A little rebellion now and then is a good thing.
--TJ
Early in March, the better looking half of the future Drs. J came out for an ultimate Frisbee tournament at Stanford and she invited me to watch. I guess she remembered what a great athletic supporter I was when I attended her tournament in Boulder last summer, and she wanted her new team to benefit from my presence as well. The whole day was reminiscent of my graduate school days in Cambridge when I lived with three players from the women's volleyball team. "Hello, Four's Company!" We had a great time, and met later that evening for dinner. Since the team won every game I watched, I was confident they would do well the following day. I decided to skip the second day of the tournament and keep my promise to visit an old folks home.
The next day, I went to the Jewish Home for the Aged in San Francisco. The place looked like the Emerald City in Oz. One difference, however, was that in this case, not only the visitors, but even the residents could not find their way home. Several of the residents asked me to wheel them back to their rooms. I replied that I could drive if they would direct me. Unfortunately, all they could do was offer an address like "Cell Block 9," and that was insufficient for the Adam delivery program. I did manage to get a few of them to the correct floor before I handed them off to mission control for final approach.
While there, I had a good time talking to a transplanted New Yorker who was visiting her octogenarian parents. She told me I was a good boy for being there that day. I cautioned her regarding the fallibility of first impressions. Her Mom caught my eye and, as mother's do, proclaimed "That's my daughter." I replied, "Oh, you must be very proud." That comment earned me an extra card in that week's Bingo tournament so maybe I'm not such a bad guy after all.
On the dogmas of religion, as distinguished from moral principles, all mankind, from the beginning of the world to this day, have been quarreling, fighting, burning and torturing one another, for abstractions unintelligible to themselves and to all others, and absolutely beyond the comprehension of the human mind.
--TJ
A few weeks later, my boss took us to the Monterey Aquarium. I didn't really understand what it had to do with work, but since he was buying, and it wasn't bagel day, I indulged him. I've been there a bunch of times, but I wanted to check out the new Outer Banks exhibit that tripled the size of the Cannery Row establishment. We had a great time watching the fishes, and other seafood, and I got a lot of mileage out of the discovery that not all clams are happy. I usually like going out for seafood after visiting an aquarium, but once again, I deferred to the owner of the checkbook and we had Thai food. Small sacrifice indeed. I wrote a rap song to commemorate the event and I'm getting a lot of mileage out of that as well.
That evening, I hopped on a redeye to DC to attend a conference and do some lobbying on behalf of the Jews. This was sort of a reverse Diaspora with Tribes from all over the country descending upon DC. I was hoping to see Charleton Heston part the Reflecting Pond, but it was drained and is actually no deeper than the Red Sea's model at Universal Studios. Another case where life imitates art?
Prior to the trip, my Hill delegation held several meetings to prepare our positions. As is common for those of us cursed with the proclivity to resist peer pressure and think for ourselves, I disagreed with the party line on many of the positions. Finally I found a position with which I agreed, Iranian terrorism. "We're against it, right," I asked. "Yes," I was encouraged. Someone later remarked that this issue was a No Brainer. At that point I was convinced that I was the right person for the job! I dusted off my Bar Mitzvah suit, the Jews' propaganda, $1000 of software for Eric to exercise on his new laptop, and paper copies of my book for my Internet-challenged friends Jack and Rich, and I was on my way. In addition to lobbying, I was eager to see if Gopher was still in town so I could pull the old Lido Deck trick in the elevator.
You can fool all the people some of the time, and some of the people all the time, but you
cannot fool all the people all the time.
--AL
Eric collected me at the airport and we headed to the Fruit Loop to make camp. I wanted to go to one of the nearby Jewish museums for a warm-up exercise, but they were all closed for religious reasons. Instead, we went to the National Geographic Society. While waiting for the introductory movie to begin, I was having a great time playing with a video quiz machine, always remembering to reset with my legs, not with my back.
Just as we were about to enter the theater, a swarm of little girls arrived on a field trip. Eric immediately sensed trouble, but thinking positively, I thought we might be able to score some cookies. Unfortunately, they turned out to not be Girl Scouts after all. Noticing their uniforms, I asked them if they were crossing guards. They said that they weren't, they were safety patrol. "What do you do," I probed further. "We help people cross the street," they replied. "Oh, crossing guards," I finished. Things got even crazier after this.
We ultimately entered a theater with a large illuminated globe. At each seat was a 4-key keypad for answering questions regarding our favorite geographic feature, etc. After each correct answer, I would exclaim "Yes!" in my best Macaulay Culkin imitation. It didn't take the girls long to catch on to this and start doing the same. Before long, I was turning around and high-fiving them and we were having a grand old time. I'm not sure their teachers appreciated their enthusiasm, but at least I didn't have to ride the bus home with them and for once I escaped detention.
Let us have faith that right makes might; and in that faith let us to the end, dare to do our duty as we understand it.
--AL
My conference with the Jews began the next day. It was held at the Hinckley Hilton, whose name honors the guy who attempted to kill President Reagan. I guess we can add this commemoration to the list of other great failures that are memorialized in US history like the Maine, the Alamo, Prohibition, and my parents' efforts to get me married by age 30.
At the conference, we saw many speakers speak on a variety of topics. Two of the better speakers were Mary Matalin and James Carville. They were very entertaining and I gave them the award for being the only speakers to have been on Letterman.
The conference was a very exhausting few days. Buddy, MBa and I were so fatigued after restocking the bar in our hospitality suite, that they invited me up to their room to join them in a group nap. I didn't get as much sleep as they did, but the details of that hour are left to a footnote that will not get written.
