A day of interesting conversations

A reader tells me:

r: your blog is so personal, I could never blog in that way…
nc: personal? I wont even reveal the top movies selected in my name by the “pick-a-DVD service” (see post sometime in January), I write about the most benign events in my life, I say little, if anything, about what I’m REALLY thinking, that’s for email or personal encounters, not for BLOGS…what do you mean by ‘personal’?

r: well, just as an example I would never say where it is that I am traveling..
nc: that is completely impersonal! I write travel stories on the side, that’s how impersonal travel is in my mind. I hosted a travel website for years and wrote constantly about visits to family farms and vineyards in distant places. Writing about travel is not personal, it’s a nudge to look at an issue from the other side of the ocean, with a different focus perhaps…

r: well yes, but you reveal your position in the process of writing.
nc: do I? Are you sure? Maybe sometimes. I suppose. I guess everyone does know whom I voted for. Or, at least it can be assumed. I’ll grant this much: writing a blog is much like going to a dinner with hosts at a foreign university: the same level of detail would go into a conversation there. After a shot of sake, that detail may expand a little, but it will always be a story within the boundaries of that wonderful, yet limited, conversation.

“Drama-starved pundits…”

“Drama-starved pundits"--these are words used in a WPost article today referring to those who will pick up on Cheney’s comments on the gay marriage saga, looking to see if there is enough of a rift between Cheney and Bush for the president to dump Cheney from the ticket anytime soon. Not wishing to be subsumed into this category, I will NOT devote much space to Cheney’s very amusing answer to the question of whether he supported Bush’s proposed constitutional amendment to ban gay marriage [hint – Cheney made himself out to be a complete non-person, which is perhaps not a surprise, but it is rather funny in an awful sort of way].

Perhaps more disturbing is the reporting of support in this country for the VP: Cheney has an approval rating of 33 percent, disapproval 36, and 31 had no opinion. As to that last number, in the words of the Post, “where have these folks been?”

the happy families of Coaticook

The NYT describes (here) a town in Quebec (Coaticook) where the mayor is providing subsidies so that people would hurry up and multiply. Currently, the number of births averages to about 1.3 per couple. He is hoping that by throwing in a large sum of money for a third child (and fourth, and fifth…), along with subsidies for children’s sports equipment and music lessons, he can keep the families large, culturally and physically fit, and happily married.

Maybe, maybe not. He admits to having no data to support this, though he feels that it can’t but help prod families into making that decision to have even more little rabbits.

The fact is, family-friendly subsidies are not new. Many countries use financial incentives to boost reproduction and to keep young parents in the work force. France is a classic: over 80% of women are employed (ditto Japan) – a fact that reflects the country’s offers of day care subsidies, nanny subsidies, and a number of other benefits for the birthing mother. Last I checked, close to 95% of all French children ages 3 – 5 attended state-funded child care programs (with great food to boot). Far fewer women are in the workforce in Britain and Canada– where the governments are less forthcoming with subsidies.

In Coaticook, Cananda the offer is of piano lessons and hockey sticks and $750 as an incentive to have that extra child. Parents are grateful, I’m sure, with every peanut thrown their way, but oh, is this ever a peanut!

Conversation in the hallway

reader (r): if you could have 5 million people read your blog daily, would you be happy?
nc: No. definitely not. All those anonymous addresses clicking in – never.

r: if you could have 5 thousand people read your blog daily, would you be happy?
nc: no, same reasons.

r: if you could have 500 people read your blog daily, would you be happy?
nc: I think that’s still too much. Unless the readership was composed of people who were no more than one degree of separation removed from me: friends of friends is okay. Friends of friends of friends -- maybe. Complete strangers? It’s not whom I think of when I write a post. I’d have to change my style.

r: if you could have 50 people read your blog daily, would you be happy?
nc: that’s it? I have 50 people in my Family Law class alone. I’m sure this blog hasn’t yet reached all their computerized little fingers, but yes, I would like at least two readers who are not reading to see if they can figure out if I say anything that will help them on their exam.

r: so how many readers would make you happy?
nc: quality, man, it’s all about quality. A reader should like to read the kind of stuff that I like to write about. Style, content, experiences, quirky selection of topics – all that has to please, otherwise it’s a misfire. Lucky thing is, if you’re a reader who logs on only to wince at the mere titles of some of the posts, you of course know that you can find a million other blogs to make you happy. Or, you can start your own little slice of heaven. [And I want to see YOU keep it lively and bold on a daily basis, for months and months!]

