Hillary certainly took her good old time endorsing Obama. On the Tuesday night that he clinched the nomination, she announced "I will not make a decision tonight", to the wild cheers of her supporters. Decision? What decision? Had it not already been made?

Obviously, she wanted to bargain. There were hints that she would accept the Vice-Presidential nomination. No doubt she had a shopping list, but did she have the leverage? As for a running mate, Obama would be a fool to even consider Hillary. Can you imagine trying to run the country with the two Clintons hanging in the White House? And after the somewhat sleazy campaign she ran? So much for the dream team idea. More like a nightmare.

In one of her speeches she had referred to Bobby Kennedy. Immediately some people jumped to the conclusion that she was referring to the assassination in an attempt to imply that if Obama was gunned down, she could step smartly in, or maybe that Obama would not be a good choice because of the possibility. I don't really think she meant that, but who knows? There are so many Aryan Nation, white supremacist crazies out there that it is a distinct possibility. Gunfire normally comes from the Right. Has an attempt ever been made on a right-wing Republican President? The exception is Reagan, but it was not political - the whacko Hinckley was trying to impress Jody Foster and he had previously stalked Jimmy Carter.

Finally, four days later, she gave her unqualified support to Obama. She had little option and I don't think he really needed it.

So, assuming he wins the Presidency, what policies will he pursue? He hasn't given many clues. How will he end the Iraq obscenity? What will he do about Big Oil? How about the food crisis? Carbon emissions? What about health care? What about New Orleans? The list goes on. Indeed, how much traction will he have on any of these issues? It will depend greatly on a strong Democratic Congress, and Congress can be ornery. Good luck, Barack.

K. C. Irving - A Memory

I don't ordinarily hobnob with billionaires. As a matter of fact I've never spoken to one, but I did share a plane ride with one. It was January 1956 and I was on my way from Montreal to St. John's prior to heading to the Mid-Canada radar line in Labrador. There were several stops along the way, and in Halifax who should come on board but K. C. Irving, the New Brunswick industrialist and dynamo. He took a seat across the aisle from me. Maybe the plane, a North Star (modified DC-4) of Trans-Canada Airlines (since renamed Air Canada for bilingual reasons) had no first-class service, or K. C. wanted to be democratic or maybe just economical, I don't know.

He didn't sit still. He fidgeted and shuffled. He would get up and wander the aisle. If he spotted someone he recognized, he would stop and chat briefly. He would go to the back and speak with the stewardesses. He would head to the cockpit to see the crew. I would have liked to speak with him, but I hadn't the nerve. Had I known then what I later learned about the man, I might have spoken.

He was a straight forward man. He insisted that his customers get first-class service, and he made sure of it. There is a story about his helping a distressed lady who was standing beside her car by the side of the highway at night. The car had a flat. Along comes a Cadillac which pulls in ahead of her; out steps a well-dressed gentleman who proceeds to jack up the car, remove the wheel and install the spare. He then wishes her a good night and leaves.

The stop in Sydney was twenty minutes. In those days most passengers got off and re-boarded when it was time to leave. No security to worry about. During those 20 minutes, he put on a show of sorts. There were three phone booths in the terminal, the old type where Superman changed costumes. He sat in the middle one and dialed. Hello Jack, K. C. here, how are things going, how about this, how about that, did that other thing get straightened out, is Bill on top of the problem, and so on and so forth. Yes, I'll hold. Meanwhile, the second phone rings, he reaches around and grabs it. It's for him. To make a long story short, he kept the three phones busy all the while the plane was on the ground, but when boarding was announced, he was finished. I'm sure they would have held the plane for him, but I'm also sure he wouldn't have dreamed of it.

In St. John's I was booked at the Newfoundland Hotel, the best in those days. As I got out of my taxi, Irving's limo drove up. The hotel had long steps leading to the entrance, complete with brass rail. The hotel manager, in January cold, was at the bottom of the steps with porters to greet the great man. Welcome, sir.

I never laid eyes on him again, but years later, when he was ninety, I heard, on the radio, part of a speech he gave. His voice was as powerful as that of a man of forty.

Carbon Emissions; Carbon Credits

Everyone knows by now that CO2 emissions are BAD, and that we must do something about it. Two questions: what exactly must be done and who should do it?

There are a number of answers out there. Industries must clean up their act; people should drive more fuel efficient cars and drive less, switch to fluorescent bulbs and turn out the lights when not needed; do without a beer fridge; use the microwave instead of the oven if possible - the list goes on and on.

Then we come to carbon credits. The idea here is that a polluting paper mill, say, can buy carbon credits from an eco-friendly industry or organization, such as a Danish wind farm. This would offset the mill's responsibility and make money for the wind farm so that they could finance more windmills, for instance. An individual can pay someone to plant a thousand CO2-absorbing trees and feel good about driving the gas-guzzler. Have I got this right?

To me, this all sounds like a giant fraud. How exactly do we measure the mill's carbon footprint?
Is there a national standard? Ok, we measure the diameter and flow of the effluent pipe, the capacity of the boiler, the efficiency of the smokestack scrubbers, if any, and any number of things which are all subject to fudging. Do they turn off the scrubbers on moonless nights, as has been known to happen?

As to individuals, certain factors can be assessed, such as size of house, type of cars or cars, mileage per year, number of miles flown per year, heating/air-conditioning and electrical costs, etc., etc. Good try, but do we get to a good carbon footprint figure? How many trees, and what type of tree, must be planted as an offset? How long will it take them to mature? In one instance, thousands of plantings all died within two years. Give me a break.

One commentator has compared all this to the Papal indulgences of the Middle Ages, one of the things which angered Martin Luther. He took the words out of my mouth. A person could have his sins wiped out by making a contribution to the church. Not many peasants could afford it. Big sinners with deep pockets could apply directly to the Pope and maybe finance a Crusade. Expensive, to be sure, but better than burning in hell forever.

And this reminds me of something else, if I may digress. In the home town of my youth, there was a certain lady of the night who took Holy Communion every Sunday, after confessing on Saturday night to scrub her soul clean. It was a source of amusement in the town. It is said that Catholics have more fun and are livelier than Protestants because they don't carry their sins with them.

Indulgences are still with us, it seems. God be praised!