3/9/2026

 Monday, March 9, 2026

1945 334 US B-29 Superfortresses attacked Tokyo with 120,000 fire bombs

1962 US advisors in South Vietnam joined in a  firefight

1964 Supreme Court issued NY Times vs Sullivan decision: public officials must prove malice to recover damages in libel actions

1974 The last Japanese soldier, a guerrilla operating in the Philippines, surrendered 29 years after World War II ended

1980: Flemish and Walloon battled in Belgium; 40 injured

1989 US Senate rejected President George H. W. Bush's nomination of John Tower as Defense Secretary

In bed at 11, up at 6:15.  47/34/65/44  112/57/31  128  205.8

Morning meds at ? a.m.

 Fox News interview of Trump's press secretary on 3/6/2026:

JOHN ROBERTS: All right, now it’s time for our own private White House briefing with the press secretary, Karoline Leavitt. Karoline, thanks for being with us this Friday afternoon, appreciate your time.

KAROLINE LEAVITT: Thanks for having me.

ROBERTS: I wanted to start you off this afternoon because we have confirmed reports from U.S. officials that Russia is providing intelligence to Iran to help it target U.S. assets in the region. I’m sure this is something that does not please the president whatsoever. Has he spoken to Putin about it?

LEAVITT: Well, look, I’ll leave that to the president to answer himself. But what I will tell you, John, we don’t comment on intelligence reports that are leaked to the press. Whether or not this happened, frankly, it does not really matter because President Trump and the United States military are absolutely decimating the rogue Iranian terrorist regime. 

It doesn't matter to Karoline Leavitt and it may not matter to Donald Trump, but it matters to the sailors and airmen, the soldiers and Maines within striking range of Iranian lethal weapons.  I ask again, as I have many times, is Donald Trump merely a Russian asset or is he a Russian agent? 

Two years ago, I learned that my brother-in-law Jim Reck died.  From my journal, this date in 2024:

I'm grateful to be alive though I am feeling sad and a bit stunned.  My niece Chrissy texted me last night at 8:59: "Dad passed."  No other information.  Nephew Mike texted me at 9:02: "Hello.  Dad passed away this evening.  I know he is much happier to be back with my Mom in Heaven."  I wasn't aware of either message until I took my phone off its charging cable at 3:30.  Mike posted this on FaceBook:

Dad, you are the man I hope to make the most proud. 

You taught me how to be a gentleman. You taught me how to love fully, with my whole heart. You taught me everything I know about being a man. I know I mastered some of your lessons, and some I have tried and failed to get right yet. But I promise I will keep trying toget them right.

Just know I have finally found a woman that I love the way you love and loved Mom. There was never a time where you could question how much he loved His Kitty. And now he is up in Heaven with her. Truly in his Heaven, taking care of her again. 

If you knew him, you know he was the king of inappropriate humor, you knew he was willing to always do anything and everything for those he loved, he would be there for you at a moments notice. He was never afraid to say I love you. 

His life wasn't always easy. As a child he grew up in a broken home, that wasn't as loving or supportive as it should have been. He spent his teens in a Chicago street gang called the Shy City Scribes. He was a trouble maker, a law breaker and pretty much a runaway, and then he met my Mom. He always said if it wasn't for her he would have died young and stupid.

He went in to the army, did his service to our country, came out and went to technical school, got a job with Xerox, where he stayed for his entire career and he married his love, my Mom.

They started their life together, wanting a family but, they were told they wouldn't be able to have children. They sought to adopt a child and that is were I came in. They were in the process of finalizing the adoption when my Mom found out she was pregnant with the miracle child, my sister, Chrissi. And their dream of having family came true. 

Dad, you were the best Dad ever. Maybe I prejudice here, but that's how I feel. Growing up you sacrificed, you did all you could for us and then some. You were a roadie for me many times, you watched my metal bands play shows, even though you loved country music. You were always there when I needed you. 

I love you Dad. I hope I will make you proud when we met again. Rest in Peace and be with your Angel. Give Mon a hug for us.

I replied:

Mikey, as I've often said, you are a gifted writer but I am so sad to read these words. You are sure right about your Dad's childhood as an abused and neglected child. He often told me of how he was on a bad path until he met your wonderful Mom. I remember talking with her about how he had broken the cycle of abuse and neglect that he endured as a child with his life as a steady, loving, reliable provider for his family and a good citizen. His life was an acheivement to be proud of. He loved your Mom with his entire heart and soul, just as she loved him. My heart's aching as I think of both of them. For some reason, what I am remembering most vividly of your Dad now is the day I was visiting them in Glendale when your Dad found a baby sparrow that had fallen out of its nest. He picked it up and protected that bird and then he drove that little bird (and me) for miles out into the desert in the middle of nowhere where there was a wildlife rehab facility where he entrusted that little bird. And you know the story of his keeping watch over an endangered baby burro all night. Your Dad used to go on elk hunting trips with his beloved Bucky, up into the mountains but he couldn't get himself to shoot an elk. Several years ago, your cousin Sarah and I did a driving tour of national parks and one day as we were driving we spotted on a ridge a magnificent bull elk that took our breath away and Sarah said to me "Yep, that's why Jim can't shoot them." There is a very warm place in my heart for your Dad, and of course for your Mom. All our lives were enriched by both of them and are diminished by their passing. I'm feeling sad today but glad that my life has been enriched by your Mom and your Dad, and by you and Chrissie.

