Sometimes it takes a century

Health care reform is finally a reality. I never thought I would see it in my lifetime. Here is my view of it all.

When I started graduate school back in 1980, I was asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. With all the boldness of the young and naive, I stated that I wanted to be the first woman to run the national health insurance system. I actually believed that there would be one. Silly me.

Come 2003, I was one of those nameless, faceless 500 who worked on Hillary's Health Care Reform Task Force. It was an honor to be part of the effort. Then, after all that work, we watched it crash and burn as a result of LIES. More lies than I could imagine. And those lies went uanswered. Harry and Louise were the chief purveyors of the lies, you may recall. Harry and Louise were the well-financed creation of the private health insurance industry.

When Obama was elected, I was pleased to know that health care reform was going to be his #1 priority. But I didn't really expect much to come of it. There had already been so many tries -- Theodore Roosevelt, Franklin Roosevelt, Harry Truman, Lyndon Johnson, Richard Nixon (didn't expect to see that name, did you?), Bill Clinton -- and they all ended in failure. The wounds of the Clinton failure were still a bit raw.  Lyndon Johnson came closest. He managed to get Medicare and Medicaid enacted. Did you know that Medicaid (public health insurance for the poor) was added to the Medicare (public health insurance for the elderly) legislation in an attempt to kill it? Today, millions of people reject "government health care" but think Medicare is sacrosanct, just like Social Security. 1965 … the good old days, when the President and Congress could get big things done.

Then, Obama turned responsibility for reform over to the Congress. Big mistake, right? Well, no, it wasn't. Rather, it demonstrated that President-O had learned an important lesson from Bill Clinton, i.e., it is Congress that eventually has to pass the bloody bill. He learned another important lesson too:  expose the lies, of which there were plenty.

And what did Congress do? They dithered ... and negotiated ... and politicked ... and did what Congress does. But eventually, the House of Representatives passed a bill. It took Speaker Pelosi a good long while, and she had to cut some deals, and eventually she had to cave to the anti-choice crowd, but she got the bill passed. (I won't criticize her for caving. Obviously, she knew that she would have another bite at the apple during reconciliation of the House and Senate bills.) And then all eyes and hopes turned to the Senate. And what did the Senate do? They dithered ... and negotiated ... and politicked ... and, well, you know, they did what they do. Senate Majority Leader Harry Ried's constituents in Nevada applied pressure (lots of it). Ted Kennedy died. What a mammoth loss! But eventually, on Christmas Eve, the Senate also passed their bill, depending on their razor thin margin of 60, without which a filibuster from the Republicans would have been the bill's death knell. What a Christmas present!

All that remained (or so it seemed) was for the House and Senate to get together in January, reconcile the two bills (that is, work out all the differences between them and make them identical), and then pass the reconciled bill. Simple, right? WRONG. The differences between the bills were major in several areas, not the least of which was how to pay for it and whether there would be a "public option." A public option (in the House bill, but not the Senate one) would have provided a public insurance option to compete with private insurers. An amazing number of people (many Republicans, for instance) who say they love competition in the marketplace reject this kind of competition, so the public option was a really big difference to reconcile. And, of course, everyone wants benefits but no one wants to pay for them, so how to finance health care reform was equally big and divisive. These weren't the only big differences, but they are illustrative of just how far apart the House and the Senate began their reconciliation negotiations.

And then Massachusetts threw a new monkey wrench into the machinery by electing a Republican to fill the Senate seat vacated by Ted Kennedy. And with that one fell swoop, the Senate Democrats no longer had that filibuster-proof 60-vote majority. Death to health reform? Near death, certainly. And after it became clear that no Republican would compromise even a little, only one option remained. The House had to pass the Senate bill AS IS. That was the only way. The Senate couldn't pass a bill, any bill, anymore. It was all up to the House, and Speaker Pelosi. Of course, they did maneuver a way to make some reconciliations. If the House would pass the Senate bill, then both the House and the Senate agreed to pass some amendments, and the Senate decided (with Senator Byrd's blessing) that they could pass the amendments under rules for budget reconciliation, which cannot be filibustered. In other words, the Senate could pass the amendments with 51 votes, not 60.

