Pilgrim's Progress(ion)

This is Peregrine White's cradle.

Surely, everyone ~ at some time ~  has wondered what finally came of lil' Pere's tiny woven cradle; it's whereabouts has certainly kept my mind racing well into the wee hours of many a night. That, and a little too much caffeine. 

But, on Sunday, May 6, 2012, the cradle will take second billing to thoughts of its former occupant when our cousin, LouAnn, is awarded her official passport as a newly minted member of the General Society of Mayflower Descendants.

Founded in 1897 by a group of descendants of the Pilgrims who sailed aboard the Mayflower in 1620, the Society's mission was to memorialize the establishment of Plymouth colony.  Any person who can accurately document direct lineage from a Mayflower passenger, following stringent approval by a Historian General, qualifies to become a member of the society.

We had all heard the story over a lifetime; we were somehow related to Peregrine White who, of three children born aboard the Mayflower, alone managed to survive the harsh ordeal of their pilgrimage.

But, talk to anyone and they are ALL related either to Peregrine or another of the Mayflower's 102 passengers.  I always lazily assumed the oral tradition might have been true but never saw a clear path that would have allowed anyone to actually prove it ~ as if I would have bothered; like most other members of the family, it was simply a quasi-factoid stored in the dusty recesses of my brain. 

And, let's face it, talk of buckle-shoed, funky-hat wearing Puritanical Pilgrim relatives from four centuries ago wouldn't have exactly made for great party conversation.

The family link with the Mayflower was destined to remain a mere rumor passed along from generation to generation until our intrepid cousin decided the storied tradition of the tale would not suffice. Whether she would ultimately succeed or fail, LouAnn decided to put the story to the test and began the tedious process of researching our family tree.

Stubborn. Dogged. Tenacious.

Three adjectives that barely describe the zeal with which LouAnn first linked one limb of the family tree to the American Revolution, earning her membership to the Daughters of the American Revolution, but eventually ~ and successfully ~ to the Mayflower and the male child born of William and Susanna White on November 20, 1620.

The first surviving child born to the Pilgrims of the Mayflower in The New World.

Typing those words finally has the effect of cementing the significance of proving the oral family history passed along over centuries is undeniably true. And while I would like to believe the link to an historic past somehow makes our family special, the reality is that tens of millions of other Americans can be successfully tied to our Pilgrim heritage as well.

Twelve generations have followed 9th Great-Grandfather Peregrin's birth in Provincetown Harbor aboard the historic ship.

When I reflect on the determination exemplified by LouAnn's life and years-long struggle to resolve the many questions of this family lore, I think it is safe to say that the grit and spirit of our Pilgrim ancestors is alive and well today.

Congratulations, LouAnn!

Senator Obama meet President Obama

I am a political junkie.

I truly enjoy the biennial cycle of primaries culminating in the November elections. With cable twenty-four hour news cycles, and nearly 800 channels from which to choose, I am seldom at a loss to find a panel of biased pointy-headed politicos discussing the latest polls while trying to somehow convince the television public how all of it relates to an event that is still months away.

It is stupid and a colossal waste of time. But I am resolutely unmoved.

When I was a kid, I only knew the damned political ads and conventions interfered with many of my favorite programs; politics were nothing but a meddlesome inconvenience not to mention boring.

But, with 795 fewer channels from which to choose as well as parents who held dominion over the television "console," I eventually was left with no choice but to watch many a party convention as well  the frenzied circus that was election night coverage.

Hey, it was better than a book. 

Only coming to understand our Constitution and the established process for elections later while in high school, I did at least manage to grasp the big picture while watching the tedious, program-interrupting programs:

Someone wins. Someone loses.

While that basic tenet hasn't changed, it does seem our politics has changed dramatically from when I was a child. Despite my adult obsession with all things political, I am increasingly exasperated by the growing ugly influence of political strategists, polls, money bundlers, PACS, as well as infotainment personalities passing themselves off as "journalists" presuming to educate us "simple folk"as to how we should think and vote.

As I watched a beautifully produced political video today featuring a statesmanly former President Clinton extolling the success of President Obama in making the tough call to terminate Osama bin Laden, instead of feeling a patriotic sense of pride in that accomplishment of one year ago, I found myself disappointed and frustrated.

To be frank, like so many other political ads, this video just seemed inappropriate to me.

None of us will ever appreciate the true nature of the burdens that rest on the shoulders of any person who ascends to the office of the President; sending young women and men into harms way, to put their lives on the line in the duty of our country surely cannot be cavalierly carried out by any man. 

Love George Bush or loathe him, no one but he will ever truly know what it was like to sit in that chair behind the Resolute desk within the Oval Office following the events of our nation's day of horror in 2001.

And to be President Obama, sitting in the Situation Room, surrounded by his Cabinet Secretaries and the heads of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, all waiting for him to single-handedly make the decision to selectively assassinate another human being, even an Osama bin Laden, must surely have been extremely difficult on at least some level.

No one of us will ever truly understand.

And, every Presidency experiences highs and lows; one takes historic credit for the good and, unfortunately, must also suffer the hardships of the bad that comes on his watch.

President Obama will forever be rightfully credited for ridding the world of bin Laden; at least, he and a select few brave Navy Seals.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AYykD6_OHO0&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Simply put, as regards the ad, what I personally found disappointing was the ultimate carry-away message, "What would Romney have done?" The clear implication, supported by a couple of random campaign quotes made previously by Romney, that he would not have supported the decision to take out bin Laden, to-wit:

"Mitt Romney criticized (candidate) Barack Obama for vowing to strike Al-Qaeda targets in Pakistan if necessary." Reuters August 7, 2007

"It's not worth moving heaven and earth spending billions of dollars just trying to catch one person." Associated Press April 26

This line of reasoning, while convenient, is also intentionally misleading, disingenuous not to mention hypocritical.  It also plays on an assumption of our collective ignorance or stupidity ~ take your pick.

