The greatest thing my mom taught me was empathy—it is something that children have a capacity for, but I think that empathy vessel is never filled without being modeled, without the example of seeing it in the family. Even in one as atypical and dysfunctional as ours was in many ways.

She had a naïve and endearing ability to only see the good in people until they proved otherwise, not pollyannaish, but a choice.

So the ability to place yourself in someone else’s shoes, and transubstantiate their pain and discomfort, is a gift. Though I’ll never be as good at it as she was, it has, to my ontological relief, provided a basis for my lifelong progressive and democratic values and pursuits.

My mom may not have been brilliant, but she was a bestower of gifts to the five children plus one lost that she raised alone—all alone—as an immigrant and astoundingly alone. She worked hard most of her life, too hard, and mostly from a position of trying to keep everyone afloat.

May you rest in peace that you’ve earned many times over. I love you mom.

An infamous anniversary has arrived today. “Four more years” has multiple meanings, one of which is the realization that it will take generations to recover from this administration.

Four years ago, the commander in chief of the world stood on the deck of the USS Abraham Lincoln off the coast of San Diego in a staged photo propaganda prop and declared: “Major combat operations in Iraq have ended. In the battle of Iraq, the United States and our allies have prevailed.”

Prior to that pronouncement, 104 US soldiers had been killed in Iraq. Approximately 3,215 have been killed since then.

This is a president who is now claiming that those who oppose him are putting our soldiers in harm’s way.

It was unbelievable to me that this man, who has failed in most every endeavor in his life, was elected in 2000, or that it was even close. It is beyond all comprehension that he was reelected in 2004.

I stand by my pronouncement that I made after his reelection.

“It takes a village of idiots to elect the village idiot.” © 2004 Barry B. Doyle

Pictured above are Celeste and Max, two friends of mine I had the pleasure to meet and get to know some time ago. Celeste and I especially had fun together. The co-owners of the household, Captain Purple and Sweetie, were recently joined by a new two legged baby…a happy home and a wonderful family.

CP is creative, to say the least, and a bit whacko in a loveable way.

CaptainPurple: Speaking of missing Barry…
CaptainPurple: Celeste has really missed him too
CaptainPurple: SO…I’m doing the laundry last night, and I notice that there aren’t ANY socks to be cleaned. Odd…
InquisitiveSoul: Celeste?
CaptainPurple: Celeste is one of our dogs, Souly. She took a shining to ‘Uncle Barry’
CaptainPurple: While out in the yard, I also notice that some of the roses are gone. It looks like something bit through the stems. Again, odd…
CaptainPurple: So, last night I happen to be in our bedroom and I can hear what sounds like someone using a cigarette lighter from the room Barry stayed in. Keep in mind, I’m the only one at home…
CaptainPurple: So go take a look in the “Barry’s Room…”
CaptainPurple: I can smell candles, and there is a cigarette lighter on the floor. I’m thinking ‘WTF?’ (just like that, too)
CaptainPurple: I look around the room, everything seems fine…
CaptainPurple: Then I notice some light coming from under the closet door…
CaptainPurple: I open the door and find this
CaptainPurple: I had found Celeste’s hidden Barry Shrine!
CaptainPurple: It explained everything
CaptainPurple: That Barry has a powerful magic to him

I’m not really a dog god…we are partners for a while in our journeys.

Update below on 04-20-07

Updated again on 04-24-07

Our local NPR station, KERA 90.1, has had about five years to get it right. They haven’t yet. I don’t think they will, based on past performance.

I became a member again last fall during the autumn pledge drive after a three year self-imposed moratorium. I’ve long supported our station here, because I love it. I listen to many favorite programs at home and when I’m on the road, it’s either the iPod (my car has a nice built in Aux port) or NPR. Oh, occasionally, I’ll turn on a local morning news program in the car if I need to get a traffic update, but the minute one of those shouting commercials come on, it sets my teeth on edge and I’d rather drive blind than listen to that crap. So, back to NPR.

I drove my kids to school for years and years. The car radio was almost always on Morning Edition on the way and All Things Considered on the way home.

When my youngest was taking first year French in seventh grade, the teacher, a delightful woman from Poland, asked him “Why is it that you’re the only one in the class that knows the name of the current Prime Minister of France?” His reply: “Because my dad makes us listen to NPR all the time.”

I’m a self-confessed addict. But, truth be told, it is the best source for news in the land. Where else can you get an in-depth 20-minute piercingly poignant story from some far flung corner of the world?

The local newspaper, The Dallas Morning News, is 80% advertising. It escapes me why they don’t just give the paper away instead of charging almost $200 a year for a subscription. It is such a pimping tabloid. The international coverage averages about 2% of the copy per week, and even that is picked up from the wires. They have a journalist in Washington and one in Austin. There are no investigative reporters on staff rooting out local public corruption because the owners and editorial board are simpering sycophants to local conservative political and business interests.

