Hennessy's View

WSJ.com Alert:

S&P downgrades Spain to ‘AA’ with a negative outlook, saying the country is likely to have an extended period of subdued economic growth.

Markets react:  DJIA plummets from +23 to –22 in seconds after S&P drops Spain’s debt rating. And the sovereign debt nightmare is only beginning.  The UK is next.  But the USA borrows more money faster than anyone, and Socio-History blog ain’t happy:

As I pointed out yesterday, US debt threatens to end the economic stabilization.  You cannot borrow your way to prosperity.

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As I waited to appear on Larry Kudlow’s show last Friday, I heard Larry announce over and over again that he’s sick of hearing about Greece’s problems.  Greece isn’t America.  The U.S. economy is booming, and Greece can’t hurt it.

I didn’t tell Larry, but I think he was wrong.

Greece’s problems will hurt the American economy because Greece’s problems foreshadow a far more dangerous crash headed to America.

Markets are people.  People react emotionally to rational thought.  People in America see our government adopting the same reckless socialism that destroyed Greece.  They see America’s debt rising like a hydraulic lift, just as Greece’s did.  They hear warnings that Moody’s or Standard & Poor’s may cut the U.S. treasury rating, as they cut Greece’s debt rating today. People realize that Greece is not just a small European country, but also the canary in the debt coal mine. Portugal is next.

Ben Bernanke warned today that our debt and deficits must be dealt with sooner rather than later.

But Obama just borrows and borrows. 

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I heard from my son, Jack, tonight for the first time since he left for Navy boot camp on April 14. 

He is doing well. He survived the first week. He’s been declared fit for full duty.  He’s learned to fold things very compactly, to recite the General Orders to the Sentry on command, and to identify his Chain of Command through the President of the United States.

If boot camp hasn’t changed, week two is worse that week one, but I didn’t tell him that.  I just let him know not to let little set backs and reprimands bother him.  Learn, get better, and move on.  We all love him and can’t wait to see him march by in Pass-in-Review. 

Thanks to the many, many people who passed along their best wishes for Jack at the Tax Day Tea Party.  I told him he’d be amazed at all the people cheering for him.

And give my best to your loved ones in the Armed Forces.  It’s a tough to make outstanding citizens, and we’re all lucky to have young people willing to protect us.

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I once thought that focus meant you never got distracted. I was wrong.

A person with a powerful focusing ability gets as distracted as the next guy. The difference is that the Focus Master has learned to recognize distraction and gently guide his thoughts or actions back to the intended task at hand.

That simple skill is rare and remarkably powerful. Pay attention to every word of this two-step process:

1. Recognize that your mind has wandered, and

2. Gently let go of the distraction and return to your intended thought or action

Practice this skill once a day for twenty-one days, and you will gain a tactical advantage over ninety-nine percent of the population.

Here are some practical ways to practice:

At the computer:

1. In a fairly quiet place with your computer, go to http://www.online-stopwatch.com/ and select the countdown timer.

2. Set the timer to three minutes for the first week, and increase by 2 minutes each of the following two weeks.

3. Before you start the time, think of the word that best describes what you need most. Choose a single word, like “freedom” or “perseverance.”

4. During each session, try to feel what it would be like to have what you’re asking for. Don’t think about it or describe it: feel it.

5. Start the time, and close your eyes, focusing on the feeling of your word.

6. As your mind wanders, recognize the wandering. Acknowledge it. Let it go. Gently guide your feelings and thoughts back to the word and the feelings associated with achieving that word.

7. Repeat step 6 until the timer sounds.

8. Open your eyes, silence the timer, and write yourself a short note about the experience.

Variations:

1. During breakfast, try focusing exclusively on every aspect of the food you’re eating. Enjoy the crap out of every bite. As other thoughts intrude, let them go and gently return your thoughts and feelings to the food that fuels your body and mind.

2. While driving, turn off the radio and your cell phone. Concentrate on the act of driving, the sound of the car, the activities of other drivers. Focus on the variety of sensations and driving styles you witness. If you start to get angry or distracted with thoughts of work or home, acknowledge the distraction and guide your mind back to the rich world of driving.

You can probably come up with your own ideas for variations. In any event, practice for three, then five, then seven minutes every day for twenty-one days. You’ll become a master of focus. You’ll make decisions faster and more effectively. You’ll find that you can accomplish more work in less time. And you’ll feel far less stress in everything you do.

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I spent the afternoon with my oldest son, Jack. It was his last day as a civilian. It was probably the last day that he and I will share a mailing address.  In a few days, I’ll get a postcard containing a new address at RTC Great Lakes. It will be written in his own hand. He will miss home when he writes it.

