Mood:  don't ask

Frodo is not unlike most of his gender; there is order, and there is disorder.  Order exists as long as things continue just as they have always been done, and disorder reigns whenever anything changes.  Sam goes shopping, and that includes the megalith known as the "grocery store."  Frodo consumes that which returns in plastic or in paper.  Given this preamble, all of life should be simple and uncomplicated.

Sam is in recovery, and is forbidden to utilize a motorcar for the next two weeks.  Under normal circumstances, this would be a point of revelry for Frodo.  Unconsumed petrol is an asset these days worthy of entry on Frodo's ledger of accounts.  However, the need for sustenance in the Shire requires that Frodo substitute for Sam, and thereby seek provisions at the 21st Century version of the "general store."  True it is that these centralized placements in every retail mausoleum in America do, indeed, sell anything, and everything.

Frodo is therefore entrusted with a list.  Once he emerges unscathed, at least in this instance, from that which is known as a parking lot, although there seems to be a constancy of unplanned traffic flow throughout, he then takes temporary possession of a cart.  Frodo knows that, within seconds, the complexion of his hands will pale against the light.  Frodo is truly a "white-knuckle shopper," fearing the inevitable consequence of one without patience loosed upon the methodically unreasonable aisles and lanes of that which distinguishes our land from all other civilized nations.

Bread, bacon, milk, orange juice, hamburger, steak fries, lettuce are not generally the kind of items which require participation in a safari.  Frodo is, however, immediately accosted by an elderly person wanting him to sample apple juice.  Although Frodo has a certain fondness for apple juice, particularly when it is offered sans cost, he is irritated by intrusions upon his appointed rounds.  Once he has laid waste to this insurgent, he decides to start the search for those items on his list least likely to spoil or to suffer once removed from their storage unit and placed in Frodo's cart.

Frodo determined that the frozen steak fries should be the last item placed in the cart, logically enough.  For whatever purpose Frodo first found himself in the frozen foods, with steak fries prominently displayed therein.  Fearing that he might not be able to pass this way again, Frodo decided to scrap his original plan and to take advantage of this easy kill.  Amazingly, the milk, juice, and lettuce followed soon thereafter, and Frodo was beginning to feel a certain level of comfort amidst the ladies who insist upon stopping in the absolute middle of an aisle, almost daring the passage of any male on either side.

Bacon is a pork product, is it not?  Why therefore would bacon not be assembled in the meat section alongside anything labeled as "pork?"  While in the general vicinity, Frodo was accosted by another elderly person wanting him to taste her "cracker with cheese."  She was very insistent.  Frodo thinks she was hitting on him.

At last, Frodo had only the "hamburger" on his list, and he had already noted many plastic wrapped piles of ground meat from afar.  Ground "chuck," ground "roast," and something that looked like a "ground ball," once neatly arranged, had been examined, quite obviously, by the entire population of Wasilla, Alaska, during the past thirty minutes.  It took Frodo's real tears to bring a sympathetic response from the "butcher," which resulted not only in the final "kill" of this adventure, but a permanent level of gratitude to the nameless individual who will have a special place in Heaven (right next to Frodo).

Then, the white knuckled mania struck as originally feared by Frodo.  Proud he was that he could enter the "10 items or less  only, checks accepted," line honestly, he noted that there was only one shopper in line in front of him.  Frodo recognized her as one who had parked herself in the middle of the aisle that separated soup from dog food.  Frodo noted the presence of at least 75 items in her cart.  Sensing danger, Frodo began his retreat from the check-out line, only to find himself trapped by the same lady who had blocked the aisle between magazines and greeting cards.  She was reading a copy of "National Enquirer" and did not respond to Frodo's whimper.  Frodo accepted his fate.

The lady in front of Frodo carefully analyzed every keystroke by the smiling check-out lady, that is until the cantaloupe rang up at $1.19 rather than $.89.  The entire function of business in North America came to a halt due to the allegation of an incorrect price by the one person in line in front of Frodo.  The blood disappeared from Frodo's extremities, and he considered making a break for it and running over the miscreant.  The lady required a "price check" (two of the most dreaded words in Frodo's vocabulary).  After an inordinate delay, Frodo cleared his throat, and offered to give the shopper 20 cents if she would merely pass through the system as is, and bring order back into the universe.

