What Do I Know?

A Sister's Tribute to Her Brother

It was a no-brainer that I would write a eulogy for my brother. I am the writer in the family, and these last two weeks my writer's mind has been organizing my thoughts into what passes for a eulogy as if by second nature. It's how I deal. 

I hesitated to post such a personal and lengthy post here*, but then I realized my brother would have gotten a huge kick out of having his sister write about him. I was touched by how many people told me how he'd bragged about his sister the writer...I just wish I'd given him more to be proud of sooner. And that is perhaps the lesson of his life. Don't hesitate to take a risk, because one day it may be too late. Regrets suck. 

*To protect their privacy, I've initialized the names of his loved ones.

RIP Walter Sims

Jeff Buckley, Hallelujah.

They found my brother's body this morning. He was not, as I always suspected, indestructible after all.

Tragedy, At A Distance

One of the downsides of living abroad is that when tragedy occurs back home with your loved ones, you're thousands of miles away. And even more frustrating than the sheer distance is the time difference, at least for those of us who live many lines of longitude away from "home". 

This has been especially true these last few days, as I'm dealing with the loss of my brother in Louisiana. He disappeared on Saturday while fishing. I discovered this on Sunday, after he'd been missing for more than 24 hours, and after I'd gone to sleep. 

This week I've been trying to find out what's going on, talking to people on the ground there, including the Morehouse Parish sheriff's office, yet I am limited by the time difference. I can find out nothing in the morning, when they're all getting well-deserved sleep, and I'm only awake for a portion of the daylight hours there.

From what I can tell, though, the search is being conducted with the utmost professionalism, by both the Morehouse Parish sheriff's office and the Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries department. They are searching in the lake and on land. My brother knew the lake very well. He's lived on lakes, in both Minnesota and Louisiana, almost his entire adult life. Fishing was his life, and possibly, his death. 

We may not know anything for several more days. Once again, I am struck by the outpouring of support via social media. Knock Facebook and Twitter if you must; but in times of tragedy it's a comfort to many.

Especially to those of us who are thousands of miles away from our grieving loved ones. I'd give anything right now to be able to hug my niece and nephew, to ease the stress my aunt must be feeling, to do more than just pick through our photos of happier times.

Another aspect of living so far away is the surreal aspect of such news. I didn't fully comprehend the reality of the situation until I saw a news clip on Monday from the local news, the same station I used to watch when I was growing up. This news item ran in the local newspaper.

That's all I know. For now.

Friday Horse Blogging

Retirement brings many happy hays, err, days, for these horses

For years I've been meaning to visit The Home of Rest for Horses, now known as The Horse Trust, near High Wycombe. I've seen the sign several times on our walks, and someone once said it was where the Queen's horses retired after service. 

Well, it turns out that the retired horses there are not necessarily Her Majesty's retired coach horses (though some participated in Royal events, including the Royal Wedding last April). Working horses and rescued horses and donkeys live at The Horse Trust, including those recently retired after the 2011 riots. 

I went with a friend from California, who knows horses the way I know dogs. But having a savvy friend along didn't prevent me from being shoved by one cantankerous pensioner, and bitten by another. 

But I'll forgive Fairfax, who recently retired from the Manchester Police force after "showing an incredible strength of character by fighting the natural desire to flee from the noise and violence" during the 2011 riots.

Fairfax, the cantankerous pensioner who nipped me. 

The Horse Trust has been in the news lately, when it came to light in the Leveson Inquiry that Rebekah Brooks was given one of the Met's retired horses to ride at her farm. Last week's "horsegate" revelations included the admission from Prime Minister David Cameron that he had ridden the police horse, Raisa, at Brooks' farm. There's even going to be a film about the former Scotland Yard horse, "Poor Horse". And of course the horse has a Twitter account: @RebekahsHorse. 

This is what happens when clever horses have too much time on their hands. 

Having done his duty, Oliver spends his hours watching TV and surfing the hay bin.

