurricane

Winds were pretty brutal throughout the last 24 hours at the Bog – some sleet providing a staccato background to less than restful sleep. The power flickered a few times last night; no real power loss happened. I sure wish that the rest of the country could have had my good luck.

I’m hoping the millions of people reeling from the storm can quickly get relief and their lives back in balance.

Some would argue that even this storm pales in comparison to the dark clouds and lightning coming from both camps in our current political campaign. Thunder claps, hail, fire and brimstone – just listen to a bunch of the preaching coming from the national candidates and their surrogates. I don’t think Cotton Mather or Jonathan Edwards’ sermons were as full of the vitriol we see in today’s political landscape. I will, however, applaud a certain "poetic-noir" found in Edwards’ Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God:

"The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider or some loathsome insect over the fire, abhors you, and is dreadfully provoked. His wrath towards you burns like fire; he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else but to be cast into the fire. He is of purer eyes than to bear you in his sight; you are ten thousand times as abominable in his eyes as the most hateful, venomous serpent is in ours."

From Jonathan Edwards, The Works of President Edwards, vol. 6 (1817; New York: Burt Franklin, 1968), pp. 458, 461–62.

A recent article in the New York Times assessed the efficacy of some of the presidential advertisements. The conclusions were that the attack ads are far less effective than the spots where the candidates lay out their plans and stance. Advertisements where candidates can candidly discuss the success of their record while in office also carry significant weight.

So why is most political discourse about what is wrong with the other guy? And, with the multitudes of forums that now beleaguer our senses (blogs, Craigslist “rants and raves”, comments following online articles, Facebook timeline posts) it seems that gotcha becomes the new sport. Studies show that 18-24 year olds get their political information from comics.

Oh, none of this is new – they were beating each other with canes over a hundred years ago in Congress. I’m grateful to hurricane Sandy for pressing a pause button (albeit short lived) to the campaigning.

Of my favorite of Shakespeare's passages is from Act III, Scene 2 of King Lear where the monarch rants against a brutal storm:

"Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's moulds, an germens spill at once,
That make ingrateful man!"

After 20 or so robo-calls in an evening and television spots that belie credibility, I can empathize with Lear’s rage.

If you can, send the Red Cross a couple of bucks to help those displaced by Sandy – and be sure to vote.



Edwards' image reported in the public domain and available here:   Edwards
Lear's image reported to be in the public domain and available here:  Lear

Coming of the fall

Summer wanes into autumn and, here in the northern tier of states, we dig out our favorite sweaters and jackets. For some, jackets ring out for football favorites but others’ jackets help conceal. Hunting begins in earnest early September with seasons aimed at resident goose populations and introducing youths to the outdoor sports. October brings archery opportunities and the broad launch of waterfowl hunting.

Each year, hundreds of millions of critters migrate through the U.S to warmer climes in southern states, Mexico, and South America. These include Canada and Snow Geese, a variety of duck species, doves, songbirds, hummingbirds and even Monarch butterflies! Generally, they travel via four principal flyways as the cold pushes them. For some excellent information about the migration, see Ducks Unlimited's Migration Map.

In 1995, there was what is known as a “Grand Passage” – weather conditions spurred a massive and sudden movement of waterfowl that was so dense it shut down some airports along the flyways.

Here on Blackdog Bog there are about five acres of ponds that serve as migration stops and as resident puddles for the local ducks and geese. The drought this year cut that number to less than two acres – the “big pond” on the western border of the property dried entirely. Similarly, a number of ponds in the immediate area are dry.

Friends joining me afield this week

Normal rainfall (finally!) over the last couple of weeks has flooded about a quarter of the big pond and the local ducks and geese have been coming in droves. During the hot summer, various plants got a foothold and grew where there is usually water. This means a bounty of seeds and other nutrients available to the birds and they’ve been enjoying the meal.

Speaking of meals, tonight I shared freshly harvested goose breast with a couple of my bandit friends. After removing the breast from the goose, the meat is cleaned of all remnant feathers and inspected for pellets of shot. The breast meat is cut into medallions, marinated (a secret recipe) and seared on a grill preheated to over 500 degrees and finished to a medium rare temperature.

A dipping sauce – Dijon mustard blended with fresh jalapeno peppers – completes the service. There were no leftovers!

