December 15 is the anniversary of the marriage that no longer exists. The marriage no longer exists because the husband no longer exists, having died eight years ago, which begs the question: does the anniversary still exist? Or perhaps the question is, how do I acknowledge its existence?
In a parallel universe, one of those infinite dimensions that split off at each major event and form the “what-ifs” of our lives, I might be planning a dinner or a getaway for the two of us. My mind turns that way from time to time. Such magical thinking, as Joan Dideon has named it, is inevitable. It’s a coping mechanism, one that changes form and purpose over time.
Last month my father-in-law Pete turned ninety. From a legal standpoint, he is no longer my father-in-law, but such definitions often prove to be utterly inept when it comes to describing the ties that bind us. He is an amazing man: tall, trim, and upright; still exercising, making minor repairs, or running food over to shut-ins during the holidays. Writing to thank me for a gift, he closed: “When people ask me how I’ve managed to reach ninety, I tell them it’s all smoke and mirrors — and it is!”
Pete and Jim, 1995
Smoke and mirrors and the “what-ifs” are represented by those parallel universes we can’t see and can’t know, notwithstanding quantum physics and fervent believers in alternate realities. In another universe, I would be celebrating with my tall, strapping husband, he from such long-lived and healthy stock. Or perhaps not. If one thing changes, so does another; change has consequences. Events set off other events: illness or injury, trauma or death, disappointment, division, good fortune or incidents that affect those closest to us. The road keeps on dividing and subdividing.
In an alternate reality…ah, but I don’t live there. Nor do I any longer live in the past I can’t change or the future I can’t know. In the here and now, I am, if not deliriously happy, at least profoundly grateful for the opportunity to have married and loved. So I’m going out to dinner with my sister, who was extremely close to my husband. After all, he was and will always be her favorite brother-in-law.
Afghanistan is a war which we didn’t start but which we will end. We have twenty months (more or less) to do so. Before we end it, we will provide a surge to counter the insurgency. This will be done in full view of absolutely everybody. This is not done lightly but with the security of the United States in mind. We will secure key areas (not deeply rural areas because we can’t; no one can) against the Taliban as we train and grow the Afghan Army. Yes, we are forced to count on support from a deeply corrupt government, but we will hold that government accountable. We will not send them money directly but instead will fund local leaders, build up local miltia and convert former insurgents. We cannot send troops uninvited into Pakistan, where we know Al Qaeda is most active and where the nuclear arsenal is less than secure, but we will be close by. We will try to cut off any nascent partnership between the Taliban and Al Qaeda and prevent new alliances from growing. Most importantly, we will convince ordinary Afghans that we are there to help them take their country back and then move it forward. This is at the heart of any lasting success.
Army doctor at Fort Hood kills twelve
of all, these victories do not represent an indictment of Obama; rather, the Democratic candidates represented an indictment of incompetancy. Second, New Jersey is exceptional; that is, exceptionally corrupt. If the virus is spreading, however, I have to rethink this whole third party thing.
Jackson was, except probably a typically show-biz type — all swagger and gaga over the cash cow he produced. Still, he’s now eighty and he’s asking for approximately $180,000 a year, which is probably less than some of the Goldman-Sachs bonuses this year. Give it to him.
Brookes Shields (oh dear) and his apparent dislike of tennis (oh please). Mostly, it’s noticeable for pull quotes, serialization potential, and the overtly earthly presence of its “ghost” writer. It’s sure to be a best-seller.
My next door neighbor’s son Jason was crestfallen when he got the memo from school about this year’s pc Halloween celebration: no vampires, no zombies, no monsters, no devils; no swords or stakes or axes or ropes or hockey masks with breathing holes. Forget the fake blood or the green slime or the dripping claws or the sticky cobwebs or the black goo or dressing like his horror film namesake. “Positive images only,” said the school memo, with helpful suggestions like “Winnie the Poo, Cinderella, Tinkerbell, or Marley” (presumably before his death scene). To make things worse, no weapons of any kind, even for the heroes. I understand school is supposed to be a safe place, but what’s a nine year old boy to do? 
support went to a loose but ideologically conservative coalition of religious leaders and tribal leaders – the mujahideen. The Soviets then countered with an invasion to shore up their friends in the government, the United States began to arm the anti-communist factions (which also received aid from Saudi Arabia and Pakistan) and a horrible civil was broke out in which between half a million and two million Afghan citizens were killed. You can check at any one of dozens of sites on Afghan recent history (even Wikipedia is more or less up to date) or you can watch the infinitely enjoyable 
The U.S. also sought to overthrow the Taliban government because they were presumably harboring Osama bin Laden and other Al Qaeda members, although documents show that Washington was giving the Northern Alliance information and logistics support as part of concerted action with India, Iran, and Russia – that would be our current adversary and our former one. The Taliban was ousted, the secular leader Hamid Karzai was made the 
transitional chairman of the newly installed government, then became president in 2004.
A friend of mine alerted me yesterday to the hoopla surrounding a tweet from entrepreneur and career counselor to young women, 
In India
ainst women, or we end up with social, religious, or civil laws dictating what women may or may not do, in order to protect not only the women but also the men, who cannot help but respond to the temptations offered by the presence of a female. 
ature and normal impulses and where guys locate their brains as contrasted with women. I was reminded of the female praying mantis, who allows the male to impregnate her and then kills him), or the black widow spider. Someone mentioned female stalkers.
Since appeals to reason apparently aren’t appealing in the least, we are treated instead to Anne Coulter’s “towel-heads,” Bill O’Reilly’s “traitors,” Glenn Beck’s “racists” and Rush Limbaugh’s – I don’t even know where to begin.
Incivility has always existed in public, particularly political life. Our democratic tradition has proved to be messy at times. Britain’s House of Commons has hosted some particularly nasty fights. In this country, earlier presidential campaigns were brawls (or duels: Aaron Burr shot Alexander Hamilton to death after Hamilton’s interference prevented Burr from becoming vice-president; talk about a sore loser). The newspapers in our nation’s early years were overtly partisan vehicles for disseminating not just a candidate’s platform but gossip, rumor and innuendo concerning his opponent. In the fifties, Joe McCarthy held sway in my home state of Wisconsin and nothing says rude like being called a Communist – and denied your livelihood.
But ingrained in me is the sense that autumn is a time of transition; not the beginning of the end, but the beginning of something else. Autumn is part of a cycle, one we all experience differently, depending on where we are, who we are, and how we look at what we’re doing. It’s as possible to transition to something more meaningful, more remarkable, or more significant than it is to do anything else.