Frodo had never before been publicly identidfied as a "Communist."  As he considered the indignity of the allegation, he briefly thought about strangulation, or perhaps a thrashing with a plastic container of milk. 

Eventually, the harpie moved on, and Frodo was greeted by the overly-friendly check-out lady, who noted that she lived in the same subdivision as the Shire, and that she hoped Frodo was having a "good day."  Frodo was speechless.  Hadn't she paid attention?  Hadn't she been humilated by the overweight aisle-blocker?

From his rear Frodo heard the "National Enquirer" reader complain about the "slow-mover" in front of her.

Had there been a United States Marine Corps Enlistment Booth in front of the store, Frodo would have sought enlistment.  He wanted to kill someone, soon.

Get well soon Sam, please. 

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:17 PM EST

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Mood:  celebratory

Michael Crichton was 66 years old, and he almost made Frodo pee his pants.  It happened while Frodo was reading "Jurassic Park," and it was a scene that did not recur in the movie.  The T-Rex suddenly appeared at the bottom of a waterfall while the human main course found themselves in a raft at the top of the waterfall.  Frodo supposes all that water may have added to his discomfort.  Frodo can never remember whether the theme of the book was "Life finds a way," or if it was "Nature finds a way."  It matters not, because since the time of Jules Verne, excepting perhaps Arthur C. Clarke, has anyone  been able to excoriate science from fiction with the precision of this surgeon.  Only time separates Man from that which he predicted in his numerous best sellers.

Madelyn Dunham, born in 1927, was, in the words of her grandson, "humble and plain-spoken."  People say much the same thing about the town in Kansas where she was born.  Little has yet been published about the lady who passed away just 48 hours before her grandson was elected to the Presidency of the United States of America.  Her passing was noted even by her grandson's opponent in the historic election.  The whole world shed a tear for someone they knew only as she who took responsibility, and passed it on as a lesson to he who now grieves for his grandmother.

Harold McClendon is an Obstetrician and Gynecologist in private practice in Marietta, Georgia.  He has an infectious laugh, and a bounce in his step.  It probably comes from the joy he brings to so many families when he helps catapult an addition into their care.  Then, again, Frodo recognizes that he may, indeed, simply be a leprechaun.  What merits Frodo's admiration is his skill, and his ability to carry his good nature into situations far less joyful than the miracle of birth.  To note that Sam's birthday was at hand, while reporting an excellent pathological report, is a present that indeed keeps on giving.  Smiles abound.

Some, it seems, make history, and some make the present.     

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:58 PM EST

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Mood:  quizzical

There is a scene in the latter of the trilogy in which Frodo and Sam are joined by Merry and Pippin in a pub, back home in the Shire.  Amid the celebration, the eyes of these members of the Fellowship meet, one-after-the-other, and, just as quickly, are followed by conscious efforts to avoid contact.  Perhaps it is the moment when they realize that they have confronted the greatest struggle of their lives, and now must part.  It could, of course, contain the simple understanding that change has, indeed, at last, come, and that it will make everything different. 

Frodo, in the chronicle, works tirelessly to complete that which was begun by Bilbo.  Frodo knows that his time grows short, that his wounds are deep and that life must go on in the Shire.  He is being called home.  The stories, he knows, will now always be of things that have already occurred.

The tone, the inflection, in fact the very definition of Frodo must necessarily change now that the Ring has been destroyed.  Sauron will soon be returned to the coffin known as Texas.  All trace of his followers and his surrogates will be removed from monuments, memorials, public buildings, and libraries.  Soon there will be little short of dyspepsia which will even bring a reminder of this evil time to the mind of Man, or Hobbit.

Frodo's journey is far from over, but it will certainly be different.  You are welcome, dear reader, to stay on board.  If you choose otherwise, then Hail, Farewell, and Thank You for your service.  Lord Aragorn is restored to the throne, and Middle Earth will long remember his words:

"Yes we can."

