Literary photography

A few years back when I was still living in Ohio, I had this idea-- Literary "photography", a series of short well written vignettes with pictures to accompany them. I never got around to the photography portion of this project but below are the results of the literary portion I was working on:

First Kiss

Standing on a curb she kisses him deeply. Their tongues mingle and dance with each other. In that single moment they are the only two people on Earth. Everyone else disappears into the periphery. You stand off to the side, glancing over at them occasionally. A part of you is jealous; remembering your own moments of total happiness that never lasted, but while they were there, nothing else compared. You walk away, not interrupting. This is their time.

You remember your first kiss. You had never met her before, you knew from the moment you saw her… you knew it was her. While the elation passed, it put you on cloud 9 briefly. You felt you could surf through her long red locks, swim in the soothing blues of her eyes. That feeling slipped away in the ensuing months. But at that moment, the cars rushing by behind the two of you, the street lamp reflecting in her eyes, eyes that closed slowly as you leaned in to kiss her. Her fragrance lost in the filing cabinet of your memory until it’s rifled out by another woman with the same scent at some, as yet, undetermined moment. The taste of her lips on yours with the sound of passing cars and errant conversations you weren’t a part of fading deeper and deeper into the background.

I believe this was written late in the summer of 2000. I witnessed 2 people kissing after work one night. I was in a rather unhappy relationship at the time and seeing 2 people in a happy relationship made me smile and remember when I had once experienced the emotions I'm guessing they were feeling some semblance of.

Summer Campfire

They had the fragrance of vacation on them; the subtle perfumes and colognes of bug spray, sun-block, and campfire. With just one whiff you were taken back on a magic carpet of memories. You remember talking over the pale orange glow of the fire and the soft white from the pin pricks in the sky, the local classic rock station playing Blue Oyster Cult in the background as you reminisced about times past and played the all too familiar game of “catch-up” with brothers and sisters who’d become more like strangers passing on the street with the passage of time.

I wrote this either in the summer of 2000 or 2001. I had stopped at a convenience store to buy a pop and these 2 young girls and their dad came into the store. I could smell both the insect repellent and suntan lotion on them. Those scents hit me with a wave of nostalgia so I wrote it down.

Sunset on the Bay

"Where did you go just now?" she looked at you with that look located somewhere between concern and curiousity.

Come again?" not quite understanding what she means, you reflect her curiousity back at her.

"You got that distant look in your eyes again."

"Oh." She's right but a part of you just wants to stay in that place alone. The sun setting as the waves gently lap the shore, the occassional call of a seagull or splash of a fish coming up to figure out what the rest of us are looking at. The sun slowly turning from its afternoon yellows to its evening reds and crimsons as it dips into the water. Sailboats pass by, massaging your calm serene mood... This is your sanctuary. A sanctuary you enjoy sharing with the special people in your life but can't wait to enjoy alone... to get lost in the peace and to drown yourself in the sunset's embrace.

"Yea, I s'pose you're right." You smile at her with a look that says that's all she's getting from you.

This was written in the summer of 2002. My then girlfriend (later fiancee and now wife) had come to visit me in Ohio. We'd driven from my home in Elyria to Sandusky where I'd lived for 2 years before moving to Elyria. We went to a park overlooking Sandusky Bay and had a conversation similar to the one above.

Crimson Love

The flicker of the strobe, the soft glow of black lights as your hands are clasped with hers. Your lips dance together as your bare skin feels the electricity of hundreds of lightning bolts with each caress. The soothing and dark tones of King Crimson syncopate every kiss, every caress, every moan from her lips and yours. Your bodies crashing into each other like waves against the rocks. The smell of her perfume and shampoo fills you just as your musk overwhelms her. Your bodies are beyond thought, pleasure echoes through you. Every synapse; taste, touch, smell, and even the sight of your own eyelids clenched tight in exquisite pleasure is amplified. Your nerves short circuit as the music crescendoes and your bodies reverberate, shudder, and shake. As quickly as it hits, it's over. The music fades in the background as you lie next to each other. Aftershocks of pleasure course through your bodies as the soft flutes and vocals lull you both to sleep, smiling in each others arms-- your heartbeats in sync with each other, a metronome to the soft music dancing you into your dreams.

Given the nature of this one, I'd rather not go into specifics. I'll just say that King Crimson (thus the title) isn't normally a band one would think to listen to during life's more amorous moments; but somehow the song Starless from their Red album fit this particular experience quite beautifully.

