Family Saga

I can't be the only person who is tired of hearing what a saint the late Senator Edward Kennedy was. Because I don't wish to incite a riot and all that, I've kept silent. But every time someone mentions his death, I want to hear how Mary Jo must be "so happy" to see him again.

Mary Jo Kopkechne died on July 19, 1969 when a completely sober (according to the Senator) man lost his way and drove his car off the Chappaquiddick bridge. This completely sober and caring individual claimed to have been lost and still managed to be driving fast enough to not only drive off the bridge, but to flip the car over.

He managed to extricate himself from the wreck. He claims he dove several times to find the passenger in the car. Unsuccessfully. He was able to contact several people, however none of them were authorities. One assumes it was his father, the bankroll, and some cronies. When the car was discovered, well, good old Ted had answers.

Since enough time had passed, there was no sense in doing a blood alcohol level. Ted Kennedy, known for his ability to drink somehow was not drinking on this one night. He was given a two month suspended sentence for leaving the scene of an accident. Most people who kill someone in a car accident are charged with manslaughter, but if you have enough money, that's not always true.

Mary Jo was an only child and 28 years old at the time of her death.

Forty years later, Ted the Saint, is dead. This incident has haunted him all his life, poor baby. And it was instrumental in his inability to launch a Presidential run. Poor man. His political dreams dashed all because he killed someone. What unjust punishment.

All I want to do is scream. The rich, white guy killed someone and left the scene. If any of us regular folk did that, we wouldn't be walking around free, let alone sitting in the Senate making laws for only other people to follow.

The Kennedy saga continues with his son, the cocaine using OxyContin abusing Representative from Rhode Island. The guy who helped his cousin get away with rape, the guy who keeps getting drunk and wrecking his cars, although admittedly, he isn't the man his father was, he doesn't kill anyone.

How does a family go from the PT-109 to this?

Dying to be Healthy

I'm getting older by the minute. We all are, but it starts to catch up with us after a certain point in time. The aging process is inexorably moving toward entropy. And it is my job to stave off that finality for as long as possible. Or something like that.

Mostly I'm worried about my clothes. I have a lot of clothes. Many, many pieces of clothing fill a walk-in closet, a double closet, a dresser, two chests of drawers, and a smaller antique washstand. Then there are Christmas sweaters stored under my bed, a few items in storage upstairs, and my coats.

I have lots of clothes because I've stayed relatively the same size for most of my adult life. Many of my clothes are over ten years old, but still look like new. When you have this much stuff to choose from, you don't need to wear the same thing all the time. So stuff doesn't get worn out. That, and I'm old and take good care of my possessions. So, my clothes last a long time and I keep buying more. I could off load some, but … I'm sure I will want to wear it some day, some where for some event I might have to attend. Although I rarely attend events anymore, this is always a looming possibility.

My clothes are important to me. And so, my self has to stay the same size as my clothes. This isn't as easy as it once was. I used to be quite active. Now – not so much. My fingers get a great workout as I type and my right hand is "awesome" after a brisk workout with the mouse. Otherwise, I'm pretty stationary. I just sit here and – well, sit. Unless I bring a snack into my office and eat while I sit.

This is not working out as well as I might have hoped. I'm gaining weight. I stopped drinking coffee all day long and instead of two pots per day, I'm down to three cups – okay, mugs. But still only three. But I keep going into the kitchen, looking for coffee, and find food instead. Also not a good dieting plan.

I was religiously using the elliptical until I hit some sort of brick wall in February. Then I stopped. A trip to the doctor's office revealed a bit of an anomaly with my blood work and a repeat test reiterated the fact. I'm getting older and all this sitting isn't the best exercise plan in the world. I would be healthier if I moved more.

So I fired up the elliptical again. I began slowly and have gotten a bit more aggressive with time. I'm up to P4 or the fourth preset program. There are thirteen of these. I was up to P8 when I quit in February. So five times a week (I have Fridays and Sundays off) I do thirty minutes of self torture. I'm not seeing that it is really doing me any good. I'm not losing weight – although that probably has a lot more to do with intake rather than expenditure.