Also adding to the stress was the number of people. By the time we got to DC, we were 1/333 of a million strong. This size was made most evident, and frustrating, when President Clinton came to speak. Security was so tight, it took us over an hour to pass through metal detectors and enter the banquet room to hear him. I contrasted this with when I heard Vice President Quayle speak at the World Space Congress in DC in 1992. Then, there were no visible security measures. It surprises me that Jews were perceived as being more of a security risk to Clinton, than aerospace workers were to Quayle. Maybe I am misinterpreting this.
Before the conference, I learned another Jewish stereotype: Jews don't drink. This struck me as rather strange, so I investigated further with some college buddies. They assured me that they were not making disparaging comments behind my back in this area, and they cited my collection of shot glasses, margarita glasses, and my wine production activities as contrary indicators to at least my adherence to this rule. Nevertheless, this stereotype seemed to bother the conference participants more than any other. Many people, perhaps inspired by the political aspects of the trip, were drinking late into the night demonstrating the falsity of this impression. I was amazed how many people I discovered roaming the halls at 3 AM when I headed back to Eric's for a few hours of sleep and a change of clothes.
Furthermore, on my way out the last night, I noticed many people coupled up in every nook and cranny of the coffee shop and elsewhere. Since I'm trying to maintain a PG-13 rating to avoid embarrassing Grandma any more than absolutely necessary, I won't describe what I saw in great detail. Suffice it to say that people were involved in activities that Homer Simpson would describe as being intimit [sic]. I kept thinking of Rodney Dangerfield's line to Sally Kellerman in Back to School, "Those two should get a room." That is when I realized the problem. They all had rooms, but they were with other people.
This reminds me that I would be remiss if I did not mention the antics of Mrs. S. Whenever I put pen to paper, Mrs. S would feign(?) anxiety about her activities being recorded for posterity and future transmission. Mrs. S has been a strong supporter since before her prayers helped me skirt strike duty last summer so I could attend our Retreat, and she humors me into continuing my writing. Despite her apprehension, however, I have no (printable) dirt on her for this chapter. She is, however, well advised to maintain her guard.
Some men see things as they are and say why? I dream things that never were and say "Why
not?"
--RK
All week I was trying to relate my experience to my Dad's work. I know that he stays up all night eating and drinking in his lobby, so I figured I had that base covered. For inspiration, I envisioned him imploring me to use the Force. Of course, DC is grittier and more intimidating than Albany is, and issues of international terrorism are more important to humanity than whether banks have permission to give away Pop Tarts with their toasters. Nevertheless, I felt that our experiences were somewhat aligned.
The last day was Hill visit day. On my way to the Senate office building to meet with one of my Senators, I started thinking of the words of some Jewish prophets that were not written on the subway walls. First and foremost of these are from the Book of Marx, Chapter Groucho, "I just shot an elephant in my pajamas. How he got in my pajamas I'll never know." While his younger brother Harpo didn't say much, their eldest brother Karl writes, "Religion is the opiate of the masses." Freud's "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar," also came to mind. I checked my odometer that morning and noted that I had only managed 10 hours of sleep over the previous three days. I was good and punchy for my climb up Mt. Capitol Hill.
Upon the advice of Mary Matalin earlier in the week, we boiled down most of our lobbying effort to a sound bite, "Immigration good, Iran bad." We hadn't quite decided what to do about Iranian immigrants, but we weren't professional lobbyists, so we hoped to get away with the omission.
Unfortunately, my Representative was called out of town, so we were left to meet with her aide. I likened this to my alternate juror experience, although it was far less humorous. After our brief meeting, I went to the Senate Gallery to watch Congress in action. I spent over an hour watching bored pages stretched out on the ground awaiting something more interesting. Ultimately, I saw my Senator give a soliloquy on the important topic that cut short our meeting earlier in the day. After she left, another Senator spoke about giving baseball the same anti-trust status that football enjoys. Presumably, all of the other Senators were too busy working on the budget, immigration, terrorism, or any of a dozen other important topics to be able to attend either of these speeches. I feel very privileged that they went through all that trouble just for me!
At our Hill visit, I was so impressed with how good Buddy looks in clothes, that I invited her and MBa to join Eric and me for dinner at the Watergate. I've eaten dinner at various restaurants there before, and since I have yet to find any bugs, I figured a return trip was warranted. Also, a Letterman rerun had just featured the chef, so I knew it was a quality place. We had a swell time at dinner. Buddy ordered lamb, and I encouraged her to eat the bone clean so she could use it in a few weeks. On the way out, we recreated a photo session very frequently seen in front of 77 Mass. Ave. in Cambridge.
We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard.
--JK
I only had one day in DC after the conference, so I barely had time for a Mall-op. A long line of children kept me out of the Archives, but I figured they needed to see the Declaration of Independence, and Ross Perot's lent copy of the Magna Carta more than I did. While I made it to both wings of the National Gallery, this was my first trip to DC in about a dozen years that I did not make it the National Air and Space Museum. I don't think anybody had been to Mars, or even the moon, since I left NASA, so maybe I wasn't missing anything new.
I also visited the American History museum where I participated in a segment of CNN's Talk Back Live. I tried to look appropriately pensive every time I noticed myself on TV. Dad called to say he thought he saw me on TV; I keep having to remind him that Baywatch is not the news. I was intrigued with the collection of ethnic books in the museum store, and the fact that a plurality featured Jewish authors or subjects. Since I'm still struggling to finish the books I bought at the Jewish Museum in NY, I restrained myself from further purchases.
As usual, Eric took good care of me during my stay. He served me fresh bagels and he made my bed so I wouldn't be jealous of my friends in the hotel. I was hoping to get mints on my pillow, but then I remembered he had just moved and was no longer on the Concierge floor.