Today was my second waterfowl outing this week. I haven’t duck hunted in over two years – since the passing of the original Black Dog. I had a smile today thinking about him and about the good fellowship that comes from hunting. Yes, we’ve told those jokes and stories over and over while waiting for the birds. And, yes, the laughter never stales.

Happy autumn!



Duck image reported as public domain and available here: Image

Vince

I had some bad news at the end of last week. I learned that a gentleman I met about five or six years ago died in early September.

I had come to know Vince Harrison because of his desire to memorialize his wife who passed away in 2004. Jo Harrison had been an executive assistant with the Walgreen Corporation reporting to two CEOs. Her love of her job led Vince to us – we have a multi-generational relationship to the company. Jo was the love of Vince’s life and I recall more than once his tears when he remembered their 45 year marriage.

And, you wouldn’t think Vince would be a crier. From his obituary:

Mr. Harrison was born January 1, 1928 in Flint, Michigan, the son of Jack and Aleena Harrison. A graduate of Fenton High School, he was a WWII veteran who proudly served with the U.S. Army in the South Pacific. Upon return he earned an undergraduate Bachelor’s Degree from the University of Detroit and a Master’s Degree from Wayne State University. He married the love of his life, Jo Mattar, in 1959 and she preceded him in death on her birthday December 6, 2004. Mr. Harrison held various managerial positions in the private sector for 21 years, primarily with the Ford Motor Company and Pfizer International. He then established a Career Management Consulting firm in Chicago over the ensuing 14 years with numerous Fortune 500 clients. . . . Sports played a major role in his life. He earned 11 varsity letters at Fenton High School being an All-State nominee four times in football and basketball as well as a selected Genesee County All-Conference six times. Subsequently, he was awarded two varsity letters in baseball from the University of Detroit; was a member of numerous club and recreational championships in Flint, Detroit and Chicago including a national title in Platform Tennis in 1990. Mr. Harrison received a number of outstanding awards over the years including induction four times in various Halls of Fame. These include the Fenton High School Lifetime Achievement HOF (2003); Greater Flint Area Sports HOF (2008); Fenton High School Athletic HOF (2008 and 2011).

Even into his eighties, Vince was admirably physically fit. He had a hearty hand shake and if you grabbed his upper arm while taking his hand, you’d feel solid muscle. Vince worked out daily, enjoyed a good cigar, and could pour a strong one – which I discovered the first time we sat on his deck overlooking an offshoot of Lake Fenton.

I mentioned that our meeting related to memorializing Jo. Part of my role at the University is to work with individuals who want to establish scholarships and Vince reached out to the University through our central development office staff who, in turn, connected him with me. Vince had been an executive who was used to evaluating situations, getting data, and making decisions. At our initial meeting, he pretty much sketched out what he wanted to do and that he wanted personally to select the student who would receive the scholarship. This, of course, is a bit of a problem as when one makes a gift to a non-profit such as us, one cedes control of the asset. Sure, you can negotiate the broad use of a gift, but the day-to-day administration is to be kept at “arm’s length” to comply with IRS regulations. Usually, a donor needs to have the confidence in the organization he or she wants to support to release control comfortably. With Vince, that was the challenge.

He wasn’t an alumnus; he was very emotionally immersed as it was to honor his wife; he was used to being the boss. After a few meetings where he met key leaders of the College and we demonstrated that we knew “the business of education” better than he did, he acquiesced.

Vince established the scholarship and convinced Jo’s former boss to contribute as well. Each year, we’ve awarded the Jo Harrison Memorial Scholarship and the recipients (and their families) have met Vince – to each other’s mutual benefit.

I last saw Vince in July. He and I enjoyed a gin and tonic on his deck (by then I had learned to pour my own!), smoked a cigar and talked about life, his faith, memories of Jo, and the future. After we selected this year’s scholarship recipient in August, I called Vince early September and left a message; a week later, a second message. Last week, I called again and again got the recording. I was worried enough to call Vince’s church – he was a lay minister and very involved at the parish – and they informed me that he had passed away a month prior - days before my initial call.

All of this reflection is a reminder to stay in touch with people. I know that Vince would understand that I was unaware of his passing and missed the funeral – but I still feel bad.

Call someone with whom you haven’t connected in a while. Touch base, laugh, and wish each other well. Life is preciously short and those in our life who affect us can disappear without warning.


The complete obituary can be found at: John Vincent Harrison