No one ~ not candidates Clinton, Bush, Obama, or a Romney ~ can ever be held inviolately accountable for every word ~ quoted in context or not ~ made during the course of campaigns or even while in office.

Life is always in flux:

President Bush famously made the ultimate decision to exert Executive Privilege by making interim recess appointments which immediately set opponents declaring it an abuse of the powers of the Executive Branch; then-candidate Obama roundly rejected the use of such tactics.

Four years later, President Obama has now famously made the ultimate decision to exert his Executive Privilege by making similar recess appointments and pushing through facets of reform stalemated by a stubborn Congress.  Don't be shocked but his opponents on The Hill are now loudly decrying this abuse of his Executive privilege.

This is the reality of the Presidency; in this case,

Four years ago, Candidate Obama knew nothing about nor could he begin to understand the man who would eventually be President Obama; they are two vastly different people ~ out of necessity and as a matter of reality.

So it is that after watching this political video, I was truly disappointed President Obama allowed his personal stature as well as that of his office to be diminished by approving such derivative garbage.

I have great faith in our system but am growing increasingly tired, as I write ad nauseum, of the grossly contentious and fractious posturing of our political parties, as promulgated by their handlers.

Even Ariana Huffington, an ardent liberal supporter of President Obama, expressed her contempt for the ad when she wrote "any man ~ even Jimmy Carter ~ would have made the same decision!"

You can bet the inconvenienced and bored kid of my youth, if granted the vision of foresight, could have even told you this brand of politics as practiced by all parties doesn't elevate anyone; it diminishes each of us and our country in turn.

"You Been Goofing With The Bees?"

I hate -- that is a strong word -- "very much dislike" on-line "quizzes." For the life of me, I don't understand why anyone would want to know if I like "broccoli," or if I am a "birdwatcher?"

Regardless, a friend recently forwarded a multi-question interrogatory my way. Generally, I would have dismissed the quiz out of turn; had it been sent by almost anyone else, I surely would have relegated the test to its rightful place in the wastebasket of the Ethernet.

50 questions.

I began by answering with bored, monosyllables but soon found myself elaborating. Worse, I later "got to thinking."

Question 47: How many tattoos do you have? None. Unequivocally, NONE.

Not that I have anything against body art; I actually believe tattoos, in moderation, suit some personalities. (But seriously, why would you tell me on Sunday you have no money to pay bills, then proudly celebrate a brand new "tat" on Monday?)

My issue with tattoos is long-standing but has nothing to do with ink.

I am trypanophobic -- I am terrified of needles.

Question 26: "What did you want to be when you were little?"

When I was five, I wanted to be a firetruck. I had issues.

If alternatively asked, "what could I see myself doing as an adult?" I may have answered that I wanted to be funny -- like Dick Van Dyke. But, I most certainly also wanted to be a physician.

I somehow managed to accomplish both; although one of my patients is always quick to (re-)assure me that, "(funny) looks aren't everything."

Again, I very much dislike -- no, really hate -- needles. How did this needle-phobic kid become a physician?

Summers were spent outdoors; there were no computers or video games. There was also the dictum that children were "meant to be seen -- preferably outside." So long as a summer sun ruled over our street lights, we ran and ran and ran. This amount of time accorded me the opportunity to accumulate a great wealth of (dis-)information from "knowledgeable" siblings and friends.

One valuable lesson handed down -- and confirmed by the singer, Nilsson -- declared: "Don't be goofing with the bees." The rule, in my mind, logically extended to anything with a stinger. I had personally witnessed pain and suffering inflicted on countless friends by these flying marauders; while it wasn't a pure case of schadenfreude -- my general thinking was, "better them than me!" The take home lesson: anything with a stinger is bad.

So, given this construct, why would anyone believe I could somehow grant special sanction to man-made "stingers" attached to syringes filled with potentially life-saving vaccines or not?

My family eventually came to expect it. I suppose it may very well have been embarrassing for them; not for me.

As a result of my fear, I spent a great deal of time as a kid running and screaming through sundry doctor's offices in failed attempts to avoid moustached, pointy-hat wearing, syringe-wielding nurses in white. It was just too bad if you happened to get in my way; I was going through you, "come hell or high-water." In the end, unfortunately, the Cloris Leachman-esque nurses of my youth always had their way with me; they had help -- I clearly understood THAT tone in Mother's voice.

The logic escaped me. Why would anyone voluntarily sit still for the infliction of any pain? Seriously, which of us was truly smart? On one hand, you had an automaton of a child who unflinchingly sat "like a good boy" while under a parent-sanctioned assault. Or, as in my case, you had a boy who dared question -- strenuously -- the necessity of being needled by some stranger. My parents had always told me to use my head -- well, my mind, heart, and accumulated life-lessons called on me to rise up and "fight the man."

Perversely, I later opted for that career as a physician -- with a license authorized by the state to stick ridiculously large bore needles into the persons of my patients. The object of my dread as a boy has now become one of the tools of my trade. Ironic - perhaps even hypocritical. 

Question 22: Birdwatcher? I have never personally seen a tufted tit-mouse.

Question 42: Broccoli? I do like broccoli. Blanched with a squeeze of lemon. Have recently been told to try a broccoli garlic mache?

Question 47: How many tattoos do you have? None.

I DO hate on-line quizzes.

And, I recently had a tetanus shot.

I took it like a man; the bite marks on my hand were visible for at least a day.