Brookfield Basics

This is my one-hundredth posting.  I don't keep track; the only reason I know is that the software of this program tracks the number of entries and displays it on a file-manager page.  So - I thought I would do some reflecting on the last ninety-nine entries.

Local stories, public health, music, economics, politics, sports, history, and reflections on our culture have constituted my subject matter.  In no particular order, the five most viewed postings of 2008 have been:

Person of the Year - A look at the life and death of Benazir Bhutto - the assassinated Prime Minister of Pakistan.

Nearer His God - A tribute to our American Churchill - William F. Buckley, who died a few months ago.

Out of Balance - Sports and Forensics in Brookfield - A look at the disturbing levels of local media attention paid, and not paid, to these two activities.

Time to Say Goodbye - A farewell and tribute to Brett Favre.

Wish List - A musical review of this Pearl Jam song, combined with a whimsical recounting of a cherished ride to school with my daughter; a life-long memory that I will always associate with this song.

The article I put the most time into was last year's three-part series on the Virginia Tech. Massacre entitled A Bed of Straw.  Perhaps my personal favorites have been the ones about music, and in particular, Wish List.  What I consider two of my better pieces were Getting Small - a look at history and modern times as seen through the lens of my back-packing trip through Glacier National Park, and the more recent Time to Say Goodbye.   The ones that generated the most criticism were the two part series Church and State, a look at the historical origins of this issue, and my take on the legacy of the Sixties entitled The Summer of Self-Love.

I have received all kinds of feedback ranging from contemptuous to favorable.  It's good to get both - the criticism keeps you grounded, and the kind words provide encouragement to continue. 

I try to draw from a number of "wells" as I write, and have admitedly ranged far afield at times, knitting together disparate subjects to make a larger point.  Whatever your view of my writing I say a sincere "thank-you" for considering it.  And thanks also to the staff of Brookfield Now for providing this venue.

Lastly - thanks for the fun you all have provided.  It's been a blast.

More and more evidence is pouring in from the realm of childhood psychology that our kids are over connected to technology and over scheduled in terms of activiites.  

This dependence on gadgetry (many psychologists are openly using the term addicition) is inexorably stealing our kids' ability to entertain themselves, and worse, leaving them disdainful of such traditional and "non-stimulating" activities like reading, legos, puzzles, board and card games, or just plain talking about what's on their minds.  These more "mundane" passtimes involve social interaction and critical thinking skills - fundamental building blocks for their social and intellectual development and emergence into adolesence.  I find it no coincidence that more and more kids seem less and less interested in serious engagement with their immediate social environment.  I also find it no coincidence that our technology crazy age has coincided with record levels of childhood obesity, and a rash of emotional/psychological disorders.  I don't suggest technology is the ONLY, or even the PRIMARY cause of these problems.  But I sincerely believe it to be one of the causes. 

I see it all the time - kids in cars, at malls, at games, or in church  - connected to a device as if it were some sort of animated electronic appendage.  While using them they are typically oblivious to people and happenings around them, caring only for the center of the universe that is the screen or monitor on their "game".  Our technology and its unprecedented portability is re-writing the way our kids spend their time, and is something we need to take a hard look at.

As far as activities are concerned, in our rush to make sure our kids don't miss out on anything, we are scheduling their lives to unprecedented levels, leaving inadequate "down-time" opportunities to relax, play, read a good book, spend time in nature, or strike up conversations about whatever might be on their minds or hearts.

Technology is neither "good nor bad".  It is morally neutral, and like our automobiles, a legitimate tool that enriches our lives.  But the amount of time our kids spend using it, and the extent to which that use drives other activiites out of their lives, is a huge issue.  

This generation of kids will be more technology-wise than I ever thought about being.  But as the sprint down the Internet Interstate unfolds, let's be sure we are counting the cost of such electronic races.

In what seems to have been a proactive acceptance of the inevitable, the managers of CEC Entertainment have decided not to pursue a renewal of their liquor license for the Chuck E. Cheese pizzeria on Bluemound Road.

Those who have followed this story are familiar with the sad saga of unruly parents, confrontations in parking lots, irresponsible use of alcohol, and signs of drug use.  The Town of Brookfield Police Department has logged an incredible eighty-one calls to the venue in 2007 and early 2008; a rate of one every five days.

Aristotle was probably the first to introduce the notion of root cause analysis with his dissertations on "first things".  In business his notions are now called  "root cause analysis", a tool which teaches the need to understand the underlying relationship of cause and effect when trying to eliminate defects or errors. 

