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There’s no arguing with an hour glass–even as beat up and weathered as the one in my parent’s New England home.  When the final specks of sand fall, it’s over.

With only a few grains left in 2014 there’s still time for a reflection on the passing year.

Today’s New York Times’ Year in Pictures is a fitting start.

And just to name a few 2014 foreign affairs highlights: Ukraine’s bold move standing up to Russia; ISIS’ reign of terror in Iraq and Syria; Taliban resurgence in post-NATO Afghanistan; the dual coronations by the media of Jeb and Hillary as heirs to the Republican and Democratic presidential nominations, respectively; European scapegoating of Netanyahu’s Israel; Ebola; Obama’s Cuban detente; ongoing genocide in Sudan/Darfur; the changing of the guard at the United Nations Security Council; and North Korean censorship going global.

In New York City the news of the moment is the New York Police Department’s unequivocal rejection of Mayor DeBlasio following the point blank execution of two officers in Bed-Stuy.  The Mayor’s solidarity with anti-NYPD protesters following the juried rulings in the Michael Brown and Eric Garner cases appears to have the entire police force disillusioned with his leadership.

And now for a handful of predictions: Another Pope Francis/Barack Obama photo-op during the pontiff’s visit state-side; ISIS loses big in Iraq (the clock’s ticking for Iraqi forces taking back Mosul); a full-court press by the Taliban to retake Afghanistan will leave them in control of a number of provinces, but the U.S. won’t let them raise their jihadi flag over the capital-city; the stock market is going to take a tumble and oil prices won’t stay low in 2015; the archdiocese of New York will not close St. Catherine of Siena (adjacent to Sloan Kettering) or St. Thomas More parish in Carnegie Hill; genocide in the Sudan (especially the Nuba Mountains) will garner a great deal of long overdue media attention; sanctions won’t deter Russia from meddling in Ukraine and other neighboring countries; Netanyahu wins the March elections; and Hillary and Jeb won’t be the presidential nominees.  The big question of 2015 is whether Assad can hold on to power in Syria.

Farewell 2014.  Didn’t see Ebola coming that’s for sure.  Let’s pray for a more peaceful and healthy 2015.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Last night I attended the 92nd Street Y’s talk between Senator McCain and “Face the Nation” commentator Bob Schieffer.  I happened to reserve a ticket for the front row, smack dab in the center.  Best seat in the house.  As a political junkie I had the same excitement as theatergoers for opening night of a Broadway play.  And it was a marvelous performance.  Not that I agreed with a good number of his points, but it was impressive to watch a senior senator work the crowd.  Despite a handful of snarky post-performance comments by a few audience members talking amongst themselves, he was very well received.  People spontaneously started clapping after a number of his comments and there was a sense that he was genuinely looking out for the common good.  He even got a hoo-rah from a Marine in the audience after wishing the Marine Corps a Happy Birthday.

The Senator was there to present his new book, 13 Soldiers: A Personal History of Americans at War, but after highlighting a few of his favorite stories from the book most of the time was spent fielding audience questions related to geopolitical and national issues.

Click here for a recording of Senator McCain’s 92Y talk.

Happy Veteran’s Day to all who served.

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Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

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