Wednesday, November 25, 2009

MERCI

MERCI 

It's Thanksgiving . . . 2009. 

This year, I have decided to thank the French. 

Truth be told, the French in recent times have received precious little thanks. In the run up to and aftermath of the on going Iraq War, they were of course vilified. America's higher-ups treated them as the despicable denizens of Old Europe, unwilling and unable to roll up their sleeves on the side of democracy and the ubiquitous war on terror. When they stood their ground, refusing to be intimidated into capitulation, we unleashed the big guns.

We renamed french fries Freedom Fries. 

And dusted off all those World War II jokes. 

My guess is that the French let that whole culinary correction thing roll right off their collective backs. In fact, they probably liked it. At its best, and even at its worst, France is a nation of fine food. It is very hard to get a bad meal at a half way decent restaurant in Paris. You can't get a cheap one. Especially now, with the dollar tanking. But it will usually be a good one. 

So I bet they were pretty happy to be done with les Americain's "french fries." 

In 1972, when I was an exchange student living in Paris, the whole city was in a twist over the fact that a McDonald's was opening on the Champs Elysees. There were street protests and ominous editorials bemoaning another unwanted invasion. For awhile, it looked like Le Big Mac was going to be une bust. Things, however, have settled down appreciably. Mickey Dees is packed every day of the week. President Sarkozy is asking his fellow citoyens to be a little less French and more American when it comes to labor markets. My French friends even brag these days about California wine. 

The only thing they really oppose is our unnecessary wars. 

And our right wing. 

And I really can't argue with them on either count. 

In 2005, I returned for my first visit to France in twenty nine years. Walking around Versailles with the same fellow I had lived with as a teen, he told me that 80% of the French had supported John Kerry in his bid for the Presidency. Over here, where he was being swift boated into an un-American coward, the nut case right said that Kerry "looked" French . . . and it wasn't a compliment. Over there, he was still a hero. Which of course is why he lost. 

Thank God Barack doesn't look French. 

France isn't just a country. It's closer to an intoxicating experience. I went to a three day conference in Paris last winter. Everyone had come to talk law and do business. These conferences typically make attendees participate in team building exercises. You know, the stuff that uproariously funny commercial lampoons as two guys who have had enough catch the first American Air Lines flight out of town. But ours was different. We painted a picture. On a ten foot square canvas made of mini-squares we could later disassemble and take home. 

We did Picasso. 

Instead of psychobabble. 

At the last night dinner cruise on the Seine, I sat between a young Anglo-French lawyer and a Dutch-Israeli real estate investor. The City of Lights rolled by, gorgeous even in the chill of a cold winter night. Which is another thing you have to thank them for. 

They'll always have Paris.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

WORLD SERIOUS

WORLD SERIOUS

My daughter, a freshman in college, called earlier in the semester to report that she had gotten a high mark on an English essay. The Professor had even read part of it to the class. At home, this was greeted with cheers, coming as it had from a young adult whose early relationship with the English language at one point resembled hand to hand combat. 

As a kid, when Courtney had an idea, it was an "ideal". Announcing she had apologized for any transgressions big or small came out as "I said my sorries." As a sort of liquid epiphany, apple juice regularly emerged as a request for "apple jews." Apple Catholics or Protestants were apparently not as sweet. The best baseball player ever to don a uniform was "Babe Ruth-ez". And early on, at a point when she still thought her older brother was cool, she promised that if she ever came into money, she would be sure to get him tickets to the "World Serious." 

I say the hell with her brother for the time being. 

The Republicans need those tickets. 

Tuesday, as we all know, was Election Day. Turnout was low. Here in New York well less than 30% of the registered voters cast ballots, and the same was the case throughout the nation. The Republicans won the gubernatorial races in New Jersey (by a little) and Virgina (by a lot). New York City's now Independent (previously Republican and probably Democrat previous to that) Mayor Michael Bloomberg -- having spent $100 million of his own money to the other guy's five -- won reelection to a third term by a less than resounding five points. And suburbanites tossed out a three term incumbent County Executive in Westchester and nearly did the same to a two termer on Long Island. Both were Democrats. 

