Simple solution

Hold on, America.

So shortly after everyone stops paying their mortgages and the economy collapses, everyone stops paying their credit card bills (Marcy Gordon, Associated Press, October 31)?

What's with that?

And why is everyone hollering about corporate greed? And whining about the government taking over?

And when everyone's fretting about the federal deficit soaring to $1 trillion, how on earth did household debt in this country reach $13.8 trillion (Bill Powell, Time magazine, November 3)?

So we now expect the government to save us from ourselves?

What's wrong with this picture?

Listen, America. If you buy something, pay for it.

The Word as Art

Words can have beauty.

Of course they can have meaning and significance, provide insight and truth, but they also can have beauty.

And sometimes beautiful words can be found in the most unlikely places.

For years Time magazine has been a steady companion. I'm a cover-to-cover person and have often found, when an article strikes me as being so profoundly written with such interesting phraseology that I have to turn back to see who the author is, that the author is Nancy Gibbs.

Here's her latest, in an article about whether temperament matters in a president:
"But as soon as you make the list [of qualities a president needs], it mocks you, for history is a dance of luck and intent, and sometimes they trip each other."

That, to me, is beautiful.

Short in number of words, but long in thought-provoking content.

Or this, again from Nancy:
"Temperament is a special subcommittee of character: it is less intellect than instinct, more about music than lyrics."

Yes.

You can't just read it. You have to think about it.

David von Drehl gets a nod from me as well. In an article about the importance of experience to a president, he said:
"Experience, in other words, gets its value from the person who has it. In certain lives, a little goes a long way. Some people grow and ripen through years of government service; others spoil on the vine."

You don't just have to write well to say things like that, you have to think well.

I loved this little analogy he did comparing life to a state fair:
"A fair is both a world apart and the world in miniature...where the earnest industry of the 4-H pavilion exists alongside the low appetites of the funnel-cake stand and the thrill seeking at the Tilt-A-Whirl. Where the three stages of life are marked by a first sno-cone, a first French kiss and a first ribbon for baking Bundt cakes."

These insights from a medium that's made to be recycled within the week.

We somehow, as a society, have developed something akin to disdain for the media. We say they only bring bad news, we say they are biased, we say they just look for dirt.

But, in fact, we wouldn't have a free society without a free press. And when given a choice between a story of violence and a story of policy, we -- the readers -- choose the violent one. And sometimes the facts presage a certain bias, though we're certainly intelligent enough to know it when we see it. And sometimes it's been important for us to know about the dirt.

Nancy didn't tell us if temperament matters. As any good journalist, she quoted experts from all angles and looked at examples from all eras.

David didn't tell us that experience is the most important thing or not, but made us look at it through all eyes in all directions.

Lots of writers give you the facts. But some present those facts with such clarity and insight that they're giving you art as well.

And that is a beautiful thing.

And for what it's worth, for what I've read combined with what I believe, temperament does matter and experience doesn't. And I'll be voting accordingly.

The pale green table with nobody beside it

After I ordered a salad and my husband ordered a chicken dish, I could see by our waiter's face that something was wrong. But when I said I'd just have water, it was no longer necessary to read his body language.

"You have the best table in the place and you just order salad and water? You can't sit at this table if you don't order a meal." Besides, he said, they didn't have the chicken dish or any other dish besides fish, and when we told him my husband was allergic to seafood, he didn't even pretend not to be glad to have an excuse to send us out the door.

We tried again at the taverna next door, sitting at the little table along the waterfront, knowing we'd be enjoying our meal as the sun set beyond the sea. We made sure they had something besides fish before taking our seats, then again asked for the salad and the chicken.

"This table isn't just for people who eat appetizers," said our new waiter, not even pretending that the customer is always right or worrying that we wouldn't come back next month if we didn't get good service.

I'd been warned again and again about manners towards Americans by the French, but had never experienced anything negative in multiple trips to France. It seemed in the three days we'd been in Greece we were always making Greeks mad. It made us a bit jumpy, but we asked ever-so-politely if we couldn't perhaps sit at the table next to the table by the water, and order our preferred meal, be it ever-so small.

