Former President George H. Bush

Former President George H. Bush - An American Icon

I watched an interesting interview between the former president, his wife Barbara and Larry King recently. I was delighted to see that both the President and Mrs. Bush seemed to have their health and were in full control of their faculties, and in particular they retain their sense of humour.

This was a president that I liked a lot. I should qualify that by saying that I am not a republican, nor am I a Democrat, for I am not even an American. These are important qualifications because when it comes to American political commentary you can never get a straight answer. It all depends on who you talk to. This is just to let you know that my comments will be as centre of the road as they can be.

George the father Bush always came over as a very likeable guy, although a little goofy at times, but I never had an issue with any of his policies as president. He was vice –president to Ronald Reagan, the man Republicans just loved, except of course the man who shot him, and I’m not so sure that he was a Democrat. I’m not entirely certain why Ronnie was so loved, except that the one thing he was good at was communicating.

He was a Hollywood actor turned politician who ended up playing the most important role of his life as President of The United States of America. His training in acting came in very handy, and if it were possible for him to have been elected for a third term the voters would have done so.

In a sense that is just what they did by electing his vice-president, and in his term in office George H. Bush gave the country a clear win in a war over Saddamn Hussein. Why the electorate then chose to throw him out of office is hard to fathom.

The last time that I saw him was at the commencement of Barak Obama’s presidency. He was not looking all that well, and I understand that Mrs. Bush has not been well either, so to see them both looking well and sounding feisty and funny was wonderful.

During the interview they covered a lot of ground, including their son’s presidency and some of the things that he did. Quite naturally they defended his time in office and the decisions that were taken, and there were comments from their other children and grandchildren as well.

I’m writing this not so much because of the President, but particularly because of Barbara Bush. I feel we should pay a lot more attention to this most amazing of women who was at the head of a household that produced a president in her husband, and a president in one of her sons; and a governor of the State of Texas in one son, and the governor of The State of Florida in another son.

I’m not sure of the accomplishments of her other children, and I was thinking of doing research to find out, but I have decided that’s enough already. What a lady! We need to know a lot more about her and how she turned her family into an authentic American Dynasty.

Stay tuned for the Barbara Bush story.

Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael

Footnote of the Father of The Girl next Door

Footnote of the Father of The Girl next Door

In a startling development during this past week, the father of the girl at the centre of my last blog collapsed in the bar that he spent every day, and all day at. He was rushed by ambulance to hospital, and as I write this the prognosis is very grim indeed. He is not expected to recover.

I do not know what the problem is exactly, but I’m betting that it has something to do with his liver

In spite of his maltreatment of his daughter I had hoped for a turn around of fortunes for him. He was a man who was suddenly faced with the sole responsibility of something that overwhelmed him, and he simply was not able to cope adequately. Sure, we can judge him harshly, but if we were in his situation could we have done any better.

It may be difficult to feel sorry for this man, but I can only hope that Heaven will be kind to him.

Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael

The Girl Next Door -Final Chapter

The Girl Next Door -Final Chapter

I predicted that it would end in tears, and it did end that way, but that does not make me any kind of genius. Most people would have called it the same way. If you are just tuning in, here’s a little background:

The girl next door was one of my neighbours who is about 34 years old, but has the understanding of a person aged about seven. She has a number of problems and her mother was her greatest supporter, but the mother died about three or four years ago. What made the girl her own worst enemy was that she had a tendency of breaking out into a prolonged crying state during which she would vomit. It certainly sounded awful and nothing that anyone tried could help her.

I often thought that she was crying for the loss of a normal life that was being denied her. After all, she was a woman on the outside, but a little girl trapped in a woman’s body.

She was a very difficult person to manage, but her mother was always there for her with patience and understanding. Once the mother died she was left in the care of her father who had limited intelligence and was completely out of his depth with her. The rest of the family decided to get on with their lives and leave it to daddy, but he was so frustrated that he took it out on her. The abuse was horrible and the crying more frequent and intense.

None of the family came to her help, nor any of the other neighbours would step forward. It fell on me, the foreigner to report the matter to the police and the City Hall. Investigations were held and everyone agreed that the situation was just not right and that something had to be done. Time went on, and the abuse continued through the first anniversary of the initial intervention; and the second anniversary came and went, and I was certain that he would strike her and kill her in a drunken rage.

If that happened there would be tears all around, and much shaking of heads and shrugging of shoulders, and then everybody would go back to their lives except the girl next door. She would simply be gone, failed by the system and everyone within it.

And then, out of the blue the Nuns came for her. They took her to their Convent and introduced her to other young people with similar living problems. She cried copious tears in separating from her father as they spent every minute of every day together, most of that time living in terror for her. At least she knew her life with her father, and all these people were strangers to her. This was even more terrifying, but with the help of her new friends she quickly settled down and came to realise that she was making a quantum leap forward.

Now, she is a completely new person. She no longer cries, and she has proven that she can learn. She can reach out to her relatives; she can make decisions on her own, and she can complete ordinary living tasks and be responsible for herself to a certain extent. She has put on weight as she is eating properly and has found a new sense of self worth.

Perhaps that was what she had been crying for all those many years. I am so very happy for her. This story could not have a happier ending, even for her father who could possibly meet a widow and have something of a life for himself.

Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael

Smokers, and smoking in Spain

Smokers, and smoking in Spain

New Year’s Resolution for smokers in Spain:
“ I will not smoke in my workplace nor in bars and restaurants, etc in Spain from January 1, 2011.”

When I came to Spain eleven years ago, I had come from a country that had already turned its back on smoking in public and at work. One of the first things I noticed here was a young mother nursing her baby while smoking and I concluded that people here must be rabid smokers, and that Spain would never change its smoking habits.

From the beginning of 2011 smoking has been banned in all places serving the public; in places of employment, as well as certain outdoors areas. That order replaces the failed attempt that made a fool of the government by simply allowing owners of certain establishments to choose to allow smoking. That was what they did in the first place. This is an amazing turnabout, and one I am personally happy to see.

However, I must say that I have sympathy with addicted smokers, and that means about 99% of them. I am a recovering smoker, having given up the habit 48 years ago. After all this time the best I can say is that I’m still recovering. I am one cigarette away from starting again, and there are times when if my companion lights up I lean a little closer to the action. My position as an ex-smoker is: love the smoker; hate the habit.

Consider the poor person who is a committed smoker. When his body yearns for nicotine he simply lights up a cigarette. Because of weather complications, some smokers entered an airport, and didn’t exit until 12 hours later. All that time he is not allowed to smoke. That must really be difficult.

I take serious issue with the CEOs of the tobacco companies who took an oath to tell the truth, then stated that they did not believe that cigarette smoking was addictive.

Lying, dishonest bastards!

I believe, as all smokers do that cigarette smoking is addictive and that those Chief Executive Officers of their cigarette producing companies lead the charge to make them more or less addictive. If they really do not believe smoking is addictive then we have the situation that they don’t know what they are doing, and that is really, really scary.

The things that smokers do to non-smokers are truly horrible, and most seem to have no remorse. Have you ever dressed up in your finest clothing and found yourself in the midst of a gang of smokers. You have to smoke whether you want to or not. It’s called passive smoking. Passive, my ass! They force you to do so. They also make you stink, and your nice expensive clothes are ready to be thrown in the trash bin when you get home. I have heard of people who actually undress outside where they leave their clothes for days to lose the smell.

When you have smokers to your house they leave their tell-tale foul aroma. Because our house is a non-smoking area, our smoker visitors go outside to have a fag. They crunch out the butts in the ashtray (which I later handle like a stool sample) and come inside, where they exude the smell of tar through their veins. It’s a smell uncomfortably close to vomit.