This is hardly what the statisticians would call a "representative sample." Most of the races had decidedly local angles to them, all successfully exploited by the victors. And when 70% of those eligible to vote stay home, those who show up tend to be (1) motivated and (2) extreme. In Virginia, for example, those who voted this year had favored John McCain by 8 points a year ago. Clearly a lot of last year's Obama voters -- who had won the state by 12 points for Barack -- stayed home. Enough in fact to create a 20 point swing in starting points. It is not a surprise that a Republican won that race, and given the margin he probably would have won even if all those Obama voters had showed. But it would have been a lot closer. 

For its part, New Jersey was close. 

Even though it should not have been. 

For most of the race, the now Governor-Elect Chris Christie was ahead by double digits. He explains his slide from inevitability to mere victory as the product of Governor Corzine's negative campaign ads. He doth, however, protest too much. Both of them ran negative ads, and as the children are wont to say, Christie started it. Jon Corzine did not invent political corruption in the Garden State and had nothing to do with the parade of hacks marching to their perp walks in this summer's political version of the Sopranos. But if all you knew came from Christie's commercials, you'd have thought that Corzine himself belonged in the slammer. It's easy to become Governor of New Jersey if you promise to end corruption and lower property taxes. Actually doing this, however, is the rough equivalent of a political hat trick. 

Many have tried. 

None have succeeded. 

Not even Chris Christie when he was New Jersey's US Attorney. The bad guys he put in jail were just replaced by a new crop of bad guys for the current US Attorney to put in jail. When that group is replaced and Christie is in his fourth year as Governor, someone will run against him promising to end corruption. And that someone won't have to write new campaign ads. He can just dust off Christie's. 

The Chairman of the national Republican Party, Michael Steele, wants none of this local angle stuff. For his money, Tuesday's elections were an indictment of an "incredibly arrogant" Democratic Party that is putting "our freedom and economy at risk." Of course, the economy was at risk long before January 20, 2009. In fact, it was more or less on life support. And it is very hard to talk about the loss of freedom these days without images of Dick Cheney's uber-state coming immediately to mind. Steele must think that a free and productive America is one where Wall Street is made safe for renewed financial bubbles and health care is provided at the whim of for profit insurance companies. 

The rest of us know otherwise. 

Even the rest of us in New Jersey and Virginia. 

We've already been to . . . 

The World Serious. 

In fact, we live there.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

BORING

BORING 

I'm bored. 

I know this is my problem and not yours. 

Maybe you are very excited. 

Barack is arguing with Fox over whether Fox is really a wing of the Republican Party or a straight news organization. The Republicans are arguing with Norway over who deserves to get the Nobel Peace Prize. Gen. McChrystal is arguing with the Administration (or, more particularly I guess, Joe Biden) over whether we need 40,000 more troops in Afghanistan. The American Medical Association is arguing for the public option. Americans are arguing with Wall Street about obscene bonuses. And Sarah Palin is . . . 

Still arguing. 

So maybe it's just me. A kind of inherent dullness borne of some deep genetic reality that says all this exciting stuff is all so . . . 

Boring. 

But maybe not. 

Oh, I agree, the AMA thing is kind of a hoot. You could look far and wide for the last time the AMA has supported anything remotely akin to national health insurance and come up empty handed. But here they are, endorsing the public option, and proving once and for all that this whole current health care debate really is the insurance companies against everyone else. Too bad the insurance companies may win. Which, of course, would be exciting . . . 

In that perverse sort of way those who have no business winning still manage to do so against all odds.

I mean, it's pretty hard to find a better opponent than insurance companies. I have never seen one of those favorable/unfavorable polls on them. Probably because you can't get anyone to say something favorable. So you'd think that, in a one-on-one against them on health care -- with the AMA on your side, no less -- the insurance boys would be toast. 

But they're not. 

Newt Gingrich has promised them that if a health care bill passes, his party will go to the country in 2010 and 2012, win, and then repeal the health care reform not yet passed today. In truth, this sounds more like a wish than a promise. A "been there, done that," so let's do it again boast. A bit of retro from the GOP's glory days of '94, when voters had no knowledge of what the Party of God would actually do if they ran the table and won it all. In a word . . . 

Boring. 

Then there's Wall Street. 

The gloom and doom is over. 

Or at least pretty aggressively abated. 