What’s wrong with slam dunker?

Class notes from today:

nc: “Why isn’t this case a slam dunker, a no brainer, and easy win for the plaintif?

student: “Professor Camic, it’s not a slam dunker because you can’t say anything is a slam dunker. The word is ‘slam dunk’.” [here student makes a swift and forceful hand motion implying some baseball move that is unrecognizable by me but appears to satisfy the visual requirements of what is a slam dunk]

The edification of the immigrant continues.

Brief comment after ever-so-brief walk with dog

Weather update: the snow has officially melted in the backyard. Completely. Now is the time to draw mighty plans and turn great ambitions into reality: the season of heaving and hoeing is just ahead. Each year I remove the next five to ten square feet of lawn and convert it into planting space. I do it by hand – none of the heavy machinery for me. I’d spent my first years of life and the best part of every childhood summer in a remote village in Poland with my grandparents (electricity arrived only when I was 5, running water and indoor plumbing came much much later). The love of working the soil comes from those years. Now if I could only convert all this suburban rocky clay soil into something that can sustain plantlife, I would be happy.

Politics and songs

An interesting article in the Washington Post today made me wonder if its mission is to spot inconsistencies in NYT reporting (read it here). But let me bypass that for now. Further into the piece, the author turns his attention to Kerry’s campaign (this is a cite twice removed – in other words, I am citing to the Post, which, inturn, is citing to the National Review and so there is an element of mockery here):

Why does Sen. John Kerry talk incessantly about Vietnam?
Obviously, it has given him a great political advantage in past campaigns and he hopes it will do the same in his race for the White House. But there might be another reason. Perhaps more than any other presidential candidate in recent memory, Kerry seems to be living in another time, playing a movie of Vietnam over and over in his mind . . .
Is Kerry's the only campaign to play Jimi Hendrix -- specifically, 'Fire' from the 1967 album Are You Experienced? -- at rallies? Other candidates -- like John Edwards, with his theme song, John Mellencamp's 'Small Town' -- aren't exactly cutting edge, but they have chosen somewhat newer stuff.
And what about the music on Kerry's bus? Before the Iowa caucuses, Washington Post reporter Ceci Connolly described the candidate hanging out on the bus with Peter Yarrow, his old friend from Peter, Paul, and Mary. 'Pedro, sing us a song,' Kerry ordered one day. Yarrow picked up a guitar and began to play and sing -- and later waxed nostalgic about the antiwar rallies he attended way back when with Kerry and Eugene McCarthy.
Earlier, Connolly wrote, when Yarrow sang 'Puff the Magic Dragon' at an event in a private home in Ames, Iowa, 'Kerry lifted his fingers to his mouth for a quick toke on an imaginary joint. You can almost see his thick mane of silver hair returning to the shaggy brown do of those days.'
This man is living in a time warp. No wonder Kerry sees any conflict -- Gulf War I, Afghanistan, Gulf War II --as a potential Vietnam. In Kerry's world, Vietnam is running on a continuous loop on that big screen TV -- with Jimi, Kris, and Peter, Paul, and Mary singing in the background.

Oh how annoying! Can we trivilaize the man any more than this?

Dressing without care

In today’s Cap Times, columnist Doug Moe both complains that Midwesterners have to “wear” the label of having no taste (especially for clothes), at the same time that he admits to hating anything other than white socks and flexible waist-line pants (would that be on a rubber band?) and to despising any sort of neck wear. Moe suggests the following reason for why men would even contemplate putting on a tie: “men wear neckties (only) because women wear high heels – it’s a form of attire revenge that each gender practices on the other.”

So is he agreeing with the label of skuzzy tastelessness? Hard to say. And maybe the label of “good taste” should not enter into any discussion of dress or style. You can only irritate someone by proclaiming knowledge of what stands behind it since claiming to recognize good taste is already a boast: it elevates you to a level of greater insight, to having an educated palate, discriminating judgment and a good eye.

