Colleen Rowley is a cool lady. I sat next to her husband during the entire talk yesterday — the most down-to-earth guy whose family has just been thrust into the spotlight with not the most flattering of hues. He loves watching her speak and brought the kids along with them to Chautauqua for a road trip speaking tour at colleges around the East Coast.

She’s a far better speaker in the small, intimate atmosphere of the Hall of Philosophy. She’s calm and cool, takes questions well, and really reflects her home-grown integrity through the passion of her speech. I caught up with her after the session and gave her my card — she’d said that she was interested in promoting her whistle-blowing cause but didn’t have any sort of web community set up to do so. I told her that Curt and I could take care of that no sweat. Maybe she’ll call… maybe she won’t. Good connection, anyhow. All of this took place standing around with her husband, the couple who sponsored her talk, and the President of Chautauqua. The spark of online community ignited a pretty cool conversation between all of us, which I left in the middle of because they torpedoed the entire concept by attaching it to her potential publisher’s promotional endeavors.

We’re packed and heading for the airport, Meg, Ted, and Emma in tow. The girls are still feeling awful; we’re all sleep deprived, and, as much as we love them all, it’s time for some time apart.

It stopped raining for the symphony last night. What a refreshing breather that was. Now? Raining again. Emma was up all night, feeling terrible. This morning, she’s doing a bit better, though I’m sure she’d be feeling better if she wasn’t cooped up in this dark, damp house all day long, praying for sun.

The music last night was great. Jackson is young and spastic at the cello, but her sound is strong in a complicated piece. The bats are still here, hundreds came out of the roof vent just as predicted and flew off into the night sky on the hunt.

Today is by far the busiest day of the week for me. This morning, John Barrett took the stage for the morning lecture at the amphitheater. This is the same fellow who spoke after “Judgement at Nuremburg” on Sunday, the world’s leading specialist on Justice Robert H. Jackson, the presiding judge in Nuremburg during the trials. Apparently, Jackson is from this area, has spoken several times at Chautauqua (sharing the stage with FDR), and writing some of the most powerful legal opinion in the history of the bench. The talk itself was fascinating, particularly in how Barrett addresses Jackson’s democratic, civil rights-based legal work with incidences of more hardlined authoritarian practices during his work as Attorney General. Jackson was part and patial to the alien registration act, among other acts which revoke the civil liberties of citizens. How is he so different from General Rumsfeld today? He’s a constitionalist first, policeman second. Today, we’ve got it backward.

I attended a session at noon today with the honorable ambassador John Dolibois, Ambassador to Luxembourg, retired. He’s written a book on his work as chief inquisitor of the 119 Nazi military leaders, judges, and politicians post WWII. He worked for Justice Jackson with a team of five other investigators determining who should go to trial and who could wait. He’s the last of the five alive today, and it was quite an honor to hear him speak.

This afternoon, I walked out of a lecture by Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf entitled “What’s right with Islam?” I have to admit, I was really looking forward to this one. But, seriously, after a morning on civil liberties, a mid-day of Nazi war crimes, there had to be something pretty damned engaging to keep me awake. This guys voice, well, it might as well have been Barry White singing lullabies to us. Had I not left, I would have been asleep long before the end. That, and by half way through the session, we still had no idea what, exactly, was right with Islam. I know there are some things that are right with it, but I think this guy would have needed more time to lay it all out than I could give.

Tonight: Goldfinger. Another in the Chautauqua film series. There’s a lecture by David Zinman before, screening, then Q&A after. I’m really looking forward to seeing this on the big screen with a full house audience. “No, Mr. Bond. I want you to DIE!”

Still raining. Still raining hard. Emma is still sick. Her fever was up, the cough still heavy and hoarsy. Meg, Ted, and Dettie raced her off to the hospital in Mayville this morning. As of the last call, she’s come down with the croupe: an inflamation of the vocal folds and congestion which sounds something like the end of the world. Turns out, it’s not the end of the world, she’s still getting plenty of air, but she’s really, really uncomfortable. According to the docs, it’s not terribly contagious.
David Cole, professor, Georgetown Law Center, is fantastic. His talk today was on “Enemy Aliens and American Freedoms: Liberty and Security after September 11.”

After Tom Ridge, this guy is a breath of fresh air. He’s not a politician, he’s a down-in-the-trenches constitutionalist and civil libertarian. Where Ridge says things like “some illegal aliens have been held,” Cole has statistics and litigation.

I’ve done a bunch of reading today. I finally finished “Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom.” Way to goCory Doctorow. It was too short, but packed with some of the most original thinking I’ve seen in Science Fiction since Heinlin. From there, I moved into “Deception Point” by Dan Brown. I’m about 500 pages into it (reading it on my Palm — it’s 2089 pages). So far, so pretty good.

Symphony tonight. This is another one of those particularly Chautauqua experiences. Outdoor, covered amphitheater, dusk, 6,000 people listening to classical music and reading, knitting, dozing, whatever. But the best part is, the people they bring in are world reknown. Tonight, the preeminent conductor Manhem Nebenhaus from Isreal is leading the Chautauqua Symphony to The Marriage of Figaro, Hayden’s Concerto for Violincello and Orchestro in D major (with guest teenage cellist Patrice Jackson), and Beethoven’s Symphony No. 2 in D major. We like to sit up in the back as the sun drops. About halfway through the concert, this army of bats come flying out of the hollow roof of the amphitheater: spectacular.