And don’t get me started on the infotainment that passes for local or national TV news. The best you can hope for is a superficial three minutes on any particular topic or story. It’s pitiful. I’m not just talking about what passes for news on Fox either, all the TV media are to blame for never doing more that what some fat-ass Neanderthal can absorb.

NPR requires cognitive discernment. The “Driveway Moment” they talk about is an actual recurring phenomenon. You have to wait in your car to finish listening to some compelling story before making your way into the house or the grocery store. I love NPR.

But it won’t get any more money from me.

At least not locally. I’ll try to give money to the national office in Washington DC, or spend money in the NPR online store. But not a penny more for KERA 90.1.

Here’s the deal. It started five years ago. I renewed my membership. Renewed. I chose an online gift, one of the audio CDs from This American Life. I got the gift. It arrived in about 10 days as promised. However, I never received my membership card. It’s not really that big of a deal. It does allow you to go to free movie screenings and gives you other like benefits.

The fact that I received the audio CD is proof that someone, somewhere who is connected with NPR knows my address and there is a tacit understanding that I am, in fact, a member.

I figure, meh, just a blip in the continuum. Until the phone calls started. The solicitors for KERA wanted to know if, since I had been a member in the past, I would like to re-up and become a member again. Direct marketing at it’s finest. I explained that I was a member, and that I had tangible proof that I was a member. Would you please ask the Director of Membership to give me a call. “Yes, of course, our apologies.” Nothing. No call. Ever.

I e-mailed. Nothing. No return e-mail. Ever.

I called. Nothing. No return call. Ever.

I was polite. I was witty. Surely they would have responded to such good humor in the face of such repeated bad luck or bad management.

When my membership was up four years ago, I figured I’d have better luck. I renewed. I received my second This American Life audio CD.

No membership card. More e-mails, more calls. Nothing. No return call or e-mail. Ever.

So screw them. I kept my money to myself for three years. A membership database is not difficult to make, or maintain, and it can do amazing wonderful things. It’s not hard.

Last fall, I succumbed to guilt. We’re not talking minimum membership amounts by the way. These are three figure donations—a lot for me, a dilettante without any real income. I sent my money.

I heard two weeks ago that we will soon be in the midst of the spring pledge drive.

I’ve already received my membership gift for last fall’s NPR membership donation! No card! New pledge drive!

I called. I was polite and witty once again. “Can’t you see the futility of me continuing to be a member when you cannot respond in the simplest way, by sending me a membership card inkjet printed on 80# stock as a simple acknowledgement of my love and support for NPR?” “Yes sir, I see that you are a member in good standing. I cannot explain why you don’t have your card.”

KERA, call me. I’ll explain in calm and polite terms why you won’t get any more of my money. You can call the national office to see if they’ll share what I will spend with them from now on. You have my number. Do a search in your e-mail records. I’m there. I wrote my phone number, home, office and cell for you to call.

Update 04-20-07

After I had sent a copy of this blog and the associated Flickr page to KERA and to the ombudsman at the NPR headquarters in Washington DC, I received both an e-mail and a phone call from someone new at KERA. Ms. Brown was very polite and concerned. She said she put a new membership card in the mail and requested that I follow up with her in a few days to confirm that it had arrived. Even though this is nearly déjà vú, I feel more hopeful this time. I’ll post the results here.

Update 04-24-07

I received my card on Monday, April 23, 2007, four months after sending KERA 90.1 my membership money.

Thank you, KERA.

But it’s not a complete success story. They may think that all they have to go on is my word, but if they had a database worth anything at all, they’d know that I’ve been telling the truth.

If they were concerned about customer relations they would have indicated on my brand new membership card, now safely tucked away in my wallet, that my membership would be good, and therefore not renewable, until April of 2008. They did give me an extra month. They even acknowledge that they’ve had my money and have been using it since January. They did give me an extra month. I’m good till next February. Of course, they seem to have forgotten, or discounted the years I’ve been without a card. It’s not as if even that is money out of their pocket. The vendors who choose to support KERA with discounts and free tickets are doing so as their gift to them. The merchants don’t charge KERA for the donations in kind redeemed by using the card.

Also, it would have been nice to receive a written apology from KERA for their multi-year incompetence. None was offered.

But thanks for the card! I’m glad I now have it. However, unless there is a drastic, and publicly acknowledged change in membership services, I will continue to listen to NPR with my money in my pocket—guilt free.

God bless you Mr. Vonnegut. Rest in peace.

“Robert Kennedy, whose summer home is eight miles from the home I live in all year round, was shot two nights ago. He died last night. So it goes.

“Martin Luther King was shot a month ago. He died, too. So it goes. And every day my Government gives me a count of corpses created by military science in Vietnam. So it goes.”

I’m very sad.

Friends, please see here.