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:05 PM EST

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Mood:  bright

Quite some time ago, Frodo passed on some information to you, dear reader, about a young woman who was trying to do something about ending the Pre-Emptive War.  She had designed and sponsored a blog entitled "Peace Takes Courage" (www.peacetakescourage.com).  She was desperately trying to do something, anything, to influence if not to deter the conduct of that which still shackles our nation.  Her blog was receiving national publicity and was inspirational to many, like Frodo, who opposed a War for which the case had never fully been made.

Frodo had not visited for quite some time.  Tonight he found that Ava Lowery, age 18, from Alabama, was preparing to vote in her first Presidential election.  Her blog is full of the hope that comes from those who know only how to look forward.  Looking back is anathema to those  who have the vast majority of experience in front of them.  Frodo is envious of the ferocity of Ms. Lowery's desire and the eloquence of her action.  Truth be told, it is for her that this election is so pivotal.

Frodo's eyes well with dreams unfulfilled, and stolen.  He reaches out to those to whom the day to come will be a fulfillment of something that required a lifetime of sacrifice, in order to share in the achievement.  It is to the younger however, that Frodo feels a special sense of obligation.  It is they who must to suffer the costs of a financial burden that will yield them nothing.  Their dreams will be deferred until the bonds are all retired.

Looking forward, Ava Lowery must know that her life will encompass technological change equivalent to Project Apollo.  Energy, economy, environment, education; these are the directions they will follow, and arguments about who pays the most taxes, and who associated with unusual characters are of little relevance.

Relevance?  A word that Frodo remembers well.  He just hasn't used it in a long, long time.  When Frodo looked only forward, he argued for relevance.  Today, he pleads for it.

Cast your vote, young Ava Lowery.  Cheer your champion.  Understand that the work does not end here, it is as formative today as it was when you initiated "Peace Takes Courage."  What you did, and the time you spent, was relevant.  When the last soldier comes home, don't you dare rest on your laurels.  Take what you have learned and open another door.

Thank you for what you do, young lady.  May your champion lead you down a path that is wide and free to walk.  Frodo follows.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:25 PM EDT

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Mood:  surprised

Eveyone has heard the semi-jest that "To go to Hell, you have to change planes in Atlanta," so it is not surprising that some pretty strange things take place in the confines of Hartsfield-Jackson Airport.  The dialogue which follows is added to the circumstances which usurped all of Frodo's creative juices.  To the protagonist so identified, Frodo says "Trick or Treat?"

"Hello."

"Who is this?"

"This is Willie, in baggage."

"Sir, you are on a restricted channel and are disrupting communications in the Airport Control Tower."

"Hey man, all I know is I dialed 911, cause I got a serious problem here."

"Sir, clear this line immediately, you are endangering flight control operations."

"Listen here sucker, it's either you gettin' me some help down here, or I'm gonna be a hamburger for the biggest damn cat I've ever seen."

"What?  Who are you?  Where are you?  What are you talkin' about?"

"Not so loud man, he might hear you?"

"Who? He? Repeat.  Can I have a supervisor over here, please?"

"Listen, I'm Willie Andrews, workin' baggage, and I jus' opened the cargo hatch on 'dis plane in from Oregon, and here's da biggest damn cat I ever seen."

"So what's. . ."

"Man, he's jes walkin' around like he owns da joint."

"Wait a minute, are you sayin' he's loose?  What kind of cat is it?"

"He's a big cat."

"How big?  Does he have a mane?"

"What's a mane?"

"Sir, this is Flight Supervisor Landers.  Are you reporting a wild animal loose in the baggage compartment of an incoming aircraft at Hartsfield-Jackson Airport?  Are you reporting this as an emergency?"

"What the hell you think I'm doin'?  Calling Roto-Rooter?"

"Hang up now Sir, I will call you back."

"What you got up there, Caller ID?"

"Security, this is Flight Supervisor Landers, please dispatch a Team to the Baggage Area, we have a potential wild animal threat."

"Say what?"

"We have a report by Baggage Handler Willie Andrews that there is a wild feline loose in the baggage compartment of an incoming flight from Oregon.  We are diverting all incoming traffic away until such time as you report back to this station."

"Any description?"

"According to his on-line photo ID, he's male, about 6'2", 255 pounds."