This is Oliver, a handsome chestnut gelding who worked for the Manchester Police. He helped police the riots in 2001 and 2011 and also worked football matches, which must have been good training. He also took part in the Queen's Jubilee "All the Queen's Horses" in 2001. He was described as "one of the best police horses of the Greater Manchester Police". He suffers from osteoarthritis so he's in good hands at The Horse Trust. 

Kylie, the oldest horse we saw at The Horse Trust, hasn't figured out how to use Twitter yet. 

This old girl is Kylie, who was born in 1970. She arrived at The Horse Trust in 1998 in very poor condition. A lot of love and care have kept her alive well into old age, despite a condition that causes photosensitivity. 

Early retirement for Star, who got a bad start in life

This bright, gorgeous guy is Star, who was rescued from Spindles Farm, described as "the worst case ever experienced by the RSPCA". Underweight when he arrived in 2008, Star has made a full recovery. 

When we arrived at The Horst Trust, the sun was shining over a lovely sloping pasture. Ordinarily many of the horses would have been out enjoying a fine day, but it was visiting hours on the farm (Friday-Sunday, 2-4 pm) so most were inside their spacious stalls. And by the time we left, a cold rain had kicked up, so we didn't stop to take any photos of the fantastic views these horses enjoy of the Chilterns. 

The Horse Trust is located in Speen, a couple of miles from Bradenham off the A4010. Check their website for opening hours and directions. And keep well away from Fairfax if you go. 

Questioning Americans' Attitudes Toward Healthcare

As an ex-pat, I can't help pondering some basic questions about Americans and the health care system they claim is the best in the world:

Why hasn't any other advanced country decided to adopt an American-style health care system? 

Why don't Americans accept that everyone has a right to health care, instead of seeing it as a luxury akin to a new car? 

Why is American health care so much more expensive than that of any other country? 

Why do so many babies die in America before their first birthday, compared to other wealthy countries? 

Why do Americans see nothing "socialized" about free education for all but don't one bit like the idea of health care paid for by the government via taxes? 

Why do they change their minds about government-paid health care when they reach age 65? 

Why do they think the free market will function with health care the same way it does with hamburgers? 

Why do Americans think their doctors ought to be paid so much more than similarly trained doctors in other countries? 

Why is socialized medicine good enough for our veterans and active duty military but not for the rest of the country?

Why do Americans tend to brag about how much health care they get, whereas Britons do everything they can to avoid talking about their own health? 

Why do some Americans want to let their boss decide what services their doctor can prescribe?

Why do Americans erroneously believe that most uninsured Americans are unemployed as well?

Why are seniors, who have Medicare, much less likely to support health care reform which addresses the needs of the uninsured?

Why do Americans assume that going to the emergency room is a good option for the uninsured?

Why are so many people unable to go to a doctor in the richest country in the world?

Don't Even Think About Getting Past That Goal Post Once I'm Your Employer!

Dittohead? Or your brain after football injuries? (via) 

I'm endlessly fascinated by my fellow Americans. Apparently many have now discovered they object to sex, at least when accompanied by birth control. 

Now that contraception has become a partisan issue, thanks to the GOP candidates deciding their religion should be injected into politics, red, white, and blue Americans have been lining up on either side of their scrimmage line to support those who object to contraception, which, puzzlingly, 98% of adult Americans support. At least they did a few weeks ago when polls were conducted. But now that Rush Limbaugh has called women who use birth control "sluts" and complained about paying per sexual encounter, his acolytes have all agreed that yes, women who use birth control (for any reason) are indeed sluts and should never have their contraception paid for. 

Whatever. 

If America wants to continue its odd system of funding its citizens' health care on the backs of prudish employers, all right by me. In fact, I intend to start a business of my own someday, and since I do nothing by halves, it will be a very big corporation. I'll employ hundreds, no, thousands of people and I'll be forced to pay for their insurance. 

But here's the deal: I loathe sports. And I especially hate football (both kinds). So I'm going to have an exemption in my employee health plan that excludes my employer funded insurance from paying for any sports injury. 

If you sign your kid up for football, then you're on your own when he suffers a brain injury. If he plays hockey, sorry, but I won't pay for new teeth when he's hit in the face by a flying puck. And basketball isn't exempted either. When your daughter slips on the court and breaks her arm, you'll have to pay for that emergency room visit yourself. 

