Yesterday, I did something I don't much do. I watched the inauguration. I participated in Carter's, but not by choice. I was part of the U.S. Coast Guard contingent that marched in the parade. As I remember, it was bitter cold that day, too. I also remember that Maya Angelou read a poem at Clinton's, but that's about all. The others are reduced to sound bites.
While I watched, I was filled with a giddy sort of feeling I can only discribe as hope. Now, it's a disturbing thing when a cynic feels hope. Cynicism and hope don't go well together. However, I found myself smiling and feeling good and bubbly. This hope stuff was all right, and I thought about what could happen to help a confirmed cynic, please excuse me, "keep hope alive." For me, the answer is "Prosecute."
In the service, the thrill of a successful mission was always offset by the knowledge that now came the paperwork. You can enjoy a great meal, but someone has to clean up the kitchen. Or the best analogy is that when we have suffered disease or injury, before we can say we are fully recovered, there must be that period of difficult and often painful time known as rehabilitation.
I know, people are saying, "Look to the future, not to the past." But, it's not a matter of future and past, it's a matter of finishing the job, cleaning up the mess. To not do it means there is just more to do next time. It doesn't go away.
What better way to rehabilitate our image in, not only the world, but our own psyche? What better way to prove that we are once again a nation of liberty and laws and that no one can run roughshod over both? What better way to say that change is here than to prosecute, prosecute, prosecute?

This has been going on since the beginning of fall and I need some help. I have an old pickup that I use to piddle around the property, haul stuff, etc. I call it my "ugly truck." Around here there is a premium on flat space so it's parked across the drive from the well house a few hundred feet from the main house. In early fall something, mouse, squirrel, vole, chipmunk, something decided the glove compartment of the truck would make a nice winter nest. There were leaves, pine needles, twigs and bits of paper all fluffed into a soft mesh. It was cute and comical in a way. Except that I kept my registration and insurance card in an envelope along with a notebook/log for the truck in there. That's where the paper came from. Imagine trying to explain that to the cop at the check-point. "Well, you see officer, there's this mouse. . . "
Anyway, I tossed the mess out and next week it was back. This time with insulation from my firewall. I put mouse traps in the truck and in the glove compartment with peanut butter no less - nothing. The peanut butter turned to stone. But the nests keep coming back. The thing is eating my truck. It's beginning to work on my mind. On one hand, I want to rush out every morning to check for the nest and on the other I'm afraid I'll find one. Believe me, this living with nature has its drawbacks.

I was contemplating the new year recently, looking ahead to some things I might like to do. It's been a while since Judy and I have gone some place other than to funerals or visit relatives and some of these were the same trip. There are some bicycle tours that sound challenging. Judy has mentioned a desire to visit the Alabama coast. Maybe just a weekend in Chattanooga or Atlanta.
But then I wondered when we could fit this in. The medical doctor wants to see me sometime and he probably has some tests he thinks I need, just because I'm a senior citizen. The eye doctor will want to see me too. The dermatologist will want two visits from me as will the dentist. And the dentist wants me to become a ping-pong ball between him and the periodontist. I feel like a client Judy had when she was in psychiatric social work. There were only three times in the client's life: when she was preparing to brush her hair, when she was brushing her hair, and when she had just finished brushing her hair.
Well, here's my new year's resolution: if it don't hurt, I aint goin'. I know, there's a lot of bad stuff out there and some of it can sneak up on you. But, I'm in pretty good shape and nobody knows me better than me. And I know that some of the stuff they want to do isn't good for me. The side effects are worse than the illness. If I think there's a problem, I'll get it checked out. Other than that, they can deal with sick people and leave me alone. If I blow a gasket or crash and burn no one should feel bad. I checked out happy and doing what I wanted to do.