There have been many articles about William Donald Schaefer in the past few days, but I found this piece by Ray Jenkins particularly interesting. This is because Jenkins, a distinguished journalist who was a special assistant for press affairs to President Jimmy Carter and the editorial page editor of The Evening Sun during Schaefer's tenure as mayor, lays out a general theory of what it takes to make a leader:

...[T]he elements of political leadership are not really all that complicated. Three things are required: vision, courage, and tenacity — the capacity to see solutions to the problems that afflict mankind everywhere; the courage to stand before one's fellow citizens and say, "Let me lead you"; and an unflinching determination to see the job through. Once elected, a politician's constituents do not expect perfection, but they do expect two additional qualities: competence and honesty — sound judgment in performance, and a reasonable confidence that the leader always acts in the public interest and not out of some secret private gain.

This is a model I'm going to try to keep in mind as my on-the-job training in small-scale political leadership continues.

As a long-time Whovian, I'm saddened to learn of the death of Elisabeth Sladen, who portrayed the Doctor's companion Sarah Jane Smith in the original Doctor Who series, in the revival, and in the spinoff The Sarah Jane Adventures. Ms. Sladen had been suffering from cancer; she was 63.

Steven Moffat had this wonderful praise of her:

'Never meet your heroes' wise people say. They weren't thinking of Lis Sladen.

Sarah Jane Smith was everybody's hero when I was younger, and as brave and funny and brilliant as people only ever are in stories. But many years later, when I met the real Sarah Jane - Lis Sladen herself - she was exactly as any child ever have wanted her to be. Kind and gentle and clever; and a ferociously talented actress, of course, but in that perfectly English unassuming way.

There are a blessed few who can carry a whole television show on their talent and charisma - but I can't think of one other who's done it quite so politely. I once showed my son Joshua an old episode of Doctor Who, in which Lis appeared. "But that's Sarah Jane," he said, confused "In old Doctor Who. From years ago. How come she always look exactly the same?" It's not a comfort today, of course, but children will still be saying that fifty years from now.

By the end of his tenure as Comptroller of Maryland, William Donald Schaefer had overstayed his time in politics; and some people may remember him just as that cranky old man, and for his sexist, homophobic, and anti-immigrant remarks. But as Mayor of Baltimore, Schaefer helped birth the first Baltimore Renaissance; and as governor of Maryland, he supported public schools, the University of Maryland system, and the Chesapeake Bay. Rest in peace, Willy Don.

Sometimes real-life ironies make a better comment on a subject than any artist could hope to make. Such is the case with the new postage stamp that was planned to feature the Statue of Liberty.

Now, despite the fact that in all my trips to NYC I've never visited her, I'm a fan of the iconic Lady. As a Pagan I appreciate her as a modern rendering of a Roman goddess, as a descendant of immigrants I like her role as national greeter (even if my ancestors didn't come in through Ellis Island), as a fan of international cooperation I like that she was a gift from France, a nation with which we share deep historical ties, and as a fan of crowdsourcing I like that funds for her construction were raised in small amounts from ordinary people. Lady Liberty is the real deal.

Thus, it is all too appropriate in today's fake America, that it's not really her appearing on the new stamp. Instead it's an ersatz Liberty built for a Vegas casino. The Postal Service selected the image from a stock photo provider, and ended up picking a photo of the Statue of Liberty replica at the New York-New York casino.

hey sorry I
didn't see you there

even just a few minutes ago so
you took me by surprise

not as surprised as you, though, I guess

but not a bad way to go
outside on a warm sunny spring day, romping around, then suddenly --
whomp

no, not bad at all

the Buddha, I have heard, died cranky
in pain from poison mushrooms, or bad pork, or a blocked mesentery artery

and despite the fact that he got stupas and relics
and you got a hole in my lawn
I think I like your way better

Zelda's Inferno exercise: poetry obstacle course. This is a series of unconnected lines (at least, not deliberately connected), each with a subject and an action.