"I mean the 'feline'."

"Oh, negative on that."

"Hello, Mr. Andrews?"

"Nice kitty."

"Mr. Andrews?  Come in."

"Nice kitty, you wanna chew on this phone?  Jes' don't use up all my minutes."

FRODO NOTE:  the one-year-old female cheetah, en route to the Memphis Zoo, apparently got out of her crate while changing planes.  The Delta 757 was brought into a closed hangar and Dr. Sam Rivera, a Zoo Atlanta veterinarian, shot the 90 pound kitty with a tranquilizer gun.  She is doing well in quarantine in the Atlanta Zoo, and will continue her journey to her new home next week.

Willie Andrews has filed for early retirement, and is seeking compensatory damages for both the "roaming charges" which appeared on his telephone bill from AT&T, and for dry cleaning.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 11:12 AM EDT

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Mood:  a-ok

It was almost exactly two hours from the moment when Frodo and Sam had joined the end of the line, until they were handed their ballots.   Frodo is notoriously impatient, and is widely-known for irrational outbursts when suffering incompetence.  This day however, was very different.

The young man immediately in front of the Hobbits had moved to the Shire a year ago from Seattle, and this was his first voting experience in a non-coastal setting.  About 100 places in line ahead, but only 20 feet away, were a couple of black guys who offered to trade places with Sam for $20.  When they mentioned that they had been in that exact spot 45 minutes earlier, Frodo authorized the beginning of negotiations.  Their good humor told Frodo that he would have to suffer delay, and like it.  Soon, Frodo began to find that he was enjoying himself, and, what's more, so was everybody else.

There was a little boy eating a saltine cracker, which he offered to Frodo from his stroller.  Since he was not yet to a communicative level, Frodo was hesitant to accept such a gift.  Frodo asked him if he knew that he was a part of history, and his mother smiled at Frodo.  She was snapping his picture with a digital camera.

There was a college-aged young lady, reading a best seller familiar to Sam, but unknown to Frodo.  She carried a bookmark which read "Yes We Can."

Frodo returned to his Grisham paperback ("Playing for Pizza") until he was interrupted by the stir all about a talking head from the local Faux News channel who was chronicling the long lines associated with early voting in this, one of six available locations in the county.  Had it been Rachel Maddow or Andrea Mitchell, Frodo would have grinned "that" grin in order to elicit an opportunity to be interviewed.  The reality was that whoever she was, she still appeared to have acne bumps hidden under a Clearisil-colored mountain of make-up.  Frodo turned his attention back to the real people.

The poll workers were both efficient and sensitive.  One grey-haired lady explained exactly where the restrooms were, and how to access them without losing ones' place-in-line.  Another cautioned everyone to "turn-off" their cellphones once they entered the building; the why was not explained, mainly because no one asked.  Frodo didn't care.  Another poll worker asked if anyone were over 75, or had any physical discomfort, and for those who indicated in the affirmative there was an immediate guide provided to the front-of-the line.  No one either complained, or seemed to take any notice whatsoever.  That, dear reader, was what caught the full bore attention of the Hobbit.

Nobody complained.  It was as if everyone knew that this was an important day, and that what they were doing was equally important.  Perhaps, as Frodo surmised, each person there, and in lines just like them in other locations, was moved by something between a sense of history, and a sense of participation.  No one, at any point, ever mentioned a candidate's name, or how they were going to vote. 

Frodo likes to think that he was wise enough to figure out for whom all of those people were voting.  Perhaps he is, but beyond that intellectual arrogance, there rests the knowledge that, for whatever reason, Frodo and Sam had just participated in a plebiscite.  People were determining whether or not, and at what level, civilization and life upon our small, blue planet would proceed against the many challenges we all face this day.  It was this experience which was guaranteed to Frodo by his Uncle "Junior," by Johnnie Jenkins, and by all those who rest beneath marble stones in Arlington and places just like it.