I smoked during a period when smoking was Cooooool! It was advertised especially during PrimeTime television, but then The Marlboro Man died of cancer. Ooops! Back then we considered it was our right to smoke and we gave it no more thought than that. If somebody said yea, but what about my right not to have to smoke your second hand discharge; and my right to work in a smokeless environment; and all my other rights that you smokers trample on? I’m fairly sure our response as smokers would not have been very kind.

So, what can we non-smokers do to get even with smokers? To copy the disagreeable smell we could belch the used smell of garlic, or fart the smell of day old boiled eggs.
To copy the crunched up cigarette butts that smokers don’t seem to think is litter, I could drop chewing gum on your patio or carpet. (If I let you smoke in my house, then I’m the dummy.) I could do those things, but they are so disgusting that I simply would not. (At least not in the company of someone.)

Instead, you are now simply being thrown out, exiled to the great outdoors to form a ghetto. I’m sorry for you because you probably got started because the cigarette pushers gave you freebies when you were in college, or you thought the adverts were so wonderful, or like so many you simply carried on the great family tradition because your mom and dad smoked. Now that you are beginning to feel like a leper you are simply unable to stop.

But, the people who make the products say they are not addictive. What would you like to say to them?

Footnote: Now that the law has been in place for about a week and that compliance is ruthless, it is beginning to become apparent that life-long smokers are making a determined effort to quit by any means possible. Some are even admitting that this is probably the move they needed. While cigarette smoking does not kill all smokers, smoking is definitely not a healthy option. Any practice that adds costs to the medical health bill eventually is a cost to us all.

Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael

Not a Perfect Ten , But…..

Not a Perfect Ten , But…..

Adiós 2010..Bienvenido 2011

As the year 2010 has come to an end I take a personal look back and give the year a grade. It was not a perfect 10, but it was not a year that for my family and myself was one that we are glad to see the back of. In my opinion there were two events that come at the top for inspiration. They were FIFA’s World Football Cup that was hosted by South Africa. This was the first time an African country had the opportunity to act as host and they seemed to have satisfied those attending and proved their capabilities. I must also mention that Spain won the cup, as though there is even one person on the planet who does not already know that.

Secondly, the successful rescue of 33 miners from the depths of hell in Chile was nothing short of a miracle. Not such a long time ago the lives of those men would have been lost to a very slow death due to a lack of facilities to get them out. It was a textbook case of everybody involved doing the exact correct thing when required that led to ultimate success. What we saw as each man was brought up into the fresh air was a person being born again, quite literally.

There were no shortages of things to choose from on the downside, but my number one sad occurrence was the loss of the 29 miners in the blow-out of the New Zealand mine in November. I choose this event because it is in such stark contrast with the Chile rescue. The circumstances were so different as to disallow a duplicate of the successful event, and it would not appear that anyone made a bad judgement. What it does highlight is the incredibly dangerous circumstance in which people work on a daily basis to bring energy to you and to me. We really should be aware of such efforts and not take things so much for granted.

Another downside event is the actions of North Korea in their provocations against South Korea. These two countries have existed in a state of suspended war since their cease-fire more than fifty years ago. They have admirably held their fire, even going so far as to find areas of mutual cooperation. Now, it seems that the North are hell-bent on resuming war against the South, and by implication this could be the start of World War Three. What the hell is going through the mind of the dictator?

I must also mention the very sad case of Haiti, an island that has never experienced good luck in its existence. Every bad thing that could happen will have as its destination Haiti. Why Haiti?

What is 2011 likely to bring to the world? I fear that we will see matters go from bad to worse regarding most things. The U.S. Dollar will likely suffer a great setback, and that will have a very serious impact on the economy of that country. The euro also will be greatly affected by certain of its member states and that will severely test the virtue of the concept upon which it is based.

Unfortunately, unemployment will likely get worse, rather than better, and that may lead to more militancy among labour unions. Unfortunately, I just don’t see a light at the end of the tunnel; in fact I cannot even see the end of the tunnel. The capitalist system, like the Communist system is broke, and what is needed are new systems to replace the old.

These are very trying times, but if we take the optimist view it is also a time for opportunity. Necessity is usually the Mother of Invention so hopefully this will bring forth exciting new ways of doing things.

I wish us all positive experiences during this year. I may not be able to see how such positive things will come about, but if we all think positively that will be a start.

Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael

CNN Heros

CNN Heros -Presented by Anderson Cooper

The time has come and gone for the presentation of CNN Heroes. I do hope you saw the show. This year I watched it twice, and I confess I had wet eyes. What an amazing program that is only surpassed by the work that so many people are doing everyday.

For anyone who is not familiar, let me explain the basic concept: CNN has invited the world to submit nominations for their favourite charity program to be included in the American Thanksgiving Day program. For the 2010 program there were 10,000 nominations, from which were short-listed ten charities that were chosen for the program. On the day of the program one was chosen as CNN Hero of the Year. Each of those charities received $25,000 for being on the show, and the winner received an additional $100,000.

All of that is well and good, but in spite of the fact that I thoroughly enjoyed the show I think that the very concept is well and truly flawed. In order for CNN to feature ten charities they had to reject 999, 990 others as being what? Not good enough? The work that they do is not important enough? The Mission was not dramatic enough? Whatever the reasoning I can’t help feel that to put down a hard working charity is the ultimate act of arrogance. Good and wholesome work is just that, and it is done because it needs to be done. It cannot be reasonably judged otherwise.

Having said that, judged they were, and a winner was chosen by a panel from around the world. I cannot imagine how that made the others feel.

The show is a real tearjerker as emotions run very high for people who are directly involved, and for viewers. The mix of work that was represented was just amazing. Here is the line-up:

First we had Susan Barton who lost her very young son to death by car crash. She went to pieces and spent several turns in prison until she had an epiphany and straightened up and decided to work to help women leaving prison reintegrate into society. In the midst of her presentation she introduced us to her hero, her long-suffering husband who stood by her throughout her dark days.

Magnus McFarlane- Barrow was watching war stories from Bosnia one day when he saw children scavenging through the trash for food. He decided to feed them, and now, all these years later he is leading an organisation called Mary’s Meals that feeds 460,000 children around the world, every day. How mind-boggling is that?

Linda Fondren was distressed by two things: That the town in which she lived was voted America’s Most Obsese for three years in a row; and her sister died due to complications from being obese. Linda decided that things just had to change, as she set about shaping up the townsfolk. The town has lost 75,000 pounds, and counting, and they are living longer. She is saving lives!

Harmon Parker came to realise that people in the countryside in Africa frequently suffer the loss of life just trying to cross waterways. They are taken by crocodiles and Hippos and flash floods. What they need are footbridges high above the water, and Harmon has dedicated his life to building bridges them for the villagers, who must think of him in terms of God. A bridge is a simple thing, once you have one. Without it life is a matter of pure chance.

Guadalupe Arizpe De la Vega is an enormously determined woman who operates right in the heart of the drug war where gangs are killing one another in Juarez, Mexico. Guadalupe saw the need for clinics and serves her community in the face of constant danger. She refuses to be cowed by the marauding gangs and she seems to have been sent by God, in the eyes of the people. She is inspired and inspiring.

Evans Wadongo is a young African man who lived firsthand without light in a traditional village where he had to study by kerosene wicks that gay him grave eye problems. So, he figured out how to make solar lamps from cast off materials, and to date he had given away more than 14,000. He is a man who makes and brings light, one of the most precious gifts there can be to a country where people live mostly in the dark.

Narayanan Krishnan feeds the homeless and destitute in India, and he takes care of their other needs like giving them a bath and a haircut. What makes his actions so remarkable is that he is from a privileged class, and the people who he is involved with, to the extent that they are his friends are The Untouchables. He has had to overcome a major taboo in order to even get near them. How can we say, yes, but!