Awake at Sunrise

The sun pierces the blinds and your eyelids as you journey back to reality. One by one morning invades your five senses. The soft glow of dawn, the smell of the morning dew hanging on the grass, the sound of morning traffic rumbling softly at first, growing with intensity with each passing moment.

A foul dryness penetrates your tongue, jarring it awake, and the feel of her bare skin against yours and the light weight of the bed sheet resting over you pulls you back from the journey of your dreams. You feel her stir in your arms, the morning overcoming her as well. You look into each others eyes and smile.

I could be wrong but I believe this last one is actually in reference to the subsequent morning (where the previous piece left off).

Hot Summer Day

The shrill hum of the cicadas creating a sonic backdrop, a soundtrack of a summer. The stale air latches on to you, hugging tightly, bogging you down and caressing you with a soft sheen of sweat. You attempt to play hide-n-seek with the sun but you're at a loss with no clouds to hide behind and few healthy trees to find respite under. The songs of summer play out in your head, a seductive reverie of times and people past, lost smiles, forgotten punchlines to lost jokes told on a chaise lounge with the erotic sensual application of sunscreen. The joke and punchline were irrelevant, she had laughed anyway. Your heart took a snapshot of the moment for posterity. Unfortunately, the curse of time has faded the photograph leaving its edges yellowed and her laugh muted and fading slowly.

And unfortunately the curse of time has faded this "photograph" to the point where I no longer recognize it.

Misplaced Opportunity

She smiled at you with her eyes as if to ask you your name. Your heart answered her eyes with a flush of the cheeks and a nervous laugh. Your faces continued the dance of non-verbal flirtation. There was something about her, the light freckles on her nose, her sun-bleached hair, and lightly burnt and peeling skin. Or maybe it was her dimples, or the way she was able to laugh without actually laughing.

You remember your first date with her; she was in a floral print sun-dress and sandals. She was blushing nervously at you. You had a bottle of wine, a box of crackers-- Triscuits, and brie in the picnic basket in your left hand; a pair of empty wine glasses and a single perfect pink rose in your right hand. You fed each other cheese & crackers as you laughed away the afternoon under the soft warmth of the sun.

The date only happened in your imagination. Too shy to actually talk to her, every word, every joke, every flirtation stuck in the back of your throat without a road map to her ears. A missed opportunity-- an almost perfect relationship that got lost between fantasy and reality in the land of regret known as "Shoulda."

No, she really got up and walked away before any words were exchanged, leaving you only with the memory of the single perfect moments you shared with her and a sly flirtatious smile you never answered as she left.

This one was one of my favorites. I believe it was written either in April or May 2001 or possibly sometime between February and March 2002. I don't recall exactly other than to say I was between relationships when I wrote it.

Hangover

Sunlight blinding at the crack of dawn
Jackhammer pounding from the inside out
Gastro-Intestinal Gymnastics scoring a perfect ten
Last night's drinking binge, a work of art
Painted on a canvas of porcelain

This one was written from memory and largely for fun. I'm not a heavy drinker for the most part. And I can count on one hand the number of times I've reached the state of inebriation that would have led to the above poem and all of those ocassions ocurred at least 2-3 years before I wrote the above poem.

I hope you've enjoyed these.

Family Ties

A few weeks ago, pattinase, offered up an essay assignment inspired by the book Prime times : writers on their favorite TV shows to her blog readers. I decided to take her up on her assignment and may even make this an annual thing for my blog. Without further ado...

Being born in the mid seventies, I'm very much a product of the eighties. I was too young by the time the seventies ended to remember much about them. Most of my childhood memories come from the eighties. There were a lot of family oriented sitcoms in the eighties, of varying degrees of quality. But the one show that captured my attention and interest more than any of the others of this era was Family Ties.

I'd tune in weekly to watch the trials and travails of the Keaton family. The liberal parents with their two daughters and their conservative son, Alex. In hindsight there was an innocence captured in this show that's disappeared in the years since. Granted the focus of TV has changed substantially since the eighties. But this show was an escape from the worries and troubles of real life. Its situations were amusing, its conflicts were trivial (by today's standards)-- Mallory debating whether or not to cheat on a test, Jennifer having trouble on a homework assignment and getting help from Alex, Mallory's boyfriend Nick trying to win the approval of the Keaton parents, the irrepresible Skippy Handleman's unrequited love for Mallory.

