The buddy system

A few nights ago, I sat next to a guy I call 'Tearjerker' (long story) at dinner. By way of context, Tearjerker lives in the midwest, is a married catholic 40-something man with 5 (count 'em - 5! - children.) We met many years ago through work. While initially he seemed a bit aloof; as I've gotten to know him, I have come to admire, and even perhaps adore him a bit for being a straight-shooter, honest and genuine, with almost a bottomless sense of giving and selflessness. However, he is also ultimately process driven and a clear thinker, able to cut through emotion and bullshit to figure out what matters. This is a guy I admire.

And - perhaps unfairly - I presumed that we probably wouldn't share many political or social views. I didn't KNOW this for a fact, but I had assumed that he might have had a Bush/Cheney bumpersticker on his giant SUV. (Not that there's anything WRONG with that!) He is also an active fundraiser for his kids' catholic school. I assume he (or his wife is) a pretty regular church-goer.

This is not uncommon; I work with a number of people who live in - and indeed probably actively contribute to the 'redness' of - the Red States. For many people, that would be a deal killer. Thanks to the the political science student in me, I am honest about the realities of politics and am indeed on the 'fence' about so many things about BOTH political parties that ... well, it really comes down to the individual people and the individual issues. I have a hard time identifying a doctrine that applies neatly to all my beliefs. Believe me, I know a lot of people who voted for John Kerry that I wouldn't invite to my house (or indeed want to be stuck at a cocktail party with for more than 90 seconds...), though admittedly there are a few more in the Bush camp.

But back to Tearjerker. Without going through all the details, we ended up in a conversation about gay marriage. And he - in no uncertain terms - told me that he was totally in support of it. From a governmental perspective.

Now without waxing tooooo nostalgic, he belongs to the Republican party that, sadly, is no longer. The Republican party of my parents: less government intervention in people's lives! He went on to clarify that he thinks marriage is a religious and/or moral issue, and the government shouldn't have any part of it. For government purposes, he supports a concept that he described simply as 'the buddy system.' And the more he talked about it, the more I loved it.

Simply put, every'body' has the right to a buddy (just one.) It's a formal system. Benefits (health, tax, etc etc.) You file paperwork to identify your buddy. You have to jump through legal hoops to change your buddy. It could be a wife/husband, partner, sister, mother, guy you know from work, whatever.

The more he talked, the more I loved it. I have a number of friends who wonder what reason there is to get married if it isn't to have kids. Some in their 50's and over who are fiscally stable in their own right, but want to have health decision privileges or survivorship benefits or insurance or tax breaks.

The Buddy System. Hmmmmmm. What I like about it is that it would apply to everyone. I'm all for whatever system there is being applied EQUALLY. I have friends who advocate gay marriage to which my response is often something along the lines of "oh, heavens, wouldn't it just be better to take it AWAY from the straight people?!?! Statistically speaking, we've kind of fucked it up, don't you think?"

I feel about gay marriage the way I do about abortions or religious beliefs: don't want one? Don't have one. But don't judge or presume to walk in the shoes of those who do. It's a question of rights and equality, and simply being human. I still cannot fathom how a gay marriage would THREATEN a straight marriage (well, unless of course your husband is actually gay... which does happen, sadly. As society learns to accept people for who they are, and we all learn to let people BE who they are, this will happen less frequently... but, again - I digress)

The buddy system. I like it. And I liked even more being surprised by someone.

Oh, say it isn't so...

My buddy Joe, who runs a members-only website for business travelers, flagged this story this week -- a pathetically sad reality tale of government spending woe, which (as if the crappy moist August weather wasn't sufficient) is enough to make me want to crawl into the fetal position and sit in a dark padded room moaning for my mommy for days on end.

This isn't a Bush-bashing, specifically. It's a system-bashing. Bush was just the guy with the pen to sign the bill this week. It's the whole political and money system that's broken: as much as I love to pick on Bush, he's the result - not necessarily the cause - of the insidious disease.

Here, verbatim, from Joe in his 'weekly recap': "President Bush signed the $286.5 billion transportation bill this week and critics were horrified by the number of pork-laden local road projects. The two most notable bacon-soaked items are $223 million for the Gravina Island bridge and another $229 million for the Knik Arm Bridge. Both projects are in the Alaska district of Don Young, the chairman of the House Transportation Infrastructure Committee. The Gravina Island project will link the 8,000 residents of the city of Ketchikan with the 50 people on Gravina Island. Also on Gravina Island: Ketchikan Airport, which offers a dozen scheduled flights a day and is currently linked to the city by a 7-minute ferry ride. As currently planned, the 2-mile-long Gravina span will be nearly as long as the Golden Gate Bridge and higher than the Brooklyn Bridge. The Knik Arm Bridge would link Anchorage with Port MacKenzie, which has just one tenant. In contrast to Young's $452 million bridges, the nation has spent a total of $115 million on mass-transit security since 9/11. Mass-transit systems in the United States carry an estimated 14 million riders a day."

Oh, my. Is it just me, or is that the moon turning red with the ominousness of impending self-inflicted doom?

Groundhog day

Have you seen the movie Groundhog Day? When Bill Murray wakes up and is stuck everyday in Punksatawney, PA? My travel schedule this month is sort of like that. Every day, just when you think I've gotten somewhere, I'm on the road again. Admittedly, the lack-of-travel-glamour is really starting to grind a bit. Every four-five days this month is another trip.

Saturday was 7 looooooooong hours from Switzerland to Paris by car. It's a boring drive. Okay - I know that sounds really snooty to anyone who hasn't driven it, but it really is basically a landscape that doesn't change ... basically flat (a few little dips and rolls here and there) farmland, with very few landmarks or towns on the landscape. My eyes started to blur at about hour 3, even after a good night's sleep. The most interesting thing I saw in those 7 hours was a 'public art' project of sorts with giant circles, triangles, squares (2-D and 3-D) that were painted in rainbow colors and along the sides of the road for literally miles after miles after miles. Other than that, I fed myself lots of caffeine to stay alert... so much so that I was weirdly jumpy and wired when I finally arrived - not something that happens to me very often!

Another night; another airport hotel and 4:30 am wakeup call. Leave my car there, cram myself with about 20 other bleary eyed travelers of varying languages onto the shuttle. 20 minutes to airport. A 4 hour layover in Manchester, UK, where I realize that I have to go to a money machine in order to eat breakfast, because the UK doesn't use the Euro. @#*!@#&(*!

The travel gods, though, have smiled upon me this go 'round. Since the coach cabin is oversold, I am upgraded without using mileage to business class (as apparently the coach passenger with the highest status.) Take the little perks where they come!

Crossing the Alps

No, that’s not a subtle-yet-awkward euphemism for a quirky sexual act… it’s the most obvious way to describe a most wonderful unexpected adventure yesterday!

The end of the week was the pretour flurry: getting appointments finalized for this fall’s programs – nonstop meetings all Wednesday afternoon, then Fratello Guido and I went off to the North to advance scout Vicenza, Padova, and the Lakes District. Thankfully, the travel gods were in our favor - we made amazing time! FG has an amazing way of just ‘making things happen’ (rather, convincing people they want to help him!). We spent the night Thursday staying with a friend of FG’s in an apartment with a balcony overlooking Lago Maggiore; spectacular view of sunrise Friday morning! I put FG back on a train from Stresa that afternoon, and headed north to a meeting in Switzerland.

The route from Stresa to Zurich should have been about 3 hours, the first hour or so on little roads around the Italian lakes district. Because Switzerland is not in the EU, there was a ‘border crossing’ of sorts, which consisted of overpaid guards standing and nodding at cars as they drive slowly by (are they looking for the sign on the front grill that says ‘SMUGGLER’ or ‘TERRORIST’?)

After joining up with the main highway about 2 hours south of Zurich, things hum along for a bit then come to a screeching halt. We sit. We sit some more. We break out the water bottles and turn off the car engines. There is apparently a gargantuan tunnel ahead, there must be something going on there. People start walking around out in the sunshine, making idle conversation with each other. I feel terrible for the cars behind me with the small children in the back seat. We inch forward a bit. We sit again. I become concerned about my left arm, baking alone in the sunshine as it hangs out the window. Thank goodness for the BlackBerry, I send an email to my Swiss host (Mr. Individuality) to let him know that I’m trapped, and unsure when I will see him. One and a half hours later, we have inched forward maybe a kilometer. There’s still no sign of improvement.

And – suddenly – I realize that the right lane seems to be moving. Yes – at an actual ‘clip’. There’s an exit up ahead! My head says that only a very few people seem to be taking it… but … moving is nearly always better than NOT moving. I have a map, and there’s ALWAYS another way from point-A-to-point-B, if you’re willing to go a bit out of your way to find it. Patience (and knowing I’m going the right way) has a bit of an internal battle with impatience (and being in a foreign country, not speaking the language, just hours before sunset and off the beaten path….) Impatience and adventure (and confidence in my very-detailed map) wins: seconds before my car passes the exit, I veer hard off to the right.

And THAT, my friends, is the best ‘road-less-traveled’ turn I have ever made. Though I couldn’t probably find the path again if I had to, that turnoff put me – literally – onto the high road slicing up and over through the Alps. Switchbacks galore. Air so cold I have to put on a sweater, but I refuse to close the windows to the crisp fresh air. Perfect late afternoon light. Stunning waterfalls in the most fascinating and unexpected places. Gorgeous sheer rock faces and lush greenness. Burbling streams. Cows with big ole’ bells on grazing on hillsides. Chalets tucked in amidst nothingness. (Can’t ya just HEAR that ‘aaaaah-aaaaaah-aaaaah-aaaaah’ from the Sound of Music?!?!?!)

I have been to Switzerland before; but never in the countryside. And if I never go again, that once was enough: it was truly magnificent.

That night, Mr. Individuality and I had dinner by a lake, complete with fireworks (Swiss national holiday of sorts, apparently.) It was the most perfect accidental day.

Fantabulous Festa!

On night number three of my ‘one week back home,’ The Diplomat & Renaissance Artist have decided to throw a bit of a welcome party. It’s their annual summer shindig, but larger than normal. TD explains to me that there were no forced invitations - everyone who will be here this evening are people they genuinely like and trust … and these people will form the backbone of my social existence here in the countryside (no pressure there!!!!!)

Monday evening is a flurry of party preparations. We do a ‘dry run’ on all the candles, check the awkward spots in the yard for safety (lots of past-70 year olds coming, and after dark, there’s a whole number of places that become hazardous; including a 6’ drop off near the house!), set all the furniture in the right locations, and make the base of RA’s famous bacon/zucchini pasta sauce (which he taught me the recipe for!). We cram in an impromptu visit from my last-as-yet-unmet- serviceman – Roberto the Plumber – to take a quick look at the outdoor shower and two outdoor spigots that aren’t functioning, he promises to return in late October to show me how to turn off all the outdoor faucets for the winter.

Tuesday, I have to swing quickly into the office to see Fratello Guido and Il Cavaliere, and then my project is: Get the Ice. At a party in the US, this would be the project that you give to the person who is likely to screw anything else up…. But here, finding ice is a project requiring a delicate mix of detective work, advance planning, perseverance, and just a dash of moxie. There’s nowhere in our little town. Since I’m going into the ‘mecca’ of Florence, I have the best shot at finding something. BUT, it’s not sold at the gas stations, not at the gargantuan Iper-Coop (that sells literally EVERYTHING else imaginable under the sun). Oh – and then there’s the melting problem; Florence is an hour away. Knowing this may be an issue, I think to load two portable coolers into my car; just incase I actually do find the elusive prey.

After striking out at three different stores and being only a stone’s throw from the entrance to the autostrada (and late to get back to the house to help), creativity kicks in. I head to the front desk at the Holiday Inn. Explaining, in broken Italian, my plight (I’m new here, there’s a party tonight, I need ice to keep the prosecco cold… does their restaurant have an ice machine, and may I buy some to fill my coolers? ) The woman at the desk – uncharacteristically sour for an Italian – reacted as if I had just asked her to sell me her newly-born child. But I persisted. Could I ask the restaurant myself?

And, blessedly, a more typically hospitable Italian man filled my coolers each half-full (it was all he could spare), I blissfully handed him 5Euro, and skipped back to my car feeling victorious.

Back at the house, it’s a flurry of activity. I’m on lawnmowing duty (nasty, dusty, sticky, hot at 4pm!). Then I have a quick run to the store to pick up forgotten fixings for the salad (which is of course nearly 1 hour round trip!), and finally, jump in the shower. I decide against the red off-the-shoulder outfit (trying too hard – though I know that the fashioninstas will be out in force tonight!), and go for a simple skirt and blouse that I’m comfortable and cute in.

My job is to serve champagne in the front yard as people arrive, assuring that I will have a chance to meet everyone. TD & RA amaze me: they OWN dishes and glassware to serve 60 people – including separate glasses for champagne and wine - without even breathing hard!

The party itself was a blur. Fantastic people. Some I had met before; a blessing … nice to feel I already have friends here. TD had hired two music students, who performed a concert during the evening (between courses.) Watching the shadows of the violinist in the garden dance against the trees, with the whole crowd of 60 silent and candle-lit on the chilly summer evening on the back terrace, I felt like I was in a movie. Dinner was served at 10:30… I was glad to be useful; refilling wine glasses, passing hors d’oeurves --- at the end of the night, retrieving and clearing plates. I fell into bed, wrecked from the sensory overload of it all (and too much champagne on an empty stomach!), at 3 am and slept like the dead.

A warmer welcome would not be imaginable. A fantabulous, elegant, tremendous party. And by the time I seem all of these people again, I will be living here on my own… (and have the legend of TD & RA’s hospitality to live up to!) Amazing how fast it’s gone, and yet it’s just beginning.