Ya gotta love it.
June 19, 2005
TigerHawk explains the basis for this phenomenon.
Here is a sample:
We Americans are quite used to being accused of human rights violations by every dirtbag — and every apologist for dirtbags — on the planet. Activist American leftists and their anti-American supporters abroad have been accusing America of atrocities at least since the mid-sixties. According to the left, the United States and its soldiers or agents were criminals by virtue of our dealings in Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, Chile, Cuba, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Venezuela, Israel, Iraq, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, South Africa, Angola, Somalia and Ethiopia (I’m sure that I’ve forgotten a few). We know that wherever we go, whatever we do, we will be committing human rights violations — at least according to international NGOs, the BBC, most European media, most American professors, most activists in the Democratic party, and most members of the United Nations. …
I will start caring what the world’s chattering classes think when they hold non-Americans — Africans, Arabs, and Chinese in particular — to the same standards. Until they do, I am forced to conclude that these critics of America are either racist to the core — they simply expect less of Africans, Arabs and Asians — or politically anti-American. There is no third explanation. Until then, therefore, I will support our military, knowing full well that the world has never seen a serious war without some violations of law, and that this war is almost certainly the cleanest counterinsurgency since the invention of counterinsurgency.
About six months ago, daughter TJ and I hatched a plan for a surprise birthday party for Mrs. Parkway. It required the logistics of the Normandy Invasion and was shrouded in as much secrecy. The ruse was that TJ was to be receiving an award from her alma mater, and we were invited to attend the presentation.
In the ensuing months, a restaurant and a menu were chosen, invitations were printed and sent out, favors were purchased, flowers were selected and ordered, music was arranged, and a host of other details were attended to. Fortunately, TJ, who is skilled at such things, did all the heavy lifting.
What also ensured that the event would be a surprise is that it was scheduled a bit more than a week before her actual birthday (which we will also celebrate, only on a much smaller scale).
The most amazing thing is that no one, not even the Usual Suspects with whom we spend so much time (often over cocktails when people tend to blab), spilled the beans. It was comical when a few times in the past weeks, because I am not very good at writing down dates, I was rather sternly reminded by Mrs. Parkway, “Don’t for get that we have TJ’s thing on the 18th.” I would feign minor indignation by saying, “Sheesh! All right already. I haven’t forgotten.” (ha!)
The timing was flawless. I had said that we would pull out of the driveway between 6:45 and 6:50. I checked my watch (as I had done a hundred times yesterday) and confirmed that the wheels were rolling at 6:47. I called TJ from the car, explaining to Mrs. Parkway, “I want to make sure that she is already there so we don’t walk into the room without knowing a soul.” Of course, that was the signal to get everyone in position and “shooshed.”
TJ met us outside the place so she “could escort us in and introduce us.” When we walked into the room, having positioned Mrs. Parkway in the front, instead of seeing a room full of people she didn’t know, she saw approximately 50 people, family and friends, who yelled “Surprise!” in perfect unison. I caught her when I felt her knees momentarily buckle. It was a classic moment.
TJ has written a recap of the event itself better than anything I could write today, what with the post-event exhaustion and the vodka-spawned bass drum that is beating inside my head at the moment.
Yep. Just like the Invasion of Normandy. It was a great success.
Oh, and Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there. I know that I caught the brass ring in the Fatherhood Department. I had a wonderful father, and I have a wonderful daughter.