Dan Wallrath is a Texan home builder who is so impressed by what disabled veterans have sacrificed in the name of freedom, that he builds houses for them and their families and turns over the keys to them free of further charge. That’s right, he gives away beautiful, built –with-love houses for free.

Anaradha Koirala is a very petite woman who seems to be frail. This woman is passionate against human trafficking and has the courage of her convictions. She raids brothels; takes young girls off buses that are on their way to promised super jobs that are in reality indentured slavery in whore houses, and she has turned around the lives of more than 12,000 women.

The subject of human trafficking is at the top of the agenda at the moment. It involves the selling of people, which means slavery, something the world thought was the evil past. It is alive and flourishing and needs a whole world of people like this wonderful lady.

Lastly, there was Aki Ra from Cambodia. As a young child the Khmer Rouge killed his parents and put him to work laying mines. He is now a man and has come to realise how evil a thing that was, so he now dedicates his life to clearing the fields of the same mines. With every step he takes he places his life and limbs in harm’s way. He, and his team have now deactivated or blown up more than 50,000 mines. It was for these reasons that I voted for Aki Ra as 2010, Hero of the Year.

Voters disagreed with me and voted for Anaradha Koirala, and they gave her the extra $100,000 to continue with her work. I simply wish that they could have all received an extra $100,000 or more as the things that they are doing are just stupendous.

I still say that the program concept is basically flawed, notwithstanding that it is well presented.

I wish you my readers a Very Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays, and that 2011 will bring you all the very best things in life, including good health as priority number one.

Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael

The Office Christmas Party

The Office Christmas Party-Nothing happens. Honest!

For twenty years I worked for an international insurance broker that employed about 150 people. Each year preceding Christmas the company held a party to thank the staff for our productivity and to wish us well. For most of those twenty years it was the most stressful time of the year that caused more problems between spouses than was necessary.

Firstly there is the cost of entertaining 150 people at a fairly high-class venue in an expensive place like Bermuda. The cost is staggering and the company has to take a big hit against its bottom line. Secondly, there is the perception of what goes on at the party between work colleagues that worries the spouse left at home. Hollywood has done a wonderful job of suggesting all sorts of funny business that people might get up to. The other spouse never buys the argument about cost, and the whole thing becomes one giant conspiracy.

During my time, especially in the early years my solution was to accept the company’s invitation and stay for the cocktails and dinner, and immediately after I would leave to meet with my partner and go on to another venue. Some people could not even get an agreement with their other halves to do that, so they didn’t attend. That was not politically correct either, and absences were noted.

What did happen at the party? Well, we all got dressed up, and in particular the women went to great lengths to look their very best. For them it was like Oscar night, and I think they saw themselves doing some kind of red carpet walk. The men also generally made a bit of an effort, and when we all met there was much kidding about how well we “cleaned up.”

At first conversation would be a little strained, and old cliques had to be broken up. We were made to sit next to someone we would never associate with during the normal course of working, and that could lead to some interesting discoveries over dinner.

The company had a policy of non-fraternization that discouraged office romances. Generally, if one of these got started one of the people would have to leave. I’m sorry to say it was usually the female. Fortunately it didn’t happen very often.

Following dinner there was dancing. I only stayed around for that a few times, but it was fun. By then the cocktails were working and people began to let their hair down. Before we knew it the end of the night had arrived, and the hardy souls went on to after- hours places. It was possible that some people got laid that night, but if so it never became a matter for office gossip, and there was lots of that the following Monday. The topics centred around how this person or that person dressed, and how wonderful the meal was, but the fact of the matter was that we were all so aware that our behaviour was under the microscope that we behaved like real angels.

Whatever we did that night we would have to live with for the next 12 months, so everyone was on their very best manners. Meanwhile, the other spouse at home were royally pissed off and worrying themselves sick. When the employee got home he/she didn’t dare admit that they had a good time.

Finally, our company gave in to suggestions that these awful problems could be overcome by simply allowing the employee to bring a guest and to pay for that person. The problems went away when the home spouse could see what a tight-ass event it was.

Which all to goes to show that the best laid intentions can always go astray.

Merry Christmas everyone, and Happy Office Party.

Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael

El Gordo (The Big One)

El Gordo (The Big One)

If it’s almost Christmas that means that it’s time, once again for El Gordo. This is that wonderful Spanish Lottery the whole world knows about, and it seems plays. The Spanish lotteries are the most wonderful in the world as they are unabashedly socialist. Previously, I didn’t understand the concept, but I did notice that the lotteries are played regularly by a great number of people. There are a number of lotteries that are played weekly, most of them I do not even pretend to understand.

I shall content myself for the moment with El Gordo, which takes place over Christmas.

Firstly, unlike most lotteries this does not pay prizes on a “single winner takes all” basis. This is designed so that as many people as possible can share in the winnings, consequently the socialist angle.

The cost to buy a full single number is 200 euros. However, you would not hold that number exclusively, and unless you knew something the rest of us didn’t, you probably wouldn’t spend that much on one number, when the strategy is usually to collect as many different numbers as possible. So, it is possible to buy only one tenth of a number (un décimo) for twenty euros.

To add further participation, on behalf of The Lottery Commission, charity groups can sell papeletas (little papers, or tickets) for small amounts of money that gives them a commission to help fund their own projects, while at the same time buying a part of a décimo for about 5 euros.

The prizes go from first, at 3,000,000 euros; second at 1,000,000 euros, third at 500,000; fourth prize has two numbers called for 200,000 euros; and fifth prize at 50,000 euros has eight numbers called. There are also 1774 consolation prize numbers of 1,000 euros. These numbers are the formula on which actual winnings are based.

The catch is that if you hold a décimo and your number won on three million euros, that doesn’t mean that you win that amount, nor does it mean that the amount of 3,000,000 euros is all that is paid out. You will win one tenth of three million for every décimo you hold. That’s 300,000 euros for every ticket that is held.

I feared that the more people held my number the less there would be for me to share, but no, my share is fixed regardless of how many others there are.

My syndicate expects to hold 600 décimos this year, and that would bring in 180,000,000 euros to us, that’s right, that’s millions if we win on the first prize, to be divided among each ticket, which in our case would be 3,000 tickets at 60,000 euros per ticket. Many thousands of people would benefit, in fact so many people benefit annually in total from El Gordo I doubt if the number is known. What is known is that El Gordo pays out about 70% of what it takes in, and should this year be like last year, more than 2.5 billion euros will be paid. The remainder goes into the government’s account as a form of passive tax.

It’s a very small wonder that about 98% of all people in Spain will buy into El Gordo, and only God, in His Wisdom can know how many people from the rest of the world will be hoping upon hope that this is the year their number is called.

D-Day, being Draw Day is the morning of December 22nd. Have you ever seen an entire country hold its breath?

(It actually did happen this year here in Spain and in Holland during the football World Cup.)

Now, all that we need to do is win. Wish me good luck! I certainly wish you the best of luck!

Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael

WikiLeaks !!!!!!

WikiLeaks !!!!!!

THINK FIRST

Heaven help us! What has our world come to?

It started with Mr. Napster who seems to have thought that the creators of intellectual properties, such as song writes, singers and musicians should be happy to use their talents, and pay all that money to record albums just to donate the finished work to the rest of the world free of charge

Now comes WikiLeaks that has been finding and releasing information that really does not belong in the public domain. Proof of that has been the tepid welcome by the public that has largely ignored the information. So, as a real kick up the ass to the public, WikiLeaks has now spilled 250,000 documents, many of which are classified, and that expose the workings and thought processes of the diplomatic world for all and sundry to see.

Granted, an American service person somehow got this information and now seems to be overjoyed that the information is being streamlined to the public. This is just not funny!

