James M. Redwine

Events

Happy Birthday, Peg!

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Happy Birthday, Peg! Photo by Jim Redwine

We are almost one full month into spring, the season of renewal for some wives and ennui for their husbands. There is something about damp earth that calls out to such wives as Peg much as the Sirens called out to the crew of Ulysses. Though it would not be politically correct, the Devil is pushing me to try to lash Peg to the steering wheel of her Mini Cooper so she cannot frequent every garden center within twenty-five miles of our cabin.

Peg must have beaucoup amounts of potting soil, countless plants and varieties of seeds, containers of metal, clay and plastic and every conceivable fertilizer and pesticide that is touted by Peg’s countless Facebook friends as the newest miracle agents to produce award winning vegetables and flowers. Of course, beds must be prepared and organized by color, variety, time of planting and varmint prevention. Do you need to ask, Gentle Reader, whom Peg has in mind for these tasks?

I am not a Nancy Reagan type of astrology buff but I do wonder if Peg’s birthday that falls during the first half of April may have influenced her pathological need to commune with the earth. I offer the following horoscope (taken from the internet) as evidence to support my position: under the sign of Aries the first half of April, “Is an amazing time to chase your most precious goals.” I should also include the astrological caution that April will be, “a month of ups and downs”; that will certainly be true for me as I follow Peg’s orders.

I am aware that one must not fall into the Cassandra dilemma of ignoring the claimed wisdom of the stars. You may recall that Cassandra had been both blessed and cursed by the gods. She had the gift of prophecy but no one would believe her so disaster still occurred, including the fall of Troy in Homer’s The Illiad. Therefore, I will keep in mind the prediction in Peg’s horoscope that April will be a great time for her to reach her spring goals of recreating the Gardens of Babylon on the rocky, arid soil of JPeg Osage Ranch. However, I see nothing in any bird entrails or other devices of divination that calls for me to be involved.

The problem is, just as Cassandra, I may be correct but Peg refuses to recognize it. Her position is that my lot is cast as her garden Sherpa and I had better get off the couch. The only saving grace that I see is that both football and basketball seasons are over, the World Series is months from now and the Cardinals probably won’t be involved anyway. And, by the time you read this article, the 2022 Masters Golf Tournament will be history. Perhaps the better part of valor is for me to just accept my fate and conceal my amusement when the deer eat the tops off of everything Peg has planted but the marigolds.

Happy Birthday, Peg!

To Your Health (VÁSHE ZDARÓVYE)

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At Coffee Bean, Moscow, 2003, picture taken by Peg Redwine

Whomever President Biden nominates to the U.S. Supreme Court, apparently Ketanji Brown Jackson, if confirmed by the Senate, will serve for life. If you have read Gavel Gamut recently you may recall I have called for a ten-year term limit for all federal judges. Although our federal judges are not of the same ilk as Russia’s President Vladimir Putin, his twenty-two years in office with the opportunity to run for another six-year term in 2024 might help illustrate why term limits are worth considering.

Russia’s Constitution gives Putin much more autonomous power than our President or any of our nine Supreme Court justices. However, as almost all things in life, political power is a matter of degree. The photograph that Peg took of me reading a Russian newspaper in a Moscow coffee shop in 2003 contains a headline showing, in English, that Putin was announcing his intention to run for re-election. He was first elected president in 1999.

From our cave man days we have recognized that power corrupts and that the more and the longer a person has power the more he or she is tempted to abuse it. Putin has abused his immense power by invading Ukraine. Of course, he asserts his actions are required by the allegedly genocidal Ukrainian officials who are supposedly suppressing Ukrainian citizens, many of whom are culturally connected to Russia. Stalin and Hitler would have been proud of such an analysis; their terms of office should have been limited to zero.

When the National Judicial College sent me to Russia in 2003 to teach Russian judges how we in America conduct jury trials, Peg and I spent a few days in Moscow and a little less than a week in Volgograd, the old Stalingrad. We met and enjoyed many Russian citizens and often reflected on how lucky we were to have been born in America. We saw groups of unemployed young men wandering aimlessly along Tverskaya Street, Moscow’s main thoroughfare, carrying multiple bottles of beer and wine in their arms. When we attended the seminar in Volgograd, alcohol was more prevalent than educational materials and American rock and roll music was more popular than questions about how to afford civil rights via jury trials. The Russians appeared to be eager to escape the harsh realities of the Russian economy. Perhaps that is Putin’s true motivation, to take the minds of everyday Russian citizens off their harsh existence.