Earlier in the year, the TARP money they got from us taxpayers made it possible for them to survive. Now they are reserving record level bonus pools for themselves, which gives new meaning to the words "Thank you." The real fear among reformers is that the Administration in general, and Geithner's Treasury Department in particular, is so larded with the authors of the last two financial bubbles that nothing will change. And as of now, it's hard to argue with that. Health care reform -- a long term driver of the deficit reduction needed to allow fiscal policy to work without crippling later inflation -- is stalled. And the financial sector is still largely deregulated. 

It's deja vu all over again, to quote Yogi Berra. 

What a yawn.

I should be able to get excited about Barack's Nobel Prize. And I am. But the truth is that I am excited because it sends the right wing around the bend. So, in a reprise of my Catholic youth, excitement is tempered with guilt. I generally buy into the notion that Nobel Prizes should go to those who do something . . . 

Other than give great speeches. 

You know -- negotiate a treaty, end a war, cure AIDS, keep an eye on Russia from your backyard. 

Even the President was embarrassed. There he was in the middle of trying to fashion a new war strategy for Afghanistan, refereeing internal disputes over troop levels between his Vice President and the Commander on the ground, wondering how in the world we managed to pick another ally who is not all that good at running his country and oh, by the way, may have stolen the recent election, keeping his eye on the other war he had nothing to do with but is committed to ending, and watching Iran pretend to negotiate on nukes (having stolen a recent election), none of which has led to much of anything yet, and the Norwegians wake us up one day with the news that he has been awarded the Peace Prize.

Maybe it was for next year. 

Fox, of course, had a field day. They reported all the right wing chest thumpers feigning sincere outrage that so undeserving a recipient could have been picked. They gave plenty of time to all those who lamented (as they now do on an annual basis) how the whole Peace Prize thing is nothing more than Norway's exercise of political leverage in the service of appeasement and old Europe. They even reported calls from some that Barack refuse the prize or give it back (which, come to think of it, might not be a bad idea -- maybe he and Kissinger could work a "two-fer", albeit for different reasons). 

All this, they call "straight news". 

Wow.

Even the lies are . . . 

Boring.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

THE DOG DAYS OF AUGUST

THE DOG DAYS OF AUGUST 

It is hot and humid in New York City. After an unseasonably cool summer, the natural order has reasserted itself. 

So, too, it appears in the nation as a whole.

The Republicans have now pretty much embraced their alternative to Obama's politics of change. To "Yes, We Can" they shout "No, We Won't". The issues are more or less irrelevant. When the Administration proposed the stimulus package earlier in the year, the GOP rediscovered its hatred for deficits and opposed it. Never mind that the country was rapidly travelling down the slippery slope to Depression. Or that they themselves had inherited Clinton's trillion dollar plus surplus only to squander it on tax cuts for the top 1% and an off-budget war without rationale (or at least one based on fact) in Iraq. The party of one and a half regions (the old Confederacy and some Plains states) would rather oppose than propose. 

A few years ago, I wrote an email to to E.J. Dionne of The Washington Post. I told him that Republicans and conservatives run on the platform that government can do no good, and once elected, try to prove it. 

Now they are doing that even when they are out of power. 

The issue du jour is health care. Progressives already have given up on their preferred reform -- Medicare for all, which is a form of single payer. Instead, as the Clintons did in the '90s, they have accepted the notion that health policy must be fashioned on the dysfunctional foundation created by insurance companies. I suppose there is some market based mechanism that might provide reasonable care for all at costs that do not bankrupt the country. Hillary certainly tried to craft one in 1993, only to be told that her combination of employer mandates, community based rating, and regulatory oversight was government run amok. Her proposal never even made it out of committee. It just became a battering ram for Gingrich's revolution. Now, in this potential summer of his discontent, Obama is running into the same buzz saw that killed health care reform in the last Democratic Administration. The President, of course, did not march blindly down the path trod by his predecessor. Where the Clintons created first a task force and then an enormous legislative package, sent to the Hill on a wave of "You will pass and I will sign" inspiration from the Presidential bully pulpit, Obama has allowed the Congressional committees to do their work, proposing only broad principles that had to be respected for him to get on board. For him, in truth, there are only two sine qua nons -- all must have access to quality health care and costs must be contained. 

So much, however, for differences that don't matter. 

This GOP is no different from Gingrich's. 

Which was no different from Goldwater's. 

Which was no different from Herbert Hoover's. 