But the writers and producers realized they had a major talent on their hands with the young Canadian, Michael J. Fox. Initially the show divided the time somewhat equally among all members of the Keaton clan. But over the years Alex became more and more of a focal point. And when the show did start to tackle more serious issues like heartbreak and death, the stories were written around Alex's character as he dealt with the untimely death of his friend Greg and the end of his relationship with Ellen (played by Fox's real life wife, Tracy Pollan).

But the issues the show tackled regardless of how trivial or how serious they were, I could related to them. The Keaton family felt real, like the kind of family I wanted to know. Heck, I wanted to be just like Alex for most of the show's run.

When the eighties drew to a close and all of the stories had been told the cast of Family Ties made their final curtain call. And for a show that so defined the eighties, the curtain call was as much for the decade as it was for the show. Even the creators of the show later stated in interviews that Family Ties is a show that would not have been successful in any decade other than the eighties. There would be no reunions as the stories would never ring as true in any other decade as they did when they first aired. The snapshot of time was taken and it was time to put it in the photo album.

From time to time in later years I would catch the ocassional episode in reruns and I actually found it more enjoyable. I felt for Alex when Ellen left him and could even relate to his amicable parting with his other long-time love interest, Lauren (played by a young Courtney Cox in her pre-Friends days) shortly before the shows eventual end. I felt the vulnerability of Alex's parents, Steven & Elise, when his father suffered a heart attack. The realness was still there. The innocence was still there and it gave me a pang of nostalgia for the innocence that is now quite conspicuously absent from most television programming.

I'm Perplexio and....

I'm a comic book geek. When I first saw Michael Keaton as the Batman in 1988 I rushed out and bought the trade paperback of Batman: A Death In the Family. I quickly learned that this "Robin" whom had been killed off was not the Dick Grayson I was familiar with from reruns of the cheesy 60s TV show, but a new fellow-- Jason Todd.

My curiousity compelled me to find out what ever happened to Dick. The Robin I knew and was more familiar with... Oh he was still very very much alive. Sick of living in the Batman's shadow he'd quit as Robin and become Nightwing. More on that later.

Anyway, for about a year or two I collected the various different Batman comics with some intensity. But I noticed my interest was waning. There was something that was just a little TOO dark about the Batman. I watched as he took on yet another new ward. A rather insightful youth that had been smart enough to figure out the real identity of not only Batman, but also BOTH of the Robins. This young lad, Timothy Drake, knew that the Batman needed a Robin. Robin was more than just a sidekick. He gave Batman balance. So he tried to talk Dick Grayson into re-joining Batman as a sidekick... rather unsuccessfully. Instead, Bruce Wayne-- impressed with Master Timothy's superlative detective skills-- decided to start training Tim to be the new Robin.

Around this time, CBS started airing a TV series based on the exploits of The Flash. I was hooked. The acting was atrocious, but the special effects were awesome and I was hooked. There was a lightness to The Flash that I'd been missing with Batman. But again, I was taken aback. On the TV series we had police forensic scientist, Barry Allen, as The Flash. But in the comics was some young upstart named Wally West. That being said the Barry from the TV series did exhibit some of the traits of Wally in the comics... But it left me wondering what the heck had happened to Barry.

Apparently, I'd missed the boat... by about 5 years!

Barry was dead. I felt like I'd missed all the best parts. But over time the more I read The Flash, the more this young upstart, Wally West, won me over. To the point where, as far as I was concerned, he was the Flash. He'd more than filled his mentor's shoes.

But the thing with comics is-- no one ever stays dead:

Not Jason Todd

And not even Barry Allen.

Over the past few years DC has been making a lot of changes. As a result the DC Universe has gotten a bit more crowded. There are 3 Flashes and 3 Robins. To clean things up with Robin... Bruce Wayne was "apparently" killed. So there was a bit of a battle between Dick Grayson (the original Robin), Jason Todd (the resurrected 2nd Robin), Tim Drake (the 3rd Robin), and even 10 year old Damian Wayne (son of Bruce Wayne) to determine who would become the new Batman. In the end Dick Grayson became Batman and started training Damian Wayne to become Robin. He conceded that he considered Tim Drake to be too much his equal to ever be his sidekick. And Jason Todd. Well he's pissed off and has gone a bit rogue. He's very much like Bruce Wayne in every way but one... He's willing to kill criminals. Which makes him very dangerous indeed. Tim is the only member of the Batman "family" to believe Bruce Wayne is still alive.