And they did it. The House passed the Senate bill, and the House passed the agreed-upon amendments. The anti-choice Democrats were placated with an executive order that probably means nothing. The Senate has now passed the amendments; they had plenty of votes to do it. President Obama signed the health care reform bill into law. In short, they made history.

Is it a good law? Absolutely. Is it a perfect law? Absolutely not. Policy like this gets made through compromise, hard-fought give and take. Making policy is like making sausage. It is not pretty. It was not designed to be. But they got it done.

But did they do the right thing? Winston Churchill said, "You can always count on Americans to do the right thing - after they've tried everything else." I’m not sure we’ve tried everything else, but we’ve tried health care reform failure (again and again), and we’ve tried a stupid, immoral system of letting people die for lack of insurance, and we’ve tried health insurance for the well but not the sick. We’ve tried being the only industrialized nation in the world not to have health coverage mandated for its citizens. Yes, they did the right thing. And it is well past time.

That is my view.

Non-dimensional lumber

Carpentry is fascinating.  Well, I'm fascinated, even if you aren't.  And if you're reading this, maybe you will get fascinated too.

Start with the lumber, so-called "dimensional lumber."  I guess they call it that because it comes in standard dimensions.  Yeah, right.

Who came up with the idea that a standard 2 x 4 should be 1.5 x 3.5?  And a standard 4 x 4 should be 3.5 x 3.5?  And so forth ... you get the idea.  Who?  Who! would invent such a system?

Okay, I can adapt.  I can translate all the 2 x 4s into 1.5 x 3.5s.  I have a Ph.D. 

But, then there is this other little kicker:  THEY AREN'T!  They aren't all the same size!  WHO???!!! WOULD INVENT SUCH A SYSTEM?  Clearly, they were not women.

The result is that you spend all this time making sure that your plans are accurate, that your measurements are right (measure twice ... or 3 or 4 times; cut once), that your corners are square, that your saw's fence is square, etc. etc. Then, you apply it all to lumber that has a degree of randonmess usually reserved for econometric equations.  I have not seen a single piece of carpentry advice that tells you anything about an error term.  But now you know.  The dirty little secret is out.

Can't we solve this problem?  It is the 21st century. Most machines are (or can be) controlled by computers. Don't you think it would be possible to cut two boards into equivalent sizes?  I wonder what dimensional lumber is like in countries that use the metric system?  Who regulates this stuff?

A lesson in 16 inches

I may have solved one of life's little mysteries, after asking myself dozens of times:  what is the significance of 16 inches?  That is, as in "16 inches on center."  You know, the standard distance between joists, studs, and other framing members in the typical house, garage, chicken coop, etc.

Maybe it began as so many measurements did:  the length of some body part.  Maybe the standard [male] forearm was 16 inches?  I recall that a fathom (approximately 6 feet) originated as the span between the finger tips of [a man's] outstretched arms.  (If I didn't recall this correctly, please don't bother to correct me.  You get the idea.)  But 16 inches?

The mystery has been solved.  And I solved it.  It seems that 16 inches is the minimum distance necessary to work between two framing members.  The minimum distance to fit a drill, a 3-inch screw, two hands, AND get some muscle behind it.  Yes, yes, I know that 16 inches on center probably pre-dates electric drills, but before electric there was the brace-and-bit, which also took a fair amount of space, plus screw, hands, and muscle.

How did I come to solve this incredible mystery?  I decided to overbuild the floor of our chicken coop.  I know it was a bit OCD, but I didn't want the floor to sag between joists.  So, I drew the plans for joists 12 inches on center.  The result quickly became a veritable mind puzzle ... which order do we put the pieces together so that we always have room to fasten them?  We managed to do it, but it took some figuring (and a nifty modular design -- refer to pictures on Facebook).  Necessity is the mother of invention.

This chicken coop project, another education in the making.  wow.

My Mother's Primroses

Spring sprang early this year in Oregon, and my Mother's primroses are happy.

BTW, these are not those plants with vividly fluorescent flowers you find at the nursery and grocery store this time of year. These primroses, which my Mother called cowslips, are dainty, old-fashioned flowers. They come in 3 colors: yellow, orange, and red.  A deep red, a rusty orange, and a clear soft yellow.