But is there nothing in the claim that Midwesterners are poor dressers? Certainly everyone would agree that overall, Wisconsinites are comfort-oriented in their dress: practical rather than extravagant. I think you could go to the best restaurant in sweat pants and no one would care. In Poland, even those on a shoestring budget take great pains to present themselves well in public. You need only ride the subway in Warsaw to see this – students and older people alike are extremely mindful of what they wear. Moe in his white socks, flexible pants and open collar shirt is basically saying “heck with it, I’ll do what I dang well please.” The kinder interpretation is that clothes are, after all, only superficial markers of anyone’s worth, proxies for an affluence in resources rather than spirit. But an “I’m not going to bother” attitude does say something else about a person, doesn’t it? Being a slob, clothes-wise or otherwise, is a request for the indulgence of others. Isn’t it a sign that you’re privileging the self over those around you?

What if

A Polish reader sent me photos from the reunion of our university class of economists. I had begun my studies in econometrics with these guys at the U of Warsaw in 1969, and I would have gotten my MA with them in 1974 had I stayed, but I barreled out halfway and moved to NY and to a new field of study – sociology (only, in the end, to capitulate to law). The photos had the effect that reunions have on people if you haven’t been tracking others’ progress. Everyone looked much the same, only 30+ years older.

It is interesting to play the “what if” game with yourself, so I indulged in a little fantasy, aided by the photos. What if I had stayed... I’d be there juggling a glass of wine (one hopes it is wine and not stronger stuff, but in Poland you never know) with them, talking about our changing careers in light of Poland’s economic reforms (my class was greatly affected by the transformations – not always in a positive way; some are struggling with keeping employed). I’d exchange stories about how my little bobus (kiddie) turned into a fine young Zygmunt or Waclaw (neither name is particularly a favorite, but I’m just spinning here), and I’d ask for a recipe for the newest version of poppy-seed cake. We’d review our winter vacations and our plans for the summer (Poles cannot be content without at least two hefty vacations, during the winter and summer, sometimes supplemented with a brief little escape, maybe for a week or so, in the fall). Most definitely we’d comment on how joining the EU will affect the environment, or the success of a local favorite shop that's struggling to stay in business. Everyone talks about the EU, and us econometricians would be right in there churnin’ numbers and keeping fingers crossed. Late at night we’d walk the city streets toward home – but wait, who is “we” and where is “home?” Here’s where the game starts being complicated. Better get back to work – so much easier and more linear.

Days of wine and marriages

An odd way to begin a new month, a new week, and a new morning: to write a blog post about a story from last month’s Wine Spectator.

It all, however, makes sense. I have been up since dawn clearing the stack of accumulated bills and magazines from February in what has become a monthly ritual (first day of each month) of bill-paying, grumbling about paper waste and junk mail, and in general, snarling at every window-envelope that crosses my path. I am almost done with the stack and am celebrating with a quick post on an article I paused to read a minute ago.

The article is about Gavin Newsome, obviously written before Mr. Newsome put himself on the map by permitting gay marriages in the city where he is mayor (SF). My Berkeley-residing mother had already alerted me to the fact that he is an ambitious individual (somehow when she says this it always sounds like a pejorative). The WS article, similarly, is not blind to Newsome’s ambitions. It starts out with the following:

Garvin Newsome seems to have it all—a successful business centered around wine, restaurants and resorts; good looks, charm and sophistication; a wife who is a former model turned city prosecutor; a politically connected father [later on we find out that his dad is a retired state appeals court judge]; and a billionaire family friend and financial backer [that would be Billy Getty, son of billionaire philanthropist, Gordon Getty]. Now, at age 36, he is also the new mayor of SF and a rising star in the Democratic Party. Newsome…says he always tries to set ‘big, hairy [??], audacious goals’ for his business and for himself. ‘I don’t want to have a modest goal and then reach for it,’ says the entrepreneur, whose innovative businesses include a fine dining restaurant that sells wine at retail prices [this is unheard of: our trio of top-of-the line restaurants in Madison marks up at 2 -3 times the retail price, which always makes me ill] and a winery that puts screw caps on a $100 plus cabernet [way to go! Cork spoilage is the single biggest reason why nice bottles of wine sometimes taste like bird bath water; even when the wine survives an imperfect cork, it may still be in some way affected by it. A good way to satisfy yourself that this is true is to blind-taste wine from many bottles coming from the same case, same cellar, same barrel—they wont all taste the same; how can that be? Obviously cork impact].

