A Boy & His Blog

I doubt there's much danger of anyone mistaking it for a Frederick Law Olmsted creation, but as you may have gathered from earlier posts, I do enjoy our friendly neighborhood park. I'm still trying to decide, though, whether I liked it better before or after the recently completed "upgrade."

To give you an idea of what it's like, Listowel Park is a neatly manicured, gently rolling 1½ acres, ringed by a long, winding loop of a path. It has a small playground, a ball diamond, two tennis courts, and two converted tennis courts that now serve as roller hockey rinks. A liberal sprinkling of benches, too, of course. Really, it's a fetching little pocket of a park, all the more so with its livery presently assuming every conceivable shade of green—thanks to a decidedly interesting combination of trees.

Now, I'm no dendrologist (I don't even play one on TV), but it strikes me that someone got a bit carried away with new plantings over the years. Ranging from five-foot saplings to imposing 50-footers, the current inventory includes oak, elm, poplar, birch, maple, crab apple, and cottonwood—and lest you think conifers weren't invited to the party, the grounds are also punctuated by the odd pine and occasional spruce.

It's novel seeing so many species mixed and (not quite) matched, but overall the effect strikes me as somewhat on the goofy side. Maybe not as suspect as sporting, say, argyle socks, paisley tie, and pith helmet with one's camo seersucker suit, but I think we may be headed that direction. Specifically, I've got this funny feeling that plans are being hatched to haul in some baobabs, a few royal palms, and maybe a giant sequoia or two for good measure: you know—your typical indiginous Midwestern species. Stay tuned...and place your bets, if so inclined.

In the non-flora department, the newest elements of the park's makeover include rest rooms, a pair of picnic shelters, and two or three dozen pseudo-antique street lamps lining the path. I certainly don't object to any of those improvements per se, as all clearly make the park more inviting to a greater number of people. At the same time, though, I admit to a tinge of regret that our humble park now looks, in contrast to its previous, more natural state, rather on the slick side and arguably a tad too tricked out.

I'm sure my curmudgeonly take on the matter is a minority view, but in the end it hardly matters, as I remain fond of the place and relish my daily visits there. I realize how spoiled I've become, and how, for instance, I'd hate to go back to logging my daily miles with traffic speeding by, all the while getting a snootful of uncombusted hydrocarbons and carbon monoxide. Nasty. Or again, maybe that's just me. Anyway...next time you're in the park, stop and say hi!

Entrance to Listowel Park, named for our sister city in Ireland. Just four short blocks from home, what could be more convenient for the daily run? (More convenient than Listowel the park, that is—not the hamlet in County Kerry.)

retiring, if hardly shy

I see that last week Bill Buckley gave up control of National Review, a sort of Astounding Stories for conservatives that he founded in 1955. By the grace of God not being of the conservative persuasion myself, I pick up NR about as often as I breathlessly pore over the latest issue of Horse and Hound, or Chain Saw Monthly. As a result, I'm not exactly misty-eyed over Mr. Buckley's relinquishing the helm.

On the other hand, hearing of him in the news this week, I do find myself missing the man in his TV incarnation, that of host of "Firing Line." (Sure, "Firing Line" folded in 1999, and I'm just now getting around to missing it, but you knew I was running a little behind, right?) While I didn't see the first seasons of "Firing Line" (it began in 1966), I did start watching in high school; in other words, I caught rather more of it than any self-respecting boomer would care to admit.

As fellow über-dorks may recall, the show opened with the bright piccolo trumpet of Bach's Second Brandenburg in F Major...and a shot of the starkest-looking set this side of Tirana. On the viewer's left sat Buckley—tie invariably askew, hair adrift in a dozen directions, trademark slouch verging on the anatomically impossible. Not, one might think, the most promising of starts.

Luckily, uninspiring first impressions quickly faded as the host introduced his guest(s). Over the years, the guest roster came to read like a Who's Who in the humanities and social sciences of the English-speaking world. For most of its run the program was an hour, so one could tune in and witness the single most remarkable thing the tube has ever had to offer: extended intelligent conversation. In fact, though conversational in tone, it was formidably thoughtful debate, with Buckley engaging anyone from John Kenneth Galbraith, to Germaine Greer, to a trippily seditious Abbie Hoffman (to name a few of the earliest participants). Surprisingly entertaining stuff, too, much of it, given the nature of the personalities involved.

True, sometimes the exchanges on "Firing Line" produced more heat than light, but it was the rare show that didn't reward in the end by being genuinely thought-provoking. A far cry from the current crop of Fox and CNN blabfests, and even PBS's high-decibel, bilge-laden "The McLaughlin Group," where civility, informed thought, and reasoned insight are all conspicuous in their absence. Whereas "Firing Line" was, at its best, downright sublime by TV standards, today's pundit face-offs, by contrast, are about as subtle (and as welcome) as blunt force trauma. Oh, well—I guess one can always flip over to The Weather Channel for a last-ditch refuge on the airwaves...