We are finding out that our diplomats are human after all, but there is a reason why they present such stony faces and careful language in their negotiations when dealing with one another, but when reporting back to home office it is customary, and probably necessary to be more forthcoming over the impressions and the outcome of their meeting. Now, bloody WikiLeaks has stripped that all away. The long-term effects of what is being openly revealed cannot be even guessed at.

In the political game it may be useful to know what your opposite number thinks of you, or it may be the most hurtful nugget of information to come your way. But, what possible need have I, as an ordinary member of the public, for this information is way beyond my imagination. Sometimes a bit of information truly is a dangerous thing.

For instance: Consider for a moment that you are on a flight that lands on time, thereby allowing you to carry on with your business. Do you really need to know that during the flight something went wrong that the crew dealt with, even though it came perilously close to crashing the plane? What could you have done that was any different to the way in which you had behaved? Nothing! But, you got to where you were going without the stress of knowing what was happening?

It is not correct for world leaders to withhold vital information that society needs and can work with, but WikiLeaks, this time you have been irresponsible and have proved that you are not trustworthy.

Shut the site down forever!

Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael

Bullying!

Bullying is criminal


This is a very serious matter that has always been understated, and has always been with us. Mainly it is thought of as a young person’s problem and it tends to be fobbed off as "kids will be kids." Lately there has been a rash of teenage suicides due to bullying, therefore it can no longer be ignored.

I recently viewed a programme on Larry King Live that focused on the bullying syndrome. Larry King asked the question: Why do people bully, and what do they get out of it? The answer from his panel was that nobody knew the answer.

Fundamentally, when one person puts another person down it is done for the purpose of enlarging his own image of himself in his own mind. That seems to be the classic definition of racism, prejudice, and discrimination, no matter who is victim and who is perpetrator. In Nazi Germany the Jews were the ones who were the underdog and they paid a terrible cost that allowed the Nazis to believe that they were superior to everybody else. History has certainly confirmed that those “superior” people were only so in terms of the evil that they did.

Bullying in schools has been always a part of the society and it was never funny. It is both unacceptable and ingrained as it is a part of human nature. One step at a time ,bullying, in its various forms are under constant attack and we are seeing success in one sector followed by a rise in unsocial activity in another.

Once women in America could not own land nor vote, but that prejudice was swept away and discrimination against blacks rose to a national level. Grown men were referred to as boys, but now, even if the child is a boy you take your life in your hands if you call him that. As blacks continue on the journey to full respect another group is targeted, and so forth and so on.

This is even practised by countries that went around the world colonizing other nations. Britain once boasted that the sun never set on its colonies. How a country could think that there was anything right with invading another person’s country for the purpose of simply calling it their own completely escapes me.

The aggressor, or bully is never right! This is borne out by the fact that intelligent people will almost always distance themselves from “those people.” In the United States white people didn’t want to be associated with white power supremacists, calling them Rednecks, white trash, and trailer trash. Even within the oppressed groups discrimination is practised against one another. Light skinned blacks are seen to be of more value than a midnight-blue coloured person.

Clearly, at the base of it all is stupidity. The solution is always education. Have I ever suffered with any stupid conceptions about other people? Yes I have. Do I still have any issues to be resolved? Yes I do. At least I have the mechanisms in place to help me through my problems.

Fundamentally, the answer is the same in every case. Whether it is a nationality, a group, a political ideology, sexual orientation, a religion, etc, it is a matter of live and let live. The line is drawn when people start to hurt others to establish their own points of view. That is an intolerable state of affairs that is beyond acceptance. Bullying of any kind falls under this heading and we must appeal to those who are bullies to stop the practise……..or else!


Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael

The Military Family

The Military Family

War, and the military family are topics that have come to the fore in my mind lately. These are such huge subjects they are like standing in front of massive mountains wondering how to climb them. I think I prefer to deal with the human aspect first, the military family.

Who and what is a soldier?
A soldier is a combatant who is on the front line between freedom to live life according to the philosophy of a particular country, and those who would seek to take away those freedoms.

The foregoing description includes both men and women who place themselves in harm’s way, and they are routinely injured, sometimes for life, and they are killed in ever growing numbers. Sometimes harm comes through accidents while not on the arena of battle, but in training or maintenance. The end result is the same, another life lost and another family greatly affected.

War is becoming ever more sophisticated with some fighting being done by soldiers in one country sending over drones to another country to kill. The casualties will be one sided, so if you are on the side with the drones this is good news. The important point is that a soldier’s life is no less valuable than that of a civilian, but that life is subject to far greater peril.

I have been close to a mother whose son was at war in Afghanistan, and every time the telephone rang she would jump. The toll that takes on the folks back home is terrible, and it really is unfair that the general public go about our business getting only soundbites as to what is really going on along the front line. After all, it is being done for our benefit.

One part of that whole terrible drama that receives practically no coverage at all is the family that waits back home. Why a woman would agree to marry a soldier about to be shipped overseas is hard to fathom. I’m very glad that they do because it offers the combatant a scintilla of a real life, but it is always done in the full knowledge that he may not return alive.

The couple frequently will try for pregnancy so that a part of him will live on should he lose his life. We also have mothers going into active war zones and they lose their lives as well, and that for the children they leave behind must be even more difficult to accept.

The military family is a very special unit that outsiders simply cannot understand. Their contribution to the freedom of their nation is as great as that of the combat member who serves in war.

I once was close to a Navy family consisting of a young wife and two children. Her husband, my very good friend asked me to be her best friend while he was away. She treated me as her confidant and she told me bluntly of her pain of not knowing; of expecting any minute of a visit from the Navy with bad news; of her loneliness. She would cry for long periods of time after the children were put to bed and I would just hold her. She would tell me that she wanted sex with her husband so badly it ached, but I couldn’t touch her.

Throughout all those times the thought of she and I having sex never even entered either her mind, nor mine. When he asked me to be her best friend I think that he had such trust in me, or at least in her, that it never even entered his mind that we would betray him. It was a matter of such great moral importance, and the unspoken rule was expected to be upheld; that no spouse with an iota of decency and honour would betray a serving soldier while life was at stake for one’s own sexual gratification. To do so would be considered as treason. On the other hand, if the combatant had an opportunity for sex they would not be blamed for taking it as it might be the last in their life.

When he came home for rest and relaxation she would be so happy to see him, but then her happiness would give way to depression because the end of his leave was in sight and she had to prepare to go through the same thing all over again. Such a rollercoaster experience is really too much for humans to endure. This is all part of the “war is hell” aspect.

Life for the military family is one of service in support of the country, and they deserve the respect and admiration of the nation. Unfortunately the families do not receive medals for enduring, but they should.

Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael

The Michael Jackson Autopsy Report

The Michael Jackson Autopsy Report

The United States is a country that believes in the freedom of information, when it suits it, but sometimes I think that freedom is carried way too far. If you are interested in The Michael Jackson Autopsy Report, all that you have to do is Google it, and you will get all twenty-three pages in detail.

What possible need do we, members of the general public have to this information? We will learn that he died as a partial result of propofol, a powerful drug that is usually used in producing general anaesthesia under very controlled circumstances. It is not for use in the case of simple insomnia. We will learn that anyway when the trial of the attending doctor is held. We already know that something went horribly wrong that led to his death. We also learn that Michael was practically bald, but we kind of guessed that he was wearing a wig for some reason.

We also learn that he was uncircumcised, presumably something that most people will find earth shattering. Or will they? Most importantly, we learn that Michael Jackson was suffering from the disease of Vitiligo that leads to the loss of skin pigmentation. He told us that himself but we didn’t want to believe it. Instead we wanted to believe that he hated being black, and so he took steps to bleach himself.

Few of the media reporting on this fact gave it any prominence, nor did they give him any redemption.

It seems to me that releasing this record is all about pandering to the public’s idle curiosity. We learn the above noted facts, and we shrug our shoulders and go about our business. It means nothing to us, except that the man’s privacy is further violated when he is in no condition to do anything about it. This seems all wrong to me. I feel that the autopsy report is none of the public’s damn business.