So what's the root cause in this matter?

A liquor license is not the root cause of this defect.  I certainly support the Town's position on this matter, but the real root cause is a matter of self-control; or more accuratley stated, the LACK of self-control that has been demonstrated by so many patrons of the establishment. 

It is clear who the real "kids" have been at CEC's over the last sixteen months, and while I am in strong supoprt of the Town's position on this matter, let's not delude ourselvs that a liquor license was the root cause.  

Self-control is a concept we don't hear much about anymore.  It's too limiting - too restrictive for our liberated and progressive age.  Many don't even want to talk about it anymore, much less exhibit it. 

But maybe it's time that we do.

In these uncertain economic times I thought you might want the name of a phenomenally successful investor.

Warren Buffett?  Donald Trump?

Nope.  He lives right here in Brookfield and his name is Tom Twinem.  His balance sheet does not consist of stocks and bonds; it consists of the lives of hundreds of Brookfield residents.  For twelve years Tom has managed his portfolio through the same investment bank - the Brookfield Soccer Association.  The BSA is a community treasure and it runs on the engine of volunteerism like Tom's.

He started coaching for the BSA twelve years ago when his daughter played youth soccer and he felt a responsibility to contribute.  But he continued long after she was finished, continuing to coach because he loves using soccer as a vehicle to invest in the lives of our community's youth.  This past Sunday Coach Tom presided over his final game. 

Our daughter Lauren played for Tom for three of those twelve years; years that saw him sacrifice thousands of hours and hundreds of weekends.  He did this all with only one expectation - that the girls and families who signed up for his team would have a positive experience.  He taught his "ladies", as he called them, to enjoy the game, and he made sure each one received an equal amount of playing time.  He taught them to respect the efforts of their opponents, and regardless of the outcome his team achieved, consistently demanded and demonstrated good sportsmanship.    

Last weekend was bittersweet for us.  Tom went out on a high note as his girls handed him the Bob Buss Trophy.  But it also marked the end of BSA soccer for Lauren, and of our regular association with Tom and his wonderful teams.  But we take with us so many wonderful memories, a few of which are captured below:

The 2005 Pumpkin Tournament, which saw parents bring gloves, hats, hot cocoa and blankets to keep their daughters warm between games.  Golden spring days where the sun was warm and the texture of the game was knit into a rich fabric of scent, sight, and sound:  a freshly mown emerald field on which the girls worked, sweat flying and muscles straining with their effort.  The shrill cry of the whistles as they cut through the unfettered chatter of youth.  The "thunk" of spiked shoes striking a leather ball.  The inevitable exultation of a winning goal, or the dagger-thrust of a last minute defeat.  And the image of Coach Tom walking off the field, practice bag slung over his shoulder as he amicably visited with the players and parents of both teams.   

And always, I'll recall his penetrating voice booming across the field like a howitzer, firing his instructions and exhortations.  And I'll smile as I think that if ever there was a coach whose bark was worse than his bight, it is surely Coach Tom. 

But more than any of this, I'll remember how seriously he took his responsibilities to "coach-up" the girls under his charge, and to teach them as much as he could about soccer and about life.  I'll remember the positive example of his maturity and his calm.  Tom taught his girls never to hold on to victory or defeat, having understood Rudyard Kipling's warning to "treat those two imposters just the same". 

Tom is a walking treasure - one of the "good guys" we encounter in life.  When our final sums are tallied, the only value we create comes from the content and fruit of our relationships.  By that standard, Tom is a millionaire.  I speak for hundreds when I say well done, Tom, and may God's Blessing be upon you and your family.  Barb and I hope to meet your wife some day, so we can thank her for the sacrifices SHE made in this partnership of service.

He frequently joked with me that "once Lauren gets into High School she'll forget me as quickly as she closes on the ball". 

Well Tom - you couldn't be more wrong. 

Lauren will always remember you. 

And so will her Mom and Dad.

The market always works.  For centuries legislators have tried to control it, but the laws of economics are immutable, and stand well beyond the reach of their rhetoric.

The price of corn has tripled in less than eighteen months.  While it is fair to say there are a few factors causing this, there is a primary cause - and that is the well-funded and horribly misguided rush to legislate ethanol fuels. 

So why the title of this column?

My family spent Memorial Day Weekend in Iowa County, in the lush valley of the Wisconsin River.  Amongst other things, this is big dairy country.  Beautiful farms adorn the rolling hills, and milk production is a 24-7 operation.  For obvious reasons, dairy farmers have little use for bull calves, and for years have sold them to people who would raise them for beef.  But do you know what they are doing with them now?

