Webner House readers of a certain age will recall the TV game show Password. Hosted by Allen Ludden, the show featured contestants teamed with celebrities — one of whom always seemed to be Ludden’s wife, Betty White — who then had to get their teammates to say the “password” without saying the word itself. The password always was disclosed to the TV audience by the breathlessly whispered phrase: “The password is . . . .”
From my vantage point in one of the office buildings in Cleveland, I look out over partially frozen Lake Erie to the power plant in the distance, with condensation and smoke billowing from the smokestack, pushed by a stiff breeze and starkly visible against the cloudy gray sky, and I think: “The password is . . . tundra.” Or: “The password is . . . frigid.” Or: “The password is [insert your choice of word depicting deep, bone-chilling cold].”











What’s that, you say? A second War of Independence? I’m speaking, of course, of what Americans call the War of 1812 — when they talk about it at all, which isn’t often. Most people heard about the war in American History class, thought it was boring and confusing, and promptly forgot about it. That reaction isn’t surprising. Who wants to think about a war where Washington, D.C. was embarrassingly captured and burned?
Although most Americans have forgotten the inconclusive conflict, many Ohioans — including the Bus-Riding Conservative — are buffs of the War of 1812. That’s because one of America’s notable victories, in 



