Feeling Hot, Hot, Hot

Tomorrow we’ll be heading down to Bluemont for the annual Harrington family reunion. I took a look at weather.com and its supposed to exceed 90 degrees for the entire week-end. Because there are 35 people staying at or around the farm, Becky and I will be sleeping in our tent which, at 92 degrees, is similar in temperature to sleeping inside of a zip lock sandwich bag. Other relatives are, intelligently in my opinion, staying in nice air-conditioned hotel rooms in Leesburg. Becky frowns on anything which would detract from the summer-camp atmosphere of the reunion so looks like it’s the sauna for both of us.

The party itself is always a good time; lots to eat and drink and quite a bit of lolling around by the pool. The big question is whether we break the news that she is expecting. I say yes, she’s a little more hesitant. On August 10 it will have been three months so I say what the hell. Of course, I defer to her in this regard. The expectant father books I’ve been reading for free at the Strand during lunch all recommend deferring to the expectant mother on a variety, well, actually, all decisions. (Plus, after 10 years of marriage I am a champ at agreeing to things). I’m not looking forward to driving in week-end traffic but I can’t really take a day off in my first three weeks, especially considering that they are moving us across the street to 160 Water Street tomorrow.

Whenever I go to these family things that are heavy on the children I always am amused by the fact that the fathers all get totally bombed; I suppose the opportunity doesn’t arise too often during the rest of the year. Are the pressures of having kids so great that such a pressure release is necessary? I wonder. My personal view is that if you like your lifestyle it is better to try to integrate the kids into it rather than try to change into some socially accepted father role. My kids are going to canoe, hike, swim, dive, and will probably never go to Disney world. My main objection to bringing children into the world was always the fact that I couldn’t bear the thought of providing this sick society with more drones for the hive. If I thought it feasible it would be home schooling in the compound for me. No television. No constant exposure to advertisements and lies from the media and the politicians about how great America is and how much better we are than the French, or whoever we are disagreeing with at a particular moment.

Frankly, I fear patriotism. The emotion is so easily manipulated by our rulers. This inept and illegitimate administration has managed to learn at least one lesson from history:
“Naturally the common people don't want war…That is understood. But, after all, it is the leaders of the country who determine the policy and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy, or a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the peacemakers for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in any country.”
Hermann Goering, Hitler's second-in-command, Nuremburg trials, 1946