Stories of this type of energetic enthusiasm for bold reform are rare. Newsome’s ambitions appear to be targeting even higher goals for the future. Can he sustain his fervor for affecting change? He says of himself that he “lives in exclamation points!” How refreshing. I’m such a fan of this type of passion and zest. Surrounding yourself with images of (and contacts with, if you're lucky) people who live “in exclamation points," as opposed to between anti-smiley faces such as this :( , has to be the healthiest way to proceed and create (whatever it is that you are destined to create).

Reflecting on the Academy Awards

A reader who has been amused with my Award obsession for a while now suggested that I perhaps should consider switching my focus to the “Independent Spirit Awards” (aired late Saturday night). I must truthfully admit that I had never heard of these awards (possibly because I tuned out at the mere sound of the words “Independent Spirit” in the media, thinking these to be signifiers of some military action in a distant region of the planet). Okay, assuming that these are authentic awards, what is it that sets them apart from the rest? My friend writes that the Independent Spirit Awards were more entertaining in a less formal way, with recognition going to a greater variety of films. And what were the results? Who even showd up? My pal says: “Lost in Translation dominated, and Charlize, looking incredible in jeans and a white blazer, won. Those two darling girls from In America were there.” It does sound like a better version of what I succumb to each year.

It almost made me want to give up on the Academies in the future, but not entirely. For one thing, if you have been watching something regularly since 1976, without a break, it would have to be a pretty miserable experience for you to give it up now. Also, you know that the world (or 1 billion pop, which is a good part of the viewing public) is watching and so you are tracking not only the winners but the possible reaction of those watching the winners.

But it is frustrating when you do tune in and you find that all dresses look alike, all speeches sound alike, and there are NO SURPRISES (except that Sean Penn showed up; A+ for his comment, too). Many will write tomorrow that these were the most boring of all the Oscar shows. Not true for me– I did NOT drift off, there were no long production numbers, and Billy was tame but not sleep-inducing.

Maybe it is more of a milestone than anything else: it’s March (or this year: almost March), we’re almost done with winter, and there is hope: that someone will say something that will change the world in a positive way, that someone will be recognized for a talent that is truly remarkable, that there will be something there to amuse us on that big gray box called the TV.

So, one realized hope out of three isn’t bad, right? And there’s next year to look forward to. Only someone else will have to slaughter the lobsters (see post below). It’s just getting to be too brutal for me.

Things that a blogger can be grateful for:

...That a small handful of Academy Award recipients had the drive to include in their message of thanks something/someone other than names of unknown to us people (sincere thanks to moms is a good things, as are messages questioning the existence of WMD);

...That the balance of support v. protest against some of the content of this blog today was kept level at 1:1 (at least this is a guess – I am assuming there was silent support, since people don’t typically write unless they have objections);

...That it is now officially March, a month that portends of good things to come, thereby negating all the bad omens associated with February.

A Sunday evening quiz

Q: What happens when you set your internal alarm to 6pm (central time) thinking that this is when the Awards are aired and find yourself staring at Barbara Walters instead?
A: I turn beet red, turn off the TV and go back to blogging.

Q: What does it say about a 'scholar' who chooses to watch the Awards but neglects the political debate between democratic candidates earlier that day?
A: That she was busy earlier maybe doing her work so that she could take the time to do something frivolous in the evening?

Q: Is plunging live lobsters into a pot of boiling water a humane act ending lobster misery, or an act of sheer barbarian monstrosity?
A: Somewhere in between, but I hate doing it and offer prayers of remorse even though I am not exactly religious.

Q: Is it okay to watch something so inane as Barbara Walters interviewing DK of NY?
A: No, but I’m itching to do it, so the post ends here.

Is it me or you?

A wonderfully loyal reader and friend from Poland today admitted that sometimes my text runs completely into terrain that muddles and befuddles her. I just want to publicly reassure her that this isn’t at all due to her (or anyone’s) knowledge of English of Americanisms. It muddles and befuddles most readers I am sure. In fact, I just took an informal poll and the results are clear: I write spontaneously, oddly, inconsistently on topics that range from odd to odder (why DID I blog about my ancient truck, excuse me, van?). In my moment of complete humility and deep appreciation – thank you all for sticking by me in this project.

