Thoughts along the way...

Author: Eric (Page 1 of 5)

Five years seems like a century ago

January 6th was a disgrace. American citizens attacked their own government. They use terrorism to try to stop a specific piece of domestic business they did not like. Fellow Americans beat and bloodied our own police. They stormed the center floor. They tried to hunt down the Speaker of the House. They built a gallows and chatted about murdering the vice president. They did this because they’d been fed wild, falsehoods by the most powerful man on earth because he was angry. He lost an election. Former President Trump’s actions preceded the riot or a disgraceful dereliction of duty…

There’s no question, none, that President Trump is practically and morally responsible for provoking the events of the day. No question about it.

Sen. Mitch McConnell, R- Kentucky (as Minority Leader), February 13, 2021

History lessons

Kids today have it so much better than when I was in school. Back then, we had to read about historical events like “gunboat diplomacy” in dusty old textbooks.

Today, history classes can just watch the news…

Ahead: A Year of History

2026 Is going to be a year of history, if not an historic year in its own right, if this morning’s news about our military action in Venezuela is any kind of harbinger of things to come. This past year was a whirlwind of, well, shit, as the “Flood The Zone With Shit” playbook1 was opened to every chapter. 

What has concerned me all along me is the zone flooding was only the beginning, as norms were tested to the breaking point again and again and again. As we head into this year, I call it a year of history not because of today’s headlines, but because 2026 marks the Semiquincentennial of the event we mark as the birth of our nation. In July, we will celebrate 250 years since fifty six men from 13 colonies declared the independence of those colonies from their sovereign across the pond.2

It would be a dozen years before we arrived at the form of governance we are still – theoretically – working under. The actual date of our nation’s birth can arguably be pegged to a few major events, but the events of early July in 1776 are a good place to find consensus on our origin story.

Folks in the commonwealth of Massachusetts would like you to think that they started it all about fifteen months earlier, with the famous shots fired on the Lexington Common and the bridge in Concord in April of 1775, celebrated annually as Patriot’s Day, a state holiday in Massachusetts and Maine (the latter being part of the former when the events occurred…).

We all heard about Paul Revere’s famous ride…but growing up, the version we heard in seacoast NH was the ride that happened five months before the ride memorialized by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s epic poem (recitals of which, curiously, were also part of growing up back in the day). On December 14, 1774, Revere rode north to Portsmouth, NH, to warn the militia there that the British were sending troops to reinforce Fort William and Mary, which commanded the Piscataqua River entrance to the Portsmouth Harbor. Men from Rye, Dover, Durham, and Madbury raided the fort and stole its stores.3 Shots were fired – the first time colonial militia fired on British regulars – but it was a small group of troops in the fort, quickly overcome by the mob. Admittedly it was a far cry from what went down the following April – but it was still first.

Of course, the notion of violence in the face of the British rules for the colonies was expressed a year prior, on December 16, 1773, when the famous Boston Tea Party began a long tradition of polluting Boston’s Harbor (it was followed a few days later by the Philadelphia Tea Party, which few outside of Philly or history buffs are even aware was a thing). This wasn’t the taking up of arms agains British Troops, but it acted like a canon shot across the bow.

The point in all of this is to say that we the people are going to have myriad opportunities to re-learn (or in some cases learn) the story of our nation with a big-number birthday as a backdrop. Ken Burns is helping out with his take on the American Revolutionary War; over the course of the year we can expect to see a number of television programs, magazine spreads, analysis, commentary, and assorted coverage in the many media out there.

The problem with this is the background against which we have to celebrate this anniversary: a government led by a man and cabal more interested in rewriting history, calling truth “fake news,” and self-serving for their own tainted glory and legacy. I shan’t recount the unilateral actions taken by this administration that fly in the face of the law, the norms, or the history of our governance, but I will point out one of the more visible affronts, wherein the president gutted the board at the Kennedy Center, which last month, in turn, voted to rename the center with the president’s name.

From nytimes.com:

[The presdident] said on Thursday that he was “surprised” and “honored” that the center’s board, of which he is the chairman, had thought to do this for him, almost as if it were coming out of the blue. And yet he has been referring to the center as “[president’s name]-Kennedy” in social media posts for months — and the new lettering for the building’s face was all ready to go the next morning.

It is only a distraction, of course. It takes an act of Congress (even a supine one) to make that change, as it took an act of congress to create the center in the first place, as the nation’s memorial to the slain Kennedy. The president could just as easily fake a name change to the Lincoln or Jefferson Memorials or the Washington Monument – and, honestly, I would not put it past him to do so – but that would not change the reason those memorials were erected.

We have seen, in his first administration and now the second one, an inclination to rewrite history with the levers available in the Oval Office.4 Narratives are being changed in museums, for example, to make the Civil War seem less about slavery and more about “state’s rights.”

By the time we get to July, what will the story as portrayed on our federal stages of our nation’s origin look like?

