“Theodore Senior belonged to a class and a generation that considered politics to be a dirty business, best left, like street cleaning, to malodorous professionals.”
— Edmund Morris, describing President Theodore Roosevelt’s father’s view of politics in “The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt” (1979)
A Visit from St. Nicholas
by Clement Clarke Moore
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her ’kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle,
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”
I went to see the movie “Who Killed the Electric Car” the other night. It was a de facto private showing, since I was the only person in the theater, proving once again that I’m weird. Yes, I like to watch lectures on C-SPAN and documentaries on PBS, so going to a movie about the demise of the electric car is not unusual for me.
It was pretty interesting; I vaguely remember the electric car of the 90’s. I remember the buzz being that they were impractical because the battery life was too short. Well, according to the producers of the movie, it was much more sinister than that. Essentially, the movie claims that automakers (aided and abetted by the oil industry and the Bush administration) killed the electric car.
They pointed out that electric cars don’t need as much maintenance as their internal-combustion-engine counterparts. Oil filters, air filters, catalytic converters, mufflers, etc., are all eliminated in an electric car. If electric cars became successful, there’s a huge part of the automotive industry that would see big profit losses. And, of course, since they don’t use gas, the oil industry would also see huge profit losses.
The movie-makers conceded that battery-life was a hindrance, but added that that obstacle was easily surmountable as battery technology has improved in leaps and bounds over the past 10 to 15 years. With modern lithium-ion batteries, an electric car can go 100+ miles per charge. Considering the average person only drives around 30 miles per day, this is more than enough for a primary vehicle one would use to commute to work or get groceries. For long trips, one could use a secondary vehicle with a standard gas engine or a hybrid. You can even ask an electrician like MZ Electric or visit sites like xpertelectricllc.com/electrical/ev-charger-installation/ to get an EV charger at home.
The oil companies lobbied against the electric car, and (according to the movie) big-oil lackeys in the Bush administration have convinced the President to pursue unrealistic hydrogen power for motor vehicles which will take years to research, test, and make practical and marketable rather than electric cars, which could be produced immediately with existing technology.
General Motors, which took the brunt of the criticism in the movie, has issued a press release defending themselves. They claim that the cars simply didn’t have enough consumer demand to make it profitable for the auto giant to continue the program. They point out that “only 800 vehicles were leased during a four-year period.”
Critics counter that GM could have done more to make the program successful. They point out that advertisements for the cars were unlike any other auto ad campaign — and if the commercial they showed during the movie is any indication, I’d have to agree. It had an ominous, almost apocalyptic feel to it, with pictures of people’s shadows on the ground, but no people, and a female voice-over that sounded like the opening of the first Lord of the Rings movie. A far cry from normal car commercials that feature hip-looking twenty-somethings, speeding cars, and popular music.
And although GM claims that “a waiting list of 5,000 only generated 50 people willing to follow through to a lease,” critics point to a GM executive in charge of that effort who said on camera (this is not an exact quote, but close), “after we explained all the limitations of the vehicle, only 50 people were willing to lease it.” Some salesman. Ever gone to car dealership and had the sales staff explain all the limitations of a vehicle to you? Also, even though this wasn’t mentioned in the movie, I imagine the fact that you could only lease and not buy the car also had some impact. For example, I’d never lease a car; I want to pay it off as quickly as possible and then drive it until it dies.
I thought the documentary was well done for the most part, although there were several creepy parts that made you feel like these activists love their cars as much or more than other humans. When they showed the EV1s (GM’s electric car model, pictured above) being destroyed, it was like the filmakers were trying to make it look like a WWII documentary of suffering and extermination in concentration camps. When there were many activists holding vigil outside one of the GM plants trying to stop GM from removing/destroying the last hundred or so EV1s, I thought to myself, couldn’t this effort be put to better use protesting the genocide taking place in Darfur or something? Suffice it to say, the movie was a bit over-the-top at points.
Nevertheless, I walked away pretty much convinced that U.S. would be well-served by pursuing electric cars as a way to reduce dependence on foreign oil. And, I was equally convinced that auto makers have no incentive to make such cars, even if there is demand for them, because they can make a lot more money by keeping electric cars out of the marketplace. The only way it will ever happen is if the government demands zero-emission vehicles be built. And that opens a whole new can of worms.
That’s what the sign said the woman was holding as she stood on the median at the corner of War Memorial and Glen Hollow this afternoon. Apparently, when she got ready to take her car trip, she had the forethought to remember a large piece of cardboard and a permanent marker just in case she might need to make an emergency sign to ask for money, but failed to check the gas guage or bring any extra cash or credit cards. Genius.
I wonder if she was related to this panhandler.