Sunday chat

I am recording the following conversation between a reader (r) and myself (n):

r: I have known you all these years and I never knew you owned a truck [referring to post from February 28]

n: Yes, you do know! Don’t you remember the time you needed a ride to Noah’s Ark where the water animals play?

r: You have never given me a ride in a truck. Well, once, you helped me move in a U-Haul truck, but that is it. And where do you keep the truck? Does it fit in your garage? Is it a pick-up? Like one of those Chevy pick-ups that they write songs about?

n: Of course not, it’s just a gray number, with a cracked headlight from the day you borrowed it and decided that you would fit it into a tight parking place at Border’s but couldn’t.

r: That is not a truck! It is nowhere near a truck! You are misleading your readership.

n: Listen, where I come from, a vehicle that is five times as big as you need or want it to be is a truck. A car is a little number that you zip through narrow passageways. This is a monster vehicle therefore, in my eyes, it is a truck. (sigh) People here can be so literal…

Taxes and legacy admissions

The NYT Magazine has an article today that tracks the debate about whether universities should abandon the “legacy advantage” in their admissions policies. The author notes that affirmative action has become the “political punching bag of the right” while legacy admissions – a significantly less important factor in admissions, but a factor nonetheless – has become the “political punching bag of the left.” The article concludes that neither affirmative action nor legacy status are going to go away anytime soon.

Oh, I know the time has come to cast away legacies – a relic of an aristocratic past, I know… For me, however, legacy status has a fundamental similarity to taxes. How so? Well, I am big on taxes. I only don’t like them in practice because they take a chunk out of the paycheck. But I believe in them, I don’t try to avoid paying them, and I think it is right that I should pay more if my income goes up (which it wont – see post on February 27). The devil within, however, gets happy when there is a rebate check in the mail. I do not send it back to the IRS with a note saying – here, the government needs this more than I do. I deposit it in the bank and think happy thoughts about next year’s vacation.

I feel the same way about legacy admissions: I agree that they are inherently unfair. Being in a household full of first generation college (to say nothing of post-college) grads, I certainly can say that I reaped no legacy benefit, and that offspring of this household reaped no benefit either, given their own educational choices. So of course, I am a wee bit wistful: when the first-time reapers, the yet-to-be-born grandchildren can finally lay claim to that privilege –pfffft! away it flies. I know, I know –and so it should. But darn it, can we wait just one more generation before we get rid of it? No no, I didn’t mean it. I like taxes, I don’t like legacies. Final answer.

Blog posts well taken

I want to mention two blog posts that were as interesting as anything I might cite to in the press:
The first is Tonya’s (here), where she states her belief that film stars rarely transit successfully into the music world. I balked when I read that. [Though I do think that her other comments about the incongruity of upper-east-side NY women rapping are well-taken; I’m not sure that I agree in principle, but I do see that it is an awkward genre to push yourself into if you haven’t any identification with the life milieu that gave birth to this type of music.] Surely that can’t be right? Oh yes it is: there ARE more singers that move successfully into acting than there are actresses/actors who then pick up a singing career. I can think of a million that have gone the route of singing-to-acting and I cannot think of any moving in the other direction with great success. A friend pointed me to Lena Horn, since she really became initially famous for her movies and only later did her singing career take off. Oh, and I suppose one could mention Jim Nabors – how about that, I now have all of TWO! But why is it almost impossible to go further with this list?

The other post that made me dig into my limited storage chest of counter examples was Ann’s (here) where she reflected that most politicians tout the careers of their fathers and rarely showcase the humble work of their mothers. Of course, there is a small group out there (Clinton comes to mind) without identifiable fathers, and in those cases humble moms make the cut. But the point can be taken out of the political context as well. I have a number of colleagues who paint a picture of their upward mobility by referencing their dad’s work, by-passing their equally blue-collar employed moms. Here, the reasons aren’t so mysterious, but the general phenomenon is fascinating nonetheless, in that, absent some element of fame associated with our mothers, we almost always rush to describe the work of our fathers, and sometimes by-pass entirely the achievements or under-achievements of our mothers. If you don’t buy this, try in your imagination to start the description in the other direction – “my mother was…. “ and then after a pause “… oh, and my father was…” Awkward, and rarely done.

Slow food

Good title because: it has been a slow blogger day, and I haven’t had enough food to keep me happy (an evening event that was never touted as being food-centered turned out to be even less food based than one would have expected, leaving me basically hungry).

Slow Food is, of course, a movement, born in Italy, but spread to many parts of the world (see their web site here). It is an idea that I deeply believe in but can only adhere to in an abstract sort of way, because in reality it appears to run counter to everything else that we do to speed through life. We do not slow down to cook, to eat, to savor (the company or the food), we don’t slow down for much of anything. Though, I have to admit to being a card-carrying member of the snail – the symbol of Slow Food. And I’m proud of it.

