And no one to clear the driveway but me. Argghhh! Gonna find myself a plow person before the next one comes through. I was lucky today. We only had about nine inches and it was lite and fluffy. I’ve had to shovel worse.  I could have let it go and just driven ruts into it, but I know from experience that if I clear off down to the pavement at least partially, the entire thing will clear faster.

Deer tracks, bird tracks, fox tracks. No bear. I’m guessing they’ve all gone to their long winter’s nap for now. Cold and windy. Yay woodstove.

Update: Yay neighbors! My wonderful neighbor came by with his plow and cleared my driveway. It’s beautiful.

I was reading the newspaper the other day and came across a column by syndicated columnist Kathleen Parker. I’ve never heard of her (they don’t publish her in my local paper), but her essay was about the attacks on Joe Lieberman’s wife. I didn’t really know the issue so I read the essay. It didn’t sway me one way or another about the situation. After all, since she was writing her opinion, I would have to fact check before I could make an intelligent assessment. (I’m not saying she’s lying, I’m just saying I’d want more than one person’s word on it.)

But one paragraph struck me:

“Hadassah Lieberman is but the most recent victim of new media that owe no allegiance to facts or to the goal of an informed citizenry. In such an environment, anyone’s reputation is subject to the whim of any other person armed with an agenda and a random selection of disputable facts and unencumbered by standards.”

This is exactly what happened to Joe Pizarchik this summer. Who knows who is going to be next? Not only do these people behave this way, but they are teaching their children that what they are doing is right. What’s it going to take for them to comprehend how morally wrong it is? They probably won’t until it happens to them . . .

As a strong believer in marriage, and someone who has walked his path (although without the successful ending he refers to), I don’t need to say a thing about this Modern Love essay except read it!

My favorite uncle/my dad’s older brother died last Friday. They were gone within four months of each other. Yesterday I drove to NJ for a beautiful little service and to let my cousins know I understood how they felt. I didn’t know my uncle when I was a child. They lived hours away from us and money was tight on both sides. I think I saw the family maybe twice. But my dad kept in touch with his brother, of course.

Then, maybe 10 years ago (?), I started what would become an annual or bi-annual event. In March Joe and I would pack up a corned beef and cabbage dinner and drive to NJ, where we’d meet my dad and his wife, my uncle and a friend of his, and my twin cousins and their growing families to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day.

In those visits, I got to know my uncle and my cousins, but I also got to know my dad better. He had always very much admired his older brother, wanted to emulate him but just couldn’t. As my sister said yesterday, my uncle was the grasshopper, my dad was the ant. Apart they could be so different, together they were very much alike. So now I picture them forever, sitting around a kitchen table, drinking (good) beer and swapping stories. Slainte!

That’s all I am. And this one little voice is really angry to hear so many people express so many doubts about the president’s plan for Afghanistan. I’d like to know where these people were in 2001-2003. I remember thinking when they went into Afghanistan that I wished they wouldn’t do it, but I understood why they were. But when Bush started in about Iraq, I started writing emails to my congressmen and the president and I can’t remember who else. I told them not to invade Iraq, I told them they didn’t have the proof. I told them war was not something to take lightly. No one responded in more than a form letter (and in some cases a form letter that was a complete non sequitur to what I was saying). I was indeed just one little voice. But it turned out I was right (I’m not gloating, believe me). And now there are two messes and Bush didn’t do anything to fix them and now they’re someone else’s to clean up. No easy answers here. I’m praying for the soldiers and the president and pretty much everyone involved. Maybe someday people will actually give peace a chance. Imagine.

Four-disc set. All the early early bluegrass you could want. This is pre-Bill Monroe stuff, e.g., Lonesome Pine Fiddlers, Jim Eames and His Shenandoah Valley Boys, Wade Mainer and the Sons of the Mountaineers. In other words, a bunch of people you’ve never heard of playing music you may or may not have heard (“Rollin’ in My Sweet Baby’s Arms” is on right now).

I looked this one up on Amazon and the first review is highly critical of the text (mistakes made in labeling songs). This is the first I was aware of any problems. Someone else complains about the “remastering.” These are clearly bluegrass afficianados. I’m just an apprecianado, so I’m enjoying this old-timey music.

A great part of the late ’60s-early ’70s music is the brass. Chicago, Sly & the Family Stone, and Blood Sweat & Tears come to mind. I bought this greatest hits CD because I wanted to hear more than “Spinning Wheel” (a song I never particularly liked). My favorite is “And When I Die” but “Go Down Gamblin’” and “Sometimes in Winter”  also sound really good . . . songs neglected these days by radio.

(As an aside, I had the honor of meeting Al Kooper once. All I could think was “wow!”)

Here’s one you won’t find just anywhere: Scott Birney’s Powering Down. Another case of I liked the opening act, this time at the East End Cafe in Newark, DE. The full band is Sin City, but this one is Scott’s solo effort. Starts bluesy, goes to country, then pop ballad. The eclectic quality reminds me of Keith Carradine (more on him later . . . ). Always pay attention to the opener, folks. There’s some real unrecognized talent out there if you’ll just listen for it.

When I saw the Nittany Lion this year I thought, What the heck has happened to him?

This is the Lion of my school days—brown and small-eared (and that’s Norm Constantine in there, God bless him, the only Lion I ever had the pleasure of getting a hug from!):

This is the 21st-century version of the Lion:

Look at those ears. He looks more mouse than lion! And he’s more yellow than brown. (This has obviously snuck up on me since this picture is from 2007. His ears don’t flop like in this picture but they’re still huge.) I don’t know why they made the design change, but I gotta say, I don’t like it. I want the Lion!

Saw my mother today. She’s been in the hospital part of the home for a few weeks now as they give her PT after a low blood-pressure problem. Now she’s got a medication for it and she is doing so much better. She’s not falling asleep in her lunch when we go out; in fact, she’s not even falling asleep when we go for a drive after we eat!

Flowers blooming on the mountain. In November. Weird. I saw some coneflowers last week and some Queen Anne’s lace today. But we haven’t yet had a hard frost, so maybe that’s why. I should go look at my flowerbed and see if anything is growing there.

Pulled a few ticks off the dog. Tomorrow he gets a bath and then a dose of tick meds. Never makes him happy but keeps him better smelling and safe. We just scavenged a half-deflated basketball from the neighbors’ trash—one of his favorite games is puppy-soccer and a large ball he can pick up is just perfect.