After my Mother died in 1984, I didn't return to West Virginia for 9 years.  When I finally could return, my old friend Pam accompanied me for the pilgrimage.  Unexpectedly, we (Pam, actually) discovered some of my Mother's flowers still growing after all those years of neglect.  We proceeded to dig up an enormous batch of plants -- primroses, roses, and my Mother's favorite "shrub bush."

Those plants spent 3 days in the trunk of my car in plastic grocery bags.  My poor little car labored with all the extra weight when we returned back over the mountains to Maryland.  I planted everything in my yard and they did okay.  When I got divorced and moved, I dug them up again and moved them to my yard in Bethesda, where they grew for the next 12 years.  During those years, the primroses grew and multiplied.  (I flourished during those years too; I did not multiply.)  They had never done this when I was growing up in West Virginia.  I guess my mother had tended them so well -- digging them up every year or so, dividing them, and replanting -- they never had a chance to multiply on their own.  Well, I am not that kind of gardener.  I practice what can best be described as "Darwinian horticulture," i.e., survival of the fittest.  These primroses are fit.

When I decided to move to Oregon, there was no question about what would happen to the primroses.  Mina and I (mostly Mina) became accustomed to making every trip from Bethesda to Corvallis with luggage at least half filled with plastic bags of plants (with substantial rootballs).  TSA became accustomed to leaving little pre-printed notes inside our luggage saying that they had been there, just to check things out.  I imagine they got a few chuckles over suitcases filled with vegetation and dirt.  Eventually, after many trips, all the primroses made it to Corvallis and took up residence in Mina's yard.  Then, of course, we moved into our current (and hopefully, last) house.

 

We delayed moving the primroses again until Mina's house was sold.  The ones we had planted in the front yard had endured the blazing Oregon sun throughout the summer with little tending and were looking not-so-good.  The ones in the shade in the back yard were looking somewhat better, but not completely happy either, due to the lack of regular watering.  Nonetheless, we dug them all up (AGAIN) and moved them to a spot on the hillside just in back of our house, just beyond the deck, right outside the kitchen window.  And we surrounded them with their own little fence to keep them from becoming deer snacks.

In very little time, they began to settle in and grow again.  But then we had a wicked cold spell during the winter.  Every plant looked less than vigorous after two weeks or so of sub-sub-freezing nights and more sub-freezing days.  And while the winter was less wet than usual for Oregon, the ground nonetheless got wet and stayed wet throughout the winter.  I began to wonder whether they would survive.  Root rot plagued my pessimistic thoughts.

But spring came to Corvallis this year in late January/early February ... very early.  By February, we had our first primrose bud, and now blossoms. 

Yes, we transplants from West Virginia ... tough, hardy stock ... are loving it here in Oregon.  Every time I see a rainbow (which is often), I know my dear friend François-Auguste is smiling at me, and every time I look at my Mother's primroses, I remember her and where I come from.  Mina and I live in a house tucked up against a hill, quite like the hill I grew up with.  (The house is nothing like the house I grew up with, but the hill reminds me of home.)  My Mother's primroses lived on that hill, and now live on this one.  They have survived, and appear to be thriving in their new home ... as am I.

Habitat for Humanity helps us too

Habitat for Humanity has long been one of my favorite charities.  When I used to have a real income, I sent them regular donations.  Now I support Habitat by shopping at their ReStore(s).  Do you?

In case you don't know, ReStore is a non-profit shop that sells home improvement goods, mostly used, often very gently used.  I used to think that shopping there was buying things intended for those less well off than I.  But eventually I realized that shopping there was a way to support Habitat AND save money simultaneously.

You never know what you're going to find.  For that reason, Mina and I have spent a lot of time "cruising" the ReStores in Corvallis and Albany.  They are not duplicates.  In fact, their inventories overlap very little.  They were a great source of irrigation supplies for our garden last summer (amazingly, it rains a fair bit in Oregon, but NOT in the summertime).

For building our chicken coop, they have been invaluable.  Our coop will include 1 French door, 3 windows ($38 for all 3!), nests built from cabinet drawers and scrap lumber, hardware cloth, screen, door latches, hinges, a tiny chicken door, chicken toys ... all from ReStore.  And when I needed that table to attach the miter saw ... ReStore had it.  Actually, they had two; I had choices.

Often, our first trip, before Home Depot, is to the ReStore.  Our chicken coop wouldn't have been the same (but it definitely would have been more expensive) without them.  Try them out sometime.

