Roger Answers Your Question, Roger and Anthony


Roger from Albany wonders: So how are you feeling now after your accident?

The problem is that I’m healing, feeling better, so that inevitably I overdo. Friday, for instance, I was carrying a bag in my right arm that I guess was too heavy, for my left side, where I broke my rib four weeks ago tomorrow, ended up in pain not unlike what I experienced two weeks ago. Still, I am healing, and I actually lifted my left arm almost straight up. I can’t run, but i can trot, which I couldn’t do the week before . The only thing that gives me really tremendous pain is sneezing. (Yes, i do talk to myself; ask my wife.) Oh and the picture was stolen from ADD, but then again, he stole my whole post, just as he promised.

Anthony asks: If it is not too late, I would like to ask a question, of a mildly philosophical and yet somewhat personal nature.

What do you think is the most critical quality or characteristic for a politician (make that statesman) to have in order to effectively govern, and why do think this?

First off, you assume that someone CAN effectively govern. Let’s posit that that is possible.

Second, you assume it’s not too late. After listening to a half dozen podcasts by James Howard Kunstler (curse you, ADD), I wonder. (On he other hand, ADD did have his own quasi-theological treatise.

Third, let me touch on a trait that are NOT necessary: be the kind of person with whom I can have a beer. Besides the fact that I don’t much like beer, I’ve thought it was a bizarre criterion for picking leaders.

I suppose the chief characteristic I’m looking for in a politician is integrity. I think that one can lead more effectively that way. And it’s not just beyond reproach, like Caesar’s wife. It’s a value system that makes one feel that the politician/statesperson wasn’t bending to which ever way the political winds are blowing. I’m not saying that John Kerry was doing that in 2004, but sometimes it FELT like that.

Of course, one has to have real Christian values, such as looking out for the greater good, rather than just for his or her cronies. One does not profess to be a Christian, or indeed, a member of any faith, to achieve this; conversely, public piety does not Christian values prove (see Bush, George W.)

I read about this town along the Mississippi River that was flooded in 1993. The town decided to move the entire town to higher ground. So while neighboring towns are inundated again in 2008, this small town is literally high and dry. That took leadership, and an integrity that this was taking place to help everyone.

When I was in college in New Paltz, NY in 1974, a Congressional seat opened up. The Republican incumbent, Howard Robison of Tioga County, decided not to run again in this massive district that ran through at least five counties and looked like a giant curved hot dog, running from Ithaca (Tompkins County) through my hometown of Binghamton (Broome County) all the way to Woodstock and New Paltz (Ulster County). Four Democrats and five Republicans vied for the seat.

I was a member of the New Paltz Democratic Club and we heard from three of the Dem candidates; the fourth the Town of Union (Broome County) supervisor Knopp (or something like that) didn’t bother, because the core of the population base skewed east and we were on the western fringe. The three who came were a young lawyer from Binghamton, who at least one member ended up supporting; Bill Schecter (sp?) a Woodstock lawyer and perfectly acceptable choice; and Matt McHugh, the district attorney from Tompkins County. As the anti-establishment type that I was, I felt I would be least likely to support McHugh, whose job title epitomized “The Man”. But I wish I could tell you now what quiet elegance the man had where he expressed his viewpoint and I realized that, despite my initial misgivings, it as clear to me that he was the best man for the job. He oozed character. Maybe three or four others (John Vett – who would later become mayor of New Paltz; Tom Nyquist – who would also eventually become mayor of New Paltz; Tom’s wife Corinne) also supported McHugh; everyone else went to the local favorite, Schecter.

I never worked so hard on behalf of another person in my life until I cleaned out my mother’s shed last fall. I went door to door carrying petitions and got at least 125 signatures. I attended a number of “meet the candidate” house events. One of Matt’s great gifts was not only the ability to remember people’s names, but specific details about them. “Hello, Mary, how’s your husband Bob’s lumbago?”

Matt even gave me a ride from New Paltz to Binghamton so I could visit friends, and on the two-and-a-half hour drive debated the issues of the day. I didn’t agree with all of his positions. I specifically recall his position against abortion, based on his Roman Catholic upbringing which I didn’t share, and yet we found ways to agree to disagree while embracing our common ground.

