Cezary Salad

For all my friends and readers who’ve been wondering why I haven’t posted anything in nearly four months, here’s a belated update as I try to get back into the swing of things.

As many of you know, in August I switched jobs and went from the world of finance (at Macquarie) to the world of financial writing - at PEI Media, where I’m a staff writer covering the infrastructure beat. (hence the new widget that I created which uploads all my stories, if you care to check them out).

Since the Cezary Salad was my way of fulfilling the writing bug while working 80 to 90+ hours a week, once I became a writer and actually started getting paid to do what I love (instead of doing it at night for free, except for the price of extra sleep), that took out a lot of the impetus to post to my blog. Additionally, I was covering at work a lot of the events that I would have written about on this blog; hence the long silence.

Nevertheless, I’d like to get back into the habit of updating it every once in a while with book reviews, market commentary and other thoughts that don’t overlap with my writing at PEI or don’t concern my regular beat and the sources I deal with.

So look for more regular updates from here on and pardon the long pause; I received numerous emails asking me “hey, why no post on the bailout?” and other issues more recently and I’d love to get the conversation going again.

Cezary

It is a rare moment when one can remember the passing away of someone one has never met as if he or she were a member of the family. But today’s sudden and unexpected death of Tim Russert is precisely such an occasion.

For any civic-minded American, Tim’s constant presence in our living rooms every Sunday as moderator of Meet the Press made him as familiar a face as if he really were a member of the family, visiting every Sunday to educate us about public affairs and the state of the nation.

It was a presence that I truly admired. For at least the last three years, since my civic conscience has come of age, I don’t think I’ve missed a single episode of Meet the Press, whether DVRing it on Sunday or watching the netcast later in the week or sneaking in a peek on those rare Sunday mornings when I’d wake up early enough to catch the original broadcast.

Though I’m not really sure when exactly MTP became a permanent fixture of my week for me, I’ll never forget why. It was Tim’s refreshing and relentless pursuit of the truth and his willingness to ask the tough questions that others would shy away from. One glowing example of this was his now-famous interview with President Bush from February 2004 - his first network interview since 2000 (see excerpts here). At a time when Pres. Bush had more or less gotten a free ride from the White House pres corps on the difficult questions facing the nation regarding its involvement in Iraq, Tim hit all the big ones: was the Iraq war a war of choice or necessity? How do you respond to critics who say that you brought the nation to war under false pretenses? Did we miscalculate how we would be treated and received in Iraq?

Never once could one watch MTP and think, “I wish he had asked this or that.” He always hit on all the big points, all the big issues, all the past statements and mis-statements. In this sense, Tim stood up for and represented the voice of the average American. He asked the questions that he knew concerned citizens needed to know the answer to and he didn’t give anyone a free pass - whether Democrat, Republican or Independent. And at the heart of his questioning was always a deep concern for the truth and a desire to educate his viewers and leave them more informed than they were before they picked up the remote control.

His was an exceptional life - one filled with outsized impact, success, and meaning. Tim demonstrates the power of what we can achieve when we follow our passions, do what we love and care and think about those around us while we do it.

For all these reasons, I had always hoped to someday meet him personally, either at a book signing or a lecture of some sort, and I regret that I never got a chance to do so before he passed away so abruptly and - at a mere 58 - so early. He is someone I will never forget, always look up to and always cherish as if he were a member of my family; indeed, it very much feels like he was, and Sunday will never feel the same without him.

Rest in peace, Tim - you will be missed dearly.

* * *

Some videos of how others who knew him remembered him today:

Tom Brokaw:

David Gregory:

Jack Welch:

When I first came to the U.S. from Poland in 1993, one of the first words I learned was “flag.” That’s because each morning, as I came into Mrs. Sellers’s 4^th grade classroom, I had to stand up and pledge allegiance, to the flag, of the . . . you how it goes and how – sometime around high school – it fizzles out of our daily existence and we rarely, if ever, recite it again.

But early last Friday, nearly fourteen and a half years later, I found myself reciting the Pledge of Allegiance again, this time as part of my long-awaited, hard-fought Naturalization Ceremony to become a Citizen of the U.S.

It was a low-key ceremony with a certain, manufactured feel to it since it was one of several scheduled that day at the Federal Building in Lower Manhattan. Nevertheless, one could tell by the sense of excitement and suspense in the room that it felt like something big – an event on par with a graduation or marriage or the birth of a child, which decimates one’s life into a before and after period.