How ironic it is that Russia has invaded Ukraine when the lives of the Ukrainians are as drear as those of the Russians. Peg and I have often noted that nobody who was sober did much smiling in either country. Perhaps the Russian government is wanting to reprise its former use of the fertile fields of Ukraine in the feeding of the Russian populace. Once Ukraine was Russia’s bread basket. Now it barely feeds itself. But Russia may hold out hope for greener pastures anyway.

Many pundits are opining that Putin’s real goal is to be the new tsar of a reconstituted Soviet Union. Maybe so, but if he wants to win the hearts and minds of the Ukrainian people, and perhaps those in Latvia, Estonia, Belarus, Moldova and even those of his own Russian citizens, he ought to refer to the Bible’s Book of Isaiah, Chapter 2, verse 4 and beat the Russian swords into plowshares. What the Ukrainians need, and the Russians too, is not more armaments but more economic development, not more soldiers but more farmers and store clerks.

That is an approach that the NATO countries should consider. For the trillions of dollars in soon to be lost military “aid” from America, Germany, France, Italy, Great Britain and others so willingly lavished upon Ukraine, we could “sanction” Putin with economic benefits to Ukraine and other at-risk countries on Russia’s borders. Yes, such an approach might make those countries more ripe for conquest but, if we use the same type of diplomacy we so successfully applied in the Marshall Plan, we might win friends instead of guaranteeing ourselves a nuclear powered enemy with terrible resolve. Perhaps we should ♫ study war no more ♫ and encourage Putin to do the same with honey, not vinegar. After all, the vast amount of vinegar we are wasting our precious assets on is just being used to make everyone involved more bitter.

The Briar Patch

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Hitler’s troops easily conquered that part of Stalin’s USSR known as Ukraine in 1942. Total world victory was almost in Germany’s grasp. Then Hitler decided to bring Russia to its knees at the Battle of Stalingrad. Six hundred thousand dead German soldiers and six months later Germany was on its way to total defeat. The Russians sacrificed one and one-half million of its soldiers to confront Hitler’s arrogance. Neither Russia nor Germany has forgotten this carnage.

When one visits the site of the battle in Volgograd, Russia today there is a 172-foot-tall statue of a Russian woman thrusting a sword into the sky. She stands erect on Mamayev Hill and guards the hallowed ground where so many died. There is a memorial close to her feet where the names of countless dead soldiers are carved into marble walls that line a descending walk to an eternal flame. No one makes a sound as they honor the fallen heroes.

When the United States government complains that Germany is not rushing to confront Russia’s belligerence on the border of Ukraine, a visit to Volgograd might explain Germany’s caution. As for us, we need only to recall our ignominious exits from our incursions into Afghanistan (2001-2021) or Viet Nam (1955-1975) to give us pause.

Most of us learn the hard way that angry and arrogant challenges often lead to dire repercussions. America may wish to tread cautiously in our efforts to dictate how other countries should handle their border crises. We did not brook Great Britain’s claims to territory below the 49th parallel (Fifty-Four Forty or Fight) in 1846.

And the same President, James Polk, who demanded the Oregon country from Great Britain annexed the Republic of Texas that Mexico believed should be a part of Mexico. Texas and Mexico share a border that is over 1,250 miles long. The border between Ukraine and Russia is over 1,400 miles long. About 40% of the residents of Texas are of Hispanic/Latino descent and for about 30% of Texans Spanish is their native language. Of the 41 million Ukrainians about 17% are of Russian descent and for about 30% of Ukrainians Russian is their native language.

As Ukraine was a part of Russia for hundreds of years, until 1991, and there are deep geographical, cultural and historical ties between Russia and Ukraine, Russia may consider Ukraine much as we considered “Oregon” and Texas. That does not mean the world should ignore Russian aggression or Ukrainian independence. It should, however, advise government leaders and those who would bang the war tocsins to remember that briar patches might be easily entered but may result in much lost skin to exit.