They do not believe in health care reform. They believe in the profit motive and pretty much nothing else, at least when it comes to domestic economic policy. Applied to the current health care crisis, that results in what for them are a number of ostensibly fundamental principles. 

First, for them, there is no crisis. They note that three quarters of the country claims it is satisfied with their current health coverage. What counts as "satisfied" in this context is, of course, more than somewhat loaded. People who have health insurance are "satisfied" only because they have it. If they lose their jobs (and hence their insurance), actually get a serious illness (which then becomes a pre-existing condition, precluding insurability in the future absent later employment based coverage), have a chronic condition like diabetes (in which case, they are forever hostage to being lucky enough to have continuous employment with firms that provide insurance lest they too become uninsurable), or run a small business where they actually have to pay the premiums for everyone else (in which case, they know that premium costs have skyrocketed by more than 80% over the past eight years), they aren't all that "satisfied." 

Lucky to be insured, yes. 

Satisfied? 

Not on your life. 

Second, conservatives believe that profit motivated competition actually works in the health sector. Though this is more an article of faith than an empirical reality, it is nevertheless a fundamental element of their economic religion. It ignores, however, a number of salient facts. One is that, for those 65 and older, Medicare already has lopped off the highest risk category of insured, i.e. , those most likely to get sick. Given that the largest proportion of our health care dollars are spent in the last days of life, this is no small point. Put bluntly, we already have socialized well more than half the health delivery system. There really should be nothing wrong in principle with socializing the other half. 

The right wing's politics of loud, however, will have none of this. They have now transformed Medicare -- a program the Goldwater Republicans of the 1960s opposed and voted against -- into a government program that no one who has wants in any way to lose ("Keep Your Hands Off My Medicare" said the sign at one of those euphemistically named "Town Hall" meetings where the screamers wouldn't even let the legislators speak), but no one who doesn't have can in any way propose getting (which is what the screamers are saying when they yell about "socialism" or "communism" or anything remotely "European").

The rest of us are left to trust that the benighted insurance companies will take care of us as they run up their profits. This, unfortunately, is a non sequitur for two reasons -- (1) the surest way to higher profit for the insurance companies is less coverage for all of us, whether by exclusions or higher co-pays or the managed "denial" practiced by insurance company bureaucrats under the rubric of "managed care," and (2) in an unregulated environment, the insurance companies can and always will pass the (high) cost of gold-plated care, emergency room treatments for the uninsured, and their bloated administrative budgets (26% of every insurance dollar goes to administrative cost; the comparable amount under Medicare is about 3%) onto us consumers, which is why premium costs have skyrocketed in the last decade. 

So much for competition working. 

Obama and the Democrats have proposed a sensible solution to these basic problems. To rein in health care costs, they contend that a publicly funded insurance option should be available for those who want it. This is a form of Medicare-lite. If you can't get health care because it is either too expensive, your employer doesn't provide it, or the private sector will no longer give you it, you get to enroll in the public taxpayer financed plan. 

Everyone will be legally obligated to have insurance (just as anyone who has a car is obliged to carry auto insurance), so the pool of available premium payers will increase by the 45 million who are now uninsured (minus those who can't afford to pay). Employers who don't insure will pay a small tax, so no one gets to be a financial free loader on the public option plan. (Like the Hoover Republicans who opposed Social Security in the '30s, the right wing today claims that this feature will cost us jobs in the small business sector. It won't, largely because employers who do not now insure are doing so not because they once couldn't, but rather because they no longer can given the quadrupling of insurance premium costs in the last decade.) 

And the public plan will keep the insurance companies honest. They won't exclude, or deny, or bloat their administrative budgets because, if they do, they will lose policy holders to the public alternative and eventually go out of business. For the same reason, they won't increase their charges at rates five times that of inflation, which is what they are doing now. The GOP claims that the the public option will rapidly deteriorate into a form of rationing, though the basis for this charge is impossible to ascertain. The screamers who love their Medicare apparently aren't worried about rationing now, and the public option won't be any different. If consumers enrolled in the public option want to buy supplemental plans, they can, just as is the case with current Medicare recipients. In addition, the present system already rations. It gives gold plated care to those who can afford it, and something less to everyone else. 

The right wing calls that market based competition. 

The diabetic who can't pay for her insulin knows she is being rationed. 