I fully expect Rush Limbaugh and Rick Santorum to support my conscientious objection. After all, they've filled the airwaves recently with their support for employers who object to their employees having sex. I think my concerns are just as valid—after all, it's well known that playing football reduces the IQ of a player. Sex, similarly, reduces IQ, at least temporarily. 

Just look at Rush Limbaugh, who reportedly uses Viagra when he goes on his Bahamas vacations in order to, um, fulfill his manly obligations. He can barely speak coherently. In his confused rants, he seems to think that birth control pills are taken each time a woman has sex. It's as if he's confusing contraceptive pills with Viagra. 

I wonder if he played football when he was still slim enough to suit up. Somehow, I doubt he was ever anything but an armchair quarterback, and it's likely he never scored in high school either.

Friday Cow Blogging

The Cows of Foggy Pasture, Friday Version

I should change the name of this to Friday Fog Blogging. When I saw the fog this morning I hoped the cows would appear near the fence so I could get another shot of foggy cows. And when I saw this black and white mama cow near her all-black baby, I rushed to get my camera and a bag of apples, for enticement. She needed to be a little bit closer to the viewfinder for those lovely markings to show up.

Such is the life of a cow blogger. These opportunities don't show up often, so we must be prepared to grab them when we can. Although I must say we've had many foggy mornings lately. That thing they say about England? It's true. Gray, fog, rain, mist—English weather is the reason they make anti-depressants. Big Pharma would be a mom and pop operation if not for the depression-inducing weather of the upper Atlantic island nations. 

Thank god for the cows. They make the fog so much more interesting, don't you think?

Why Is Mitt Romney All Up In My Medicine Cabinet?

Yesterday I was glad to see the presumptive GOP nominee Mitt Romney make the following statement when asked about the Blunt bill, which would give your employer the right to refuse to offer health care which covers female contraception. 

“I’m not for the bill. But, look, the idea of presidential candidates getting into questions about contraception within a relationship between a man and a woman, husband and wife, I’m not going there.”

Spot on. Presidential candidates should never get into questions about contraception. That's between you and your doctor. Not you and your presidential candidate. Not you and your employer. Not even you and your insurance company. And certainly not between you and your pharmacist. Contraception is your decision. Period. (And you can take that word to mean something different, since that's exactly why many women take contraception, to prevent painful periods, the likes of which no man would endure.)

I went to bed thinking at least that issue was resolved as far as America's presidential campaign goes. But then I woke up to the news that Mitt Romney has decided he misspoke when asked about his support of the Blunt amendment. This morning it appears that he is indeed for it, not against it. He is indeed going there. 

Right into your bedroom, your medicine chest, your doctor's prescription pad. Right there in your bathroom where you keep your birth control is Mitt Romney's smiling face, asking for your vote while he vetoes your right to receive contraception if your doctor prescribes it for you. (You could still pay for it yourself, of course, as well as the doctor visit that resulted in the prescription and any complications that arise. Got thousands of dollars? No? Well, suffer those painful periods, ladies!)

I can handle a candidate who flipflops; I myself have realized I've misspoke or changed my mind, plenty of times. I can handle a candidate who has serious religious convictions; I too have serious ethical convictions. 

But I'd never impose my religious or ethical beliefs on your exercise of your personal rights. This is why I believe it should be legal for you to shoot a wild animal but not your best friend. Because you should be allowed to exercise rights that I personally find offensive, as long as they don't deny someone else their equally sacred rights, such as the right to live. (Or my right to enjoy my own animals, if you want to get picky.) 

And when it comes to my rights to consume FDA-approved medicine, the rights of my daughters to have potentially life-saving (and pain alleviating) contraceptive treatment, then Mitt Romney, or any elected politician, has no business telling my insurance company they can't pay for it. And any employer (who in my extended case, via marriage, happens to be the US federal government) also has no business refusing my need for contraception. 

I think it's time for Mitt Romney to flip flop again, and get the hell out of my medicine cabinet.