The results of the primary was that Matt McHugh won the primary. He lost the part of Ulster County in the district, but I was pleased to note that HE WON NEW PALTZ!

For the general election, one of my professors, Glenn McNitt, who had been backing Schecter, helped organize polling phone banks, and I made a lot of calls. McHugh would be running against Al Libous, the mayor of Binghamton, whose politics I HATED. Of course, McHugh won the general election and served until the end of 1992, when he declined to run for reelection.

He is currently on the board of http://www.abanet.org/rol/europe_and_eurasia/board_europe_eurasia.html the America Bar association Rule of Law Initiative.

Anthony, I know I’ve fallen far afield of your question. Anyway, I think people sense authentic or inauthentic. Well, some of the time.

Oh, and thanks for your defense of me by that “opiate of the masses” guy. Peculiar, the post itself was primarily a thanks to my church choir director, whose last service is today; I never expected that sort of response and feel rather ill-equipped to go one-on-one with that type.

ROG

Almost Another Ghost Bike

Last Monday, my daughter Lydia needed to see her allergist, who was located in Corporate Woods, same area as my office, so I didn’t take my bike to work. In small recompense for that, I decided to ride to the local CVS drug store to drop off her prescriptions, then after dinner to ride back and pick them up.

I’m on West Lawrence Street at Madison Avenue, heading south, when I hit a red light. So I opted to turn left into the Mobil station. Suddenly, I see a car bearing down on me; the driver must have gotten his or her license from the Starman* school of automobile operation, as it had crossed Madison actually on the red light. I scream the s-word, one of those times that I think cursing is definitely appropriate. (Another time was getting a nail in my foot in 2000.)

I brake, of course, but I’m already over the center lines, so I also lean to my right and back. Somehow, I end up on the ground. Did the driver stop? No, but then he or she didn’t hit me, only almost did so.

When I catch my breath, I realize that I’m really sore on my left side. I drag my bike and myself to the grassy area in front of a theater, #10 Steamer Company, and just sit there for a few minutes. An EMT is stopped at the light, talking on a phone; I almost try to signal him, but choose not to. A couple minutes later, a woman drives by to see if I’m OK. I lie and say I’m fine. Finally, I get up, walk to the CVS, drop off the scripts, and ride home on the sidewalks. (Yes, I know I know I’m not supposed to, but I was feeling a little shaky, and walking was taking too long for the pain I was in.)

I tell the tale to my wife Carol, and she agrees to drive me to the urgent care place on Patroon Creek, parallel to Washington Avenue, after dinner. We figure that this is probably a better choice than the ER of a hospital. Of course, Lydia has to come too.

It is a bit surreal. I walk into the place, and I see a TV showing an episode of Seinfeld, with Jerry, George, and Elayne waiting in a hospital waiting room. This episode also features Jerry, Newman and Kramer waiting at a bedside of someone, George forgoing a trip to the Cayman Islands, and Drake coffee cakes. The next show, some CW soap with Blake Lively and Kelly Rutherford, I was trying to distract the four-year old daughter from watching.

Finally – and it was less than a half hour – I get taken into a room, and have my vitals taken. It was peculiar that I was feeling both hot and cold. Then I was examined by the doctor. Somehow, old Bill Cosby routines came rushing into my head. “Doctors are wonderful people, but they’re always touching something. ‘Does that hurt?’ YEOW! Does that hurt! Does that hurt!'” He asks me where I’m in pain, and I’m trying to use my right hand to show him where on my left side I’m bothered. Then he starts poking around. YEOW! Does that hurt! Does that hurt!

I go to get x-rays. Like Cosby’s doctor’s stethoscope, the x-ray machine felt as though they stored it in the refrigerator. Diagnosis: broken 6th rib on the left side, under my armpit, possibly from the handlebars, but I don’t know for sure. Treatment: rest; they don’t tape you up for this anymore. Also, be sure to breathe deeply and cough regularly, lest I develop pneumonia.

