My Favorite Place -- Scotland

My town isn't much to talk about. So rather than join in "My Town Monday" series, I'm going my own direction with "My Favorite Place". If there is one place I would live outside the US, it is Scotland. In the first place, it is sparsely populated..which I like. In the second place, it is rich in history, which I love. In the third place, even though I have a German name, most of my ancestory is Scottish and Irish. Whenever I visit Scotland, it really feels like I am returning home. Or, hame, as the Scots would say.

So to get things rolling, I'm starting out with some views of my favorite city, Edinburgh...and I'm not a city guy. What I like about Edinburgh is that everything worth seeing can be reached on foot...assuming one is moderately fit. Edinburgh, like Rome, is built on seven hills, two of which are extinct volcanos at either end of the old city.

Above is Edinburgh Castle. One cannot get lost in Edinburgh as long as the castle is visible. The extinct volcano upon which the current castle sits has been occupied by fortresses or castles since at least 600 C.E. The earliest recorded king who resided here was Mynnyndogg, who feasted and drank with his warriors before heading south to do battle with the Angles the next morning. He and his drunken band were slaughtered by the Angles.

This is the view of "the front door" at night. See, you can't even get lost at night because the castle is illuminated. This view is from the esplanade, where the famous "Military Tatoo" takes place every August.

From the "Castle Hill", this is the famous Balmoral Hotel (cheap rooms are a mere £250 per night). In the background is Calton Hill, which has a collection of monuments. The tall one is the Nelson Monument. In the right foreground is Waverly Station.

The house on the right was where John Knox, Protestant Reformer and pastor of St Giles Cathedral lived. The taller connected house to the left is thought to be the oldest surviving house in Edinburgh (apart from the castle) dating to around 1400.

At the other end of "The Royal Mile" from Edinburgh Castle, is Holyrood Palace. When the Queen holds court in Scotland, Holyrood Palace is where she stays. The little building here is known as Queen Mary's Bath House. Reputedly where Mary, Queen of Scots would bathe when in residence in Holyrood. Typically, buildings such as a bath house where fire would be present were kept separate from the living quarters. The new Scottish Parliament Building is out of the picture across the street on the right.

Lastly the monument to Greyfriar's Bobby, the wee Skye terrier who kept watch over his master's grave in Greyfriar's Kirk Yard for 14 years from 1858 until his death in January 1872. Certainly the most photographed dog in Edinburgh and probably in the world. Bobby is buried on a small piece of ground on the edge of the cemetery about ten yards from his master's grave. More on Bobby in a later post, but for now, this concludes your introductory tour of my favorite city.

Political Statements in a Tragedy

Over on Stephen’s blog, after two days, we finally have people weighing in, turning someone’s personal tragedy into something bigger. Of the two videos he posted, the first one about a 15 year old gay boy being killed for giving a guy a Valentine has stirred the most response. It’s sad, but sorry…I can’t generate any “extra” emotion over it. I don’t see it as any sadder than some kid being shot for wearing the wrong color baseball cap in the wrong neighborhood. I don’t see it as any sadder than some black kid being beaten and dragged behind a truck with a chain around his neck for whistling at a white girl “in the wrong town”. I don’t see it as any sadder than any number of bad things that happen to good people anywhere in the world on any given day. It was a vicious murder and that’s all it was…as if that isn’t enough?

The first few comments to the post are what one would expect. After all, there is no justification for murder – murder being, by definition, the willful taking of an innocent life. But then, we turn the tragedy to political statement and it all starts with a twisting of my words from a discussion of gay rights in an earlier discussion on Stephen’s blog.

SmartLikeStreetcar says: “A few people on here have argued that since the majority doesn't support gay marriage, and since the majority doesn't want gay bashing to be labeled a hate crime, then the US shouldn't enact such policies.”

Could someone explain to me how, in a democracy (where presumably majority rules), one enacts legislation without the majority voting for it? We are not talking about a topic where the polity is evenly divided, or ambiguously close. We are probably talking a polity that is, at best, split 80/20. And somehow, we think the twenty percent should ram their morals down the throats of the other eighty percent? It does not matter that the twenty percent might be right. It ain’t happenin’ folks! It will not happen until you convince more of the majority of the rightness of your position and bring them over to your side. That’s how democracy works, but apparently Stephen and some of his friends missed that part of Civics 101.