What does mean something to me is the whole process of an autopsy. I understand that no one can sit through one of these procedures for the first time as a witness without feeling very sick, throwing up or fainting, or all of the above. I suppose for the people who perform the procedures it must become routine, but the steps are very graphic.

The professionals who prepare our meat undertake similar processes in cutting through skin and bone and sorting the parts of what was once a living creature, but we are talking about a person who was once an energetic and talented individual. However, for the purposes of the autopsy all that must be set aside and the subject is treated as simply a body that is there to be examined in depth.

It is disturbing for me to picture in my mind’s eye any dead person having the top of his skull taken off and his brain lifted out and placed in a bowl. Then we see a Y cut being made on the chest area extending all the way down to the genitals. One by one all our working parts are disassembled and taken out of our body to be thoroughly examined and weighed. Perhaps they will be placed back in the body cavity to be buried, or they may simply be taken off to be burned in the furnace. I know that the autopsy can be a very necessary step, but dignified it is not.

After we have lived our lives to the full, and the end comes the least we can hope for is death with dignity. That also pertains to the “after death” part as well.

Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael

The American Mid-term Elections

The American Mid-term Elections- Time for more change.

The American voters have spoken, and the message they have sent to Washington is not pleasing to President Obama. They have said that the government needs to do a far better job in their interests, in particular the issue to be focused on is jobs, jobs, and jobs.

Like many people I sat fascinated by the President’s commencement speech, and I was equally fascinated by former President Bush’s demeanour as he too listened to Mr. Obama slam him for his failures. It occurred to me at the time that the expression on his face was one of “Mr. Obama, be careful what you wish for.” I also thought that the task that President Obama was letting himself in for was impossible.

The American system of capitalism was broken. It had been an experiment in the same sense that Communism was an experiment, and that failed. I believe that what we have seen is the failure of the capitalist system as we know it. No one, apparently other than me, is saying so, but what else shall we say about it. The system collapsed under its own weight, and the way out that is being tried, is to do more of the same.

Let me say right now that I don’t have a better idea.

The Republican Party of the United States are suggesting that they have the answers, but we have to remember that they were in power when much of the slow descent into the hell that the system is in now, took place. There are the usual talking heads that give their opinions of what needs to be done, but they are far short on details.

Nobody knows anything! What worked before will probably not work now.

The system has broken down before, of course. There have been stock market crashes and bank failures and large scale unemployment, but the country has always bounced back, and it will bounce back from this calamity, but I think the return to a more normal economy will take longer, because the problem is so much more ingrained.

This is the stuff that is better dealt with in book form, a very large book, but as succinctly as I can put it, we seem to have over-produced goods far in excess of what the market can absorb, and as a consequence companies have come to realise that it was no longer making sense to continue with production of things that people did not want, or could not afford at this time.

Car manufacturers need to have three shifts only if demand requires it. The era of building big ships is a thing of the past; construction as an employer has less need for employees, and modern technology makes building homes and offices a process that is too quick. When buildings were constructed by hand the process took longer, and consequently people were employed for longer periods.

We live in a world of cutting edge technology that allows for things to be done quicker and cheaper, that also need much less staff. Some industries that were once mega-employers of men can now produce their product using a mere fraction from their all-time payroll highs. Jobs! The country needs to produce jobs.

How astute is President Obama? Did he know on Commencement Day that putting people back to work would be Job Number One? I’m convinced that he did. Did he know that he would not be able to put people to work in the professions to which they were accustomed in only two years? Yes, I’m sure he did. So, why did he spend his political capital when he barely had the votes to focus on health care? Because, everything else is so touch and go that he took the bull by its horns and did something that no other president could have, and has given the American society a reasonably decent chance at dignified care, especially where there was nothing before. That will be his legacy.

Does President Obama see himself as a one-term president? Probably not, because he really is doing his best, and he does have the respect of most people, but it could happen.

So, now that the Republican Party have control of The House of Representatives, what will happen? President Obama will propose and they will say no! They will say, be reasonable, do it our way. On the other hand, the Republican House will have to find cooperation with the Democratic Senate.

There are many people that say that Mr. Obama is finished, and might just as well put his feet up for the next two years because he will not be able to get anything done. They are also saying that come the presidential elections in 2012 he will be voted out, but that is a very long time from now.

The thing about President Obama is that when people say No! He can’t; he has a way of answering “Oh Yes We Can!

Stay tuned.

Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael

Mr. Bee and Me.

Bee Nice

The world is in the worst mess of all time. There are wars and rumours of war. The U.S. dollar is weak, and countries around the world are competing to see who can artificially make their currency even weaker to stimulate their own exports, and in the midst of all that I found something very small to bring me delight.

During the Summer we have taken our meals outside on the terrace, and that is a joy in itself. Of course, every day I found that I had uninvited guests in the form of flies and ants. That just means that it is Summer. But, one day two bees joined in the picnic. I have to say right now that the sudden and mysterious deaths of bees in many countries served to heighten my awareness of the importance of these creatures to our ecological system, so I took great care not to harm them while trying to shoo them away.

They were buzzing me like F-16 war planes trying to get at my food. Eventually I began to get the upper hand, and one of the bees went away and never returned. The other one remained dogged and determined, so I learned to relax and to share my meals with it.

The ritual went something like this: I would prepare a place and then bring my food, and within a few minutes Mr. Bee would come in to buzz the landing zone. He would buzz my head, which I learned was not a threat, but was simply his way of saying hello, and to ask what was on the menu. Then I would sit back and not move so that he had a clear visual of what we were having. He would first check out the meat selection. He always went for the edge of the meat, and he particularly liked it if there was gravy. He also liked mashed potatoes, and before leaving he would take a little sip of my juice.

He came for breakfast when I was having cereal, a muffin and coffee. He loved my Frosties, and at one time he got a little too deep in the milk, so I spooned him out and placed him on my napkin to dry off. He preened himself, and he tried out his wings without taking flight. Then he went back into my bowl for more. I had cut bananas with it and he perched on top of a piece and I thought he would never leave.

He then tried the muffin and seemed to enjoy it. He did not like my coffee at all. It was hot and the smell seemed to turn him off.

Now the weather is turning colder and that probably signals the end of dining alfresco. That is always a sad time, but this year it will be all that sadder because of the end of my association with Mr. Bee.

The lesson for me is that the most wonderful experiences may lie in the simplest of things, if we only take the time to focus and let them develop.

Meanwhile, Goodbye Mr. Bee. It was lovely to know you!

Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael

Too Ridiculous to be False

Ridiculously Funny

Sometimes, if you are looking for comedy, you need look no further than the pages of your local newspaper. The news from the courts is a good source. There was one case that involved a man who was arrested for being in charge of a vehicle while under the influence of alcohol. However, he was riding a horse at the time, and much court time was taken up in argument over whether a horse is a vehicle.

Finally it was decided that as the horse was a means of transport it was deemed to be included under the heading of a vehicle. The magistrate then informed the defendant that he was satisfied with the charges, and asked whether the man had anything to say before he was sentenced. The court anticipated that he might come up with something entertaining. “Well, your honour, if you are finding me guilty then you’re gonna have to find the horse guilty too, because he was even more pissed than I was.”

Brilliant!

I read in a paper recently that on one balmy evening Tom was out walking in the neighbourhood when he saw a light from a bedroom window. He approached and on tiptoes he saw a completely naked woman watching television. The curtains were open and that allowed for a fairly good view, although a little more elevation was required to help his line of sight. So, Tom found a bucket in the yard and stepped on that, but it made a little noise so he ran for cover.

What is a woman doing lying around her house with the curtains open, and in the nude?

