There are colleges all over New England, so it’s not unusual for me to be driving down the road looking at a bumper sticker that says, “My daughter and my money go to Acme University.” I always wonder how the daughter feels about that. For 12 years, through elementary and high school, she studied hard, participated in all the appropriate extra-curricular activities and was accepted into a prestigious institution of higher learning, where she’s working harder then ever to make good grades. When she comes home for mid-term break, she looks at dad’s Oldsmobile, where a lame joke pasted to the rear bumper informs her that her principal rival for her parents’ affection is — cash.

Yes, college is expensive today, but hey, mom and dad, what else would you spend the money on? What else can money buy that has as much value as an education? A boat? “Yes, we decided that instead of sending Amy to college, we’d buy a cabin cruiser. We named it the ‘Magna Cum Laude.'” That’ll get a big laugh down at the yacht club.
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Vermont’s only congressman, Bernie Sanders, identifies himself in the House of Representatives as an Independent, but back here on the home turf, it’s well-known that he’s a socialist. He’s not the only one, but people don’t use the “s-word” in public, so everyone left of a Vermont Democrat just calls themselves “progressive.”

You might say the term “progressive politician” is an oxymoron because you can’t fulfill the adjective without cancelling the noun, or vice versa. Most of the time, Bernie straddles the gap pretty well, but when he boots one he really hears about it, as we shall soon see.
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Sometimes I think I must be the oldest person on earth. I’m speaking from northwest Vermont, about 40 miles from the Canadian border. For the last ten days or so, we’ve had hot, sunny weather. People walk up and down Church Street wearing shorts and sunburns. Down at the lake, 50 sailboats bob at their moorings while another 20 have unfurled their sails beyond the breakwater, their owners unable to resist the urge to play hooky in the middle of the week.

So why do I feel like the oldest person on earth? Because I remember that spring is not supposed to feel like this. Spring in the north country is supposed to be a slow greening, a gentle reawakening of the earth. Instead, we have instant, endless summer. The lilacs bloomed early this year and as quickly as they appeared, the blossoms were burned off the bush. Now, at a date when they should be arriving, they’re already gone. As I walk through the neighborhoods, I see the remains of tulips, keeled over and desiccated.
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One of the few college textbooks I still hold onto is a small volume by Darrell Huff called How to Lie With Statistics. It’s a humorous book that tells you how to make numbers say anything you want them to say. I was in Washington, DC last weekend, thinking about Mr. Huff and his book as I was reading the Washington Post.

It seems that back in 1995, the Republicans were taking an awful pasting by the Democrats over Medicare funding. The Republican-controlled Congress, the Democrats wailed, wanted to cut funding for medical care for our nation’s senior citizens.
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