The Chautauqua Experience is a touch hobbled by gobs of other-people’s-family. Really, we’re staying in a place that’s too crowded with people we don’t really know and the rain is starting to make us crazy. Note to self: next time travel light.

Tom Ridge. I listened to him for an hour with the 6,000 some-odd others in the audience at the outdoor amphitheater. There was press, probably three or four cameras and a few photographers present. I could only see two secret service men flanking the stage in their slate grey suits, standing at attention.

More than anything else, I wish I could tell you what he talked about. Unlike most orators that take the stage at Chautauqua, Ridge has precious little skill at public speaking. Based on this speech alone — I haven’t seen him in public before — I can say I see precisely how he has been successful in politics. All sizzle, no steak.

He’s a handsome man, impressive. He’s got fine clothes. He’s tall and broad, which can be impressively intimidating. By all rights, he should be successful based on appearance alone. But, open his mouth and nothing comes out. Vapor. Hot air.

The bulk of his remarks was simply a stump speech. He used all the buzzwords needed in this type of liberal crowd: civil rights, security, freedom, etc. He admitted shortcomings in the system; holes in his department where problems have and will occur. He got applause each time he said “I don’t know.”

But, again, the overwhelming impression of the audience as we walked out was expressed in a collective “Duh.”

I haven’t really taken advantage of the rest of the Monday schedule; most of what I’m interested in is coming on Wednesday, so I’ve got plenty of time to read. It’s pouring rain today, this afternoon anyhow, big, east coast thunderstorm with thunder and lightning and wind, the works. Very, very spooky. Smells nice.

Emma is under the weather. She’s got this raspy cough and sounds like she’s having trouble breathing. It’s times like these you wish these pour kids could talk, tell us what’s up, where it hurts, something.

I’m looking forward to the David Cole lecture tomorrow, particularly in contrast to the lead balloon of today’s session.

I’m sitting on the plane now. We’re on the first leg of our dualie through Minneapolis (Small City, I don’t think I like it much) and finally into Buffalo, New York. Apparently, the in-laws have arranged for a limousine to pick us up at the airport there and haul us and our dog-and-pony show of children’s gear into our terminal destination of Chautauqua, New York and the Chautauqua Institution.

I am far more stressed about flying than either Kira or Sophie. Mostly, both of them really need to be fed and rested and they’re fine. They strap on the luggage and smile all the way through security. They sleep on the flights. They are just generally well-tempered people.

For the record, that makes me nuts.

I’m very much not a well-tempered passenger. You should see what we’re flying with this time around: Sophie has by far the largest suitcase, packed to the gills with her highchair, a full bag of diapers and, I kid you not, all the clothes in her wardrobe; Kira has the middle bag, her roller that’s packed almost as full; I have the smallest, my new Swiss Army duffle that forces me to pack light. Traveling alone, I could go for at least 10 days with nothing but that bag and my iPod, Palm, and Palm Keyboard. But no, now I have to factor in all the carry-ons. We’ve got Sophie’s diaper bag, now so full of extra diapers, clothes, toys, and my stow-away electronics that it weighs almost as much as her suitcase; we’ve got a cooler, a great, big shoulder cooler full of chopped broccoli, yogurt, bananas, cereal, water, you name it; and the full on backpack for Sophie, which comes in it’s own handy carrying case which makes for another thing to shoulder through security. Too it’s credit, it makes moving through the airport a breeze: Sophie loves riding high.

Planes, Trains, Automobiles

As happy as they are, the trip has started out on the rougher side of fine. Sophie was a full on grump when I woke her at 6:00 this morning. As was I, so it was something of a showdown. We got our six bags and car seat unloaded at the airport, then I got back in the car to drop it at the long-term lot. There I am, standing in bus vestibule “H,” when my cell rings. It’s Kira.

“So, did you PUT and diaper on her this morning?”

“Did I put… of COURSE I put a diaper on her this morning!”

“Well, she exploded. Pee. Poop. All of it. Pouring all over my sweatshirt, right here in line.”

Still not sure what happened there. When I caught up with them back in the terminal, she had it all cleaned up, less a day’s change of clothes for Sophie and a sweatshirt for her, but clean nonetheless. Just lucky, I guess.

We sat next to the evil Minerva Mayflower on the first flight. Old Mean Woman With Grudge. This is the first time I’ve flown with Soph and sat next to someone who was genuinely, actively disinterested in the baby. Turns out, from the 30-scant seconds of talking we did, that she’s a baseball freak, heading to Wrigley Field to kick off a tour for the next 10 days. Crazy old baseball lady. “Bas-e-ball has been berry, berry, good to me.”

The second flight is so far much less daunting than the first. Sophie’s sleeping on Kira now. We met up with the Strands in Minneapolis (Small City), and they’re sitting right behind us. A word to the wise: never sit in front of Ted Strand on a plane. He won’t stop touching me.

And then, Chautauqua. I’ve had the hardest time over the last few days trying to explain to people exactly what we’re doing in Chautauqua. At first, I would go into the whole spiel about the lectures and the music and the art and the architecture, but that tends to go over folks’ heads. I’ve narrowed it down to this: Chautauqua, during the summer, is the ultimate gated community. ‘Nuf said.

So, I’m here for the next eight days. I’ve got my Palm and keyboard and will do my best to keep up entries as I move through the week. The theme this week is Security and Justice, headlined by Secretary Tom Ridge Monday morning, followed by a handful of fascinating experts throughout the rest of the week. In the meantime, we’ll get settled, and I’ll check in a bit later.