Fencing and Jousting

A gorgeous young lady told me that teenagers like their webcams. I thanked her for her guide to the general-purpose uses that the next generation puts the last generation's special-purpose products. She's the type of gal I could spend time looking up Toshiba recovery discs with.

Jewels like her are priceless. Other jewels are ageless. Gems. Like the ones on display behind glass counters at Unclaimed Baggage - busy and beautiful, with sparkling eyes and playful expressions. Skinned like cougars but purring like lionesses. Would I spend a weekend with any one of them in a quiet, tree-lined resort? You bet I did...I mean, would.

Claire's going to Ireland but not, I see, County Clare. Too bad. The resort-like feel of the town of Ennis would make her eyes more attractive. I've eaten at Queen's and King's pubs there. I've lived there a time or two. Played word games in rooms at the Old Ground and Temple Gate. And now, the world being tinier than an Ennis roadway, Ali's returning home. I am at peace. I hope he will be. Hopefully, no one will fill the fountain with detergent soap - the town's clean enough as it is, bypasses going 'round about.

Ali. A name close to ally. A friend to all. Enemy only when ringing ears. Close to the Halfway House, another pub on the stop along the roadway to Ennis. From halfway to all the way back home again, stopping to greet another friend in the White House on the road to Kentucky.

And when you do, thank Michelle for her Earthly efforts but more importantly, emphasize the strength of the land, where farmers' markets still feed those who see locally-grown food is good for everyone. Millions have marched on the Mall, many more shopping at them, but the millions who buy from those who actually till the land have the clearest view, even those within the Beltway.

I like chefs for the same reason. They search for the freshest, naturally-grown goods, blending their specialties more refined than any words we writers could cook up. I do not cook, I heat my food. I do not look for the perfect pesto mortar and pestle. I leave food preparation to the professionals, my days as a short-order cook behind me. Executive Chef Kurt Jones and his sous chef recently treated me to four courses that captured and held me in their enchantment (which my wife and I swear was seductively laced aphrodisiacistically, my tongue as twisted now as it was this past weekend).

Our world is Ten Thousand Villages strong. We forget that in our cocooned lives, secure in our beliefs that we live on the enlightened path. Do I always agree with my neighbour? No. I don't mow my land but he wishes I did - I wish he wasn't a prairie cowboy riding his grass-eating monster. But we live next to each other peaceably, our goals similar but not alike. We both want to live. We both want our neighbours to have good lives. And if pressed, we'd agree that we want our species to continue on without us one day.

My neighbours live all over the planet. If I let others demonize my neighbours, then I have lost contact with two people, the demonizer and the demonized. If we let others seduce our neighbours into bad habits, we lose our neighbours and separate ourselves from the seducers. No one is my enemy. My fight is with closed doors and property with security fences. Lead by example. Treat everyone the same. Neighbours. Take off the blinders and look around. Smile. Reach out your hand, seeing through the fog that flued headlines billow. Allow ourselves to be eccentric. See differences as talents, not handicaps. From the atomic to the cellular to our species' level, we interlock. Watch what we can build when we embrace each other as neighbours!