She heard the noise, put some clothes on and went to investigate. She found the bucket but nothing else. She decided that she should remain dressed while in her home. Days later, in spite of no apparent further problems she noticed that a concrete building block had been placed under her window, and a ladder had been moved closer to her bedroom.

She then came home shortly afterwards to find a note pinned to her front door that said: “Hi! I’m your secret admirer. I like what I see and would like to get to know you. I’m single and new to this area and I am looking for friendship.” Signed Tom, with telephone number. (I’m not making this up!)

Of course she went straight to the police who first found out what they needed to know about him, and then they called him. Duh!

In asking the magistrate for leniency Tom said that he knows that what he did was wrong and it has hurt his family, especially his wife.

Uh oh!

Talk about being dumb and dopey. Some mothers do have ‘em.

Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael

The Girl Next Door

The girl next door needs lots of help.

This could be a title of a story by Steven King. Certainly the circumstances are something right out of his genre of storytelling. I have written about her before, so this is an update. First, the basis of the story:

The Girl next Door is a real person, aged 34 years old. She suffers from development impairment, and as a consequence has the mental capability of a seven year old. Her mother died a few years ago, and the rest of her family, including aunts, brother and sisters, have all concluded that she must live in the family home on her own with her father.

Her father is a man of about 60 years of age with the mental capability of an eight year old.

The Girl is her own worst enemy. I’m sure that she suffers with some medical problems, and one of those problems that she labours with is that she tends to start crying frequently in a very passionate and loud manner that causes her to vomit and make retching sounds. These bouts of crying go on for hours at a time, sometimes lasting throughout a full day until she is exhausted. Quite naturally, this is very stressful on those around her. While her mother was alive she was the girl’s principal support. Her father would leave home and go to the local bar. Now he is directly responsible for her.

Now, when she starts crying he starts yelling. This reminds me of when I as a very young child and I would start up crying over something that had displeased me, my father would ask: “what you crying for boy? You want me to give you something to cry for?” At that point he would take off his belt and give me a few licks around my legs. The vocal pitch of my cries would rise dramatically so that I was then crying for real.

No surprise, she does the same and his yelling also gets more violent. He is possessed of an army drill sergeant’s voice that terrifies the girl, plus he does strike her, as can be heard clearly.

I called the police, and I directly reported the matter to the town council. I should not be getting involved in this Spanish family’s affairs, especially as her extended family all know about the abuse. No-one in her family will take her as she is simply too much for them to handle, however, everyone agrees that she should not be living with her father on her own. In fact, she really needs to be institutionalised, but under the Spanish system that would require her family having to pay for her upkeep. There is simply not any money available to do this.

We understood that an Order of Nuns have agreed to take her under their roof but they are awaiting the paperwork to be completed to allow this to happen. It has now been more than one year since that story started to circulate. Meanwhile the awful situation that exists in their house did continue to get worse.

The father drinks heavily and practically loses his mind in the face of the aggravation. I’m not so sure I would do any better. It seems that neither he nor his daughter eat healthily. The housekeeping appears to be non-existent, although I have not seen the inside of the home. If you placed a bag with a million euros in the far back room and said it was mine if I cared to go and get it, I think I would pass on the opportunity. It’s just something about all that vomiting that I hear going on in the house that would put me off.

The police have attended when some of the out of control abuse has taken place, and they have threatened the father with jail. That only serves to agitate her even more as he is all that she has. From his viewpoint he is disciplining his childish daughter and anyone who doesn’t approve of his methods is free to take her.

She is well possessed of a sense of theatre as sometimes when we have friends over for lunch on the terrace she will launch into a crying episode, complete with retching, and cries of “Mama! Mama!” I play the radio to try and drown out the sound but she raises the level of her voice, apparently happy to know that she is spoiling our lunch.

How will all this end? It will certainly end in tears. If the authorities come to take her away the separation from her father will be traumatic for her, but that will be her best chance for the future. If they don’t come soon he will probably kill her in a drunken rage. That will set off a wave of denials of responsibility, if indeed anything at all can be done for this unfortunate girl and her hapless father.

I try to imagine the angst of the father being stuck with his daughter, considering that he is entirely incapable of caring for her, and the terror of the girl when he is yelling at her. The irony of this tale is that there are times when they have weeks of peace and harmony marked by delightful laughter on her part. Her laugh is a very joyous and infectious sound. We are presently going through one of those periods. I must say that the peace does make me nervous.

Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael

The Miracle at the Mine

The Miracle at the Mine

The rebirth of 33 men

At a time when the world is going to hell in a handbasket, Chile is providing both light and hope in the textbook rescue of 33 of its miners(in a handbasket) who were underground when the mine collapsed. The men were all given up for dead and their families were in the midst of grieving when the news came that they were all, in fact alive.

Here I have to pause and try and put myself in the shoes of the families. How incredible must that news have been? What a rush of sheer ecstasy and joy when the message sunk in! Alive! But then, the men were trapped 700 metres underground. In the past they would have had to have been left to die, because the facilities just did not exist to rescue them, perhaps at all, or at least not in a timely fashion.

Plans were quickly drawn up to do something that was without precedent. To bring men up from three quarters of a kilometre from underground had not been done before, and because there was so much hope, no-one could be left behind. Every technical mind was bought into play, including NASA, and the effort was begun to keep the men alive, sane and healthy, and to retrieve them within a reasonable period of time.

It appears that everyone on the globe was interested and knows the story as well as I do, so I will not go into unnecessary detail. I simply want to add my congratulations to every person involved in any way to bring about a solid story of such wonderful hope, perseverance, determination, sheer doggedness, and just plain careful and precise work that the entire world can take pride and pleasure in just being alive.

What we have seen is 33 men being born again. Thirty-three men who were given a second chance at life in an atmosphere of such love and goodwill that the air was thick with it. I wonder how they will spend the remainder of their lives? I certainly wish them and their families well, as I’m sure you do.

This all comes in the midst of conflict around the world and flies in the face of those people who are so determined to kill as many strangers as possible. It is the most rare thing of all to have something that the entire world can justifiably take pride and joy in.

Thank you Chile!
Thank you Rescuers! The under-stated heroes of all time.
All who have a Supreme Being in whom they believe, say Amen!

Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael

A Perfect Storm …Indeed!

A Perfect Storm is a Killer!

I wrote about what it is like to live in a hurricane path, and before I was able to publish the piece, my island of Bermuda found itself being lashed by Hurricane Igor. I followed that up with the end result, but now I am taking a more in-depth look at what happened because it was so out of the ordinary.

Hurricane Igor, or Ogre was, in the experience of Bermuda (I borrow the name) “The Perfect Storm” from a number of points of view. A Perfect Storm is one where several elements that are dangerous in themselves all come together to make a killer event.

Firstly we start with the fact that Bermuda is a land mass only 35 kilometres long, and three kilometres wide. On the world map it only warrants a dot to show where it is, but the mass is so small that no outline is given.

Hurricane Igor made up off the coast of Africa and came across the Atlantic, and in its journey through the West Indies it left two persons dead in its wake. Then it got its act together as it moved due north and straight for Bermuda. It travelled as a Category Three hurricane, with sustained winds at its centre of in excess of 200 kilometres per hour. It moved in an achingly slow speed, meaning that it would spend lots of time over land to do the maximum damage. No matter how strong you build your house, if a storm of this magnitude sits on top of you for as much as a week, it will bring the building down.

Such a storm often spawns tornados within it that act as chain saws that cut down anything still standing. It would also create storm surges that would put all low lying areas under water, and it would dump even more water from the skies to add to the flooding. The final element was its size. It was 800 kilometres wide so that even a shift in its direction would not mean escape. Bermuda was facing an end of world scenario.

