NEW BERLIN _ "Well, we finally got some winter,’’ Uncle Chet said as he came in through the back door, stomping his boots.

``I’m surprised you’re out in it,’’ I called from the office, where I was at the computer.

He brushed snow off his jacket, hung it on a hook, and the electric starter on the gas stove clicked a few times.

``I don’t like to bother you on a weekday, but I’m working on something. It’s not quite right, and it’s driving me crazy,’’ he said as he entered the little office where I was knee-deep in papers.

``That’s OK; I’m on a night shift. I was just trying to get a start on my column,’’ I said. ``I’m taking a personal day Monday to go to Springfield.’’

``More probate stuff?’’

``The last hurrah,’’ I said. ``This time, I’m going with the truck and a U-Haul trailer.’’

``Oh, good,’’ he said. ``See if you can pick me up a trinket or two.’’

And we went back into the kitchen where he’d already gotten out two cups and the canister of Earl Grey.

``I’ll save you the cat box,’’ I said and sat down while he poured hot water. ``It’s a priceless hair loom.’’

``You’re all heart, or some other word that rhymes with heart,’’ he said, took a chair across from me and unfolded a sheet of paper.

``Rhymes with heart? I’m all bart, all cart, all dart, all ...’’

``That’s right; you’re getting close, but listen to this.’’ He adjusted his glasses and read: ``George Bush must be impeached to save the American Constitution.’’

``I thought you were going to harp on health care this year,’’ I interjected.

``We’re never going to get affordable health care with that frat brat in office, are we?’’ He looked at me over those wire-rimmed glasses, which had slid down again.

``No,’’ I said.

``So, this is about health care. But listen: `He has been derelict in his duties as commander-in-chief, faking reasons to go to war, thereby causing the deaths of 3,000 soldiers and serious injuries to another 40,000.’’’

``He’s putting more at risk this month, and it’s not very nice,’’ I said, ``but is it impeachable?’’

``He has endangered the livelihood and freedom of millions of Americans by encumbering them with unpayable debt, owned mostly by foreigners.’’

``Maybe you should say `Chinese,’’’ I said.

``George Bush has given away American jobs under trade agreements that amount to economic treason, while, at the same time, rewarding the super-rich with tax deductions and government contracts.’’

``That one might have legs, in light of Abramoff,’’ I said as I took a sip of tea.

``He has undermined the nation’s judicial system by setting up concentration camps in Cuba and around the world to torture people who have never been convicted of any crime.’’

``I don’t think the Constitution addresses torture,’’ I said.

``It does address trial by jury,’’ he said and continued: ``He has spied on innocent Americans and then lied about his spy program.’’

``Once again, I don’t think that’s in the Constitution.’’

``He has encouraged America’s enemies to develop nuclear weapons by tearing up arms-control agreements and lying about the need for new weapons of mass destruction.’’

``Not impeachable in today’s world.’’ I shook my head. ``I think your premise is wrong. You should probably start with `George Bush should be chided... .’’’

He looked across the table at me and slowly wadded up the paper.

``So if he’s rich and well-connected, an American president can get away with anything: lying, cheating, stealing, warring, failing to act in the nation’s interest, killing the president of another country, and there’s nothing we can do about it. Is that what you’re saying?’’

``Well, no. But impeachment is reserved for high crimes and misdemeanors,’’ I said. ``Now, we know from recent history that you can’t lie about your sex life to a prurient grand jury.’’

He sighed, took that crumpled-up paper and launched it in the direction of the wastebasket.

``I was going to write about Saddam’s trial and lynching, but it seemed futile,’’ he said. ``No one wants to stick up for a bad guy, even when he’s being shafted in the name of democracy.’’

``True.’’

``But I know why they didn’t broadcast that trial, why they rushed him into a noose, this old buddy of Rumsfeld and Papa Bush.’’

``Why’s that?’’ I said.

``Because dead men tell no tales.’’

___

Cooperstown News Bureau Reporter Tom Grace is traveling with his Uncle Chet, who he says is imaginary. Grace’s column appears twice monthly.