seedlings poking up out of the potting soil
homeless guy in a Planet Hollywood jacket walking down the street
computer seeking out a radio signal
fire burning in the night
crumpled napkin holds its shape
cigarette slowly turns into smoke and ash and cancer
a man a two women walk down the street together
a running dog tears up the back yard
breakfast sits on the plate, waiting for you
the beard makes the man
ink absorbs some wavelengths of light and reflects others
lungs exchange oxygen and CO2
after days of rain, the harbor smells of garbage
roses dry out and turn brown
books hold their words fresh for decades

I was out for my usual Wednesday run this morning when I passed two women out walking a dog (a Bull Terrier, cousin to Spuds Mackensie). As I passed, one of them said, "Are you Sensei Tom?" I turned around to see that one of them was the mother of one of my students, a boy who started training a few weeks ago. We chatted for a few seconds as I ran in place, and as I took off up the hill I said, "Tell him you saw me out exercising!"

Every once in a while, it's driven home to me that as a karate instructor, I'm in some ways a (horrors!) role model for my students, especially the kids. For example, a few years ago I was at the annual Seido Karate benefit tournament at Hunter College in New York. A tournament like that is hours of waiting around with nervous energy, punctuated by a few minutes of furious effort. At one point, during the hours in between my events, I was walking down a hallway munching on a pear when I walked by a mother and her son, both fairly new students (blue belts, if I recall correctly).

Now, in Seido Karate people of yondan rank and above get to wear slightly fancier gis, with the kanji for Seido and for their title (Renshi, Kyoshi, and so on) embroidered on, rather than a sewn-on patch, so even though I didn't know these people they knew I had a bit of rank in the organization. Usually, that doesn't mean much; I still have some vague discomfort about the whole hierarchical ranking thing. (When I stop and think that I've now reached the same rank as my first instructor, Sensei Neal Pendleton, and compare my skills and exploits with his -- forget it. I should just go put on a white belt. But that's a rant for another time.)

But on this occasion as I -- a genuine and authorized Karate Instructor, in a Black Belt with a couple of extra hash marks on it -- walked by eating a piece of fruit, the mother turned to her son and said, "See, I told you, if you eat your fruits and vegetables...!" I had to stifle a laugh.

It's all very well if young students see me exercising and eating right. But, you know, not everything I do is appropriate for kids. Sometimes I wonder about some young student deciding to model my occasionally Dionysian relationship with the grape and the grain, or my unorthodox romantic life. Or there's the craziness I engage in at events like Free Spirit Beltane or FSG or Starwood or PDF.

I'm not ashamed of any of these things, obviously; I'm quite happy and proud that in many ways I don't fit into the usual cultural norms. But it complicates the whole "role model" thing in a way I still haven't resolved.

Maybe the deeper answer is to be a role model in "following your bliss," wherever that may lead. But that's a little more complicated than being seen eating a pear.

As I've said before, I miss having a sane Republican party. I'm an independent voter, not a member of any party, and I've voted for Democrats, Republicans, Greens, and Libertarians. But it's becoming more and more clear that the GOP has just gone nuts, Charlie Sheen-style.

Over the past month or so, the evidence has become overwhelming that it's time for an intervention -- voters need to sit the Republican leadership down and tell them, no more votes for you until you straighten your party out.