They are shooting them.

That' s because most farmers are frantically selling corn to ethanol processors, and the ones that aren't can barely afford to feed it to their livestock.  So the market for bull-calves is shrinking, and instead of selling them, many dairy farmers are merely taking them for a walk behind the barn and introducing them to a bullet instead of a nipple. 

Instead of the bleating of calves in this lovely area of our State, one can now hear random gun shots - then silence.  Perhaps we will see P.E.T.A. add its name to the ever growing list of organizations on both the political right and the left that are condemning our government's dysfunctional ethanol binge.    

The work of the market isn't always pretty.

But it gets done.

While reading the news of President Bush's inept appeal to the House of Saud to increase its oil output, I was listening to an obscure Rolling Stones song called Sweet Black Angel, from the 1972 double-album Exile on Main Street.  Recorded under surreal conditions, with the band mired in the downward spiral of guitarist Keith Richards' heroin addiction, the album remains one of the seminal works in all of rock.  Angel is a tribute to the 1960's radical activist Angela Davis, and the lyrics include the "n" word - rightfully shocking in its raw and forbidden impact.  The combination of the song and the news got me thinking about another "n" word that, unlike the one in the song, we should all be talking about.

The discussion of energy policy in this country is dysfunctional.  Politicians who know nothing of economics blather about lower gas prices, trying desparately to believe they hold power over the law of supply and demand.  Many others demand a decrease in carbon emissions, while others still remain steadfast in their refusal to allow exploration or drilling ANYWHERE in the United States, despite growing evidence of significant U.S. reserves.  And of course EVERYONE wants to be less dependant on mid-East crude.  Yet somehow this is all supposed to just happen of its sweet accord?!   

It is time to bring  the "n" word out of its long-standing banishment.  It is time for us to come out of the energy closet, and join the rest of the world in the twentieth, much less the 21st Century.  It is time to have a serious national debate about nuclear power. 

It is certainly not the entire answer, but it has to be part of the discussion.  How are we to even approximate any of the aforementioned goals without making this part of our policy debate?   

I'll write in more detail on this subject soon.

Do you remember?? 

Eighteen years ago today our City was hit by a blitzkrieg.  About 3 AM heavy rain turned to snow, and by daylight nearly ten inches of the heavy wet stuff covered most of Waukesha County.  Trees, shrubs and all manner of plant life were devastated by the crushing weight, and though it would melt by the afternoon, the damage was done.  We spent a good part of that summer cleaning up from the storm, and the sound of chain saws reverberated throughout our city for weeks.

But sixty-eight years ago today HISTORY'S Blitzkieg was unleashed, as Adolf Hitler's Wermacht invaded France.  It is impossible today to grasp the stunning impact of this action which ushered in the greatest conflagration in history, re-wrote the world’s geopolitical landscape, and ultimately left FIFTY MILLION dead.  Throughout the 1930’s Europe's intellectual and political elite had coddled Hitler, ignoring Winston Churchill’s insistent and graphic warnings.  They watched as he swallowed Austria and Czechoslovakia, and even acquiesced to his invasion of Poland in 1939.  As long as Hitler gazed eastward - towards Communist Russia, his actions were tolerated, even encouraged.  But on this day his forces lunged westward across the Meuse River, and poured into France.

The French, who for months had been mired in defeatism and denial, awoke to their peril and along with their British Allies, rushed into Belgium to meet the German troops.............. BUT - the Germans weren't there.  The Nazi General Staff had revolutionized warfare with the introduction of their mechanized Panzer Divisions, and they used their mobility to swing far south of Belgium.  There they penetrated the Ardennes forest, out-flanked the Maginot Line, and cut like a scythe through the countryside of France, achieving the most rapid conquest since the days of Alexander.  In six short weeks the Swastika would be hoisted over the Eiffel Tower, plunging La Vielle de Lumiere into the darkness of foreign occupation.

The Allies were stupefied by the pace and depth of the Nazi advance.  In command of the lead Panzer units, General Heinz Guederian defied the frantic pleas of his superiors in Berlin, who begged him to wait for the slower moving German infantry.  The grim tank commander knew better, and growled, “We move or we fail.  Approve the advance or relieve me from command”.  Reflecting on those frenetic days of mayhem and death, Churchill would later say, “The Germans were everywhere – and everywhere were victorious”.

