Dear Dave

I am really glad that Penn State taught you to write eloquent letters with nice fonts and neatly spaced paragraphs. I have taken many of the same classes you and your wife took at Penn State. I have not yet graduated but one thing I learned in Composition 101, when writing, is the phrase, “when in doubt leave it out”. You did a really good job here as when I reread your letter I really expected you did not start it with, “I am not a Racist” or #WeAre not racist; and then lead into this this diatribe. Thanks for leaving out this sentence, as it lead me into reading this letter in more detail. If you would have opened with the sentence, I may never would have read this.

I must ask you a simple question, do you have mirrors in the house where you wrote this letter? I assume your complicit wife did not proofread this. The language and innuendo in this letter certainly are not attractive. I should also note if you would love to go back to the good old days when you were in college they were not exactly good old days. Jerry Sandusky had the perfect haircut, and most of the people of Pennsylvania still think Puerto Rico is another country.

But I do regress.

Do you remember by writing this letter you represent all alumni, students and fans of Penn State.

You made them look silly, and rightfully so.  Because this will make them angry to silence racists such as you.

If we lose this weekend, the world will keep spinning on it’s axis.  If we win I dedicate this win to those with an open mind to love culture and diversity,

 

Best Regards

Jonathan

 

 

 

 

This is a story about power. This is a story about jealousy and a ball in the bathtub. Yesterday I was taking a shower and heard a loud clunk at my feet and felt an object rolling around in the steamy shower water. Luna our Jack Russell terrier loves to bring me her toys when I am taking a shower. Against all the rules of gravity she has zero interest in getting them out of the tub. This is her power play. She drops her toys in the tub and expects me to retrieve them for her.  A few weeks ago I became wise to her game and decided to just let her toys in the tub. This simply eliminates her bugging me ten minutes later. She is not adept enough to scale that 14 inch barrier to retrieve her ball. She will sit in the bathroom and bark, mindlessly yelping, hoping  somebody gets her ball.

The ball has been in the tub for the last day. We have two young kittens named Bobo and Sinclair. They have their own room during the day. We let them out at night hoping they become friends with Cooper and Luna. Cooper is nonplussed by the new members of the family. Jack Russells are incapable of being nonplussed.

Well tonight Bobo and Sinc made a beeline to the bathtub where the ball in the bathtub sat. They naively jumped in the tub and pushed that ball around, jumped on the ball and even teasingly pushed it toward the top of the tub. It was not a quiet play. To the casual observer they were trying to get under the skin ofLuna.

And damn if it didn’t work. Luna was completely beside herself. There sat her ball, now the playful toy of her brother and sister. Luna was humbled, befuddled and was played as only a cat can do.

The cats soon after left the tub and predictably let the ball sit all by itself in the tub.  Luna took a defeated stroll to the living room and decided to take another familiar path. With all synapses firing, she opted to steal a sip of my beer sitting on a table on the living room table. It seems the cats had thought of that first.

 

General George Washington appointed Benedict Arnold as military commander in Philadelphia. It was there that Arnold began his break from the patriots. The Continental Congress had failed to promote him on several occasions, and he came to believe that most representatives were petty, bickering, incompetents.

And then 12 score, give or take a week or two, stumbled in a man of sullied reputation,  with the tepid approval of those who decided to vote and the help and a fervor of those who pretended to remain loyal to the so called patriots.

Of course the traitor of the revolution while commanding in Philadelphia, Arnold met and married Peggy Shippen, 20 years his junior, the daughter of a Loyalist sympathizer. The marriage brought him the social status he craved, but not the wealth to match it. He lived lavishly in debt and his lifestyle attracted the Continental Congress’s attention. He was brought up on charges and court-martialed in May 1779. He was acquitted of most charges and received a mild reprimand from General Washington.

And that wherein lies the heart of a traitor and the psychopath and that Grandiose sense of self-worth.  While Arnold was manipulated by a powerful woman our later day Traitor uses woman as a prop and we barely notice the difference. Benny Arnold, if given later day bankruptcy rules arguably would have opted not to betray his fledgling country. His was a trek for mere survival.

The current day psychopath in charge defies explanation. Well not really, he is narcissistic psychopath, his followers do.

It is a weak analogy. Just leave Benedict Arnold alone.

I remember my Mom hanging out wash on a windy day. She loved hanging out the wash. I was at the neighbors and watched this scene in slow motion from afar. Our cat BJ came walking across the yard, like a cowboy,  brandishing a wriggling snake and Mom was doing her thing with the wash, with her back to our cat and the wriggling snake. I watched the scene unfold slowly and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Both Mom, the snake and the cat survived.

Mom gave me my little talk about the birds and the bees because she was the man of the house. She used our dog Freddy as a prop. Freddy was a girl.

My Mom entered our cat in a cat show that took place at the Boscov’s department store. They both walked away with a first prize. There was a picture of her in the local newspaper with her, in a beehive haircut and Matthew.

She was intuitive and figured out things before we did, I was sitting in my room, minding my own business when she walked into my brothers room and confronted him about smoking cigarettes. My brothers response was, “yeah Mom I have been getting high.”

On picture day when my little brother was to have his class pictures taken, she never checked his wardrobe. Rob had his school picture taken in full scale Indian (American) garb. I wish I still had the photo.

She used to always tell us when we got a spanking that it hurt her more than it hurt us. The last time i remember hearing this the spatula broke in half.

My mother was diagnosed with cancer and for the most part she kicked Cancer’s ass until she couldn’t.

My Mom could hold a grudge, she gave her sister the silent treatment for 15 years.

When i was about 8 years old she and our Dad would play Tennis on Sunday nights. I don’t remember all the details but anybody who could get my Dad to wear shorts had to be pretty damn special.  I have never seen him wear shorts so I am making some assumptions here.

She got her associates degree when she was close to forty.

Once a handy man came to our house and fixed something and my Mom being the nice person she was offered him coffee.  He took one sip and said, Ma’am if that is coffee I giving up the habit,  She could not make coffee.

She made Macaroni and Cheese using Campbell’s cheese soup as the foundation. Most people don’t even know it is a product. It was the best damn Mac and Cheese on the planet.

Her middle name was Sundra. It is the only time I have ever heard that name.

She took a wood working class at a local school and made some really cool things. I am not talking about things where you say they are nice, these were well crafted wood projects. This amazes me to this day. She was a lifelong learner.

So I am told, her husband’s parents use to think she came from the wrong side of the tracks. She earned their respect even though it wasn’t necessary.

She loved her grandchildren to no end.

She was generally a pessimist, yet every December 21st she reminded us the days were getting longer.

And we all miss her.