Trouble never comes alone (Беда́ никогда́ не прихо́дит одна́)

For a long time, I thought it would be fun to learn Russian. It had some of the cool linguistic and social features I (thought I) liked: slightly unusual alphabet, interesting pronunciations, great literature, crazy history.

I never did get past buying a Russian-for-travelers paperback at a used bookstore. Why bother? The Cold War was over, the U.S.'s interests had turned to other evil empires -- and one, ISIS, that was especially scary because it is an idea and not a place. Better to learn Chinese, or Arabic.

I am wondering now if it's time to brush up on the Cyrillic alphabet. A new Cold War may be on the horizon.

U.S. intelligence agencies say Russian-backed cyberattacks interfered with our nation's tumultous presidential election. President Obama imposed a series of sanctions that, essentially, said Russian diplomats at two U.S. embassies were really no more than spies. President-Elect Trump sais we should just "get on with our lives," and called the Russian leader "very smart." Trump pledges to be more sympathetic to turning Russia from adversary to ally -- a pronouncement that has raised the eyebrows of even some Republicans and (wow) The Wall Street Journal (after an obligatory bashing of the current administration).

Is it time for a reprise of John LeCarre's character George Smiley?

If I ever do learn Russian (very doubtful), part of the joy will be learning some Russian expressions -- they are rich and wonderfully playful. With the looming presidency of Donald Trump in this dangerous world, I wonder if we will live through another Cold War. I wonder if we will survive it.

One of those great Russian expressions, sometimes loosely translated as "When it rains, it pours": Беда́ никогда́ не прихо́дит одна́. 

Literally: Trouble never comes alone.

News from Lake Wobegon

People talk about "NPR moments." I've had more than a few: delaying a weekend errand by a few minutes (or more) to hear the end of "Car Talk," playing along with "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me: The NPR News Quiz" rather than mowing the lawn or tackling my emails.

But nearly every week, for more than 25 years, I have had "NPR hours." That's when Garrison Keillor's  "A Prairie Home Companion" is on. Saturday nights at 6, or (when I miss it, or want to re-listen) Sundays at noon, there's a great hour of radio.

Turns out, I'm a newcomer, along with my wife, who's also a fan. (The kids, not so much. Their loss.)  This week, Keillor and Company celebrate an amazing 40 years on radio. Four decades of music -- everything from opera to blues, but mainly folk -- plus inventive skits, wonderful sound effects, incisive commentary and, of course, "The Week from Lake Wobegon."

For one hour each weekend, it's like visiting with an old friend. The minute you hear the opening chords of, "I hear that old piano from down the avenue ..." you have arrived. You know the back stories; you're aware of the quirks and the corny jokes. But each experience is enjoyable and, in its own way, enriching.

There are the ads for Powdermilk Biscuits ("Made from whole wheat raised in the rich bottomlands of the Lake Wobegon river valley by Norwegian bachelor farmers, so you know they're not only good for you, but also pure, mostly." "They give shy persons the strength to get up and do what needs to be done. Heavens, they're tasty -- and expeditious!") Visits to the Cafe Boeuf with its pretentious waiter and wonderful faux French. Ads for Bebop-A-Reebop Rhubarb Pie (and frozen pie filling). And on and on.

Keillor has created something special here. Over the years, I've come to care about the characters -- Rusty and Dusty from "Lives of the Cowboys"; Pastor Ingqvist and, more recently, Pastor Liz. I'd love to grab a cold one at The Sidetrack Tap.

Actually, I have. OK, the beer or other beverage is usually in my kitchen or on my deck, and the conversation at The Tap is coming over the radio. But once a week, I'm part of this wonderfully wacky, comfortably familiar, family.

Here's to 40 years, and many more, of quiet weeks in Lake Wobegon.

The declaration

What must it have been like, that summer of 1776, when the Declaration of Independence was being crafted? The thing was written by committee, after all, yet it reads -- 236 years later -- like the bold manifesto it was then. I get chills reading it. Or reading it out loud, although my audience is generally only being polite.

Not everyone is a fan of this kind of writing, of course. A blogger for The Economist notes that

"Everything in America has gotten bigger since 1776 but the sentences. Were Thomas Jefferson writing today, the baggy monsters with which he opens the Declaration of Independence would be hacked to bits by editors and spin doctors mindful of the need for quick sound bites."

But really, what's not to like? Go through it at a measured pace. Remember that nothing like this was ever written before, so the opening frames the document's purpose (it's time to dissolve "political bonds" with Great Britain) in grand fashion (within "the course of human events").

The stage set, the Declaration notes that this is a big deal. In fact, it would be far easier not to break off with Britain.

"Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed."

But, really, things have gotten so bad -- there has been such "a long train of abuses and usurpations" -- there is no other choice.

Now comes the best part. The authors set forth a list of  crimes and hardships they have suffered. But it's not just a list imposed by some power across the seas. The authors are not content to complain about a faceless "government." They name the perpetrator: "the present King of Great Britain."

This was mighty bold.

On and on it goes, with strong words: quartering, imposing, denying, cutting off, suspended, abdicated, plundered ... This is a list of wrongs like no other.

And then, the kicker:

"A Prince whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people." 

Take that, King George.

I grew up not more than a few miles from where one of the signers of The Declaration was born. Samuel Huntington and his colleagues were not just taking pen to paper that day; they were risking their lives. In fact, they knew it and said so:

"And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor."

Take a few minutes. Settle back and read it deliberately. Or watch this 10-minute video of famous actors reading The Declaration. The language is at times odd, but it's not impossible.

And it's really bold stuff.

Most Wired - The William W. Backus Hospital

Most Wired - The William W. Backus Hospital

On being a good (or better) boss

Heaven knows, I try to be a good boss. I try to be a good writer, too, but often I don't hit the mark.

This story in today's NYTimes Biz section about Google's study of what makes good bosses is nothing less than inspiring.

“Have a clear vision and strategy for the team.”

“Help your employees with career development.”

“Don’t be a sissy: Be productive and results-oriented.”

The list goes on, reading like a whiteboard gag from an episode of “The Office.”

A new "Newsweek"

Damn. My subscription to Newsweek is due to expire next week, and for more than a few months I've thought that it's time to give it up (pun intended).

I've been getting both Time and Newsweek since college, but the latter has one through so many permutations in the past two years that it's gotten annoying. Which personality will arrive this week? The one with mostly columnists? ... The one that takes a "longer view" on world events?

Now comes Tina Brown, fresh from The Daily Beast, as new editor and has me thinking I'll re-up for another year. The first issue under her editorship is both entertaining and thoughtful. I liked what Brown did many years ago at The New Yorker (not a universally held opinion) and I think she may have a thing or two to try with this mag.

Good luck, Tina. You came in the nick of time for this reader...


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OK, come up with your own healthcare fix

From today's New York Times editorial:

President Obama had a splendid idea this week. He challenged governors who oppose his health care reforms, most of whom are Republicans, to come up with a better alternative. He has agreed to move up the date at which states can offer their own solutions and thus opt out of requirements that they oppose, like the mandate that everyone buy health insurance and that most employers provide it.

So far, all I have heard from those who oppose "Obamacare" (as it's been branded; although I don't think that's such a bad nickname) is how this will break the bank and corrupt our society. What should be done differently? Not so much volume.

This is the way to proceed. Our healthcare system is broken. It's not even a "system" at all, but a bunch of disconnected pieces that don't work well together. Something must be done. So, if not Obamacare ... what?