The Nazi occupation of France, while reprehensible, would not even approximate the savagery of their Eastern occupations. England, protected by her Channel, would finally turn to the one man she had long scorned. In London the sixty-five year old Winston Churchill’s time had finally come, and he would stand astride the pages of history like the lion he was.   

For months he would confront his fascist adversary with the only weapons he had - soaring prose and an indomitable will.  His broadcasts originated from an underground London bunker, and were carried to the listening world via the BBC. They stand today as some of the most stirring orations in history, and a profile in political leadership.

Last December I wrote a blog with this same title.  It addressed my thoughts on some fundamentally different approaches to Mid-East peace, and my desire that one of the Presidential candidates would make it a major foreign policy discussion of their campaign.  This posting will deal with the same desire but on a different issue - The United Nations. 

I would love to see one of the three candidates launch a comprehensive debate on the role of the United Nations, and what part the United States can or should play in it.  I believe it is time to acknowledge and understand how hopelessly flawed this body is.  No matter how noble and lofty its self-ascribed goals may be, the UN has proven to be little more than a geopolitical eunech, unable to perform or discharge any of its responsibilities.   For decades it has stood on the sideline flapping its self-righteous jaw and watching as atrocities ranging from the Cambodian Killing Fields of Pol-Pot, to the on-going genocide in sub-Saharan Africa, occured under its very nose.  Can't we bring ourselves to articulate what forty years of evidence has so clearly demonstrated?  Can't we have a political leader that will state the obvious - that the United Nations is simply incapable of conducting meaningful action or change?

In the interests of fairness I will acknowledge that the UN is good at something.  And what it does very well is foster corruption - and I mean corruption on a global, multi-billion dollar scale.  Can any candidate or member of Congress take a breath from the volcanic rhetoric they spew towards the oil business long enough to turn some scrutiny towards the UN? 

The "Oil for Food" scandal which ocurred under the watch of former Secretary General Kofi Anon, was so eggregious and widespread that even he was forced to some mild action.  Anon commissioned former Federal Reserve Chairman Paul Volcker to lead an investigation, the conclusion of which was a recommendation for sweeping and systemic reform of the UN's management and oversight systems.  Former United States Ambassador to the UN John Bolton was nearly hounded from office just for trying to bring the suggested reforms to a vote before the UN Budget Committee.  Ultimately, and to his great credit, Bolton was successful. 

Now here is something that we need to pay attention to - and it's a ready made issue for any of our three Presidential Candidates:

The Budget Committe of the United Nations voted by a margin of two to one AGAINST allowing a system of outside auditing to help manage and oversee its affairs.  The countries who voted IN FAVOR of these audits supply ninety-percent of the UN's funding.  The countries voting against the audits supply ten percent.

After the vote John Bolton commented witheringly, "this tells you pretty much everything you need to know about how the UN operates".  Can you even conceive of the tsunami of condemnation that would pour forth from the Beltway if the Chairman of Exxon was to suggest an end to public audits of his company? 

There are many grounds of political philosophy on which one can debate the merits of the UN.  But the biggest reason to oppose it is a practical one - it simply does not work.  By any objective measure one would choose, it is hopelessly dysfunctional, inneffective and corrupt.

I believe this issue is a latent gold mine for any one of the three Presidential candidates.  And it's past time to have an open and comprehensive debate with the American people regarding this institution that we pay for. 

A big thumbs-up to Brookfield Now and Jessica Rasmussen for her article in this week's NOW on the musical group, Sacrifice of Praise.  The three area women mentioned in the article are using their gifts of music and song to minister inside of and beyond their community.  Through their examples of personal courage they offer hope, faith, and a tremendously positive example.

And another big thumbs-up for Jessica's article about the seminar conducted at St. John Vianney on the dangers of the Internet.  The article serves as a sober reminder to all of us, but especially to parents on the dark side of this technology.  And kudos to the parents interviewed for their courage in taking steps they deemed appropriate to safeguard their kids.

These are the kind of articles we need more of.  Please take a few minutes and read them if you have not already done so.  

BUT..........................

A big thumbs-down for the article that did NOT appear.

Once again the superb performance of the Brookfield East Forensics Team went unnoticed.  The Spartans recently defended their 2007 State Championship, and while they did not bring home the Trophy this year, they finished third in this State-wide competition. 

It is time and past time for a feature article on this team, and its long-standing record of consistently outstanding performance.  And a color photo would be nice as well.

In the interests of disclosure, I have no formal association with, nor am I related to anyone involved with the Spartan Forensics Team. 