Damn, it was a good day.  Frodo wishes he could vote again.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:24 PM EDT

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Mood:  special

Gumbo was a mixed-breed terrier, thrown from a passing car.  The frightened dog spent the next several days hiding from any passing stranger.  Sam was determined that cruelty would be treated with kindness, and did everything possible to encourage the little creature to come out and accept food and water.  Fear is difficult to overcome, and just when it seemed that nothing more could be done, the little dog took the risk of its' life and crawled out to accept Sams' gifts.  Thus was born a relationship of fidelity which lasted well beyond the next decade.

Gumbo may have been small, but she was fearless whenever the perception arose that Sam was under threat.  The most ferocious of snarls and the most ominous of growls would be presented to any stranger approaching too close, or without a proper introduction.  In those days Sam's Mother was very ill with breast cancer, and Frodo was often occupied at Mount Doom, unable to join in the frequent and long trips to the bedside.  Frodo did not fear for Sam's well-being because of the presence of her defender, the tireless Gumbo.  Many was the befuddled wayfarer who offered to pet "the cute puppy," and found himself in the sights of a guided missile, disguised as a dog.

When Frodo's father succumbed, Gumbo joined Frodo and Sam in the long trek to the land of Frodo's birth.  While services were being conducted, Gumbo had to remain in a strange house, all alone, instead of being on active duty at the side of Sam.  While Sam and Frodo were long-delayed at the graveside, Frodo's Uncle "Junior," remembering the little dog, back at "the house," all alone, and probably under severe distress left earlier than most.  The former Marine, wounded at Okinawa, drove back, all alone, in order to free "the cute puppy."  The gentle giant of a Man swept the dog up in his arms and carried her out into the yard.  He stayed with her while she performed her required duties, and the two of them probably talked for quite some time about Frodo and Sam.

When everyone else arrived, the two were now fast friends.  Sam, who worried all the way from the cemetery about how long the dog had been alone, was moved to tears by the two new friends, and the kindness of Uncle "Junior."  For many years after Gumbo's demise, and whenever Sam and Uncle "Junior" got together, they would speak of their tiny friend.  Sam loved Uncle "Junior," as did Frodo.

One-half-an-hour into Frodo's birthday the suffering ended for Uncle "Junior."  Grieve not, dear reader, for Frodo, and the seeming inequity of death borne on the shoulders of celebration.  Frodo will remember this man, every year, on his own birthday, and celebrate a life that Frodo admired as long as he can remember.  Every year, on that date, Frodo will toast Uncle "Junior," and fill a small water bowl for the little dog who walks with him; of this, Frodo is very sure.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:28 PM EDT

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Mood:  hug me

It is a rare person that can stand up to the President of the United States, and not feel just a little intimidated.  Frodo cracked a rare smile today when he heard that the prospective President had been warned by his eldest daughter not to mess with her TV.  Fortunately, for Senator Obama, the Disney Channel will proceed with its' regular programming tomorrow evening, pleasing at least one member of the Obama family, immensely.

Frodo has missed little kids in the White House.  He is overjoyed by the prospect of little people, nearly his size, who will be peeking out from under desks and dripping ice cream on hardwood floors.  It just seems like such a long time since the entire Nation, if not the entire World, could just reach out and hug America's own little family.  Frodo doesn't mean to offend Chelsea and the Bushettes, but they were just a little too big, at least for the Hobbit (they were also larger than their breeches).

It sounds bizarre to say, but this is one of the reasons that Frodo was drawn, early on, to the Obama candidacy.  Bringing our nation together is not going to be easy, but can you imagine, dear reader, how a smile might be brought to the face of some curmudgeon like Newt Gingrich if he finds a "dolly" on the sofa next to him in the Oval Office while meeting with the new President on the reform of Medicare?  A few smiles go a long way to bringing people together.

Two very pretty, very bright little girls; America's best days are ahead of us.  Just so long as they don't call each other "Turdblossom," like the last group of adolescents in the White House.

Frodo need also remind the prospective new President that he heard him promise a puppy (maybe the dog will pee on Gingrich's shoe).  

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:39 PM EDT

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Mood:  happy

Sam is not a fan of Sarah Palin.  In fact, Sam is offended by Sarah Palin, mainly because, or so it seems to Frodo, of the way that women are represented before the American electorate.  Of late, Sam has also become increasingly vocal about the role played by the "First Dude," or the seemingly unemployed snowmobile driver who involves himself in the administrative responsibilities of this Alaska Governor-turned-National Political Candidate.  Todd Palin, if nothing else, merits an exploratory commentary by the Hobbit, especially in light of Sam's intuition.