So he's become "Red Robin" and taken it upon himself to find Bruce Wayne.

The Flash is a little different. He's always been more of a legacy character. Even as fast as the Flash is-- whether it's Jay Garrick, Barry Allen, or Wally West. He's not fast enough to be in multiple places at once. There's enough room for more than one Flash... But what about those pesky costumes. Barry's and Wally's costumes were just too similar which could lead to confusion over how to tell the two apart....

Problem solved-- new costume for Wally! For those who are curious (From L to R: Jesse Quick/Liberty Belle II, Max Mercury, Bart Allen/Kid Flash II, Barry Allen/Flash II, Wally West/Flash III, Impulse II/Iris West, and Jay Garrick/Flash I) .

The funny thing about comics is that the largest demographic of comic readers is 18-35 year old males. It's those of us who grew up with a lot of these characters. The artwork and writing have gotten considerably better over the years so the comics have held our interest when previous generations likely would have grown out of the hobby long before now.

A look back...

Some of the music blogs I read have been reviewing assorted albums released in 1969 (and thus celebrating their 40th anniversary this year) and discussing the impact these albums have had on their lives. Despite personally having a younger vintage than these albums some of them did have a rather strong impact on me.

Some of the better albums released that year:

The Beatles Abbey Road
Chicago Transit Authority s/t
The Sons of Champlin Loosen Up Naturally
King Crimson In the Court of the Crimson King
Led Zeppelin II
Yes s/t
Quicksilver Messenger Service Happy Trails (live)
Doors The Soft Parade
The Rolling Stones Let It Bleed
Blood Sweat & Tears s/t
The Who Tommy
Boz Scaggs s/t (incidentally this one makes the list largely due to the Duane Allman guitar solo on Loan Me a Dime)

I've only reviewed 2 from the list (follow the links if interested) but those 2 albums have a lot in common:

Both the Sons of Champlin & Chicago:
had guitarists named Terry (Kath in Chicago, Haggerty in the Sons of Champlin)
had 7 members
had a 3 piece horn section
had double LP debut albums
had debut albums released on the exact same day
at one point or other in their history featured Bill Champlin on lead vocals, keyboards, and sometimes guitar.
and... admittedly this last one is a bit of a stretch. The last song on Chicago's debut is the 14+ minute Liberation. The last song on the Sons of Champlin's debut is the 14+ minute Freedom.

As a teenager I listened to both of their debut albums incessantly. I just couldn't get enough. The music was and still is excellent. And it never fails, I'm always able to hear something "new" that I didn't notice on previous listens.

It was the musical adventurousness, innovation, and overall inventiveness of these bands that opened my ears, heart, and mind to a lot of other great music of the same era.

It's about the Why, not the What!

The other night when driving home from a friends' home I was listening to 99.9 which is now a Progressive talk radio station. Despite my views being quite the opposite of the hosts on this station I find listening to "the other side" to be quite beneficial.

For me it's never been about WHAT the other side believes or how their views differ from mine. It's been about WHY they believe what they believe as well as getting a better feel for what they believe I (and other conservatives believe). The experience, admittedly, isn't always a comfortable one but sometimes you really have to put yourself in uncomfortable situations to learn and grow (for my more liberal friends/readers-- how would you feel listening to the likes of Rush Limbaugh, Glenn Beck, Bill O'Reilly, Michael Medved, Dennis Miller, etc. etc.? Would you be uncomfortable or ill at ease?)

What struck me about what I heard was a very pervasive confrontational "us vs. them" vibe-- a similar vibe to what I'm guessing liberals experience when listening to conservative talk radio and television commentators. The vibe was not about trying to understand the other side, it was about how to marginalise and inevitably defeat the other side. Again, a similar vibe to some of the more outspoken conservative pundits out there.

It's come to feel that those who shape or attempt to shape public opinion are taking on a "divide & conquer" strategy. And the talking heads of both the right and the left are equally guilty on this charge. It's no longer about finding common ground, understanding, or agreeing to disagree. It's become about not only attempting to silence but also embarass and downright ruin the opposition. We are becoming our own worst enemies, the worst possible versions of ourselves as a result.