Streetcar goes on to say: “But to be a leader means that you have to lead, that you can move the country in a direction of tolerance and understanding, and if your words are passionate and heartfelt, you can change minds. You can do what is right. Just as Abraham Lincoln did 150 years ago.”

Except that Abraham Lincoln himself said that he’d be willing to keep slavery, if the Union could be held together. So much for passionate heartfelt mind changing. We also seem to forget that over half a million people died to bring about that particular change (some revisionist historians put the number closer to a million). If you can’t get elected to the leadership position, then the road you travel is longer, more difficult, and you are doing so without the power of the political office to affect meaningful change. If the mood of the polity is against your position and you are not smart enough to figure that out, then you don’t get elected. That’s how it works. Civics 101 again.

Where we have agreement is in the insane comments by people like Falwell, Robertson and Franklin Graham – comments stating that all our problems are some curse from God. Hooey! I don’t believe that either and I also despise that fact that these individuals wrap themselves in the mantel of Jesus and twist his message into their message of hate.

Writerkat then asks Streetcar: “How do people get away with that??”

Demographics. The people who harbor such feelings or who are sympathetic to such feelings are in the vast majority. That does not make them right, but that is the mountain you are attempting to move.

Then Stephen chimes in agreeing with Streetcar on the gay rights litmus test: “Equal rights is a different matter. If you think some people should have more rights than others, something's wrong with you.”

And what power grants “rights?” Only the power that one has to take and hold those “rights.” You can sit and pontificate about ideals and what should be, but if you don’t change hearts and minds, it’s all theory. That is the reality you are facing. With all the other issues on the table, it is insane to expect a politician to fall on his or her sword in the name of gay rights at this time.

Spare me your hypocrisy and prattle about equal rights! You seem to have no problem condemning tens of thousands of innocent lives to death in your support for “abortion rights!” Your stance on the two topics is not logically consistent.

Stephen concludes with: “Equal rights don't spring from a spreadsheet; they're an a priori premise of modern society, one that has, incidentally, enormous survival benefit.”

No, equal rights are an invention of Western society. How is this enormous survival benefit accrued? Less than 1/5 of the world’s population live within political systems that even espouse the concept of rights as defined by Western culture. So how is it a priori? It seems to me that the other four fifths of humanity are surviving quite well without necessarily sharing the Western view on rights. There seems to be a contradiction, therefore, check your premise.

Erica added: “People on this blog call for "patience," and they are entitled to that opinion, but then again . . . when it is your rights, as a "Lesser Than" or "Other" it is different. It is easy for the majority to be both SILENT and for them to urge patience.”

The majority are hardly silent on the issue of “gay rights”. In fact, they are shouting you down. Those on your side who urge patience are urging patience in the tactical sense, not “turn the other cheek” sense. You should know me well enough by now to know that I’m not a “turn the other cheek” type. Such person like me, being a soldier, looks at “battles” figurative or literal in such terms. Tactical patience allows you to shape the battlefield to your advantage so that when you attack, you are successful. A frontal assault at 1 to 4 odds is not wise. Timing is everything, therefore patience is a requirement for success.

Speak out that something like killing someone for being gay is wrong…absolutely! No justification in the world will suffice for murder…any murder. If you think you are going to change the visceral reaction of the majority about gay rights with “in-your-face” militant advocacy, think again.

Finally, it is not just the Falwell’s, the Hitler’s, the Robertson’s and others of that twisted ilk who are to blame for crimes like the murder of Larry. It also falls on those who fail to warn such children that there are evil people out there who will harm you for being what you are. You can do such a good job teaching your kid that it is “ok to be gay” that you send them unarmed and unprepared into a lion’s den. It should not be so, but it is.

Oliver...aka Demon Dog

Those who frequent Erica Orloff’s blogs, have heard of “Demon Baby”. Well, I have the canine equivalent, Demon Dog. He is really a nice guy, don’t get me wrong, but man can he try one’s patience! He’s been the most challenging dog I’ve ever owned, far worse than my rat terrier Sassie, aka “Rat Dog”, deceased November 2007. More about the other dogs in the pack another time, this one is about Oliver.

Now Oliver supposedly means “peace”…he couldn’t have been given a more oxymoronic name. He didn’t start out as our dog at all, but the neighbor’s dog. He first arrived, next door, on 2 January 2007. We already had three dogs at the time and were not looking for another. Our old lab was on her last legs (she died 19 January at the ripe age of 17) and Sassie was just starting to develop the bone cancer that would eventually claim her life. No, too much emotion…we did not want another dog.