The four of us recently took a fabulous five-day Florida vacation at a bargain price.  Some life-long friends let us stay at their townhouse, and I cashed in some frequent flyer miles.  The result was a memorable family vacation for pennies on the dollar.

The ocean, beach, pool, and a football were our primary entertainment.  As we watched our kids romp in the surf, their bodies tossed and jangled about like corks in a hot-tub and their laughter carried to us on the the salt-laden spray, I was reminded for the hundredth time that the best fun for kids comes when they are in nature and disconnected from technology.  We managed to get in some activities of educational interest as well.  We climbed a one-hundred foot high lighthouse that was built in 1860, one year before the Civil War began.  We spent a half day hob-nobbing in the super-high rent district, walking down Worth Avenue and South Ocean Boulevard in Palm Beach, our mouths agape at the sheer accumulation of wealth.  We window shopped a three million dollar necklace, and toured the old-world beauty of The Breakers Hotel.  Built in the waning days of the nineteenth century, its original clients were the titans of America's industrial age.  Today it is a playground and retreat for the world's wealthy; its art work and appointments alone worth tens of millions.   

But of all our activities, the one I will remember most is our tour of the small marine center at Loggerhead Beach in Jupiter, named after and dedicated to the loggerhead turtles that nest there each year.  Twenty-five years ago Barb and I were hiking up the Leelanau Peninsula in northern Michigan, and came upon a river where the salmon were making their annual up-stream trek.  I was mesmerized by the sight and wrote a poem that night called Falls Run to commemorate it.  And as we toured the marine center, I learned that sea turtles have much in common with salmon. 

A female sea turtle comes ashore to the same beach she was hatched on, and digs holes about two feet deep, laying several "batches" of eggs, with each batch holding 80-100.  Insulated and protected by the sand, the eggs hatch in the summertime.  Once hatched, the tiny turtles - not much more than a few inches long, dig and push their way to the surface of the beach, where predators of the air await to devour them.  Only 1 in 100 will succeed in their mad scramble to the water.  For those that do it is twenty years before they reach sexual maturity and are able to reproduce.  In that time they grow to enormous size (up to 2,000 pounds) and power (able to dive up to 1,000 meters).  They traverse thousands of miles in the great deep that is their home, the very definition of an ancient mariner.  Ultimately, the same force that drives the salmon somehow draws them back to the shallows of their origin to mate, and to come ashore on the same beach from whence their journey began. 

These creatures are so ugly they are cute, and I'll never forget the one they had at the center named Jonah.  The manager of the center so named him because a fish he had caught off the nearby pier actually coughed him up as a not yet digested meal.  He sprinted over to the lab at the center and managed to nurture Jonah to survival.  Jonah will be released in a few weeks, and our friends said they will try and get a picture of that event for us. 

It's always fun to learn new things.  And now the four of us know a lot more about the epic journeis of the great sea turtles. 

I used the title of the book Beach Music by Pat Conroy to help form the title of this blog.

One year ago today the Virginia Tech. Massacre unfolded as a lone psychopath wrote his name into history with the blood of his victims.   

I wrote a three-part series on the horrific event, which even now has all but receeded from our collective consciousness.  The student-victims deserve to be remembered, as well as the lessons this event holds for us as a society.  Below is the link to the first part of that series, which I entitled A Bed of Straw.

Please pause for a moment today and lift up the victims, their families, and our country.

Lest we forget.

http://blogs.brookfieldnow.com/brookfieldbasics/archive/2007/04/23/A-Bed-of-Straw.aspx

I thought that California politics had lost its ability to surprise me.  I was wrong.

Three weeks ago the State Supreme Court of California ruled that "parents do not have a Constitutionial right to home school their children", and if this already challenged ruling stands, parents in the Golden State won't be able to unless first receiving a certification from the State.

Both of our children are in the Elmbrook public schools.  But throughout California and this country, parents choose to home school their kids for a variety of reasons.  Some are based on spiritual convictions, some are based on educational results, and some are just based on the physical safety of their children.  In Los Angeles a primary motivation behind home schooling is to keep kids away from the carcinogen of gangs. But if this ruling stands, these parents won't be able to do so without the certification of some unelected and unaccountable beurocrats in Sacramento.    

In one breathlessly arrogant decision, the "California Nine" took on the combined issues of educational policy, judicial activism, and the political rights of individual families to do what they deem best for their children.  This is enormously significant and something to keep an eye on.  That's because the fate of this gambit in California will determine whether or not this issue grows legs and walks to other parts of the country.