Back in the '90s, policy wonks proposed all sorts of competitive solutions to the problem of government waste in general and the assumed (but never proven) lack of productivity of union workers in particular. Osborne and Gaebler wrote a book about it called Reinventing Government. In it, they gave example after example of how competition could make government more efficient. They even pointed out how, in one example that refutes a whole host of conservative shibboleths, unionized sanitation workers in Phoenix agreed to compete with non-unionized waste haulers in that city. The winners were the citizens. Sanitation costs went down. 

And, oh, by the way, the union delivered the less expensive product. 

Lots of folks on the right embraced this formula when it gave them a perceived cudgel to use on organized labor. Now, however, that the tables have been turned, and public agency competition has been proposed to make health care affordable and accessible to all, the free marketeers are screaming about uneven playing fields and socialism. 

They are even showing up at their health care rallies and Town Halls with guns strapped to their legs.

I hope one doesn't accidentally go off during one of their screaming fits. 

The resulting injury . . . 

Probably won't be covered by their insurance company.

Monday, July 20, 2009

ON A SUNDAY IN SCOTLAND

ON A SUNDAY IN SCOTLAND

It's only a game for the elite on this side of "the pond," as they say.

Over there, where golf began, it's played by everyone from the assembly line worker to the hedge fund manager. If you live in St. Andrews, you can buy an (affordable) annual pass that allows you to play each of the seven courses owned by the St. Andrews Trust. One of them is the fabled Old Course.

So golf is a national game in Scotland.

And yesterday, that nation held its collective breath as a legend just shy of his sixtieth birthday came within eight feet of winning The Open Championship, golf's oldest and most hallowed crown, on a weather beaten track called Turnberry, famous for prior great moments in the sport, a runway used by the RAF in World War II, and winds that blow off the Irish Sea in changing fifteen minute increments.

Now it is also famous for something else.

Tom Watson . . . 2.0

When he came to Ailes earlier in the week, he was just a relic. He had already won The Open five times. Once at this very course, in the now infamous "Duel in the Sun" in 1977 in a play off victory against Jack Nicklaus that both greats had made it into with enormous birdie putts on the final hole of regulation play. He had already won nine major tournaments and countless regular tour events. But because golf is the one sport where relics still get to play competitively, this five time winner of what we Americans, much to the consternation of the British, call the "British Open," was allowed to tee it up.

Nothing of the sort could ever happen in any of our home grown sports. Sure, Satchel Paige played for a minor league baseball team in his fifties, and the occasional forty something trots out onto one or more of our football (not soccer) fields every fifth autumn or so to steal a page from the past.

But you won't find any sixty year olds in the World Series . . . or the Super Bowl.

They'll be on the couch.

Watching.

Where I was for six hours on Sunday.

Only I was participating.

Of all the sports, the four hundred year old one we call golf is the most like life. Like life, it is very hard to get right. Winston Churchill once quipped that "Golf is a game whose aim is to hit a very small ball into a even smaller hole, with weapons singularly ill-designed for the purpose." Though also attributed to him, Churchill did not say "Golf consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm.” But he easily could have. And the point would have been the same.

It ain't easy.

Like life, it also ain't fair.

In one of his famous press conferences in the '60s, JFK was asked about the resentment reservists might feel on being called up to serve. He noted that inequity was inherent in the world. Some serve and die. Some are wounded. Some are never called up. "Life is unfair," said the then President. Today, that comment seems harsh. But Kennedy had the right to make it. His older brother had been killed in World War II and he himself had been seriously injured. Though some were never called, they both served. And one died.

Life is unfair . . . and so is golf. Kennedy knew that too. Unbeknownst to voters, he was one of the best golfers to be President -- a single digit handicap. He kept it a secret in 1960 because he was contrasting his youth to President Eisenhower's age, and did not want the country to think it was electing another golfer (Ike was an aficionado of the sport, regularly leaving spike marks on the floor of the Oval Office as he returned from the White House putting green he had installed).

The unfairness of it all was in abundant evidence in Scotland yesterday. For 71 holes, the near sixty year old had confounded all that the evil golf gods could throw at him. He carefully avoided the numerous pot bunkers designed to gobble balls and inflate scores. Like an ancient mariner, he assayed and navigated the variable winds (oddly, on Saturday, he was the only golfer who left the first tee box before he hit to get a sense of how the wind was blowing across the first fairway; age and experience sometimes amount to wisdom). He played within himself, never expecting or asking more than that of which his own aged frame was capable.