Seated in between an elderly woman from Trinidad and a Frenchman, I could see people from all walks of life – young and old, poor and well-to-do, black and white. And seated in the front row was a fully uniformed & decorated marine who had already enlisted and served his country prior to becoming a citizen.

“You came here as 260 people from 56 nations, but you will leave here as one citizens of one nation,” our master of ceremonies declared. Then, one by one, she called out each of the 56 nations represented – from Albania through to Yemen – and one by one, the citizens of those countries stood up to applause, until everyone was standing. Then she asked us to raise our right hand and repeat after her the oath of citizenship:

“I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state, or sovereignty of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen; that I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I will bear arms on behalf of the United States when required by law; that I will perform noncombatant service in the Armed Forces of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform work of national importance under civilian direction when required by the law; and that I take this obligation freely without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; so help me God.”

As we recited these words, several INS workers walked around the room inspecting the crowd to make sure that everyone indeed had their hands up, lips moving, reciting the oath; no fakers allowed. Afterwards we recited the Pledge of Allegiance, sang the National Anthem and watched a brief, surprisingly articulate message from one George W. Bush. Finally, we picked up our booklets with the Constitution and Declaration of Independence and great American speeches (which were waiting for us on our chairs when we sat down) and filed out row-by-row, graduation-style, to pick up our fancy green Certificates of Naturalization.

“Congratulations, you are now U.S. Citizens!”

Thank God.

It’s not just about being able to travel easier with an American passport, being able to vote, or feeling like you’re at last one of the family. The deep appreciation I feel for this Certificate of Naturalization comes from the infinite gratitude that I have for the countless opportunities that this country has given me. Last summer, visiting the neighborhood where I grew up in Gliwice, Poland, I remember when an old man sat down next to me and my sister on a bench while she and I sat there eating lunch and conversing in English. He asked us where we were from and when we told him that we were visiting our childhood neighborhood from the U.S., his eyes teared up. He asked us to forgive him for drowning his sorrows in a bottle of vodka in front of us and told us how he wished he had had the same opportunity; how he’d spent his whole life working as a contractor doing odd jobs for whatever money he could find and now, in his fifties, he was out of a job and with no way to help his children support their grandchildren and watched them suffer in the same poverty which he had spent his whole life. My sister and I don’t have to relive the lives of our parents; we are free to follow our dreams and we are eternally grateful to them for bringing us to America and for working menial jobs at minimum wage so that we could go to school and have a chance to realize the promise of America.

Last Friday, as I took that oath, I felt like had at last realized that promise and that this whole, long journey from one continent, country and identity to another was, at last, complete.

But teary and sentimental as this may all sound, there are some hard truths we Americans (I can finally say that!) must face up to:

· Increasingly, the middle class in this country is becoming an endangered species as more and more families find themselves in the same position as the old drunk in Gliwice: unable to provide a better life for their children and grandchildren, watching in sorrow as they work harder and longer just to stay in the same place

· Increasingly, America is no longer the land of promise that it used to be. As the world flattens, may would-be immigrants find opportunities in their back yards or their neighbors’ back yards, with much less hassle and without the indignities of xenophobia and intolerance that they often face here in the U.S. If the U.S. is going to remain the beacon of opportunity in the world, it must, in the words of Thomas Friedman, continuously innovate its “special sauce” that makes it the great country that it is

· Increasingly, America doesn’t command the same respect abroad as it used to. To many around the world, Abu Ghraib, Guantanamo Bay and the mistakes or Iraq define the U.S. as much as the sacrifices of Okinawa and Normandy during WWII

The problems facing the U.S., like inflation, eat away at the promise and meaning of that flag to which we swear allegiance. If it’s to mean the same thing to future Americans as it did to me when I first came here, we need to roll-up our sleeves: we’ve got some hard work ahead of us.

In answer to all the “why don’t you update the salad?” requests, I have heard you loud and clear. Working 70-80 hours a week can detract, but should not prevent me from updating the salad on a daily basis. I probably have about 5-6 good blog posts a day and lots of good photos and discussion ideas so its a shame to let that go to waste. Starting in 2008 (i.e. in just a few hours), a new salad will have been born - one truly worthy of its subtitle (”eat it daily”).

(First order of business will be, as you might expect: Iowa and New Hampshire).

Happy, healthy new year everyone!

I just started-up this website with the help of Greg Tidwell - thanks for your help, Greg - and will be updating it soon. Thanks for reading and make sure to eat your salad daily.