My wife takes the daughter and me home, then gets my pain reliever prescription filled at an all-night CVS; the one I dropped the daughter’s Rx is closed. Carol’s sleeping pattern skews early, so for her to go out at 10:30 pm to take a 15-minute ride to Colonie, wait 30 minutes for it to be filled, then drive the 15 minutes home is quite remarkable.

Unfortunately, my daughter became very wary of me ever since she jumped on me that night, and I screamed, “Lydia, no!” I apologized the next day. She will play Candyland with me, but there was definitely arm’s-length tension there until Saturday.

I’ve been sleeping in the recliner ever since, with a sofa pillow next to my left side because I can’t find anywhere else to sleep without tremendous pain. Other things that cause discomfort:
*the recommended deep breathing
*the recommended coughing
*laughing
*burping
*hiccuping
*bending over
*reaching with my left arm
*lifting things too heavy, even with my right arm
*walking down stairs (up is not so bad, though for the first couple days, I had to stop ever other step to catch my breath)

Also, the medicine can make one constipated. Gotta love those dried apricots.

The bad news is that I find it difficult to focus on reading or writing, and sleep is intermittent throughout the day, though the reading became easier as the week progressed. The good news is that I’ve caught up on watching JEOPARDY! Hey, there was a winner from East Greenbush, Pat Roche, a couple weeks ago!

The better news is that I did not end up being commemorated with a ghost bike, as a number of folks in this area have recently. A single broken bone and a couple bruises is a far better outcome than I quite literally feared.

* Jenny allows the alien to drive the car when he peels out. Jenny screams at the Starman that she thought he said he could drive. Starman replies: “I watched you very carefully. Red light stop, green light go, yellow light go very fast.”
***
I figure I’d been watching Jim McKay from the time I was 8 or 9, usually watching ABC’s Wide World of Sports with my grandfather, through dozens of different sporting events, including the 1972 Munich Olympics, until I saw him anchor football game coverage only a few seasons back. So we’re talking well over 40 years of “the thrill of victory, the agony of defeat.” CBS News had a nice piece on him here, not that surprising since 1) he started on CBS, and 2) his son, Sean McManus is the head of CBS Sports. Here’s an extensive, 2 1/2 hour interview with McKay in six parts. I particularly recommend the last segment, only 10 minutes long, where he talks about others.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6

ROG

Mother Truckin’…

I’m really ticked off.

One of my in-laws didn’t make the reunion last week because she was in a car accident. Last Wednesday, July 6, she was driving on Route 66 in Columbia County, NY taking her mother to the doctor’s office in Chatham. It’s a two-lane road.

Suddenly, a big vehicle is heading right towards her going about 75 in a 50 m.p.h. zone. Initially, she thinks it’s an oil tanker, but she is later told by witnesses that it was a cement truck. The truck driver had passed four or five cars in a row and could not pull back into his lane. My in-law could not head for the shoulder for fear of hitting the guardrail.

Even as the truck breaks in a futile 200-foot skid, my in-law notes that the guardrail suddenly ends, so she pulls off the road down a six-foot embankment. Fortunately, no one was seriously hurt, though understandably shaken. The truck driver doesn’t stop but keeps going.

The estimated damage to the car is $2100. And that’s just the visible, exterior damage.

More furious

Now I’ll tell you why I’m REALLY ticked off:

The deputy sheriff shows up and takes a report, but doesn’t seem all that interested in the details of the accident until the family nags him repeatedly. The Sheriff’s office has been very uncooperative with my in-law’s insurance company, not being forthcoming with any of the information that was obtained from the witnesses at the scene. One of my other in-laws theorizes that the Sheriff, who is running for reelection, does not want to upset the rich and powerful cement company. Seems cynical. It also sounds plausible.

I’m not one who is overly litigious, but if it were my call (and it’s not), I’d at least threaten the cement company with a lawsuit.

So, if you happen to have seen anything last Wednesday morning on Route 66 in Columbia County that fits this general description please e-mail me, even if you spoke to the Sheriff’s Department. ESPECIALLY if you spoke to the Sheriff’s Department. And if you didn’t, thanks for letting me vent.

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