Thoughts on power tools (and their instructions)

I bought an electric drill many years ago because I needed to drive some screws that I knew couldn’t be done easily (or at all?) with a manual screw driver and my hand. Then, when I was having my Bethesda house painted (getting ready to sell it), I finally broke down and bought a cordless screw driver to take down and replace the window treatments. In each instance, what a difference having the right tool made! So, when Mina and I decided to build a chicken coop, we knew that we needed the right tools … power tools.

We decided to invest in a miter saw and a circular saw. The miter saw has been getting a workout, but not before we learned a few things that you may want to know. (If not, stop reading here.)

Unlike most users (I am presuming, but not without anecdotal evidence to support my presumption), we decided to read the instructions. Start with assembly. First we learned that the machine needed to be bolted down to a surface. That meant three trips: one to Habitat (more on them another time) and another to Home Depot. At Habitat we procured a terrific little table -- particleboard top, metal base, splayed legs for stability, shelf for stuff, portable -- for only $15. (Online, miter saw tables run $200-$300.) At Home Depot, we procured bolts, nuts, lock washers, all the stuff necessary to bolt the machine down. Total $3.20 (not too shabby). Third trip was unexpected: we were amazed to find that neither of us had a drill bit big enough for the bolt holes, so back we went to Home Depot for the right drill bit.

Having finally gotten the machine secured so it cannot escape, and having been told by numerous individuals of the male persuasion that they simply didn’t bother with that step, we moved on to the other “assembly” instructions. The first was “make sure that the fence is square.” Now, I had to wonder why any company would manufacture a miter saw with a fence that wasn’t square. Isn’t that, after all, the point? We considered saying, “Oh, it must be square; let’s cut something.” But girls will be girls. We checked the fence. It was NOT square. Which meant we had to fix it. The instructions were less than helpful here, since they told us to use the blade wrench that came with the saw to loosen the fence bolts. Imagine our surprise when we found that that wrench didn’t fit those bolts. A search ensued for the right wrench . Mina has dozens of allen wrenches and, of the dozens, one (count ‘em, one) fit.

Next, we had to check the blade to see if it was square (with the rest of the machine). Again, it would have been nice to assume that it was, but given our experience with the fence, that was a non-starter. To check the blade, all we needed was a combination square. And did we have a combination square? Noooo. So, off we went again to Home Depot. But they didn’t have a combination square that would fit into that itty- bitty space beside the blade. Off, then, to Robnett’s Hardware, a Corvallis institution. Robnett’s is one of those old-time hardware stores that seems to always have just what you need. And they did. We got the cutest little combination square you have ever seen: 6 inches long and immensely useful as we continue construction.

If this sounds like a lot of running around, it is. However, no trip in Corvallis takes more than 15 minutes, and Mina and I have come to regard any day without a trip to Home Depot as odd. The other good news is that we love our Ryobi miter saw ($114), especially now that it has a square fence, its own personal table, and security.

Chickens ... getting started

This is for all of you planning to do it (Randy and Mikyla) or any of you who may be tempted. I figured I could provide some lessons learned.

We started with a crazy idea, then moved to books. As we learned more, the idea became less crazy.

The best books I found were the following:

1. Keep chickens! : tending small flocks in cities, suburbs, and other small spaces by Barbara Kilarski, who happens to keep her chickens in Portland.  
2. Hen and the art of chicken maintenance : reflections on keeping chickens by Martin Gurdon, a Brit who wrote a hilarious account despite having lots of chicken health issues that we hope to avoid. His chicken physical therapy was ingenious.  
3. Still life with chickens : starting over in a house by the sea by Catherine Goldhammer was entertaining, but basically chick lit (no pun intended). However, it had an extensive introduction to keeping baby chicks alive and well.  
4. Pocketful of Poultry by Carol Ekarius is a wonderful little encyclopedia of chicken breeds, but it will make you yearn for breeds that you will never find and can never have. As it turns out, most anyplace that ships chicks will only ship 20 or 25 at a time, so unless you want to start a production farm, buy local. 

BTW, I wouldn't advise buying any any of these books. Even I (who love to buy and own books) have found that THIS is what libraries are really for. And the Corvallis public library has a huge collection of chicken books. Who knew?