And he made putt after improbable putt.

One from sixty feet. Another from near eighty feet. Too many to count from between ten and twenty feet. And a whole host from five to ten feet.

Except that last one on the 72nd hole that would have won the tournament. The one eight feet from the hole. The one that should not have been there. The one left from that first putt from off the green that should not have been there. Because no sixty year old can hit an eight iron flush at the pin 150 plus yards away on the 72nd hole on Championship Sunday . . . without the damn ball staying on the green.

Except this time it didn't.

Life is unfair.

When it was over, he didn't complain or whine. He also didn't do that during the four hole play-off, when his age finally caught up with him and he could not right the ship of tired legs splaying shots left and right. He congratulated the winner (who himself was to be congratulated, not just for winning but also for the gracious way in which he acknowledged having spoiled our whole party). He owned the failure. He accepted the regret.

Before the final round began, his friend Jack Nicklaus had text messaged him to "Win one for the old folks. Make us proud, Make us cry again." And today, Tom Boswell had the best response to that message.

"Don't worry, Tom, you did."

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

SARAH

SARAH 

Unknown in lower 48, 
She took us by surprise.
A maverick from the tundra 
Was her oft-stated disguise. 

 At first she tripped on Charlie 
And blamed the hated left. 
Who knew that Bush's doctrine 
Carried such destructive heft? 

Then Katie threw her softballs -- 
Pick one more you can hate! 
Brown, Roe, Miranda
She just stared, no talking straight. 

So comics had a field day 
With her winks and nods and betchas. 
"He pals around with terrorists" -- 
Her false but favorite gotcha. 

They lost, and rather handily, 
Swept by history's tide. 
But she was poised to marry up, 
The right wing's favorite bride. 

They'd wait four years, 2012, 
Pit bull, lipstick, and betcha. 
But now they'll have to wait some more, 
'Cause she just up and quitcha.

Monday, June 8, 2009

PASSAGES

PASSAGES 

We should probably celebrate New Years in June.

Not January. 

June is a month of passages. 

We move from buds to blooms. The rhythm of baseball season finally returns to its ritualistic predictability, rescuing itself from that unseasonably cold April beginning. Kids all over the world are graduating. Nowadays from everything. College. High school. Kindergarten. Day care. Lots of people get married this month. And vacations either begin . . . or fall within the time when they are reasonably foreseeable. 

No one graduates in January. I did . . . from law school. But I had to wait until June to actually wear the cap and gown and celebrate with my family. There was no celebration in January. I went right to work for a newly appointed federal appellate judge. He was then afraid of his new job. And I was then afraid of him. So it was entirely appropriate that our relationship began in a January winter. More purgatory than passage. 

Things seem to more or less end in January. 

Football. That long holiday stretch from Thanksgiving to Christmas. Presidential transitions. 

But they begin in June. 

My son was born in June. He turned 21 last week, which we have turned into a passage all its own. Mostly because that is when kids who three years earlier were old enough to vote and go to war become old enough to drink. In truth, it is really a false passage. All the college kids drink before they are 21. They all have fake id's. College Presidents of late have been complaining that they spend substantial amounts of institutional time running interference for students who get arrested in the we-know-they-all-drink-but-will-occasionally-enforce-the-law policing du jour. The kids themselves think it's a farce. 

When I was 21, I had been able to buy liquor legally for three years. My son once asked why that was OK for me but not him. I tried to be honest. I told him my generation had just screwed it up for his. I told him that we all had at least one friend (and usually many more) we had buried because of some drunken or drug induced escapade.

I don't think he found the honesty refreshing. 

Just annoying. 

In that "yeah, sure" sort of way 21 year olds have at being annoyed when they know honesty is fronting for hypocrisy. Because he knew we didn't change the law to protect them. We did it to protect ourselves. We didn't want to become the parents crying at their child's funeral. 

Fair enough. 

But someday he'll thank me. He'll even probably want to really crack down on those fake id's. He'll want to bring in the Mormon missionaries to turn all those frat parties into latter day alcohol free "First Nights." He'll do this when he becomes a father. Trying to be honest, he'll settle for some selfishly functional hypocrisy. He'll want to avoid those funerals too. 

And attend those graduations. 

In some not so far away Junes.