Many people simply locked up their homes and got off the island. Private estimates were that property damage would likely be total, with homes valued at upwards of 50 million dollars being wrecked and drawn into the sea. Casualties could have been in the thousands. News media became excited by the prospect and committed suicidal teams to go to collect what pictures they could of a country that is as elegant and manicured as Bermuda as it went to its death.

My wife and I had been in Bermuda barely a month before where we joined in a family reunion that saw 600 of my daughters and grandchildren; my brothers and sisters; cousins and friends gathered together in joyful comradeship, but now they were in harm’s way. Hurricane Igor was making Hurricane Katrina look like a tropical breeze.

I presume that the people of New Orleans must have anticipated the arrival of Katrina a few years ago with equal dread, and with good reason. We so seldom take a direct hit because our land mass is so small, but this time Hurricane Igor came ashore scoring a bulls-eye with its 80 kilometre centre.

No one credited “The Bermuda High” with the power to affect a Category Three storm in any meaningful way, but, the facts are that once the storm collided with the High it lost two-thirds of its strength, and it picked up speed. It did not include tornados, and was only felt for three days instead of one week. At the end there was no loss of life, nor even injuries, and property damage was minimal.

However, the stress levels of which I wrote in my first piece will be felt even more intensely as storms seem to be growing stronger and bigger. If there were a real Bermuda Triangle it would be nice if it would just swallow up the hurricanes.

Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael

Our Dog Winter

Our Dog Winter - A very special friend.

I have written about Winter before, most notably “When Winter met Summer”, a love story. The sad news is that Our Dog Winter died on July 27th, 2010, and he now occupies a very special place in Dog Heaven.

Family pets have a way of becoming central to all the family and their needs affect everyone, and their loss has the same weight on each individual member.

Winter was a Golden Retriever, the poster dog for most advertisements. This type of animal generally has a wonderful temperament and attracts attention wherever they go. However, the very first time that I saw Winter I thought he was the worst animal I had ever seen. His previous master brought him into his grandmother’s beachside apartment, whereupon Winter promptly pissed on the carpet. That resulted in the grandmother going berserk and ordering him out. So his master took him down onto the beach at which point Winter crapped in the sand. The child master didn’t seem to think that it would matter when someone came along and stepped in it barefoot.

What an animal! I was glad he was not mine.

Within the year the boy’s parents had separated and the boy and his mother, had moved into an apartment in the city. Winter, who was quite young and full of energy tore up the apartment. The mother came to us to ask whether we could take him, because if we couldn’t she would have no other choice than to have him put to sleep. Oh no!

My wife and my son could not stand the chance of that happening so they overruled me and he was brought home, and until his death I found I was the one to spend most time with him.

We had another dog, named Chester who we had brought with us from Bermuda. Chester, a much older dog, was not about to share his space with Winter. We had to tie them to different trees out of one another’s sight, but my wife decided that was ridiculous and so she brought them together and made Chester understand that he would have to accept the younger Winter.

Before we knew it old man Chester was actually playing with Winter, or we think he was playing. He would drag Winter by the neck across the yard, we would yell at him and he would let Winter go, and then Winter would egg him on to do it again.

Both Chester and Winter loved their freedom and it was a real challenge to keep them inside the property. On one of their escapes, after a short while Chester came back but Winter was gone for quite some time, until we received a call to say that he was at the place where he was born, that being a breeding address that bred Golden Retrievers. How he found his way there, that included crossing a river, is anybody’s guess.

On another escape they were gone for seven weeks. During that time I was certain that I would never see them again, but one night while driving along a very dark road they popped out of the brush. Evidently they recognised the sound of the car.

In 2007 Chester died in the height of the Summer heat as he could no longer breathe. In 2008 Winter developed the same problem and the Vet said that he had an enlarged heart that was pressing against his lungs. She treated him and we barely got through the Summer of 2009, but the toll upon him was great. I was certain that he would not survive the heat of 2010, although he sensibly would find a cool spot and remain there out of the sun. His decline was steep and rapid, although he tried to maintain his regular routine.

I was leaving for Bermuda on the 25th July. I was certain that he would not survive until I came back, but my son was here so he was in charge. The thought did occur to me that before I left I should take Winter to the Vet to have him put to sleep, but I could not accept the thought that because I was going on holiday I killed my dog. It was better to let nature take its course.

Two days after I left Winter went for a walk and he simply sat down, positioned himself in a graceful pose, and died.

On his tombstone I wrote that he was “Hale, Hearty and Hairy. No dog ever gave more love, or was a better recipient for love. He occupies a very special place in Dog Heaven.
1999 – 2010”

Both he and Chester are buried in our garden so they are still near to us, but our home cannot be the same without them. They Rest in Peace.

Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael

Hurricane Igor’s Clash with Bermuda

Hurricane Igor’s Clash with Bermuda
Water, water everywhere
Last week Sunday, the 19th of September, I wrote that Bermuda was being trashed by the most monstrous threat we have ever seen, so now that the storm has passed I can report that there was no loss of life, and very little major loss to property. This is the most amazing outcome, and sometimes I have to pinch myself to be sure I didn’t just dream the whole thing up.

For that proof I refer to news reports and pictures of what happened, and even then it seems that Bermuda’s guardian angels were working overtime to protect the most lucky of all islands in the world.

Hurricane Igor was a Category Three storm with sustained winds near the eye of 130 miles per hour. The storm measured some five hundred miles across, and it was travelling slowly. Island residents took this one very seriously and buttoned down everything they could. A hurricane of this magnitude travelling so slow suggested that maximum damage would be done, but in the event when the storm entered The Bermuda High it lost most of its strength, going from Cat Three to Cat One. It was so large that it was feared nothing would have any calming effect upon it at all, but not only did it calm considerably, it speeded up its forward motion.

The island was directly in its grip for twelve hours, and the eye passed right over making for a direct hit, but at the end of the day most homes didn’t even lose their roofs. Generally we would not be afraid of the winds in a Cat One, but sometimes tornados are spawned and that is what causes all the trouble.

So, a good outcome, no doubt much to the regret of the foreign press who I believe get so excited by a major disaster. Something else that was very good came out of this storm as well in that generally there is a lack of information about what is going on, but this time the social media of Facebook, Youtube, and others, as well as The Royal Gazette, the island’s daily newspaper created a live feed that streamed out constant updates; and an online Blog/news outlet called Bernews.com did a fantastic job of keeping locals and those of us around the world in the loop.

Hurricanes in Bermuda will be seen in a different light in the future, for what you know may be horrible, but what you don’t know, in your imagination can even be more so.

This Thanksgiving Day, an American observance, should be doubly celebrated in Bermuda, truly the luckiest place on earth.

Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael

Hurricanes

Bermuda: Such a small target for Hurricanes

It is ironic that I wrote this piece shortly after my return from Bermuda of the 17th August, 2010. Now, as I post this, Bermuda is embroiled in one of the largest and most destructive hurricanes in many years. Hurricane Igor is trashing my country as we speak, and I am stressed, particularly as I am not there and unable to do anything to prepare or clean up. My Bermuda family are all there and I am worried for them.

Unless you are a person who lives in the path of hurricanes I don’t expect that you can have any sense of what it is like to live through one, unless you are a person who lives in the path of tornados. These things can also be a feature of a hurricane, but to live in the Midwestern United States where they spring up at a moments notice and are the cause of such total destruction is something that I cannot comprehend.

While visiting Bermuda recently a hurricane was predicted to make a very close pass at Bermuda, and possibly even a direct hit. There is something that all people experience as a group, even if we don’t realise it, but it starts with the commencement of the hurricane season. Stress! That’s what it is, and when they predict a busy season of 14 or 15 storms our stress level kicks in. The actual season might not have begun but the worry lines start to show.