This is not an original thought or concern. Nor is it new – nine years ago I wrote a piece arguing that we cannot allow ourselves to normalize what we see as if it is somehow normal.

This year will be a year of history. Merriam-Webster defines history as, “a chronological record of significant events (such as those affecting a nation or institution) often including an explanation of their causes.” We have a record of events that won’t change. Names, dates, times, places of things that happened to make ours an independent nation are all well -documented and won’t change.

What will change, and has been for some time now, is the power with which those who wish to change the explanation of things can amplify their skewed version of who we are as a nation, and twist that perception to their vile ends.

You know – flooding the zone with their shit.

Then again, this is a year of history, being written down today for the story of how we met this challenge as it will be told years from now. What will they be saying at the Semiquincentennial of our Constitution a dozen years from now?

Assuming we make it that far…

  1. https://www.cnn.com/2021/11/16/media/steve-bannon-reliable-sources ↩︎
  2. https://www.archives.gov/founding-docs/declaration-transcript ↩︎
  3. https://nhmuseumtrail.org/raid-on-fort-william-and-mary/ ↩︎
  4. https://www.cnn.com/2025/09/17/us/museum-censorship-smithsonian-risks ↩︎

New Year’s Day

As the Irish philosopher-king Paul David Hewson sang, “All is quiet on New Year’s day…” And so it seems. Under a light rainy sky, it is a pretty quiet day for a walk with the pooch.

Image of a residential street, with a wooden fence in the foreground showing a wet street and sidewalk extending into the distance

In so many ways, today is the calm before the storm. We, at work, are between terms; the students are, by and large, away. The town is quiet, and many houses show bowl games on the big screens seen through street-facing windows as Charlie and I pass. Traffic is light, so we make good time, without much difficultly crossing even the bigger streets.

Beyond our burg, a brief pause, while the bowl games continue, while many take today and tomorrow to start the year with a four-day weekend. The headlines of the last eleven months seem to lurk in the distance, far enough that that they don’t seem to weigh heavy, if only for a day.

This is the time that many use as a pause to reset. Flipping the calendar is always a good time to reflect and to plan ahead. A lot of people condense these thoughts into resolutions. I’ve learned enough about myself to eschew such lists, though I have been clearing my desk and files as a way of clearing my mind, getting things in order for the coming months.

I predict, with great confidence, that in about 360 days we shall all be marveling at home fast 2026 went by. In this calm, the year seems like a long time stretched ahead of us. Maybe it’s me, but as I’ve gotten older, things don’t seem to go any slower; if anything, the time passes more quickly. Perhaps I’m more keenly aware that each of us has a reservoir of time that is not not infinite; the more we go, the less we have stretching out ahead.

If I did the resolution thing, I would not sweat the common details like weight or diet or lifestyle that seem to be at the top of so many lists. I prefer to think instead about what difference I might make.

This past year I stepped into new role when I was appointed by the governor to the Board of Trustees of Oregon State University. Since 2014, OSU has operated with an independent board, as an independent public body, a “governmental entity performing governmental functions and exercising governmental powers.”1

Which makes me, since September 30 last year, a public official.

When I was part of the Fourth Estate, my job was to pay attention to public officials of all walks. Beyond my day job, I paid attention to public officials in order to provide critiques of their activities, for good and for bad. Growing up in the Granite State, politics is akin to mother’s milk; from the annual Town Meeting form of small-town governance to the largest state legislature in the United States (400 seats in the House!), living there, you knew someone who was in elected office.

In my day job, we provide technical support to the board’s meetings, with cameras and microphones making the whole affair a big Zoom webinar, so I have been familiar with the goings-on of the board for a few years now. The board is made up of a number of at-large members, plus five seats reserved for students (3), faculty (1) and non-faculty staff (1) members. As the clock wound down to the end of the term for the previous holder of the staff seat, there were no folks stepping up; rather than see a seat go empty, I put my name in.

The past few months have been an interesting transition for me, getting used to being on the other side of the camera, literally and figuratively. As a public official, there are some things I can no longer say, at least in the way I might have said them, at least about where I work. Of course, I am appointed, not elected, so I do not have to worry in the same way about offending potential voters when I do choose to opine.

Which I will.

But, for now at least, all has been quiet on New Year’s day. 2026 beckons, and there is a storm or two in the offing. So pay attention, and for the love of Pete: be involved.

  1. https://oregon.public.law/statutes/ors_352.033 ↩︎

271 Words

Eight score and a pair of years ago today, in the midst of a bloody civil war, our nation dedicated a national cemetery on the grounds where the Battle of Gettysburg took place a few months earlier. It was a cool autumn day, and in attendance was the President of the United States, Abraham Lincoln. 

But Lincoln was not the main orator for the event; that honor was accorded to Edward Everett, who prepared a 13,607 word address that lasted two hours. When he was done, Lincoln rose to make some concluding remarks. 

