Mark Crispin Miller video, and a story

"Did George Bush Commit Election Fraud?"

Mark was in Portland last year, and Karen and I went to hear him speak. This is a great summary of where we are, and outlines the big picture beautifully.


And now, a story.

Last weekend, there was an Earth Day event at our local Home Depot, where a group was collecting used/broken/obsolete electronics, for recycling. I took a bunch of things, both working and not, that had been cluttering up my office.

I have always been a radio guy - there are at least 6 that I use pretty regularly - and I own several others. My current favorite is a wind-up model, that puts out a lot of sound, and never uses batteries. But I digress.

One of the radios that I dropped off last weekend was about 6" x 3" x .5", required three AA batteries, and had no built-in speaker - totally obsolete by today's standards. I purchased it around 1980, in my home town in upstate New York, for my father.

At that time, he was still at home, wheel-chair bound but well into the decline that ended with his death in the summer of '82. His mind was still active, and I knew he was horribly frustrated by his growing physical incapacities. I visited from Oregon, and bought him two things:

First was a horn which I attached to his wheel-chair - the old fashioned type with a squeeze-bulb that produced a silly honk. It looked ridiculous, and he loved honking it for visitors (and, to call my Mom without having to yell, which was the main point). Somewhere, I have a photo of him sitting in that wheelchair, with that stupid horn visible.

The other was that radio, of course, which he used, for hours, with the accompanying headphones. He always tuned in to the 'easy listening' FM stations that were popular at the time (maybe still are), and I know that that music brought him a lot of comfort.

When I handed over the radio to the recycling person, I flashed on all that and it felt good to be reminded of the pleasure that music brought him (both from the radio and when I played the piano for him), but I also took note of one other thing. On a smooth area on the face of the radio, there was still the residue of a label that had once been applied, and then removed.

That label was applied in the hospital where he spent his final, agonizing four months (I was there much of the time). It had his name and room number on it. He had obviously wanted it with him, when he was admitted.

A year or so after he died, my mother decided to sell the house we all grew up in, and move out to the Bay Area, where my brother and his family lived. I went back to that house for the last time, to help prepare for the big garage sale.

Of all the items I could have selected to send/take back to Oregon (including some great old furniture, that Karen still sadly recalls, and was probably sold for next to nothing), I don't remember anything I brought back with me, except that radio. I don't think I ever used it.

After all, it required three AA batteries, and had no built-in speaker. Why would anybody be interested in something like that?