Because we don't drink alcohol and because we often split meals, there may be more waiters than one (or two in this case) who'd rather move us out. But we'd just had huge meals in Athens the days before and couldn't take home the leftovers because we had no refrigerator and hated to waste what we couldn't eat, (and wanted to save room for gelato) so we returned to our shared-meal m.o.

It was a great meal in an amazing setting and as the evening progressed, the entertainment became the excitement of the passers-by over the sunset and the saga of the little table by the sea.

Little Venice is a tourist-heavy area on Mykonos lined with cafes. There is a little path between the buildings and the tables filled with people walking to view the sunset or find a bar or a table or a good place to take a photograph. Many languages could be heard, many interesting people could be seen, and the view of the windmills in one direction and the setting sun in the other was like nothing we'd ever seen.

After we abandoned the little table in question, several more couples tried unsuccessfully. As soon as the first sat down, they were promptly told by a perturbed waiter that they'd have to order more than appetizers. They left. The next couple just wanted drinks. Had to go. The third couple. Same thing.

So it was a lonely little table all night long. And as our waiter chased the photographers out of our way because we at least were paying something, it was hard not to laugh.

We left a good tip. Not because we got good service. Not because tips in Greece are like they are in America. But because we hope next time the waiter won't judge a couple by what they order.

So that next time, the pale green table with nobody beside it... won't be so lonely.

What you've been waiting for

Stop philosophizing and show us the pictures, right? I know everyone's interested in my take on turtles and pool signage, but my guess is you are more interested in these:

Some might say I have a passion for photography. Others might call it a mental illness. It's true I can't take more than 10 steps without stopping and taking a picture when I'm in a place I've never been before and will likely never be again, and it's true that that can test even the most tolerant of companions.

But even sidewalks are interesting in Greece. And people and trees and boats and butterflies and ruins and beaches and you just can't let any of them get away.

There are the most incredible sights in the world. And it is the most wonderful thing to be able to capture them to savor again and again. And it is even better when you can share them with others.

So there's no hope for me. But not all that many regrets either.

While we're on the subject...

...of foreign countries that post restriction signs for English-speaking tourists, this one from Nagoya, Japan, which apparently includes a warning to native speakers as well, is one of my all-time favorites:

Looking around

So, we were sitting by the pool, cooling off after some major hiking around the caldera that is Santorini, when I noticed that something was missing:

The signs.

You know -- the signs around the pools in America that say, "No lifeguard on duty," "No diving," "No children under 14 without adult," "Take cleansing shower before entering pool," "No glass allowed," "No running," or, the one at my friend's backyard pool: "OOL. There is no "p" in our pool. Let's keep it that way."

But here we were in Greece and there was not one sign in sight at the hotel pool.

Not that we needed a sign. We can generally tell if a lifeguard is on duty and we generally know not to send kids alone to a pool. Further inspection showed that there was no fence around the pool, requiring no special key, but rather it was open, allowing a sweeping view of the lagoon and its islands without anything involving chain-link in the way.

Hmmm.

Greece in general seemed to have an absence of regulations, at least in comparison to those we are accustomed to in America. We entered and exited large ferries going between the islands without so much as going through metal detectors, much less having to throw out our four-ounce bottles of shampoo. We rented a car without having to point out all the dents (it would have taken a while) (the agent said she knew about all of them) or leave a credit card number with the rental company.

That was nice about Greece.

My husband says it's the lack of litigation that allows the lack of signs. I think there might be the impact of a cultural personality as well.

And it's refreshing.

And surely people -- American people -- will argue that there is a need for all those regulations and aren't we safer here from knowing everything from our restaurants to our swimming pools gets regulated.

Still, I will argue back, it was refreshing.

There was, however, an exception. Where the informational signs were almost always in Greek and English (see first photo below), when they did have to have regulatory signs -- the signs suggesting people not touch the historic artifacts or climb in the ancient temples (see second photos below) -- they were, for some reason ... only ...in English.

Ouch.