Thursday
Nobody’s on the road,
Nobody’s on the beach,
I feel it in the air,
Summer’s out of reach …
Summer in Sandpoint is over for us. It is sad but it has to
happen. Only in L.A. can it be summer all year round. Maybe in
South Florida, too.
It has been a fine summer. We have been ill for a large part of
our time in Idaho, and have been in bed sleeping most of the day
for the last few days. But truth to be told, it’s truly great to
lie in my bed and sleep and then look out at the lake and then at
the clouds and listen to the trains of Mister Buffett. More than
look at them — feel them make the building shake.
I had two days away from Sandpoint last week. I flew to
Minneapolis, gave a speech to a great group called Woodbury
Financial, and then, by a gift from on high, a kindly man at the
conference flew me right to the Sandpoint airport in his Cessna
Citation jet. It saved me about ten hours of airport waiting and
changing planes and more waiting and security lines. What a way to
get around.
Having a private jet is about the lushest luxury I can imagine.
I will never be able to have one but it is a stone pleasure to be
on one.
We have had our glorious pals, Mike and Nancy Visser and their
beautiful children, David, Tanner, Megan, and Peyton, visiting us.
They are the most polite people there have ever been. They are from
Calgary, Alberta. The kids open the door for me, carry packages,
call me “Mister Stein,” it’s great. Plus, they are amazingly good
looking kids and parents, to the point that it’s hard to believe
they’re real.
On those days when we did get out of bed, we had many great
meals, many speedy jaunts on our boat, many drives along the
Pendoreille River and along the wetlands adjacent to the lake as
you pass through Kootenai towards Hope, many dining extravaganzas
at Hills on Priest Lake. My head spins at the sights. I cannot
imagine anywhere more beautiful than North Idaho.
It’s a magical experience here in Sandpoint. Everyone waves to
me. Little kids skateboarding on by say, “Hey, Ben,” and I feel as
if I belong somewhere. People here look you in the eye, say, “hey”
and it’s just overwhelmingly touching. My perfect secret gem in the
Gem State, Sandpoint. I’m not being taken away by cattle car to be
gassed. I am in my little haven looking at an endless lake. How can
I ever stop feeling grateful?
This past week has been the 20th anniversary of the killings at
Ruby Ridge, very near here. There, federal marshals and the FBI
killed a little boy and his dog and the boy’s mother because they
were angry at the boy’s Dad because he might have had sawed off
shotguns — or maybe not. The man the feds were tracking, Randy
Weaver, also had a friend with him who shot and killed a marshal.
The whole thing was just horrible and everyone said how bad it was
and let’s hope it never happens again. It really was a
nightmare.
By the way, I am fascinated by this whole drama about Todd Akin
and his strange comments about rape and abortion. There is no doubt
he said something extremely mistaken and offensive. But there is
also no doubt that he’s standing tall against abortion when even
his own party has turned on him. Is there a braver candidate out
there right now? What are the merits and demerits of making a
stupid comment on a TV show as compared with killing a baby because
you don’t like her sex or you want to move on with your career?
Somehow, in this brouhaha about Mr. Akin, the fundamentals of
the issue have been lost.
Is it a good idea to have unlimited abortion? Do unborn babies
have no rights? If not, why not? The pro-abortion people have done
a genius job of framing this debate in exactly the wrong way. They
always do that. It’s really about the taking of innocent life and
not about miscues on a TV show.
I totally understand why women have abortions. It is very
understandable. That does not make it right. But maybe I just don’t
understand.
Well, none of this has to do with Sandpoint. We packed our bags.
The Vissers lined up to say good-bye to us. The boys carried our
bags down to our fabulous rented Chrysler 300 (a great car). We
felt sad, and then we were on our way back to L.A.
Life just seems right in Sandpoint. People don’t seem hard and
mean the way they do in big cities. The pace seems sensible. When I
got to Sandpoint in June, I was frantic, out of my mind with fear
and worry. Now, I feel calm. I hate to leave a place that makes me
calm.
On the other hand, my Julie Good Girl is waiting for me in
Beverly Hills, so off we go, over the Long Bridge and back to
Gomorrah.
I am so happy that we found North Idaho. I thank God for that.
And for my wifey, my constant companion, and for the lake and Mr.
Buffett’s trains.