I've taken to hooking up the Wii again and doing the step routine for ten minutes. It gives me nearly a thousand steps up and down. I can manage ten minutes of absolute boredom, but just barely. I'm not sure what else I could do while marching up and down; back and forth. But it is mind crushingly boring to do this. It also helps me focus when I sit back down, so it isn't all bad.

I wear a heart rate monitor on the elliptical. The Wii isn't strenuous as it will only let me go so fast and still count the steps. I have my heart rate set to yell at me when I get over 160 beats per minute. It does, on occasion have to tell me to slow down. Some days I watch it more closely than others.

Today, the alarm never went off. However, I was getting light headed by the end of the thirty minutes. I had to power my way through the last few minutes, telling myself it would soon be all over. I went slowly and didn't get my usual mileage in. I have no idea why some days are so difficult. Two days ago, my heart rate monitor beeped at me three times and I never felt bad. Today, I felt bad and the monitor was happy.

I just keep forcing myself to do this. I hope my next trip to the doctor's office shows some improvement. Otherwise, I have no idea how I will bribe myself to continue.

Keep America Beautiful

That was a slogan years ago to stop Americans from littering. We were supposed to care enough about our country to want to keep the roadways, highways and byways, and country lanes all clean and free of clutter. It has mostly worked.

There are, however, some people who flaunt the rules of the general population and purposely set up roadside litter. They call them "memorials" or some such thing. When someone dies in a motor vehicle accident, it somehow means "you are permitted to litter here" and society has come to accept it.

I don't.

Get your memorials out of here. If you don't die on a road, you don't get a second cross or angel set up in your honor. When we sold Mom's house, we did not demand the new owners keep a cross to her memory set up in the house. We have Mom buried in a cemetery and there is a memorial to her THERE.

I'm not sure which is the more annoying to me. There was a horrible crash up at the corner of our development. An unlicensed, illegal alien was driving a old beat up pickup truck. He rammed into a stopped car so hard, the car was propelled across the median and struck by oncoming traffic. The speed limit is 55 mph there. I'm guess there were three deaths.

It was all horrible. I feel really sorry for the bereaved family. The man driving the pickup is probably in jail now, but that doesn't help them. Neither does the third (possibly fourth) shrine they have set up along the road side. Those of us who know the story still don't really care. I'm sorry if that sounds harsh, but really – I don't care. I know it is all horrible and I used to be sorry for you. Now, I just wish you would take your trash and grieve on your own time. It has been years now.

Then there are the people who put up a shrine along the road because they are so bereft. Years pass. They never touch it again. It deteriorates and looks even crappier. I would like to see the trash pickers who go down the streets at times take these heaps of litter and dispose of them.

Even more upsetting to me is the outpouring of community support when a small child is killed. Outside the child's home or at the scene of whatever terrible event occurred, there are mounds of stuffed teddy bears or plush toys. This doesn't help the poor child. That kid is gone and beyond the need for toys. I would love to see some enterprising soul come by and take all the donated and useless toys to the nearest homeless shelter or abused women's shelter or the closest welfare office. Give the toys to kids who don't have any but can still play with them.

All in all, this outpouring of public grief is ridiculous. The public doesn't really need to be so involved in your private life. That is why it is called "private" life – it is yours, privately.

If we don't want to just use cemeteries for our remembrance of those who died before us, perhaps we can just do away with them. They aren't being as useful as they can.

Or maybe we can simply stop littering the roads. I don't need to know this stuff. And I'm usually thinking "So that's where the drunk guy was." Unless I'm thinking "So that's where the driver fell asleep at the wheel." Or maybe perhaps, "I guess that speed really does kill." What I never think is "God, bless this soul." I'm too busy being disgusted by the mess.