• • •

In the unlikely event your eyes didn't glaze over four or five paragraphs ago, and if you're curious enough to want to take a peek at some archived "Firing Line" footage, I've got a couple of links for you. This one is a short clip from 1968, and includes a grumpy, overstuffed Jack Kerouac, while here you can see the last broadcast from 1999. [Note: Unlike some episodes, those above require no brushing up on Latin—just, perhaps, on your English. You will, on the other hand, definitely need RealPlayer.]

Venerable Conservative William F. Buckley, Jr., here captured by the pen of the great David Levine. Last week the hardy perennial twaddlemonger of the Right and genial former host of "Firing Line" passed the reins of National Review to a younger tribe of the like-minded.

great taste! less filling!

Well, less filling, anyway—and these days, one out of two ain't bad. We're talking, of course, about the big rollout of Sovreignty Lite^® in that mother of all test markets: post-Saddam, post-Garner, post-Bremer Iraq. Early reaction is mixed, but so far it appears a majority rate the new brand as "interesting" and not entirely without appeal. Frequently citing "bitter aftertaste" issues, however, other consumers are adopting a cautious wait-and-see attitude, anticipating a major product revision due in early '05.

Analysts also observed a third distinct group. A statistically significant minority continue to express a marked preference for Sovreignty Classic^®, a discontinued product that benefitted from an absence of competition and a uniquely effective branding campaign ("You'll love it—or else"). These Classic^® die-hards, with their striking brand loyalty, remain an elusive, much-prized demographic. On a promising note, preliminary studies suggest TV spots featuring a "can't-get-it-out-of-my-head" jingle—preferably with Britney—might do the trick.

• • •

Message to Iraqis: Hey, all we ever truly wanted was a nice, pliant, garden-variety client state. You know, your basic puppet entity with the stability of, say, Manchukuo...and the sunny disposition of a Kukla, Fran, and Ollie. Come on, guys—would it really kill you to humor us a little?

• • •

BTW, been keeping up on your Doonesbury? No? Well, not to worry. For another take on the CPA's recent disappearing act, check out what Garry Trudeau—I mean, Duke—has to say on the subject here.

a belated happy b-day, america

I heard it again the other day. Those wonderful Bush-Cheney folks, apparently sensing that America can't get too much tripe in its daily diet, never tire of trotting out certain stock lines—no matter how patently lame. One of my favorites is that even absent those hard-to-find WMD's, the war in Iraq was more than justified by the fact that its leader was a tyrant. In countless speeches, hand-picked, made-for-TV audiences thrill to the now-predictable declaration, "The world is a better place without Saddam Hussein."

That obvious fact, however, begs the question of whether the U.S., alone and without international sanction, is now in the business of purging the world of all vicious regimes. If so, one might ask, why is it that the current genocide in Sudan, for instance, doesn't seem to be on anyone's radar screen? No question, Saddam (that favored client of the Reagan crew) was one nasty piece of work, but he's hardly been alone in practicing unspeakable brutality on a mass scale. If we're indeed now out to single-handedly cleanse the world of such evil-doers, I trust we're all buckled up and ready for an era of non-stop war, since we'd have time for little else. (Among other things, the services will need some serious bulking up, of course—more than the present all-volunteer model can deliver. Reinstituted universal conscription, anyone?)

They can spin it any way they want, but it comes down to this: though a depressingly large chunk of America couldn't be happier about it, we have a President who sees the world with all the clarity and understanding of your average eight-year-old—and it shows in our nation's current foreign policy. Foreign policy, though normally thought of in abstract terms, is ultimately about people. The fallout of Dubya's arrogant geopolitical blundering, finally, is suffering, grief, and shattered lives, American and Iraqi.

So, just once, when I hear, "The world is a better place without Saddam Hussein," I'd give anything to hear someone counter with the question, "Is the world a better place without 880 of America's irreplaceable sons and daughters, their gifts and their promise?"

Then I'd listen hard for an answer.

The wages of spin.

next time

There were one or two more things I was hoping to squeeze into this post, but we're already running a little long today...and I know how exhausting all that scrolling can be. More to the point, though, after the seriousness of that last topic, I'd rather put any lighter thoughts on hold, and save them for next time. So, with your kind permission, I'll take my leave and see myself out now. Have yourself a good weekend, take care, and happy blogging. And while you're at it, don't forget to think blue.

posted 9:33 P.M.