Each side is arguing louder & louder, shouting their beliefs at each other back and forth. Civil debate is dead, in its place is rancorous argument. The truth is, we already know what we believe and what the opposition believes. We already know that by and large we don't agree with the opposition. What we're lacking is a political empathy of sorts. It's not about, nor has it ever really been about WHAT we believe-- it's always been about WHY we believe the way we do. So I challenge you, the next time you engage in a political debate or a discussion. Rather than discuss the "what" of your beliefs, discuss the "why" of your beliefs. A true political discussion, a civil one is centered around reason, logic, and understanding. And when the discussion is focused merely on the "what" rather than on the "why" of one another's beliefs there can never truly be any true understanding. That common ground that has the potential to bring us together will never be found until we, as a culture, better understand one another's beliefs.

Veteran's Day

In honor of Veteran's Day here are the lyrics to some of my favorite songs dedicated to war veterans:

I Was Only 19 (A Walk In the Light Green) - Redgum (about an ANZAC Vietnam vet)
Mum and Dad and Denny saw the passing-out parade at Puckapunyal
It was a long march from cadets.
The sixth battalion was the next to tour, and it was me who drew the card.
We did Canungra, Shoalwater before we left.

And Townsville lined the footpaths as we marched down to the quay
This clipping from the paper shows us young and strong and clean.
And there's me in my slouch hat with my SLR and greens.
God help me, I was only nineteen.

From Vung Tau, riding Chinooks, to the dust at Nui Dat
I'd been in and out of choppers now for months.
But we made our tents a home, VB and pinups on the lockers
And an Agent Orange sunset through the scrub.

And can you tell me, doctor, why I stil can't get to sleep?
The night-time's just a jungle dark and a barking M16?
And what's this rash that comes and goes, can you tell me what it means?
God help me, I was only ninteen.

A four week operation when each step could mean your last one on two legs
It was a war within yourself.
But you wouldn't let your mates down til they had you dusted off
So you closed your eyes and thought about something else.

Then someone yelled "Contact!" and the bloke behind me swore
We hooked in there for hours, then a Godalmighty roar
Frankie kicked a mine the day that mankind kicked the moon,
God help me, he was going home in June.

I can still see Frankie, drinking tinnies in the Grand Hotel
On a thirty-six hour rec leave in Vung Tau
And I can still hear Frankie, lying screaming in the jungle
Til the morphine came and killed the bloody row.

And the Anzac legends didn't mention mud and blood and tears
And the stories that my father told me never seemed quite real.
I caught some pieces in my back that I didn't even feel
God help me, I was only nineteen.

And can you tell me, doctor, why I still can't get to sleep?
And why the Channel Seven chopper chills me to my feet?
And what's this rash that comes and goes, can you tell me what it means?
God help me, I was only nineteen.


Khe Sanh - Cold Chisel (another song about the ANZAC Vietnam experience)

I left my heart to the sappers round Khe Sanh
And my soul was sold with my cigarettes to the blackmarket man
I've had the Vietnam cold turkey
From the ocean to the Silver City
And it's only other vets could understand

About the long forgotten dockside guarantees
How there were no V-day heroes in 1973
How we sailed into Sydney Harbour
Saw an old friend but couldn't kiss her
She was lined, and I was home to the lucky land

And she was like so many more from that time on
Their lives were all so empty, till they found their chosen one
And their legs were often open
But their minds were always closed
And their hearts were held in fast suburban chains
And the legal pads were yellow, hours long, paypacket lean
And the telex writers clattered where the gunships once had been
But the car parks made me jumpy
And I never stopped the dreams
Or the growing need for speed and novacaine

So I worked across the country end to end
Tried to find a place to settle down, where my mixed up life could mend
Held a job on an oil-rig
Flying choppers when I could
But the nightlife nearly drove me round the bend

And I've travelled round the world from year to year
And each one found me aimless, one more year the more for wear
And I've been back to South East Asia
But the answer sure ain't there
But I'm drifting north, to check things out again

You know the last plane out of Sydney's almost gone
Only seven flying hours, and I'll be landing in Hong Kong
There ain't nothing like the kisses
From a jaded Chinese princess
I'm gonna hit some Hong Kong mattress all night long

Well the last plane out of Sydney's almost gone
Yeah the last plane out of Sydney's almost gone
And it's really got me worried
I'm goin' nowhere and I'm in a hurry
And the last plane out of Sydney's almost gone


What's a Few Men - Hunters & Collectors (about the WWI - Battle of Galipoli)

The colonel said "these bodies stink wont someone come and drag them away"
We try to clean them up but they mow us down
And the English colonel looks the other way
Oh the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak
Well I ran for the trench but I had no time to speak
Well my heart said yes
But my head said no
When the English colonel said "its time to go"

He said "Whats a few men?"
He said "Whats a few men?"
He said "Whats a few men?"