Bowled Over

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Photo by Peg Redwine

Much as the Summer Solstice ushers in the ennui of torturously less daylight each day, as each of the forty-four college football bowl games is completed the dark pall of life without football forces us to put down our beer, get off the couch and go back to work. I accept that COVID is a significant issue but so is mental health. And one of America’s best palliatives for depression in the gray days of winter is watching other people risk their well-being on the football field.

The first college football game was played on November 06, 1869 between Rutgers and Princeton in New Jersey; one hundred people attended the game that Rutgers won 06-04. The first college bowl game was the Tournament of Roses’ East-West game (The Rose Bowl) played on January 01, 1902 between the University of Michigan Wolverines and the Stanford University Cardinal; there were eight thousand-five hundred spectators. Michigan won 49-0 and Stanford quit with eight minutes left to play. That first bowl game was initiated to increase interest in Pasadena, California as a tourist destination and to market the surrounding area and its products. All bowl games since that first one have had similar goals. The outcome of the games is not of paramount concern to most.

The attendance at such highly hyped events as the Tailgreeter Cure Bowl between Coastal Carolina University and Northern Illinois University on December 17, 2021 is indicative of the lack of fanaticism at most bowl games; 9,784, about the same number of fans who showed up for that first Rose Bowl. The bodies in the stadiums at bowl games are not the targets, eyeballs on TV advertising and promotion of each venue are.

As for the schools and players involved, they may have analogous goals. The colleges want to showcase their products and make some money and some players have hopes of enhancing their football futures either as players, coaches or announcers. In other words, the first bowl game was for exhibition purposes and, except for the payout by major sponsors to each school, that is still the overriding rational.

With that in mind I have a few suggestions on how we can incorporate the goals of all involved, or watching, with the ever-expanding number of college bowl games. As I mentioned earlier, we already have 44 bowls. It would require an addition of only 8 more to be able to have one bowl game every week of the year. Surely such eager potential sponsors as Bitcoin or China would pony-up for a chance to showcase their greatness. Maybe a bidding war could be encouraged between Jeff Bezos and Mark Cuban or Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg. Israel and Iran could promise to dismantle their nuclear ambitions and sell their peaceful intentions via commercials. Surely Facebook and TikToc would want to play.

One might wonder how one extra, exhibition-type game could be woven into a school’s regular football schedule. From the quality of play of most bowl games and with countless players opting to sit out, it is apparent that just showing up for one more Saturday should not be a problem. When my friends and I played Friday night football it was not unusual for some of us to show up the following Saturday morning for an impromptu, unorganized sandlot game just because. A lot of bowl games have a similar feel.

This system would expand college football perpetually and solve the ego problem for such “sponsors” as Jimmy Kimmel who endowed the Jimmy Kimmel LA Bowl. America could probably easily come up with underwriters such as Donald Trump and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. Heck, I humbly suggest the Jim Redwine Armadillo Bowl might draw a nod or two and Peg and I will kick in fifty bucks apiece if that would suffice. We could host it in a pasture at JPeg Osage Ranch if the resident varmints do not too strongly object and if fans do not mind sitting on the ground. TV rights could be negotiated.

Cabin Fever

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It is official. Peg and I have the fever. No, not that new-fangled COVID fever, but the original fever spoken of in Genesis, Cabin Fever. Why God could not leave well enough alone I do not know. After six days of hard work, He sat back, “And God saw everything that he had made, and behold it was very good” (Genesis, Chapter 1, verse 31). I guess “very good” was not good enough because after one day of rest God noticed, … “[T]here was no man to till the ground” (Genesis, Chapter 2, verse 5). For all those Biblical scholars, such as my sister, who posit God is actually female, this is strong support for their position. A perfect world could be made more perfect if there were a man to do work around the Garden of Eden.

Of course, Adam could not just lounge around grazing on all but one of Eden’s delights and enjoying eternal life, God had to give him Eve so there would be someone to point out this perfect world needed countless repairs and maintenance, sort of like our little log cabin on the prairie. The week before Christmas brought COVID’s resulting Cabin Fever boiling to the surface at JPeg Osage Ranch.