UN on the march

In her blog (here), Ann linked to a songbook, dated 1944, that is a compilation of lyrics for songs of the Women’s Army Corps. I had seen her copy of this, and the link now gave me a chance to read over some of the songs. I was especially intrigued with the section that has the so-called songs of the United Nations, and disappointed that the idea here was only to give a chance to mispronounce some words from far away places in the spirit of global unity.

In a different forum, one can pick up still other songs that are identified with the UN. At the UN school, even in 2nd grade (which is when I joined the school, in 1960) we would start off each weekly assembly with the following:

The sun and the stars are ringing
With song rising strong from the earth
The hope of humanity singing
A hymn to a new world in birth

Chorus: United Nations on the march
With flags unfurled
Together fight for victory
A free new world

Take heart all new nations swept under
By powers of darkness that rise
The wrath of the people shall thunder
Relentless as time and the tide
(chorus)

As soon as the sun meets the morning
And rivers go down to the sea
A new world for mankind is dawning
Our children shall live proud and free.
(chorus)

It was, in retrospect, rather funny to have the younger and older students sing these lyrics over and over again. For my rather confused, 7-year-old mind, learning English was tough enough. I’m sure I missed the subtleties of “take heart all you nations swept under by powers of darkness that rise.” But oh, how I would love to belt out that part about the marching United Nations, all fighting (fighting whom?) together for a free new world. I was such a fan of this idea. I loved my school (even though the city of New York generously let us use only a “condemned” former public school building; weekly fire drills thus had to be enforced with an iron hand, because the threat was very real), I loved the UN itself – the great meeting halls inside thrilled me to pieces. They still sort of do.

And I wasn’t the only one who felt allegiance to the ideas espoused in the song and the school in general. Of course, you had to be pretty forward thinking to begin with to send your child there, what with all those little communist kiddies running around the already dirty halls. But it is worth noting that from my small class of about 20, my best buddy Radhika Coomaraswamy (for whom I dedicated a song on WABC Radio – “the 19th nervous breakdown” – because I was leaving the States 'for good', and I knew she liked it; sadly, the announcer butchered her name, though she wasn’t listening at the right moment anyway) became the UN Special Rapporteur on Violence against Women, sweet little Ashok Alexander is now the Director of the India AIDS Foundation, funky John Zorn with his shirt tails always dangling, turned out to be quite a remarkable musician-saxophonist (it started with the UN song!!), recognized now for championing the music of the obscure, forgotten artists – most others I’ve lost contact with, but I am imagining that they are pushing other important boundaries, commensurate with the spirit of our school. So was it simply a blind repetition of lyrics? Maybe not.

Retreat into politics

I’ve noticed in myself a reluctance to blog in a political vein lately. There are many reasons for it (among other things, what I think about politics is oft times predictable and even oftener --not with a great deal of entertainment value; to agree with a position is not, for me, blogworthy unless that agreement comes with a singularly interesting perspective), but I will step away from this pattern for a minute and point to the Washington Post editorial today. It states a very simple truth: GWB is starting with the Republican fear campaign, imbedding in everyone the idea that “a Democrat in the White House will only raise taxes.”

The Post correctly states (isn’t it nice that little me can vouch for the veracity of the leading DC journal) that neither Kerry nor Edwards want to repeal the tax cuts for the vast majority of income earners, keeping in place the child tax credit, marriage penalty relief, the new 10% tax bracket, etc. What they both do want to repeal is the tax break for the 2% of Americans that have an income over $200,000.

Though we are all aware of the fact that the beneficiaries of GWB’s largess were the wealthy, I hadn’t quite studied the numbers and so it did surprise me to read that, in the words of the Post, “this group amounts to the wealthiest 2 percent, but it stands to reap 28 percent of the benefit of the tax cut this year.”
It’s a good editorial to read at a time when the Bush reelection team is starting to sound its principal economic theme. You want to keep everyone focused on keeping the simple math straight. News stories and editorials are crucial to that effort – the clarifications shouldn’t be left to the opposing Democrats, this is a matter of correcting misinformation that is coming from the White House. There are numerous opportunities on the horizon for newspapers that take on the mission of setting records straight.