The colonel's job is never done
So he declares timeout on Christmas Day
We held the enemy in our arms
And we ploughed each others dead into the clay
Well the Lord said death will be no longer
And all of these things will pass away
There will be no sorrow and there will be no pain
And we'll swap cigrettes on christmas day

Well my heart said yes
But my head said no
When the English colonel said "its time to go"

He said "Whats a few men?"
He said "Whats a few men?"
He said "Whats a few men?"

I realize that all 3 of those songs are Australian and are about the ANZAC soldiers, not American ones. This isn't a reflection of the sacrifices of Australian soldiers vs. that of American soldiers it's more a reflection of Aussie songwriters vs. American songwriters. There are some decent American songs about veterans (Springsteen's Born In the USA and Billy Joel's Goodnight Saigon and the late Harry Chapin's Mercenaries all come to mind) but I don't find those songs to pack the emotional wallop of the above songs.

Unintended Consequences

I started using the Internet when I was a freshman in college back in the fall of 1995. Admittedly, I've been quite active in various message boards and/or other forums of political expression ever since. Indeed, that's even when/where I came up with the moniker, "Perplexio" which I've been using ever since. I logged into Internet Relay Chat (IRC) and wanted to come up with a screen name that reflected my personality. I really liked "Perplexion", unfortunately it was 1 character too long. The "n" dropped off. But I liked the sound of it and thus "Perplexio" was born.

That's neither here nor there though. Over the years in the various outlets of the expression of opinion-- listservs, email mailing lists, web based message boards, etc. etc. I've noticed that discussion has become increasingly more rancorous-- especially political discussion.

The anonymity of the Internet does tend to cause people to shed the shackles of restraint and say what's on their mind-- no holds barred, full speed ahead. Unfortunately, the less restraint people have the less tactful they become in the expression of their opinions. Expressing those same opinions face to face would likely cause many of us to be more tactful and careful with our choice of words; with the delivery of our message if you will.

Not bearing witness to the fruits of our words, the reactions of those who are reading them and hiding either intentionally or unintentionally behind a computer monitor can have dire results. It can cause what would normally be polite and civil discussion to turn into a venomous war of words with the bile of hatred being spewed back and forth.

As the usage of the Internet has grown substantially since it first started coming into vogue polite and civil discourse has become increasingly more rare. The level of rancor has grown and spread. It's heard on talk radio (Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, Michael Savage), seen on TV (FoxNews, CNN, MSNBC, etc.), and it permeates the Internet like a malignant tumor (MoveOn.org, Politico, townhall.com, the websites of the aforementioned Cable news networks, etc.).

And because it's become so omnipresent it's begun seeping into interpersonal relations. It's led to a de-conditioning of people's preference of intelligent, polite, and tactful discourse. In its place appears to be an overwhelming desire to not only make one's point at the expense of all other opinions but to do so in as underhanded and below the belt manner as possible. I'm not saying we're all like that, we're not. However, I do believe that this approach is becoming more and more the rule and not the exception.

There also seems to be a knee-jerk reaction to resort to over-the-top hyperbole. Whether it's Sarah Palin's reference to "death panels" in the ongoing health care debate or Nancy Pelosi referring to Americans who disagree with the Democratic majority's stance on health care as "Nazis" or "Brownshirts"-- these remarks are over the top and serve no one and inevitably weaken the credibility of the speakers (which is quite a feat considering how little credibility was there to begin with). It's fostered a very pervasive "us vs. them" or "red vs. blue" mentality as neither side is willing to discuss so much as they're willing to out-do the opposition.

Could it be that both sides have legitimate concerns and reasons for those concerns? No, because conceding any points to the opposition in this era is seen as weakness. Our founding fathers knew when to stand their ground and when to compromise (although, admittedly many of the debates at the Constitutional Convention in 1787 were likely just as rancorous, if not moreso, than the current health care debate). The difference is that those debates bore fruit! There was at least some semblance of a willingness to compromise. It doesn't appear that we even have that any longer.