I do not know how the perfect home Peg fell in love with three years ago magically transformed into a property that constantly requires immediate repair. All I know for sure is I am much more adept at leisure than labor and Peg sees it as her wifely duty to save me from that condition. After all, it was Eve’s sin that brought man’s punishment of work into our lives.

Starting with COVID’s first reported cases in December 2019, Peg and I have gradually adapted from a life of travel, interaction with friends and family, concerts, movies, ball games and dining out to a world with only one other person in it. We have each developed coping skills to handle what may be a life sentence of one-couple isolation. I have reasonably and considerately allowed Peg her own space to do as she pleases such as laundry, housework, juggling family finances via the internet and gardening; there’s that Eve legacy again. Peg on the other hand seems to have a visceral reaction to my approach which is to memorize cable news reports and change sweatsuits occasionally. Hey, I do not concern myself with her choices.

Two years of Cabin Fever finally erupted into full-blown crisis this past weekend when Peg noticed a tiny water leak in the bathroom. It would not have rotted through the floor for quite some time and that is what I politely told her. Well, her reaction was not fit for a column in a family newspaper. She demanded I turn off the fascinating program I was watching on archeological discoveries in the Bermuda Triangle and loudly said, “Do Something!”. Something turned into one full day of me attempting to understand the mysteries of plumbing then another two days of going without the use of the bathroom and waiting for a plumber who told us, “It’s hopeless after your input, now everything will have to be replaced. That will be $100 for analysis of the problem, $200 for parts and $300 for labor. Of course, that’s just an estimate; it will be more if you insist on helping.” When the plumber left, I calmly pointed out to Peg that for the price of a few wet rags we could have saved all the bother for some time. Again, her response was not printable.

So here we are in our own little Garden of Eden waiting for someone to cure COVID and perhaps return us to the halcyon days of yore. One positive thing is, since Peg is not talking to me, I can finish the entertaining program I’m now watching on the mating dances of fruit flies without interruption and without Peg’s demand that something must be fixed, “Right Now!”.

By the way, I hope you had a Merry Christmas and that you and yours have a COVID-free New Year. As for Peg and me, I can only wish for at least an occasional maintenance-free week or two during the long dark period between the Super Bowl and the start of the 2022 football season.

Game On

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Peg and I sat in our warm cabin on the Osage County, Oklahoma prairie recently and watched the live stream of the state high school semi-final football game between the Pawhuska Huskies and the Cashion Wildcats. Thank you www.kpgmtv.com!

It is not that we are only fair-weather fans; we have enjoyed attending the Huskies games in person since we moved from Posey County, Indiana to Osage County, Oklahoma two football seasons ago. However, this state semi-final match was played on a neutral field about 70 miles from our home so we opted for armchairs. It was still an exciting game, final score 35-31.

And while we truly appreciated the free live-feed, there were parts of the game that may have slipped our attention. So, if my observations are not 100% accurate, that is my excuse. That said, as Fareed Zakaria might say, “here’s my take” on the game.

The opening ceremonies affirmed both schools’ commitment to all that is good about high school sports. Then the hard-hitting play that followed had to make both fan bases proud. Neither team ever let up from an all-out effort on offense, defense and special teams. There were few penalties and none for unnecessary roughness, late hits, unsportsman’s-like conduct or taunting. There was no taunting, only two fiercely competitive groups of finely disciplined and talented, well raised and well coached young players. The game could be used in civic classes as an example of why high school sports are an important component of education.

These players likely all started in the summer of 2021 with two-a-day practices and sacrificed fun times for sweat and misery to be ready for this 48 minutes. High goals were set and achieved. Most significantly those goals included giving their best, not just in the game of football but in their examples of how sports can help mold character. It was unquestionable that each player on both teams wanted to win. However, Peg and I saw several players from both teams help their opponents up and even pat their adversaries on the back during the game. There were no fights or shouting matches or claims of bad calls. Football for football’s sake was the standard.

As a graduate of Pawhuska High School, I was gratified by the lessons these players so obviously had learned. The same would have been true had I gone to Cashion. So, thank you to the parents, coaches and teachers who set these young people on the right track and thank you to the players for a great game.