Our neighbors were the third family to adopt Oliver from the County Humane Society…his third strike. He was only about 10 weeks old at this point, so it’s hard to imagine how two other families would give up on him so easily…well, it was hard to believe at the time. Within days of his arrival, we started to see why. The little guy was the consummate escape artist even at such a tender age. In frustration, the neighbors chained him to a tree in the corner of the yard closest to the fence that separates our two yards. That worked for a time, but not for long.

We noticed that when he did come back after “visiting” around the neighborhood, he was beaten and chained to the tree again. And they wondered why, as time progressed, Oliver did not want to come home. Heck, he was welcomed everywhere else he went. His bouncy playfulness and affection endeared him to everyone within a two block radius. When he escapes we get "Oliver sightings" from the neighbors...almost like a tracking system...everyone knows him. Like I said, he is really a nice guy…but.

By March his absences from the neighbor's house were much longer. He tended to camp out at the various other neighbors. His owners were making no effort to go get him even when informed of his whereabouts. I think they were really frustrated by this time. Well, to backtrack a little, the family that adopted him did not know what he was and what he was…what he is, is a foxhound! Not a “lay-around-doing-nothing” kind of dog. Not a dog that you keep chained and don’t run…and I mean RUN…all day! That was part of the problem.

Mid-March, while sitting in my office at my computer, I was suddenly set upon, in a playful way, by a soaking wet foxhound that had come through our dog door. When I heard the door open I assumed it was our Border Collie/Chow mix Duncan, and it was…showing in his new buddy. Apparently Duncan had shown Oliver the delights of the fish pond. It turns out that Oliver had broken through the panels of the stockade fence after slipping his chain and joined Duncan for a tussle and run through our yard. He stayed on for two days before the neighbors reclaimed him. But like a boomerang, he kept coming back!

Oliver stayed with us longer each time he escaped from the neighbor's. The more they punished him, the harder he tried to escape to our house. By the third week of April, he had stayed with us for two weeks. The exasperated neighbors finally admitted being at wit’s end and since Oliver seemed to want to stay with us, would we mind taking him off their hands. No problem! By this time, everyone in our house loved “the Little Guy” as he is still called when he’s being good…even though he now outweighs the “the Big Guy” by almost ten pounds and is almost an inch taller.

It was then that we found out that the reason the neighbors tried to hang on to him so long was that if they took him back to the shelter, he’d be snuffed. Although they were totally out of their league controlling him, they cared enough that they did not want him to “strike out”. So Oliver joined us permanently…except for when he escapes to visit all the friends he made a year ago. Only now, he sometimes takes Duncan along for giggles. At least we’ve made escape more difficult. Most of the fence along three sides of the yard is now six feet high. On the side where the neighbor’s chain-linked fence makes that impossible, we’ve also installed an electronic containment system. This system also covers the gate that my father-in-law most frequently forgets to close and through which both dogs made most of their escapes before the electronic barrier.

We never punish the dogs when they come home. They are greeted happily and hugged and played with. They know that this is where they want to return. But, damned if I don’t curse a blue streak when they “break containment”!

Oliver, though…he is more than an escape artist. He is also a thief. Panties are his favorite and with a house full of girls, there are plenty of panties to be snatched. The picture at left is last March, before he was "officially" a family member. Toilet brushes are also a favorite, as are shoes, stuffed toys, the cardboard toilet paper rolls, the entire toilet paper roll, paper towel rolls, tissue boxes (preferably full of tissue), plastic cups, silverware, butter, and TV remote controls. He doesn’t bother the DVD controller, just the TV remote. Oliver likes to make sure we see him dashing by with the object so that we give chase. He loves to be chased. Sometimes he even goes so far as to take socks or slippers right off our feet and he is damned good at it!

He has a collection of stuffed toys…his favorites that our girls gave up trying to protect. When it rains, he runs around the yard gathering them up and depositing them safely just inside the dog door. Purloined items get to stay outside, so it behooves us to be certain that everything is accounted for before the rain starts.

So that is Oliver’s background. My wife started calling him Demon Dog about a week ago when he was being particularly “devilish” and she’s never visited Erica’s blog. So I thought it amusing and decided to tell a little story about him. I’ll throw other doggie stories out there from time to time. Let’s hope Demon Dog and Demon Baby never get together. It might be trouble.