I hope I’m not revealing too much. But Jack wrote down his Grandpa’s address, today, when we stopped by to tell my son’s namesake “goodbye.”  Dad wasn’t home, so Jack and I drove to the place my dad spends most of his days: sitting with my mom. I wasn’t going to take Jack to see Mom. But now I’m glad Jack got to see both of his living grandparents on his last day as a civilian.

Mom was thrilled to hear Jack’s going into the Navy. She informed him that her brothers and husband were in the Navy in World War II, a fact Jack knew. But he appreciated her breaking news story.  Mom, of course, didn’t recognize Jack, but that’s okay.  She was thrilled to have met another sailor. The most important men in her life had been sailors.

Next stop: the recruiting station.  Jack formally requested permission to come aboard the command.  I, having left the Navy 15 years ago, could just walk right in.  (Sure, I could have popped to attention, saluted, and requested permission to come aboard from rote, but I knew that doing so would be to mock the Navy tradition.)

“Petty Officer First Class ?????” said a very sharp sailor in full dress blues. I missed his name. He looked way too young to be a First Class.  Was I that young when I made E6?  (Was I ever that young?)

The recruiter looked at me as we shook hands. “You’re not gonna cry, are you, sir?” he asked.

“Probably.”

“No need for that.  He’ll do just fine.”

I agreed with him.  But that wasn’t the reason I looked like a man fighting tears.

The recruiters processed some paperwork, which is what the military does far more than anything else, including drilling, cleaning, and fighting.  I immediately remembered how glad I am to be free from the tyrannical paperwork of government service.  I wondered how long it would be before all of us wished we could go back to the days when we didn’t have to fill out so many forms.  (But that’s a different subject.)

After the recruiters talked to us, my son and I headed toward downtown St. Louis.  We were mostly silent.  I asked him about dinner, and he told me that they gave him a chit for dinner in the hotel.  The Navy requires all recruits to spend the night before induction in a hotel under government contract.  Lights out at 2200. The policy prevents repeats of my own unfortunate arrival at boot camp after a night of no sleep and lots of whiskey.

Only after I parked at a meter directly in front of the hotel did I wish I’d parked a mile away.  I knew that once Jack was checked in, I’d have no excuse to hang around with my son. I’d be forced by time and circumstance to tell him I love him and that he will excel and to leave him in the hands of the United States Navy. Will they treat him well?

For the past month, I hadn’t been able to speak to Jack about his upcoming departure. Emotionally, my mind jumped ahead to the scene at the MEPS Hotel that I was about to experience. I coward from that simple duty.  Work and Tea Party emergencies provided me great cover, an excuse to avoid uncomfortable time alone with my son. How pathetic.

While Jack was on the hotel’s second floor checking in and hearing a repeat of the instructions his recruiter had given, I thought about my day at MEPS in 1984.  I saw myself standing in that paneled room as a Marine Corps Major inducted fifteen of us into the Armed Forces.

I, William Thomas Hennessy, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.

It’s that oath, which I consider a lifelong commitment, that compels me to type, talk, and march for the freedoms my father and uncles fought for in the war my mom still remembers through the haze of Alzheimer’s. It is the oath my son will take tomorrow.

And a family tradition lives on.

Having used the bathroom and washed my hands as if for surgery in a sad attempt to stall for time, I walked back to the lobby where my son, the soon-to-be sailor, stood alone. Behind him sat a half dozen young men and women. They were all here for tomorrow’s induction. Jack’s comrades looked at me, one by one, each of them strangers but for one, and said to themselves: “Dad.”  They said it with a sense of relief.  Feelings of fear and regret—there’s always just a twinge of regret—were interrupted by the presence of a father: a symbol of home and all that they knew until now. 

I hugged Jack and felt my eyes burn with the two-minute warning of tears. 

“I love you,” I said.  “You’ll do great.”

Jack was man enough to save me from tears by giving me firm instructions.

“I’ll call you when they let me. Can you or Patrick call mom?  Unless they let me have two calls?”

“Of course,” I said. 

Don’t go, I thought.

“Good bye,” I told him.

I made it to my car, got in, and started the engine before my chest started heaving.  In the bar, young people, but not as young as my son, looked out wondering why that man was crying. The young men smirked, but a young woman stepped toward the window as if to make sure everything was alright.

I wiped my eyes without shame and smiled at the happy hour revelers. They were kind enough to show concern, after all. 

After tonight, my son won’t sleep in this town for at least another couple of months. I’ll be at Great Lakes for his Pass in Review in June. But the man who snaps his head toward the grand stand on the order “eyes right” in June will not be the same boy I didn’t spend enough time with for the past twenty-one years. I have finished raising this fine young man.  He turned out wonderfully despite my many, many failings.

Fair winds and following seas, Jack.  I love you.

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