Jack Kemp: All American

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A lot of people were much closer to Jack Kemp than I, but a lot more people did not know him as well as I did. Only a few remaining Americans can say what I can: “I was there at the beginning.”

Jack Kemp, who passed away in 2009, emerged on the national scene not in the political arena passing historic legislation, but on the gridiron field and into passing history. He was forged in a time when most Americans believed in and followed the Boy Scout Law. He played among those people, he lived among those people, and, eventually, he came to represent those people. I know. I was one of them.

Friends, conservatives, liberals, and countrymen, I write not to rebury Jack Kemp, but to Continue Reading “Jack Kemp: All American”

The History Of Local Historians

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James Sullivan, New York State Historian (1916-1922), source: New York State Archives

“The love of one’s locality and a commendable pride in its achievements lie at the basis of true patriotism. It is difficult, nevertheless, to love something about which you know nothing. One who knows the history of the place in which he is living is far more likely to venerate it than he who is entirely ignorant of its story. To preserve this history is the function of the local historian.”

Those words belong to James Sullivan, New York State Historian. The Rochester Democrat and Chronicle published them (as part of a bigger article penned by Sullivan) on page 17 of the Sunday, March 26, 1922 edition of the paper.

Sullivan used the piece to explain the nature and purpose of a relatively new law. It was passed by the State Legislature and signed into law by New York Governor Al Smith on April 11, 1919. Technically Section 57.07 of the New York State Arts and Cultural Affairs Law, it’s known more familiarly as “Local Government Historian Law” or simply the “Local Historian” Law.

The first paragraph of the law states “A local historian shall be appointed, as provided in Continue Reading “The History Of Local Historians”

Bring Back Dodgeball! Why ‘Too Big To Fail’ Failed

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“Whatza matter you, big toe?” Danny incomprehensibly teased, egging me to wing the ball at him. His flaming red hair and daring blue eyes proved a compelling target. Danny wasn’t stupid—but neither was I. As all fourth graders knew, Danny caught every ball thrown his way. And in Dodgeball, that means you’re out, he wins. The cool lake breeze evaporated the sweat from my forehead as the sun beat abnormally hot that spring day on the elementary school playground. With the recess bell moments away, I made my decision quickly.

Using the deft eye of a future quarterback, my face feigned throwing the ball into Danny’s broad chest and stocky arms. He bought the ruse and, as I cocked my arm back, I could see his biceps tense. Kids usually thought if they threw the ball hard enough right at him, Danny wouldn’t catch it. Danny always caught it. With a snap release, I flicked the ball directly at… his feet!

Stymied by the misdirection, Danny froze. The ball bounced harmlessly off his shoe. The bell rang. I had won.

* * * * *

Six years later, on the hardwood deck of the high school gym, I found myself in Danny’s shoes. Faced in an identical Mexican standoff, I stared at my opponent’s eyes like a preying defensive back. Prepared for anything, his launching of the ball for my lower leg did not surprise me. Its speed, however, did. I quickly slipped my feet behind me and fell forward, curling above and around the oncoming missile. I carefully watched the path of the fleshy projectile, first as it sailed beneath my torso, then as it shot under my quickly rising sneakers. I watched it all the way—at least until my teeth slammed into the unyielding floorboards.

My head ricocheted back, sans two front teeth. My classmates immediately surrounded my dazed body. The first thing I remember seeing were pieces of my shattered front teeth strewn across the shiny wax floor. When asked how I felt, I calmly but matter-of-factly answered, “We won.”

* * * * *

They don’t play Dodgeball in public schools anymore—and not just because kids can get hurt. No, Dodgeball fell out of favor during the era where “self-esteem” became the mantra. “Don’t let Johnny lose. It’ll hurt his confidence.” “Let’s give everyone a trophy for participating.” “Just giving awards to winners might deflate the self-assurance of the losers.” “Better yet, let’s not have ‘winners’ and ‘losers’ at all, because, really, aren’t we all winners?” “Yes, society has certainly grown out of the ‘macho’ phase of testosterone.” “Why can’t we just all get along?”

And so, out went the virile excitement of Dodgeball and, with it, the grandeur of achievement. In came the tepid feel-goodness of equality and the glorification of the victim. “Jane shouldn’t get too far ahead of the rest of the class.” “She doesn’t need help like those less bright. She’s smart enough to figure it out for herself.” “We can’t hold Johnny accountable given his depraved background.”

We went from “defining deviancy down,” as Daniel Patrick Moynihan once declared, to, as the Washington Times wrote more than a decade ago, the “dumbing down of America.”

One need look no further than at the actions of our financial markets and those investors who had unrealistic expectations in 2008/2009. We saw it in the government forcing lenders to give money to borrowers who couldn’t afford to pay back those loans. We saw it in the banks who didn’t envision losing and willingly gave money to borrowers who couldn’t afford to pay. We saw this in the borrowers themselves who, fed on a steady diet of “self-esteem,” never assumed they could lose. Hadn’t any of these folks ever played Dodgeball?

Worse, we saw it in the quixotic investors who believed in the fantastic returns claimed by Bernard Madoff’s now obvious Ponzi scheme. What a perfect investment! Everybody wins, nobody loses!

Though I now sport a “White Bridge of Courage” from my childhood antics in the game of Dodgeball, that particular arena left important lessons: Life produces winners and losers; and, its corollary, sometimes, when something seems too good to be true, it really is too good to be true.

