03 December 2006

Missing Fidel

It is cold and clear, not at all like Havana where they celebrated Fidel's birthday on the military anniversary, rather than the real day. It is a little sad to realize that the old revolutionary is really as sick as he is, since he represents my life and times as much as he is the Father of the modern Cuban people.

Life him or not, that is what he has become. Like the folks in Miami and Havana , I'm growing accustomed to the fact that he really is dying. He was last heard from back at the end of July, when he installed his brother Raul as his stand-in.

He is probably the only man he can trust on the island, and this is probably the last celebration while he lives.

There were high hopes that he would be present for the military parade yesterday, but there was nothing, not even a speech.

That is what capped it for me. Fidel once spoke continuously for twelve hours, which puts him in a special place in the pantheon of blather, a place reserved for such giants as Senator Robert Byrd of West Virginia .

Life without Fidel will be a little poorer, but I think we can deal with it. The pre-mourners who attended the birthday celebration included the usual men of the left from Latin America , including Daniel Ortega, the newly-installed leader of Nicaragua , Evo Morales, the President of Bolivia , Rene Preval of Haiti , and French movie-star Gérard Depardieu.

Maybe he is Minister of Culture, or something. I don't know.

Hugo Chavez is not there, since he is still pre-counting the ballots for the election that is in progress today. Millions of Venezuelans will go to the polls to install his as el Presidente-for-life today, regardless of what they really feel. The constitution has already been modified to permit the plucky former Parachute Colonel a second six-year term, and that simply opens the door on eternity, or until the next coup.

I know he sent his regards to Uncle Fidel, and will hold the torch of make-believe economics high.

I would have gone, if I had been invited, even if it meant changing my schedule around. In some ways, things have been much busier than when I am working.

I expect to be back in harness soon. I have several promising offers that came to me on the Internet. A reputable former Government Minister in Nigeria has offered to split a million dollars with me, if I just provide him some information on my bank account for the transfer, and two Chinese firms want me to serve as a collection point for profits in their textile business.

I have to do almost nothing, so I am quite excited. I have told my prospective partners that I am available to start harvesting the cash almost immediately, and my decision will be forthcoming on Tuesday, with a starting date amenable to my new masters.

Suddenly things are simple. I sighed in relief and allowed myself to wallow in the ooze of college football's Championship Saturday.

I drove over to Army-Navy Country Club, since they put out a nice free spread of chili and club-style hotdogs for the largely military membership.

I always stop to look at who is on the "suspended" list near the financial office, to see which of my friends is in trouble. There was only one this time, and I made a resolution not to lend him any money if I saw him inside.

I was only there for the beer and free lunch, but wound up sitting with another old Spook and his wife. Club management delayed putting the food out until the half-time, which was painfully late in the afternoon.

My former associate retired from the business with finality when he took off the uniform. He helps his wife run a small antique business out of their modest home in Arlington . Since I am closer to the business than he is these days, he was filled with questions about our other old comrades, such as who was at which funeral, and so on.

It was fun to talk to him, since I remember him as an astute practitioner of our art. I was not surprised to find that we were in agreement on the conduct of both the hot and more tepid wars in progress, and the contribution of our little Spook guild to both.

We agreed that it was pretty screwed up, and when the time was right, we enjoyed chili-dogs and nachos, on the house.

When I was full, I bade my farewell, wishing I had brought the sport-coat with the plastic-lined pockets to fill with hors d'ouerves on the way out.

I found myself again at home, watching by turn, the end of the Navy victory over Army, the elimination of USC as the Uber-ranked team to my beloved Wolverines in the BCS rankings in their loss to UCLA , the ominous rise of the Seminoles in their SE conference win against Arkansas , and the bluster that they should vault ahead of Michigan for the National Championship try against the Buckeyes, and finally the blunt trauma in triple overtime that sent the Scarlet Knights of Rutgers back to New Jersey just before midnight, their dreams of glory shattered by the Mountaineers of West Virginia .

Now there is nothing except the BCS announcements this afternoon and trash games until the Holidays are really here. And the NFL, of course, but really, who cares?

The pros play for money, just like the rest of us, and they do what they have to do. There is passion, of a sort, but not the same as the college game.

I intend to relax. I'm glad to have the job offers that I do.

Opportunity is good. I can't wait for that Nigerian money to start rolling in. I wonder why Uncle Fidel didn't jump on an opportunity like that.

I have nothing in the world to worry about.

Copyright 2006 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com

Editors note: Management meant nothing disapraging to the memory of former Governor of Michigan George Romney, a man for whose memory we have enormous respect. In the editorial process, the "m" in the word "Mormon" was inadvertantly and inexplicably deleted. Our deepest apologies to the LDS Church and to the Romney family.

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