As already stated, the reasons parents choose to home school are many and varied.  While Barb and I may not share those motivations, we believe strongly in the right to freely exercise them.  This ruling from California's High Court stands as not only an insult to them, but an assault upon them.  The assault is even more eggregious coming from an institution whose very purpose is to protect the rights those motivatinos are predicated upon. 

This will be an enormous fight - and one to keep an eye on.

I spent Saturday morning attending the final tours of our High Schools and did my best to answer whatever questions people had about the referendum.  I did not offer advice or direction; I wanted to make myself available for questions.  I enjoyed speaking with one gentleman who, while acknowleding the schools needed a lot, told me why he was not going to support this plan.   

Based on all I have heard and seen, I believe that is one issue upon which there is near unanimity - that the high schools are in need of some significant investment.  How much and what kind is obviously the question.  I have maintained for the last several years that the question of "what to do" is one on which reasonable people can, should, and obviously do disagree.  I have also remarked that this question of "what to do" is like Alexander the Great's Gordian Knot - a complex and seemingly unsolvable puzzle, with no single solution being attractive to a significant majority of our community.  

There is no doubting that there is a large number of residents who feel this plan does not go far ENOUGH.  Just as obviously, there are significant numbers who feel this current plan goes TOO far, and contains spending that is excessive and/or innapropriate.  And to both parties I say a sincere "fair enough".  I do not question the motivations or values of people on either side.  

I support this plan because I am convinced that no group has, can, or will conduct a more thorough and comprehensive analysis of ALL the factors involved (physical - educational - financial - political), and present such a comprehensive and responsible solution that encompasses the gamut of our community's concerns, as has the HSST.  I don't believe this School Board can do it.  I don't believe a future School Board can do it.  And I don't believe a future citizen's group can do it any better.  That doesn't mean I am right - it is just what I have come to believe.  Why?   

The process the Team followed, the comprehensive Program of Specifications used, the level of detail they looked at and evaluated, the number of stakeholders they interviewed, the exhaustive tours of our own and other schools, the expertise of the people on both the HSST and e Progress in the areas of construction, HVAC, and maintenance, the sheer amount of time and scrutiny employed, and the tough and difficult discussions held over the course of seven months - these are the factors that led to my conclusion.

The Board DID make changes to the original HSST recommendation.  That change was the addition of two classrooms at each school, and the enlarging of a fixed number of core instructional classrooms at each school.  There are real and legitimate reasons for this, and of course, grounds to oppose it.  The pros and cons of this were debated over the course of two Open Board Meetings, the content of which is public record.  Financially, these changes meant an increase of $1.1MM over the initial HSST recommendation.  It was the HSST plan, with this change, that the Board umanimously approved.

What the District has spent on maintenance over the last few decades and how such projects are identified, prioritized and chosen, is a matter of public record and a part of each year's publicly discussed and presented budget.  The average annual capital expenditure in the last many years has been a little more than one million dollars, and it is a matter of legitimate debate as to whether the District could have or should have spent more on maintenance.  

As to the operating budget itself, there are four areas that, in my view, constitute "critical mass".  Those four areas are utilities, busing, employee salaries and benefits, and the number of facilities owned and operated by the District. No serious discussion of ANY budget can be held without these areas.  This is not so much a political statement as it is an actuarial reality.  I believe that this Board, future Boards, and this community will have to give hard consideration to ALL of these areas, and I spoke to some of this at the March 4 Candidate Forum.  

As has been stated by the District many times, our High Schools are structurally sound.  Given that, people will decide this on a value proposition basis.  It has met my value test.  We will soon learn if it meets the community's.

Whatever your view, please vote tomorrow.

Thank you.

I took Thursday off to make a long Easter weekend, and since I always try and have a good book in progress, I went to the library in search of same.  I came away with a copy of Unspeakable - Facing Up to Evil in an Age of Genocide and Terror, by Os Guinness. 

Guinness is a graduate of Oxford and has an intellect that can only be described as superior.  Raised in China by his medical missionary parents, they fled the genocide of Mao's Cultural Revolution, to which Guinness lost two beloved brothers.  When he writes of terror and genocide, he does so from personal experience.  This book was written in the immediate aftermath of September 11th, and its premise is a wholistic look at what proper views of and reactions to evil might be.  

