Ever since President Biden announced his $3 trillion Infrastructure Bill, you figured that the debate over it would be about the money. Not just for how much the amount being presented was, but on the other end, those who felt it wasn't nearly enough.
But although those debates have occurred, who would have imagined that the biggest Republican talking point was not money -- and was not even whether the areas proposed to rebuild were in need of improvement and upgrading -- but rather what infrastructure actually was. There we have Republicans that the Biden proposal was inappropriate because the broadband Internet system wasn't brick-and-mortar infrastructure. Or that the electric grid wasn't. brick-and-mortar infrastructure. Or that nursing home care wasn't brick-and-mortar infrastructure. Or...or...or... They weren't traditional infrastructure, so, no, they aren't infrastructure. Of course, once upon a time during the days of the horse-and-buggy, automobiles weren't traditional infrastructure either. Or in the days of the Model T, that weird Wright Brothers contraption, the aeroplane, most certainly wasn't infrastructure. Infrastructure? A federal program for those death traps? Would be be insane enough to go up in the sky with one of those things? If God meant for Man to fly, he'd have given us wings and bodies that could all fit into a narrow seat. Less than 70 years ago -- during the lifetime of many Americans, or at the very least, the lifetime of most Americans' grandparents -- we didn't have a national highway system. Highways, during this recent lifetime, were not traditional infrastructure. But, oh, no, if it's not Traditional Infrastructure, if it's not bridges and roads and ports, it's apparently not actually infrastructure. The thing is, the point here isn't about what infrastructure is or even the cost of it all. The point is that I realized this is all an issue of semantics. After all, Republicans -- at the moment -- aren't especially debating money or whether any of the proposals are deserving. It's what is infrastructure. My suggestion is that as good, clean and tradition a word as "infrastructure" is, it would be a totally different matter if the White House had instead called their plan, the "Things America Needs to Grow and Be Strong and Up to Date in the Future Bill." Call the Bill that and you no longer have to win an argument of whether the Internet is "infrastructure" And whether the electric grid is "infrastructure" And whether nursing home care is "infrastructure" You only would have to argue "This is really, really important to how America with run in the future and compete with the rest of the world and provide for the well-being of the country, while creating jobs to build it all." Now, yes, there would then be a debate on whether each of these needing improving and how much less or more we should spend on that. But that's the debate we would have -- and should have. Not one about, "Hey, that isn't a bridge, it's not infrastructure." And not only would it focus the matter far more intently for politicians in Washington, it would, as well, for Americans. They could agree or disagree, but worry about improving the national broadband Internet network and not sit around the kitchen table pondering "infrastructure." I like the word "infrastructure." It's annoying to type -- especially when you have to type it a lot and it keeps coming out as "infracture" or "infastcturture"-- but other than that, it's a good, sold word with a lot of texture. But y'know, we can still have a "Things America Needs to Grow and Be Strong and Up to Date in the Future Bill" where one of those things is...traditional infrastructure. Bridges, roads, ports, all that good stuff that's solid and you can fee it and hold it in your hands, provided you have hands big enough to hold a road. And plenty of room left over for all those things that society builds on as it changes. Like, well, the Internet and electricity. And even provide a corner over there for the foundation of it all, the care of people. So, there would be something for everyone. Not that everyone would want something that had something for everyone. And that's okay. But at least they would have to go on the record as being against things America needs to grow and be strong and up to date in the future. One of my regular treats during the pandemic is that I bought a waffle maker and make waffles every weekend. I don't make them "officially" -- that would require keeping stocked with a variety of perishable ingredients that I not only didn't always have around, but was too problematic to always have around during a pandemic. So, I've made my basic version...and find them very tasty, especially with the toppings and syrup I add. All this is a way of saying that here's another of those "50 People Who Try to..." videos from the kitchens of Epicurious.com -- this time on....well, I'm guessing you figured it out by now...waffles. I've mentioned a few times in the past about my cousin Jim Kaplan who is originally from Indiana, but lives out here in Los Angeles now with his family and has a life-long love of boats. Growing up on the Indiana Dunes of Lake Michigan, he worked in the family department store in Gary, a wonderful place called H. Gordon & Sons. (Harry Gordon was my mother's grandfather.) But it was always boats that were his joy, And since moving to L.A., he's worked in the marine industry for decades. I've told of my first adventure with Jim on a boat in Los Angeles many years ago, a small craft that was affectionately dubbed "Kaplan's Folly," when he agreed to take the tub down to San Diego for a client, and I signed on as one of the four-person crew, leaving port before dawn broke. We only made it about halfway, because the old piece of junk started leaking worse than all the Trump whistleblowers put together, and we happily were able to make it to shore safely. We ditched the thing, told the owner he was on his own for what to do with it, and called Jim's dear wife Olga to pleased drive down several hours to pick us up. The one good thing is that we did see a school of dolphins when we were at sea. Since then, Jim has bought a few small sailboat/motorboats of his own, and they've clearly fared much better, which is obvious since he hasn't been drowned. They've each done their duty until the sea and time took its toll on them, and it was time to let them be. And a few years ago, he decided to dive in once more, and got the now-christened Flying Fish III. Those are mostly the tales I've told over the past 2-3 years, how he's invited to head out to sea with him, and I've joined him on new tales of the high seas maybe once a month -- sometimes more, sometimes less -- and we even made it through inopportune squall back in 2019. Trust me, this below of the Commodore doesn't do the squall justice, since pouring rain and high winds don't come through photos very well. Though, interestingly they do come through most everything else impeccably, including clothes and one's bones. Alas, one of the things that had to be cut out during the pandemic were our boat jaunts -- though "Kappy" (about as good a nickname as their is for someone who worked in the marine industry, given to him by his fellow workers) was able to start going out a month or so ago. Which brings us to the point of this all. Since Jim and Olga have now had their two vaccinations, and I have, as well, yesterday I went on my first sea journey with Captain Ahab in over a year. Not only did we both feel safe to do so on a vaccination level, but we figured that if there was anyplace on earth that would be additionally safe during a pandemic, it would be in the middle of the ocean. And so, it was a joy to finally do something as active and ethereally wonderful as this. And it was with great pleasure that I, at last, again got to make my traditional request when reaching the dock -- "Permission to come aboard, sir?" And an equal pleasure to finally hear, "Permission granted." And to Jim's everlasting credit, he continued not to get annoyed when (as is my own tradition for the heck of it) I asked the same permission each time I got off the boat at the dock when helping set up the sails and then had to get back on board. And all the better, for this Maiden Voyage of a sort we didn't sink or get hit by a squall. Happily, that's almost always the case -- but you never know. I’m a big fan of the Thin Man movies with William Powell and Myrna Loy, all of which ran on TCM the day of New Years Eve, but I had no recollection that in 1988 she received a Kennedy Center Honor. Her career when far beyond that series, obviously. In fact, it began in the silents to even being in a Columbo episode. But even much further. From 1925 to 1982, including The End with Burt Reynolds, with The Best Years of Our Lives in between. Usually the Kennedy Center Honors tributes for actors are challenged to be as entertaining as those whose careers were in music, but the producers were able to find a twist from her life that allowed there to be musical entertainment. It seems like this perhaps goes on a bit longer, though that's just a guess, and it's very enjoyable regardless. |
AuthorRobert J. Elisberg is a political commentator, screenwriter, novelist, tech writer and also some other things that I just tend to keep forgetting. Feedspot Badge of Honor
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