In truth, when you play the game called “real world” you either win or lose. Pretending this axiom no longer exists only leads to—well—what we’re reading in today’s headlines. The Founding Fathers understood this. The pioneers and cowboys embraced it. And we today must take a stand – nothing is too big to fail!

And if a business “too big to fail” can fail, can’t government “too big to fail” also fail?

(Sigh…) It’s too bad we don’t play Dodgeball anymore…

What Did You Learn From Oppenheimer?

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When you’re a hammer, everything looks like a nail. When you’re a physics and astronomy major swimming in a sea of humanities majors, everything looks like an atom.

Or, quite possibly, a planet.

I guess it depends if you’re talking to someone who just got out of a micro-economics course or a macro-economics course.

Here’s the thing about majoring in physics in astronomy. Back when I did it, it was considered a double major. In reality, given the amount of required math courses, it was really a triple major. Only the folks in New Haven didn’t officially recognize triple majors.

The point, however, is that your schedule doesn’t have a lot of room for much of anything else.

Now, here comes the twist. On top of all those courses required for the physics and Continue Reading “What Did You Learn From Oppenheimer?”

CONFIDENTIAL MEMORANDUM TO PRESIDENT TRUMAN – 17JULY 1945

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N.B.: In Spring of 1981, as part of an assignment for History 111B – The American Nation, 1865-Present, the following paper was submitted as though it was written by a scientific liaison to President Truman at the July 1945 Potsdam Conference. Naturally, to keep within the time frame, the preceding character had many limitations. Scientists, even important ones like Oppenheimer, had no inkling of the military situation and were not informed of the diplomatic situation.14 For this reason, the character does not discuss the political ramifications of outdoing the Soviets because he would not know of the oncoming break in relations. Every attempt was made to draft this hypothetical report in the manner which a science writer in July of 1945 would have written it. This was done by diving into various science-oriented and news-oriented periodicals during that period. Please remember, the language of this fictitious report may seem naïve, ignorant, or even offensive by today’s standards, but it reflects what was known and thought on July 17, 1945.

CONFIDENTIAL

* * * * * SECURITY 1 PRIORITY * * * * *

MEMORANDUM TO PRESIDENT TRUMAN

 

SUBJECT:Continue Reading “CONFIDENTIAL MEMORANDUM TO PRESIDENT TRUMAN – 17JULY 1945”

When I Learned I Was A Writer

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Yes, I hated English class. All the way from Middle School through College. That didn’t mean I didn’t like to write. As demonstrated by my 10th grade novel, I treated writing as a form of teenage rebellion. Teenagers must rebel, and it’s a lot safer using a pen than some other tool.

Truth be told, I wrote constantly, especially when I wasn’t supposed to. I even used English class as an excuse to write. It’s called “free writing” or “stream of consciousness writing.” It’s the kind of nonsense writing that fills journals.

In December of my senior year in high school, my father gave me an appointment book. It wasn’t as fancy as the ones they have now. His company (Hartford Insurance) printed them up for their employees. My father must have had an Continue Reading “When I Learned I Was A Writer”

Why I Started To Write

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I’ve seen this quote all over the news lately. Funny thing, but I remember the quote and not the news story that prompted its use. The quote is from Ernest Hemingway’s 1926 novel The Sun Also Rises. In it, Bill asks how Mike went bankrupt. Mike responds with the now literary meme, “Two ways. Gradually and then suddenly.”

It turns out this “gradually then suddenly” concept applies to a lot more than bankruptcy. Think about how the Roman Empire fell. This applies both to the OG empire centered in Continue Reading “Why I Started To Write”

The Never-Ending Apple Wars of Summer

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The dynamics between the kids on Abbott Parkway were complex. There was always this “boys against girls” thing.

It started in school. By fourth grade, it got to where boys intercepted notes girls tried to pass to one another. Sometimes the boys would read them. Sometimes the boys would pass them to our teacher, Miss Powell. Miss Powell didn’t take too kindly to note passing.

This tension spilled over to the neighborhood. Several girls from our grade played on the Continue Reading “The Never-Ending Apple Wars of Summer”

Simple Summer Mornings In The Years B.C. (‘Before Chili’)

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If the summers of Dortmund Circle were filled with sports of all sorts, flingable fruit filled the summers of Abbott Parkway. That wasn’t the only difference.

While nearly all the kids my age on Dortmund Circle were boys, girls dominated the peerage on Abbott Parkway. There were a lot more kids on Abbott Parkway, in part because the street was twice as long. That length also changed our venues of play.

On Dortmund Circle, all us guys lived within a few houses of each other. Our playing fields (mostly the street and our driveways) lay right outside our doors. Given its substantial length and the location of most of the kids, Abbott Parkway presented a different avenue to fun.Continue Reading “Simple Summer Mornings In The Years B.C. (‘Before Chili’)”

The (Too) Short Season Of Fun In The Sun

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Do you remember what you did during summer vacation? Note how I refer to it as summer “vacation” and not summer “break.” There’s a reason for this.

Summer “break” connotes that time between spring and fall semesters during college. You usually have a summer job or some sort of internship. Summer “break” entails a break from the routine. You travel from your college either back home or to whatever city you end up working or interning in.

While a break from schoolwork, it’s not a break from work. After all, you do have to pay for college somehow.

Now, a summer “vacation” means something totally different. It evokes memories of a Continue Reading “The (Too) Short Season Of Fun In The Sun”

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