Hurricanes usually create themselves off the coast of Africa and they move across the Atlantic. They are completely unpredictable, although storm trackers do a remarkable job of best guessing. A storm can change course at the last minute and fool everyone. It used to be that once a storm crossed the Atlantic and clashed with a high system coming off the great mass of the United States the storm would turn and run north, but climate change is turning out ever more powerful storms that crash right through the high and cross into the Gulf of Mexico or run right inland the U.S with devastating consequences.

As a child I lived throughout a period when we had practically no warnings at all. The U.S: Coast Guard stationed in Bermuda flew hurricane reconnaissance flights but getting the information to the public was quite difficult, since a lot of homes, ours included did not have electricity for the radio. So we would sit out a hurricane in the dark and it would cause us sheer terror.

As I grew older and became a man with direct responsibility for my family, the house, and later a boat, the coming of Summer was a time to worry. My house is situated along the water’s edge that provides a front row seat. In fact, for many years waterfront property was cheapest as people worried about being swamped during hurricanes.

From the time it was announced that a tropical depression was forming off the coast of Africa all eyes became focused on what it did next. If it came across and slammed through Florida and into the Gulf of Mexico, we in Bermuda would heave a sigh of relief. It was not our turn. However, many storms start in mid-Atlantic and run northwards. In these cases we are the only landmass to be standing in harm’s way. That includes those storms that have made up right over Bermuda. When that happens we are almost sure to lose lives that went to sea in good weather.

When a storm is a thousand miles away Bermuda starts to feel its effect by the change of the sea activity. We begin to get long pounding surf, and each thunderous crash of waves drives our stress level further because it is constantly on our minds. The closer its approach the higher our stress level until it becomes necessary to make actual preparations.

One of the most damaging storms to hit Bermuda was Hurricane Emily. It was tracking from Africa as a mere tropical depression. We knew it was headed our way when we went to bed, but overnight it powered up into a Category One Hurricane, barely enough to cause a disturbance. I awoke to the sound of the radio at 7:15am. The announcer read a few commercials and then he told us what had happened overnight and that the storm was due to make landfall at 7:15am. Like, RIGHT NOW!

I was up and out of bed and making sure that all outdoor furniture was brought into the garage, and that the storm shutters were locked. The truth is that we are not normally too spooked by a Category One, but this one was carrying tornadoes. Everywhere the tornadoes went the damage was the equivalent to nothing we had ever seen before. There were people who waited out this storm, that was a direct hit, in their cars, or in bus shelters because they had not heard the warnings.

The hurricane that was predicted when I was in Bermuda on my last visit was a classic. It was steering directly for us, then it went to the West, which means high winds on the island; but then it turned east and eventually passed far enough as to leave no effect upon the island at all. Meanwhile, all manner of life is being disrupted, but we do have to take the warnings seriously.

Finally, to give yourself stress overload you need to have a nice house and a really nice boat. Bearing in mind that you can only be in one place at a time, which one will you concentrate on saving when the hurricane comes?

There is no fury like that of Mother Nature; none whatsoever. It’s just the thing to remind man of our insignificance in the whole order of things on earth.

Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael

Thank God for Clothes!

Thank God for Clothes!

The thing that brings this subject to mind is all the security processing that we have to undergo when travelling. We almost are made to get completely naked , and indeed one scanner does see you without your clothes. I asked one security officer if it would make his job any easier if we all travelled naked. He said there would still be people who would try to pass contraband.

Then I started people watching and I noted that in Bermuda and The United States there are a lot of people who are very dangerously obese to the extent of being gross. This trend started in the U.S. and has made its way to Bermuda. I’m talking about men and women whose asses are so huge that they require two chairs. Their stomachs hang so low as to nearly reach their knees thereby covering their sexual organs. Their legs are like very large tree trunks so that when they walk they have to walk both sideways and forward at the same time.

Such people have no neck and their heads are great round puffy globes, and their arms are short limbs with hanging flesh especially from the upper ends, and stubbly little hands. The most disgusting sight to see is such people seated at the dinner table just stuffing their bloated faces. At least they drink Big Gulps of diet drinks. How the hell does one allow one’s self to get to that stage?

Many years ago I stumbled into a nudist camp late at night while riding in the country of France. My girlfriend and I were young people and we were desperate for accommodation at the time. We went to bed all excited that we were in such a place, and we got into the swing of things by coming down to breakfast without our clothes.

The reality was that we were the only ones with bodies worthy of showing. Everybody else was suffering from the ravages of time and gravity, so the whole experience was a reality check to us.
I would therefore certainly not like to have to cast my eyes upon the nakedness of someone who resembles one of the blobs that I have been describing. To be clear, I am not talking about people who are simply fat. I’m talking about people who have ballooned well beyond what is normal.

I realise that it is in the natural chromosomes of some people to be overweight, no matter what they do to try to combat it. I also acknowledge that weight, whether a bit too much, or dangerously obese does not necessarily dictate personality and character. What is really disturbing me is that this is a rising trend, and that has to put these people’s lives in danger, and that is an unnecessary strain upon the health care system that I will have to share the cost of.

It seems to me that in the Middle East and Africa they have the most sensible idea to wear very loose fitting robes that hide such disgusting excesses very well. To repeat, “Thank God for Clothes!”

Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael

The Family Reunion

The Super Family Reunion

We attended our family reunion on my mother's side over four days at the end of July and the beginning of August, 2010 during which about 600 family members passed through our camp. We expected a large number because when we held one in 1994 more than 1000 came to meet and greet each other; to welcome the new ones into the fold; to tell our stories so that our legends live on; to honour the most senior of our clan who are still alive; to remember those who have gone on before; and perhaps most important of all, to discover to whom we are related and to make a new book.

These are the very best reasons of all for families to gather. Normally families come together when there is a death. No-one had to die to make this happen. It was an entirely joyful occasion. The weather was not as cooperative as we would have liked, but the camp was on the waterside so that helped the ambience.

A church service was included in the program, and that was especially appropriate, as the land upon which the church sits was given by our patriarch.

The premise for the reunion was based on the origin of one man, Prechard Sanfrancisco Bascome. We believe that he, or his father is the first person on my mother’s side to have come to Bermuda in the early to middle 1800’s.

A short history of Bermuda includes the information that the island was originally discovered by the Spanish explorer Juan de Bermudez about 1509, but the Spanish Crown had no interest in this little rock that was so remote that if your navigation was only off by the smallest degree you would sail right past it. The island was re-discovered in 1609 by Sir George Somers who was slammed ashore and claimed the island for King and country.

Population by blacks was done mainly through slavery. Prechard was born of John Newbold Bascome, Sr, and Miss Vickers. He was brought up by his father. We have started with him and drawn a family tree that is still expanding as new names become known to us as being part of the family, and of course, all those new family members freshly born.

Prechard married Eva Battersbee and there are now six generations of great grandchildren. The family branches have now spread throughout the world. The places where people reside that we know about are Switzerland, Britain, Nebraska, California, Florida, New Jersey, Virginia, Carolina, New York, New Mexico, Canada, Spain, France, Jamaica, and of course Bermuda. If we had a complete list it might include every country on earth. Our family is also a rainbow in that we count black and white and all the colours in between.

In following this exercise concerning my roots, I have been totally immersed and a little surprised at how important it has been to me. It has sparked a thought that is really a little strange, and it is this: if it has been so important to me how will it be for the children of gay and lesbian couples whose birth certificate reads for father-unknown, and for mother-unknown. Especially in the case of an unknown mother, that has to be so strange. Everybody knows who their mother is.

This is not criticizing gay and lesbian couples for wanting their own family too. They are people with the same rights and privileges, and I am not trying to enter into or start a debate. I am simply wondering what effect not knowing who one’s father or mother is could have on the individual.

Anyway, a really good time was had by all at our event, and the plan is to meet up at a cruise in two year’s time. I just hope to be around to have the option of attending.

Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael