As I drive eastward from the Seventh Ring of Washington DC toward the Eastern Shore utopia I inhabit, I am presented with a seasonal array of men at work (they are largely male, though I know not how they “identify”), and I envy these men. They sit atop great machines and till the soil, plant and harvest, shape and beautify. It matters not how large a machine they command (my initial longings developed watching masters of the zero-turning-radius-mower), because that is not the important thing. The important thing is that they are men who are able to claim at the end of the day to be “finished” with work. Even if there are hundreds of acres remaining on other pieces of land, these men finish a day’s work and can actually see the results of their labor. I have written elsewhere about these men and the depths of my envy, but today I modestly claim to join them.
We have here in the Eastern Province of the People’s State of Maryland (Gov. Hogan be praised!) been visited recently by snowfall, with about seven inches falling a few days ago (part of a larger, crippling DC area storm for which the DC area ought be ashamed), and three last night. Due to various inconveniences, scheduling uncertainty, and flight cancelations, a trip I was to take this week disappeared, and I have been carrying on smartly since 2 Jan without the other three members of the household who have decamped for warmer climes.
Because of the nature of my paid work, the transit problems caused by the weather, and COVID restrictions among my various clients, I have worked exclusively from home this week, but to say “from home” understates the sumptuous conditions imposed on that labor. Rising shortly after the sun (which isn’t all that early this time of year), I prop up my bed to face the window overlooking the cove, proceed to the kitchen to brew the first of what will be half as much coffee for that day than I consumed in an average 2021 day, and then return to one of three computing devices (laptop, tablet, and phone) that will enable my labor for that day. Most of the time, at least one or two cats join me. Underneath the down comforter, I write, think, read, and talk—all of which are the things I do for a living, and whether I am doing them propped up looking at the Miles River or sitting in a suit/tie in someone’s office seems increasingly irrelevant. Sometimes I shift my base of operations to the kitchen, but only because three of the five animals who keep us (three cats, two dogs) spend their time in that part of the house, and I am concerned about them feeling ignored.
As I write these words, I am aware that I have a pretty solid gig with nothing to complain about. But my thoughts return to farmer and landscaper, and the satisfaction they MUST feel in looking out over the lawn or the field and saying, “it is done”. Nothing I do—or very little of it—ever “ends”. My job is to earn a living by figuring out how to get this country to realize that its constant underinvestment in its Navy threatens both its prosperity and its security. I do this by working for key clients who have skin in that game philosophically, financially, and operationally. But not only is this work never done, it is hard to conclude that any progress is being made. So while I stare out at the cove, warm and caffeinated, there is always the emptiness of unfinished work. Always.
What does all of this have to do with ten inches of snow this week? It provided me with opportunities to savor finished work. Shoveled walks and porches. Automobiles uncovered. Snow moved from undesired locations to desired. It is glorious, and I am fulfilled.
Ted Cruz is a Clown
Please, please, please watch the video below.
This is what abject groveling and sniveling looks like. Cruz committed a gigantic political gaffe, which means “he told the truth”. And now he’s paying for it. Ted Cruz is a Senator from one of the largest states in the country, and he kowtowed to a whippet-huffing boarding-schooler. No one should be surprised at this, as Ted Cruz was the man who rolled over while one of his primary opponents accused his father of being complicit in murder and again when that same opponent called his wife ugly. This is what bottomless lack of principle looks like.
Perhaps the most satisfying job I have ever had - with respect to finished work - was when I was employed by the Public Works Department of Mount Laurel, NJ in the summer while in high school.
The best days were those when we laid new roads / resurfaced older ones in the 95F heat with 98% humidity. At the end of the day, you could look back at this long black ribbon of asphalt and see what you helped to accomplish. It was extremely satisfying.