He spoke for about two minutes; he used only 271 words. Everett afterward said, “I should be glad, if I could flatter myself that I came as near to the central idea of the occasion, in two hours, as you did in two minutes.”

As much as he was honoring the dead of Gettysburg, Lincoln was speaking to the future of our nation. Once again, we find ourselves engaged in a great civil war of sorts, testing whether this nation, conceived and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal, can long endure. Lincoln said:

The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

We find ourselves at a strange juncture; our Union is at arguably the greatest risk it’s seen since Lincoln’s time. We’re not fighting in open fields with canon, cavalry, muskets and bayonets, which makes these far more insidious circumstances. Without the physical carnage of bloody bodies, it is not as easy to see the attacks made upon our rule of law by the folks in control, who, in terrible irony, refer to their caucus as the party of Lincoln.

It is for us to honor all who gave the last full measure of devotion that this nation shall have a new birth of freedom.

Amen

Independence Day

My father’s parents were born in what was considered part of Russia; in their youth they saw the independent nation of Latvia come into being on this date in 1918. 

Sadly, the revolution that led to independent status of a number of territories, including the Baltic states of Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia, gave way to a more evil empire, with whom we were allies in the second world war, during which time the independence of these states was stripped away. My father’s family fled from the oppression as refugees, with a harrowing flight into Germany to get to the other allied lines before the Soviet tanks claimed territory, and prisoners, en route to Berlin. (Spoiler alert: they made it…)

Occupied Latvia was given its own Soviet Socialist Republic in 1944 (You’re one of us now. You’re welcome. Good luck finding food.) but in 1987, as perestroika took hold under Gorbachev, the thaw began. After the fall of the Berlin wall, things accelerated, and by August, 1991, after a few years of de facto semi-independence, Latvia again achieved full, autonomous independence as a nation, which has lasted now longer than the first time.

In response to the question at the end of the Constitutional Convention in 1787, “Well, Doctor, what have we got, a republic or a monarchy?” Ben Franklin was said to have replied, “A republic, if you can keep it.” Little Latvia, along with its Baltic sister states, and especially Ukraine, stand in testament to that sentiment. Despite the depredations of authoritarians, beginning with Stalin, who lied and broke their promises, the spirit and light of independence in a people is difficult to extinguish.

All the same, it’s better to keep it lit all along, rather than let it grow dim or expire.

Oh, to be young again…

Yeah, I know – it’s been waaaaay too long. To many things happening too fast to be able to take the time and create meaningful content for my dear readers. So I’ll take a cheap shortcut to a thousand word essay about the latest thing to happen in our lives: meet (Cosmic) Charlie.

Head-on, looking up from ground level, wide-angle portrait of a happy puppy with a toy in her mouth.

Not sure who’s rescued whom. This six-month pile of puppy energy has turned the household topsy-turvy, from toys to timing. First up, last to bed, and in need of lots of attention, especially tug-of-war attention.

As to who’s doing the rescuing, it’s been fascinating, and rewarding, to see our older pooch, who has been almost the opposite as far as energy and play, slowly coming out of her lethargy and doing things because Charlie’s doing it.

This will have to do for now. More to come…sooner, I promise!

(Here are the two of them pondering damage to a garden stake:)

Two dongs playing on the grass with a garden stake.

It’s a small step, but if everyone takes it…

Back in 2013 I joined a website then called “twitter.” I was not an early adopter (I rarely am) but I new I would be traveling and many of the folks with whom I wanted to be in touch were almost exclusively (anti)social-media-only communicators.

Folks I knew had fancy-schmancy pocket computers from Apple and Samsung that had built-in cellular telephone capabilities, but never used them as phones. Their mode was all-text, all-the time. Preferably on one of the two major (anti)social media sites: Facething or the Twits.

Some time ago I left the former, as it was simply, too much. I was never too much of a user of the latter site, for which I kept my account alive primarily to be able to access posts of others – some can only be seen from within that particular sphere. In the intervening years the site was purchased by a very wealthy megalomaniac and transformed into the service of another, far less wealthy megalomaniac, arguably playing a role in getting the latter re-elected to the highest office in the land.

My account counts. Not much, but it’s a tick on the grand tally of accounts that allows the owner to say: “I’ve got so many accounts…”

So many minus one now, Bub. The flood of lies, disinformation, and misinformation that are the “X” content stream are not something I can in good conscience be a part of – even a passive one. So I am leaving, deactivating my account, and turning my back. I shall no longer be counted as one of the millions that make the site whatever the hell it has become.

It’s a small step, but if every like-minded person (and there are tens of millions of us out there, based on the Nov. 5 tallies) took the same small step, the collective leap would be impressive.

Meanwhile, it’s been a rough week. There is still a giant media channel to which I remain a member, and it is through them I can offer this needed distraction:

And if you like that, there’s more!

And for those looking for wallpaper, you can catch the boats in Portsmouth harbor here:

Peace – Eric

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