Personal Favorites

After 60,000 words, the time has come to put down the pen. For the last three years the Anchorage Daily News has graciously allowed me to come into your home and share your Sunday mornings. As Carol Burnett used to say, I’m so glad we had this time together.

Next Sunday is father’s day. What do you get a father who has given you everything?

My Father has always been an amazing man, the epitome of the American dream. He left home at age thirteen with fifteen cents in his pocket and never looked backed. Navigating his way around the country working on steamer ships, he settled in San Francisco where he met and married my mother. Fiercely independent and always motivated he constantly lives the family motto; put it to a venture.

As we observe Easter Sunday, I pause to reflect at the intersection of faith, religion and government.

Mass on Sunday, Catechism, sacraments and years as an altar boy at St. Anthony’s have formed my Catholic foundation. As an altar boy I worried about tripping in front of Monsignor Cowgill as I carried the cross towards the altar. Twenty-five years later, watching the cinematic remake of Jesus’ agonizing journey carrying the cross from Pilate to Golgotha, reminded me of how blessed I was to have those worries.

During the waning days of the legislative session, the telephone calls would be more frequent. The frustration of watching bad ideas being rushed through as adjournment neared was usually too much to handle without help from one of my favorite constituents. And as she’s done for the last thirty-nine years, my mother always answered the call.

It should have been scripted more Hollywood. More Tom Cruise in Top Gun, less defensive press spokesperson in Juneau.

With the recent revelation that the governor intends to pursue his twice-denied jet upgrade, politicos are scrambling to interpret the political meaning. I’ll tell you what it means. It means the governor is tired of showing up for prom in a thirty-year-old Plymouth Fury

Baseball and politics: two of my favorite fall topics. And what a year for both.

Usually in November I can be found holding the sports page and muttering about those darn New York Yankees. They not only win all the time, but they always have great stories to go along with those wins. From Babe Ruth standing at home plate calling a homerun for sick child to the big trades they pull off. The Yankees always seem to get the pretty girl at the end of every movie.

The old saying goes you shouldn’t talk religion or politics over dinner.

However, nothing was ever clearly stipulated about talking faith over Easter brunch. So for those who want to avoid the discussion, now might be a good time to get those chocolate eggs you hid in the forced air vents last night.