Let's look at the political wreckage over the past month or so:

• Ninety-one year old New Hampshire Republican Martin Harty says the "defective people, the drug addicts, mentally ill, the retarded -- all of them" should be sent off to die. He also admits that he has no idea what he's doing in the state legislature: "We're all sort of bluffing it out. The few votes I've made so far I really didn't know what I was voting for or against. Just looked at the people around me and went along with them."
• During a debate on a Florida bill for a dress code for students, Republican Representative Kathleen Passidomo blamed the alleged gangrape of an 11-year-old on the way the girl was dressed. "There was an article about an 11 year old girl who was gang raped in Texas by 18 young men because she was dressed like a 21-year-old prostitute," Passidomo claimed.
• While talking about gang rape and blaming the victim is apparently okay in the Florida House, don't use the U-word. Democrat Rep. Scott Randolph was chastised by the GOP leadership of the House for using the word "uterus" on the House floor. During debate on an anti-union bill, Randolph pointed out that Republicans claim to be against regulations, and then turn around and put all kinds of regulations on citizens. So he suggested that perhaps his wife should "incorporate her uterus" to benefit from the GOP's anti-regulatory ideology and get around their push for measures that would restrict abortions. (He got the line from his wife.) "The point was that Republicans are always talking about deregulation and big government," Randolph said. "And I always say their philosophy is small government for the big guy and big government for the little guy. And so, if my wife's uterus was incorporated or my friend's bedroom was incorporated, maybe they would be talking about deregulating."

  But according to House GOP spokeswoman Katie Betta, the using the U-word just went too far: "...[T]he Speaker believes it is important for all Members to be mindful of and respectful to visitors and guests, particularly the young pages and messengers who are seated in the chamber during debates. In the past, if the debate is going to contain language that would be considered inappropriate for children and other guests, the Speaker will make an announcement in advance, asking children and others who may be uncomfortable with the subject matter to leave the floor and gallery."

• Republican governor Rick Scott is pushing to push to privatize Medicaid in Florida -- and a business he started, and handed over to his wife when he took office, could benefit enormously if the plan goes through.

  Scott started Solantic, a chain of walk-in urgent-care clinics, in 2001, just a few years after he resigned as the CEO of hospital giant Columbia/HCA amid a massive Medicare fraud scandal. He transferred his $62 million stake in Solantic to his wife when he took office, but this doesn't eliminate the conflict of interest.

  Solantic also offers drug testing services. And Scott recently signed an executive order requiring random drug testing of many state employees and applicants for state jobs -- and is pushing a bill to make poor people pay $35 for a drug test before they can collect welfare. On the other hand, he's opposed to a database that would help stop doctors from over-prescribing addictive prescription drugs, more likely to be abused by white middle- and upper-class people. That would be too much government intrusion into people's lives.

  Three months into his term, Scott's approval rating has fallen to 33 percent.

• But why should Florida have all the fun? The lunacy continues in Wisconsin where Republican Governor Scott Walker is using state funds to fund a sinecure for the son of a major campaign donor. With almost no management experience, 26-year-old college dropout (and two-time convicted drunk driver) Brian Deschane now manages dozens of employees and oversees state environmental and regulatory issues, making more than $81,500 a year. After only two months on the job, Deschane has already received a 26 percent pay raise and a promotion.

  Deschane’s father is Jerry Deschane, executive vice president and longtime lobbyist for the Wisconsin Builders Association, which contributed $121,652 to Walker's campaign.

• Among the 50,000 emails sent to Walker during the fight over his union busting bill was one from Carlos F. Lam suggesting a "false flag" operation where an operative pretending to be on the union side would attack Walker. Lam is not just a random wacko, but a deputy prosecutor in Johnson County, Indiana. Or rather, he was: he resigned when the story came to light. Lam is the second Indiana prosecutor to lose his job over controversial statements about the Wisconsin protests: Jeff Cox, an Indiana deputy attorney general, was forced out after tweeting that Wisconsin police should use "live ammunition" to clear protesters from the state Capitol.
• Speaking of people from Wisconsin who draw a public salary, take a moment to shed a tear for Republican Congressman Sean Duffy, and his meager $174,000 salary. At a Polk County town hall meeting earlier this year, he complained that he's having trouble making ends meet on a taxpayer-funded salary three times the median income in Wisconsin.

  The GOP has been trying, unsuccessfully, to squash the video of Duffy's comments.