Here is a small taste:

"It is our responsibility and our right to come to our own conclusions and form our own convictions.  But the right to believe anything does not mean that anything one believes is right.  The former is freedom of conscience and must always be respected.  The latter idea is nonsense and must often be opposed".  

That's good stuff, and I'll enjoy reading it over the Easter weekend.  And speaking of Easter, the real purpose of this brief post was to wish you and yours a joyous one!!   

Unde Malum - Unde Bene, translated literally from the Latin, means "whence cometh evil - whence cometh good"?

I have been blogging for a year and a half and have addressed matters of history, culture, policy, and sports, with columns ranging from the deadly serious (a three-part series on the Virginia Tech. Massacre), to the political (two-part series on Separation of Church and State), to the adventurous (back-packing through Glacier National Park). 

Right now I need to pull back a bit.  I don't plan to stop, and if Brookfield Now will still have me, I will continue as matters of interest present themselves.  At some point I may return to a weekly schedule, but in the interim there will be fewer columns.  Given that, I would like to devote some of them to matters of interest to you.  So let me know what those topics might be.  

My last two posts were from the heart, and I still feel the enormous loss of William F. Buckley and Brett Favre.  Buckley was and Favre is; well - they are simply larger than life.  And since I believe we need heroic figures in our lives, I shall miss them greatly. 

I have been surprised by and grateful for the number of readers, and I say a sincere "thank you" to all who have stopped in on this page.  That said - I certainly acknowledge that the number of readers does not not necessarily correspond to the level of agreement or approval!

So thanks again everyone - I  had a blast.

Time To Say Good Bye is an operatic duet performed by Sarah Brightman and Andrea Bocelli.  It is music of such soul-piercing beauty that I don't want to meet the person who can listen to it and remain unmoved.  I remember it playing in Madison Square Garden as Wayne Gretzky took his final laps around the rink, the greatest performer in the history of team sports humbly acknowledging the tidal wave of tribute pouring down upon him.  I remember The Great One gazing up at his lovely wife, Janet Jones-Gretzky, as she sobbed uncontrollably in the stands.

And now it is time for Packer fans to say good bye.

So many images, so many emotions, so many moments - how can we possibly capture them?  How can we grasp the magnitude of his career?  He was trained by his father in the rural deep South to be strong and courageous, and by his mother to treat everyone with deference and respect.  And what do we say of his records and achievements?  Most wins, most TD's, the League's only three-time MVP who at the age of thirty-eight, was denied an almost surreal fourth MVP only by Tom Brady's record setting year.  These are the components that have punched his first ballot ticket to Canton.  But they do not define him.  

I wrote a piece last fall which claimed that the greatest of the great athletes transcend their game and become part of the social fabric.  They have an ability to ELEVATE us, to take us places we cannot go by ourselves, and in some small way, to ENOBLE us.  I believe Brett did all of these things.  

Here are just a few memories I have enjoyed since Tuesday - memories garnered from a seventeen year scrapbook:

Running hard and in full stride to his left, and firing an across his body, fifty-yard laser beam to Sterling Sharpe to crush the Lions in a road playoff game.  The only other QB that could have made that throw was John Elway.  Not Bradshaw, not Montana, not Brady, not either one of the Mannings - no one else.  It was one of those moments early in his career that made us realize we had something special.

The never to be forgotten Monday night game in Oakland, played just hours after his beloved father had died.  Four-hundred yards and four touchdowns; it wasn't a game so much as a personalized memorial service.  On that night his teammates did not play for the Packers.  And they did not play for the fans.  And they most certainly did not play for their paychecks.  It was obvious to anyone watching that game that they were playing for HIM.

And after the game, with a poignance that was almost tangible, watching him look for Deanna - looking for someplace to put his breaking heart.  And I remember her silently saying with her outstretched arms, "here Brett - put it here".

I see him bounding and gamboling down the field when he broke Marino's record, gleefully shouldering an astonished Greg Jennings for an unrepentant romp on the field, exhibiting the same reaction he probably displayed in the fifth grade.

But as fabulous as these images are, they only tell us why he was great.  They do not explain why we came to love him.

We love Brett because, perhaps more than any superstar we can recall, he is one of us.  The ancient Greeks told us that the essence of heroism is a great figure that is also flawed.  As was Thor by Odin, Brett was gifted by God with the right arm of a hammer, and he used it to win more games than anyone who ever played his position.  But as strong as his arm was, it was not the equal of his courage, his toughness, or the unfettered joy with which he played the game.  

