Isaac Laquedem

Anno domini defeats the Ancient Uncle

What the dangers of ocean fishing, hunting, machining, and (according to whispered family rumor) rum-running could not do, the ills of old age finally did, and earlier this month they claimed the Ancient Uncle.  In keeping with the character of a man who grew his own food, caught his own fish, shot his own game (not always in season), and repaired his own engines, he made it clear that he would die in his own home.  And so he did, fading away gently a few days after taking to his bed.  His skills, alas, went with him, though he was willing to pass them along; one of his fishing tricks is memorialized in a novel, and last year he taught the Laquedemitasse how to drive a tractor.  There's a lot more that I could write about his life, but not right now.

Old age isn't so bad, if you like venison

As we age and become physically less free, we sometimes become more open-minded, and less concerned with what society thinks of us.  The Aunt of the Right, whose famed frugality dates back to the Coolidge administration, considered -- briefly -- dipping into capital, something that would have had her drummed out of the sorority of St. Ronald Reagan, to which she has long belonged.  Venerable Mom (Hoover administration) has turned into a local version of Alice Roosevelt Longworth -- sharp, witty, and biting, in my opinion, except when the Ungrateful Son is the subject.  (I didn't call her on Mother's Day, so she probably has some zingers saved up.)

The Ancient Uncle (solidly past 90) is more phlegmatic.  He doesn't say much, except that occasionally, as aches and pains overcome him, he will say that Maurice Chevalier was wrong about old age being better than the alternative, but he isn't quite ready to be imprisoned in his rocker.  

I was surprised enough to learn that he went fishing last year.  He won't admit to this other outing, but the story is that a few months ago he and the Ancient Aunt (Harding's first year in office) came across a deer, killed it, brought it back to their garage, and dressed it.  How exactly they managed this with knees that are collectively 358 years old, I do not know and cannot figure out; and a reading of the applicable game laws suggests that I should be circumspect about writing exactly where they live.

The Ancient Uncle teaches me something new about fishing

This last weekend Venerable Mom and I went on a long drive to call on the Ancient Uncle, just released from one of his increasingly frequent hospital stays.  The last time I went to see him, a few months ago, I arrived a day or two after the hospital had paroled him.  When I arrived he was propped up in an armchair with his oxygen tank behind him and his tackle box and assorted fishing doodads spread out in front of him, tying and untying knots with age-gnarled fingers.  "What are you doing?" I asked.  "I'm getting my fishing tackle ready so that I can go fishing when the weather changes," he replied. 

He clearly was in no shape to go fishing then or anytime soon (even with assistance, he could barely stand), but I nevertheless appreciated how, even at his age (he was born during the Great War) he was looking forward to something he hoped to do in the future, no matter how unlikely it was that he would ever be in shape to actually do it. 

The next day, I drove home.  He went fishing.

A very special wish for a happy birthday

Some years ago, here in Portland, two businessmen had a disagreement.  One said to the other, "If you don't settle this dispute on my terms, I will sic my lawyers on you and they will tie you up in court for years.  It will be the worst experience that you've ever had!"  The other smiled benignly, and replied, "I was in Auschwitz for a year.  What can your lawyers do that's worse?"

They settled, mostly on the second man's terms.

Auschwitz was one of the three concentration camps in which the second man had been imprisoned.  He survived to come to Portland, raise a family, and enjoy a successful business career.  Today he celebrates something that in Nazi Germany in 1944 must have seemed impossible to him: his 90th birthday. 

Happy birthday, Jake, and best wishes for many more to come. 

בָּרוּךְ אַתָה יהוה
אֶלוֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הַעוֹלָם
שֵהֵחְיָנוּ וְקִיְימָנוּ
וְהִגִעָנוּ לַזְמַן הַזֶה

A kind thought for Uncle Farmer

One of Robert Heinlein's characters says, "A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects."

I don't know anyone who can do all 21.  (I think I can do only 13.)  Uncle Farmer, who never went to college and who turned 90 last year, could do at least 16 of them, some self-taught.  His health is poor, and he's now in the hospital.  My thoughts are with him and My Aunt The Winemaker.

Cousin Curt could really ski

                                     In Memory of Cousin Curt (1941-2008)

A Portlander shares with a friend in need . . .

. . . by giving him a kidney.  We should all be so fortunate as to have such friends.

Other than that, Mrs. Laquedem, how did you like your Easter?

The Laquedem family is known for its collective cheerful insouciance under almost any circumstances.  Still, the standard set by Venerable Mom Laquedem this Easter Sunday will be hard for the rest of us to exceed.  After a bit of unusual exertion, she felt faint, lost consciousness, stopped breathing, and collapsed, setting off a panic among our family.  We called 911.  Paramedics arrived promptly, did their thing, and revived her.  As her eyes opened, she looked up at the faces peering down at her, regained focus, and said mildly, "You know, today is the appropriate day for resurrections."

A Labor Day thought from Adam Smith

Labor Day is one of the two times a year (the other is April 15) that I diverge from my insouciant support of the social welfare state to quote from one or another worthy text.  My Labor Day post is also in memory of Grandmother Laquedem, who as a final expression of solidarity with the working class died on Labor Day some years ago.  Last year my selection was a portion of T-Bone Slim's rendering of the Hundredth Psalm.  This year I'm more classically inclined, and offer an extract of The Wealth Of Nations, featuring Adam Smith on the taxation of wages.  This bit is from Part II of Chapter II of Book V.  Smith discusses the effect of taxation on the wages of common labor, then on artisans and professionals, and concludes with this passage.  The word "officers" means government employees and not just military officers.

The emoluments of officers are not, like those of trades and professions, regulated by the free competition of the market, and do not, therefore, always bear a just proportion to what the nature of the employment requires.  They are, perhaps, in most countries, higher than it requires; the persons who have the administration of government being generally disposed to reward both themselves and their immediate dependents rather more than enough.  The emoluments of officers, therefore, can in most cases very well bear to be taxed.  The persons, besides, who enjoy public offices, especially the more lucrative, are in all countries the objects of general envy; and a tax upon their emoluments, even though it should be somewhat higher than upon any other sort of revenue, is always a very popular tax.

Whether public officials remain "the objects of general envy" is dubious at best.  I can envy a United States Senator (no particular one, however) more readily than I can a member of the Portland City Council or the state legislature.

A graduation thought

This is the season of college graduations, or "commencements" (leave it to higher education to name an ending with a word meaning "beginning"), and this week a law student, speaking at the graduation of his class, reminded his classmates to be humble:

"You may take great pride in the degrees that you receive today," he said.  "Don't.  All those degrees would have been given to someone today anyway -- even the magnas."