FROG HOSPITAL -- Sept. 28, 2018
Me Too and the Patriarchs
Fred Owens
I saw the Patriarchs sitting on the left, lead by Sen.
Grassley of Iowa. I saw Me Too on the right, lead by Sen. Feinstein of
California.
I have to admire the stamina of these people, sitting
through a nine-hour hearing, especially Feinstein at age 85.
I wouldn't last an hour in that room. I supposed that's why
I work in the garden.
Having heard most of the testimony on Thursday, I was most
impressed by the vehemence of Lindsey Graham of South Carolina -- he got really
lit up and he is usually the calm one.
Blasey was direct and clear, maintaining her composure. Her
presentation was credible. Kavanaugh was defensive, maybe because he was
defending himself.
I certainly liked Blasey a lot better than Kavanaugh, but
that doesn't make her right. And I go out of my way to avoid guys like
Kavanough, but that doesn't make him wrong.
I wished Blasey could have put a time and place on the event
in memory. She described the assault in detail, but where on this earth was it?
Time and place would give it an anchor, if that makes any sense.
Kavanaugh talked too much. He didn't really have much more
to say than I'm a good guy and I didn't do it. His opening statement was way
too long at 45 minutes. I would have advised him to limit his words.
If I was on the Judicial Committee I would have to come to a
decision and vote, but I don't have that responsibility. I do not have to
decide this. I can mull it and chew it and sit on it until things fall into
place and that might never happen.
Most of the people I know believe Blasey. But I'm hearing a
lot of talk that goes like this -- "you can just tell"
Well, maybe you can just tell, but I can't just tell. That's
how it seems to me this Friday morning. I'm still listening.
new post starts here
Writing a 750-word Frog Hospital
essay requires focus and discipline. Normally, I just sit down in front of the
laptop and start typing, even if I don't want to, even if I have no ideas. I
never wait for the inspiration. I just write.
That spirit had been guiding me
since 1999 when I began the Frog Hospital journey. But these past few days,
nada, no energy. I did have enough energy to shovel pea gravel on the path down
the hill in back of the house. That was yesterday.
Today I will get a haircut at 10:30
--- I should write about that barber shop. After the haircut, I go to the Santa
Barbara Kiwanis Club for lunch --- I should write about that club.
Or I could write about my friend,
Attorney Matt Moore. We are scheduling an appointment for legal advice in
November. Oh, I don't need a lawyer, not for any pressing problem. But that is
the point. The best time to meet with a lawyer is when you don't need to. That
means you will actually have to like him. That means you will have a bit of
social context and he or she will know your story. That way, when you do have a
problem, you just call the guy and he or she already knows who you are.
You don't want to be looking for
legal help when you're under the gun and a little desperate. It's like buying
property insurance when the house is on fire.
Beside that, I like lawyers. I mean
I like the lawyers I like. And being free of a prejudice against that
profession, I can choose the agreeable ones -- the ones who can stand with me
should that ever become necessary.
Did you notice that Brett Kavanough
stood alone in defending himself against the accusation of sexual assault? He
being too proud and arrogant to appear to ask for legal counsel. He being too
entitled to realize that a man who represents himself has a fool for a client.
Okay, that's politics. Back to the
law. I love the law. The law protects me. The law is a shelter in the storm of
nature.
I finished reading a medieval
history book about the law, 1215, the Year of Magna Carta by Danny Danziger.
It's quite a good book and easy to read. For me it was the antidote to watching
the Kavanaugh hearings, knowing that brave men struggled with legal issues 700
years ago, and seemed to be getting nowhere, and seemed to be writing powerless
words on sheets of parchment. Yet the words of that day were strong and true,
and written down, and they have lasted 700 years.
Seven hundred years give us a
context. The Kavanaugh debacle is a bump in the road. No, it was more than
that. It was important. I just can't find the right metaphor.
So that is my Frog Hospital essay
for this week. I tricked myself into writing it. Now I have more gravel to
shovel on the path below the house, and trumpet vine to trim next to the
garbage bins. These ever-growing vines partially conceal the brown, green and
blue trash bins, but after a while it gets too complicated and I must cut them
off.
