Happy Birthday Mom!

Dear Mom,

Today is your birthday and you are still as full of life as you are in this picture, way back when, before I was even a twinkle in your eye. In fact, this picture was taken way before you had the first of three boys who would test your limitless patience. Even though we are many miles apart, know that I am thinking of you not just today, but everyday. Looking forward to seeing both you and Dad in April.

Love,

Mark



So everybody out there, raise a bottle, errrrr, a glass and toast my Mom on her 63rd birthday! I think that back in the early days of my Mom and Dad's marriage, this was the only way he could get her to go fishing with him. My Dad was always a smooth operator.

Are you moving back now?

I've been asked that question by a few of my friends back in the U.S. since G.W. made his final flight off into the sunset. The definitive answer for this is a resounding "NO!". I'm absolutely shocked at some of the things I've been reading about the educational funding cuts slated for 2009. This does nothing too instill confidence that there will be sweeping reforms designed to undo the damage of NCLB anytime soon.

Anyhow, how about that inauguration? Here in Warsaw, we gathered at the Hard Rock along with some U.S. Embassy folk to get our glimpse of history on the monstrous plasma screen. It really was an occasion that made me proud.

I was also happy to be sharing the moments with some friends from other countries, i.e. Australia, Ireland, Canada, Sweden, and of course Poland. This certainly made me a bit more conscious of how the rest of the world must view all the hoopla surrounding a change in leadership. Some random observations:

• Whatever happened to the separation of church and state? I am fully aware that there must be a higher power up there, over there, wherever, but isn't religion supposed to be between myself and God? Government shouldn't be telling me when to pray. However, with the severity of the economic crisis, now might be a good time to start.
  

• That Rick Warren guy sounded creepy. "And his daughters, Maleeeeea and Saaasha . . ." made my skin crawl.

• Aretha Franklin would've sounded better singin' this number. She and Obama could've done some sort of duet song and dance.

• Speaking of dance, this was a great vid on youtube. I just wish that Beyonce would've launched into "Bootylicious" after this poignant moment. And it's in High-Def, no less!

• Could there have been a more fitting image to epitomize the legacy of this administration?
  

That was . . .

. . . a pretty damn good speech. Now I'm goin' to bed : )

King Barack?

Apparently, some in the Polish press have felt that today is being treated more like coronation rather than inauguration. My roomie and gf, L (why don't people use real names in blogs?), related to me that journalists here have taken to calling our new prez "King Obama". Staffers at the Chronicle are elated with this big improvement over some of the things that they have called our previous monkey in chief.

From a foreign perspective, I suppose it is difficult to understand all the hoopla and stratospheric expectation surrounding the three day Obamapaloosa. The concert line-up on Sunday, which included U2, Stevie Wonder, Bruce Springsteen, and Beyonce, is something better suited to one of those self-congratulatory MTV awards shows or a star-studded benefit for AIDS relief.

Imagine if Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper's swearing in ceremony featured a powerful display of talent, such as Alanis Morrisette, The Bare Naked Ladies, and the bad boy of Canadian rock, Bryan Adams. Or how about Poland's Lech Kaczyński sharing the stage with that blonde bombshell, Doda (side note: she is a card-carrying member of MENSA), or Natalia Kukulska? Now that would be an amusing sight.

The outgoing (God, I love that word) administration has taken some heat over here for failing to make a farewell phone call to Polish leadership. It is customary to bid a fond adieu to trusted allies, and "W" cared enough to dial up Nick Sarkozy, Angie Merkel, Gordie Brown and even Vlad Putin. He even found time to apologize to, errrr, thank the leaders of Denmark, Greece, and Georgia but one of the five countries that helped invade Iraq and Afghanistan was left waiting by the phone like a jilted date on prom night. Rejection has never been so heartbreaking. One of the most unpopular Presidents in U.S. history gave you the Heisman stiff arm on his last days in office. *sniff sniff, sob sob*

It's still not too late to reach out and touch someone, George. Maybe you should try Skyping us over here in Warsaw? We'd love to see you on the webcam!

Media Alert! My 6 degrees of separation . . .

If you are a fan of the Daily Show on Comedy Central, make sure you check out tonight's guest, Vanity Fair writer, Bethany McLean. She was also the author of The Smartest Guys in the Room, one of the first sources that raised questions about the financial solvency of Enron. Also, when I was in ninth grade and she was a senior, she was one of those unapproachable goddesses at Hibbing High School in northern Minnesota. Those of us living across the pond have to wait for the online version of John Stewart's show tomorrow. I can't wait to see how she's gotten over the fact that, as a shy, still pubescent freshman, I never quite gathered up the nerve to stand within ten feet of her, let alone tell her what a good swimmer (we were both on the swim team!) she was.

Chicago . . . my kind of town.

Well, here I am sitting in Chi-town, listening to the plaintive calls for passenger Nikolia Schrumpuff, err, whatever his name is. He needs to get his foreigner keister down to Gate B17 for pre-boarding to Stuttgart. Meanwhile, I am stuck here at Gate B16 waiting for my flight to Munich which has been delayed. It sounds like such a minor inconvenience to describe it as "delayed". My whole day has been full of the dreaded d-word.
It's amazing how cheery flight attendants can be while serving the third round of free soft drinks to passengers stranded on the windswept Minneapolis tarmac. I retained my sanity by mentally devouring two newspapers and three magazines, including a mind-numbing Cosmo article on ten easy ways to please your man. Our scheduled 11:05 AM flight finally departed at around 3:00 PM after sitting on the runway for around two and half hours. My problems were compounded by an air traffic control order to hover in the air for an additional 45 minutes while the inevitable convoy of behind schedule aircraft took their turns touching down.
Surely LOT Polish Airlines flight #2, which is ALWAYS delayed, will give me time to spare. I should even be able to stuff my face full of American food one last time before leaving the land of the free. Well imagine my surprise to read the words "ON TIME" displayed on the flight info monitor. My usual dogged sprint to the train and through the international terminal were futile. The doors had shut about five minutes prior to my breathless arrival. Damn you for choosing today to be punctual, LOT Polish Airlines! I'm writing a letter to your CEO.
After some haggling with the powers that be, Agnieszka at the reservation desk, and with a little help from one of the fathers of one of my students, I was able to make it onto a later flight, but through Munich on Lufthansa. Apparently, diplomatic passports carry a little bit more clout than my ratty but well-traveled little blue booklet.
So here I sit. Waiting. I still have enough money to afford a couple dinners. Just got done noshing on a big Chili's burger while chatting up the second-tallest player in WNBA history, 6' 8" Lindsay Taylor who plays the off-season in Poland. And she doesn't just play in some scrub city. She plays in the thriving metropolis of Gorzów, home of the largest oil fields in Poland and only a short two hour bus ride to Berlin. Learn something new everyday.
Fortunately, I haven't quite reached the breaking point yet. Oh, wait a second. We just got delayed again. My flight that was supposed to take off at 8:55 has now been backed up to 10:45. Thank God for the internet. Maybe I should start collecting carts . . .