I don’t put many of these kinds of things on my blog, but I heard this on the Markley and Luciano show (WMBD-AM 1470) while driving today and just about ran off the road from laughing so hard. It’s Tom Wilson — not the guy who draws the Ziggy comic strip, but the one who played “Biff” in “Back to the Future” — singing about the questions he gets asked all the time because he’s somewhat typecast as “Biff.” So, for anyone who may not have heard or seen it before, here it is courtesy of YouTube:
A few personal tidbits:
Today my wife and I are celebrating our 12th wedding anniversary. On this day in 1994, we vowed to love, honor, and cherish each other until death do we part, and we are no less committed to each other today. I’d like to say we’re going to do something exciting to celebrate, but we have three kids, so, maybe if we’re lucky we’ll get to go out to dinner by ourselves for an hour.
I’m taking this week off from work to get some projects done around the house. With the electricity rate hike looming, I suddenly have a new motivation to insulate my attic. So that’s the biggest project I have on tap. Still, it will be nice having some time off work; I haven’t taken a vacation week since my son was born, about a year and a half ago.
On Friday I logged onto the city’s website to see the agenda for this Tuesday, as I usually do. As I was scanning down the consent agenda, I got a big surprise — I’m on it! Several months ago, I applied to be a part of the Heart of Peoria Commission at the suggestion of my city council representative. Shortly after that, they put a moratorium on commission appointments while Van Auken, Sandberg, and Morris did a thorough review of all the commissions. Sometime in the past few weeks, that moratorium was lifted and the mayor began making appointments again, and I’m being recommended for appointment to the HOP Commission. I have to admit, I’m pretty excited about it. It’s no secret that I’m a die-hard fan of new urbanism in general and the Heart of Peoria Plan specifically. This is an opportunity for me to make a real contribution to the implementation of the plan. There’s only so much you can do with a blog.
Finally, I’m hoping once again that the Cardinals can beat the Padres tonight behind Cy Young Award winner Chris Carpenter and advance to the NLCS to face the Mets. I’ll be honest, I’m very hopeful that the Cards can knock off the Padres, but I’m not very hopeful that they can beat the Mets. Of course, I want them to make it to the World Series, but realistically, the Mets this year will be awfully hard to beat. They can’t afford to have Chris Duncan miss a routine fly ball in left field against the Mets. Go Cardinals!
The first time I met Bruce Frankel, he guessed my hat size just by looking at me. I wasn’t looking for a hat, but was impressed just the same. I had walked into The Bell men’s clothing store on Sheridan to get some new shoes (I was looking for Florsheim and they carried them), and it was Bruce that waited on me.
He couldn’t guess my shoe size, but he did measure my foot (a novelty in this age of big box stores) and got me the dress shoes I wanted. I asked him all kinds of questions about the store, and he was happy to tell me the story of how long it had been in the family, how they were originally downtown and when they moved out to the Sheridan Village area.
When I went to pay for my shoes and he saw my name on my check, he asked if I was related to an Orville Summers that used to work at the Journal Star. I was impressed with his memory — I was indeed related, Orville being my grandfather, but he had retired from the paper in 1974, over 20 years before my meeting Bruce. This was a guy who remembered his customers.
I’ve visited The Bell numerous times since then; the last thing I bought that Bruce helped me with was a black suit. He guessed my pant size, much to my chagrin. I thought he had overestimated how big I was around the waist, but it turned out I had underestimated how big I had gotten since the last time I had bought a pair of dress pants. I suppose when you’ve been in the clothing business all your life, you learn how to size people up pretty accurately. He knew his business, and I appreciated his professionalism and friendliness.
I saw in the paper this morning that Bruce passed away on Sunday, July 30, at the age of 74. My condolences to the Frankel family.
Our church has a praise team made up of people roughly my age that leads worship most Sunday mornings. This Sunday, the high school worship team will be playing instead (although the regular praise team’s guitar player and I will be joining them). Yesterday I got to practice with them for a little while and was reminded again that I’m the old guy.
At one point, I really felt like we made a connection. They started singing “Hope to Carry On,” which is one of my favorite Rich Mullins songs. I sang along, then told them I had seen Rich Mullins perform that song in concert. They looked at my sort of blankly and said, “That’s not a Rich Mullins song, is it? I’ve only heard Caedmon’s Call do it.”
Hey, everybody, look at the old guy!
The Caedmon’s Call version of that song came out in 1997, which is old (to them) in itself. But I was thinking of Mullins’ original which came out in 1989 — ancient. As far as they were concerned, I might as well have been talking about dancing to the Glenn Miller Orchestra and seeing movies at the Bijou.
Where’s my cane?