Frodo opposed the candidacy of Hillary Rodham Clinton for several reasons, but the only intellectual argument he would make in opposition, even today, had to do with the totally unique role played by her spouse, a former President.  Frodo was, and would still be, concerned about the interplay between the Constitutional Officers of the Administration (the President and the Vice President), and the spousal support offered by a two-term President.  Hypothetical situational questions could be listed ad infinitum, delineating the threat to legitimacy exhibited by actions initiated or advised from one who bares no responsibility under the Constitution.  Carrying the argument even further, that is also why Frodo would have advised Senator Obama not to select Senator Clinton as his running mate. We are simply not prepared to deal with the possibilities.

Despite her experience, her talent, her potential, it would have been an error of constitutional crisis proportions to put simple human beings into a situation which absolutely no one had properly considered.  Which brings us to Sarah Palin, and a husband who used State facilities in order to exert perceived political influence in that which has certain purely personal dimensions.  Todd Palin has no authority, nor has he any responsibility, under the laws of the State of Alaska.  Had he concerns about the behavior of any State employee, would it not be more appropriate for him to seek redress through the courts (if permitted), or through normal administrative activity?  Instead, this "maverick" decides to act in a manner which implied pure political process, and for that he was neither in authority, nor could he be held responsible for his conduct.

Instead, Governor Palin pronounced the "First Dude," as some sort of latter-day hero, acting to defend the honor and integrity of his extended family.  To Frodo however, this entire "Troopergate" affair reflects both a lack of understanding or appreciation for the rightful conduct of elected officials.  Sarah Palin just doesn't get it.  Todd Palin probably does, at least that is what Sam thinks.

Unfortunately, the issue is the same when applied to the possibility of Senator Clinton in the White House. 

Someday, and maybe someday very soon, the issues relating to a  "First Spouse" will be addressed by academicians and jurists alike.  It won't result in a "Constitutional Amendment" or anything so formal, but it will allow us to have some up-front understandings about how things work, and who gets to use the telephone on official business.  Sad it is that such considerations did not first involve themselves with women named Martha or Abigail. 

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:00 PM EDT

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Mood:  cool

Frodo will tell you that Autumn carries a sense of foreboding.  Despite his stated belief that the first cold wind blowing from the North carries the clash of life with death, he cannot help but marvel at the collage which Gauguin, on his best day, could not rival.  Without warning, the greens soon become a touch of yellow, or a streak of orange, followed by the occasional crimson sword.  Together, the chemical mixture manifested in deciduous leaves stops hearts, and brings Frodo to his knees.

Old friends often share ancient secrets when re-united after inexplicable absences.  Such was the case when Frodo attended old friends at the College of the Shire.  While halfway listening to multiple conversations, Frodo heard someone talk about the dreams that have plagued them for so many years, all emanating from their classroom days.  Frodo immediately verbally interjected in order to introduce his recurring nightmare about just falling short of the number of credit-hours required in order to graduate, forty years after the fact.  In truth, Frodo never had such a problem, but he has "dreamed" of this for year-after-year.

Hearing from nearly all of his old friends about similar dreams, Frodo has come to the conclusion that trauma, in whatever format, defines the nature of our life experiences far beyond our successes.  Perhaps that is why we prefer the colors of Autumn to the blossomings of Spring.  We remember where we were when we heard that someone died, but are unable to remember birthdays or anniversaries.  Life is, indeed, marked in different ways.

Frodo's earliest rememberance was the surreptitious observation of his parents placing presents under a tree, then telling him that "Santa Claus" had brought them.  That trauma, in the dead of Winter, hangs heavy upon the subconscious of the Hobbit.  The Hobbit is grateful that hibernation exists for other mammalians, for he has no interest in dreams without end. If he had an option, Frodo would choose to dream that he had accumulated all of his required credits before the leaves fell.  He couldn't imagine failing to graduate because of that crummy grade in Statistics.  

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:34 PM EDT

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