Jim was born on April 11, 1941, 4 months before I was.  He always treated me like royalty when I visited.  I am kind of stunned to learn of his death with no other information.  I texted Chrissie at 7:41 a.m.:

Hi, Sweetie.   i didn’t see this message until I got up this morning.  I felt almost stunned by it; I didn’t know your Dad had been ill.  I posted some of my thoughts about him in a comment to Mikey’s memorial on Facebook.  Your Dad was ‘a diamond in the rough,’ a person with an incredibly harsh start in life who made much of his life and had much to be proud of, to be admired.  He had an abundance of kindness in his heart, as your Mom did, a trait both you and Mikey have inherited.  I know the past couple of years, and the year before, can’t have been easy for you.  I hope you’re OK and I’m sorry for your loss.❤️

and she replied:

Thank you, he actually was doing just fine, Wednesday he said he had pains in his heart, I had a nurse here within a couple of hours, she really didn’t say much, he had an odd weezing, she wasn’t sure about without testing, my dad and I talked about the nurse and he liked her, he slept a ton Thursday and died in his sleep Friday.

Many years ago, say 11 or 12, Tom St. John called me and asked if I wanted to accompany him to a Milwaukee Repertory Theater performance of Dickens' A Christmas Carol.  As I recall, Caela was ill.  I agreed despite misgivings because of my chronic pelvic pain and IC problems.  Before the performance, we met for a drink at some watering hole and in the course of schmoozing Tom said that he wished he could live forever, but only if he were young and healthy.  I said that living forever sounded like a nightmare to me, in a state of never-changing, never-growing, never-ending.  I still feel that way.  I'm reminded of the scene in the Peter Cook and Dudley Moore original Bedazzled in which Cook as Beelzebub/George Spiggott describes  to Dudley Moore/Stanley Moon just how boring Heaven is:

[George climbs up on a London postbox.]

George Spiggott:  I'm God. This is my throne, see? All around me are the cherubim, seraphim, continually crying 'Holy, holy, holy'. the angels, archangels, that sort of thing. Now you be me, Lucifer, the loveliest angel of them all.

Stanley Moon:  What do I do?

George Spiggott:  Well, sort of dance around praising me, mainly...

Stanley Moon:  What sort of things do I say?

George Spiggott:  Anything that comes into your head that's nice - how beautiful I am, how wise I am, how handsome...that sort of thing. Come on, start dancing.

Stanley Moon:  You're wise!, You're beautiful! You're handsome!

George Spiggott:  Thank you very much.

Stanley Moon:  The universe! What a wonderful idea - take my hat off to you!

George Spiggott:  Thank you.

Stanley Moon:  Trees - terrific! Water - another good one!

George Spiggott:  That was a good one...

Stanley Moon:  Yes! Sex - top marks!

George Spiggott:  Now make it more personal... a bit more fulsome please. Come on.

Stanley Moon:  Immortal... invisible... you're handsome... you're glorious... you're the most beautiful person in the WORLD!

[Stanley performs a headstand, removes his hat, and wipes his brow.]

Stanley Moon:  Here, I'm getting a bit bored with this. Can't we change places?

George Spiggott:  That's exactly how I felt.

That humorous description of life in Heaven pretty closely matches the conception of the BEATIFIC VISION that I was taught as a young Catholic.  "According to the Catechism of the Catholic Church and the Compendium of the Catechism of the Catholic Church, the beatific vision is God opening himself in an inexhaustible way to the saints, so that they can see him face to face, and thereby share in his nature, and therefore enjoy eternal, definitive, supreme, perfect, and ever new happiness."  Now I am an old man growing older every day until the day I don't.  I've outlived my parents and my sister, most of my law firm colleagues and law faculty colleagues, other family members and other friends.  When I underwent the bladder surgery 4 days ago, the anesthesiologist reminded me that I have an Advance Directive on file at the VA including a Do Not Resuscitate instruction.  He explained that sometimes with anesthesia, the patient stops breathing and needs to be resuscitated.  He asked if I wanted the DNR instruction ignored for that surgery.  It was rather a sobering experience to have a doctor in surgical scrubs tell you that what we are about to do to you in the next several minutes may cause you to stop breathing.  Do you want us to let you die or revive you?  What does it say about my readiness to pass from this 'vale of tears' that I asked to be revived?

...............................

 I write this today, two years later:  Not long thereafter, I underwent cataract surgery and again the surgeon asked about the DNR order, but then I replied, without hesitation: 'Let me die."  Indeed, I said it twice.  After the bladder surgery, I had a long conversation about the matter and assured myself that we were on the same page, had a shared understanding and will not to extend our lives artificially in such circumstances.