But he had flaws, didn't he?  On the field, he would bedazzle us with his prowess one game, and baffle and frustrate us with his decision making in the next. As a young man he was a partier of Bachnalian proportion, bringing into jeopardy his health, his career, and his relationship with Deanna.  His addiction to Vicadin was well chronicled.  But with Deanna at his side, he responded with his GREATEST triumphs - the termination of his dissipating lifestyle, the defeat of his addicition, and the subordination of his selfish desires to the larger goal of retaining, restoring, and nurturing his FINEST team - Deanna and their girls.

And he did all of this with the curtain pulled back.  He did not invite our gaze, but neither did he forbid it.  Rather, he lived amongst us - he lived transparently.  Of all the remarkable aspects of his career, perhaps the most is that I cannot imagine it unfolding in any other NFL city.

I mentioned earlier a few images I will recall.  But more than any other, I will cherish the scene after the final game of the 2006 season. Standing on the sideline of Soldier Field, clad in the familiar armor of the Pack's road-whites, he was asked if he would return for another campaign.  I see him pausing, struggling to absorb the question.  And then he just broke - he broke down and wept, caring not a fig what anyone might say or think of it.  He stood in the thirsty gaze of the camera and showed us what he was feeling.  He showed us that after nearly two decades in the crucible of fame, adoration, and wealth, that he was still just what his nickname said he was.  He was still just "Country".

We love Brett because he was a rock we could count on every Sunday.

We love him because he is an utterly unaffected and genuine man in an age and an industry full of manikins.

We love him because of the man he became off the field as much as the player he was on it.

Scripture tells us that God looks at our hearts.  And there, I believe, is the final answer.

We love him because of his mighty heart.  

The heart that he not only showed us  - but gave to us.

An American icon died today. William F. Buckley passed in his Stamford, CT. home at the age of eighty-two.

Love him or hate him, and millions did both, he was an unadulterated American classic and the founding father of the modern American conservative movement.  High-minded and haughty, he lived a life of staggering pace and achievment, cramming several lives into one lifetime.      

Buckley was an American Churchill in two ways.  A soaring intellect joined by a matchless wit, his barbs were the delight of his friends and the scourge of his opponents.  More importantly, he was greatly accomplished in so many different areas:  pundit, scholar, member of the intelligence community, essayist, world-class sailor, downhill skiier, and founder and producer of the longest running TV News/Interview Show in history - Firing Line.  He was also the founder and Editor-in-Chief of National Review, the journalistic bastion of American political and cultural conservatism.  His editorial board sessions at NR were the stuff of legend, where a bottle of good scotch was in as much demand as the wits and abilities of his writers.

Of all his accomplishments, many don't know what an incredibly successful novelist he was.  With multiple best-sellers to his credit, his books covered a variety of topics and themes.  His best known were the "Blackford Oakes Series", which  chronicled the times of the Cold War through the eyes of an American CIA Agent of that same name. 

He burst on to the American scene in the 1960's with his seminal and defining work, God and Man at Yale, a book which harshly criticized and exposed the leftist politics and agenda of his Alma Mater.  His intimate and revealing Nearer, My God gave us a look at his personal journey of faith and abiding in the Catholic Church.  He did with a pen what Raphael did with a brush, and I have read few authors whose command of the language and purity of intellect flowed out onto the page with such unaffected beauty and style.  Regardless of your view of him as a public figure, I cannot recommend his writing highly enough.

Sailor, raconteur, author, lover of good food, devoted husband and father, and a man who would go to the stake for a friend; he was more than any one thing an American original.  He lived with an unfettered joy and clarity of purpose achieved by few.  

We are the poorer for his passing.

Last October and November (about seven feet of snow ago), I wrote a two-part series on the coming war over Lake Michigan and the water of the Great Lakes.  Part One dealt with my life-long love affair with Lake Michigan, and tried to put into context the qualitative value it has in our lives.  Part Two dealt with the issue of policy. 

This matter has been and will continue to be more and more in the news.  What has been missing in the debate so far is a rational discussion of conservation.  In my view, this dialogue cannot reasonably take place without a sober evaluation of and hopefully, a change to our wanton ways.

In the summer of 1988 we had a severe and extended drought in SE Wisconsin, and our family learned that year to have a new respect for water.  Since then, we have tried to do our best to treat this most foundational of resources with the respect it deserves.  I am putting together a list of water conservation ideas and techniques, and would appreciate your input to this if you are willing.  I would then look to make the list available to anyone who is interested.  

If there are any matters of public policy where we can say "we are in this together", then surely this is one of them.