| Saint Paul Rememberances |
[Jan. 28th, 2010|02:57 am] |
If walking is your only means of transportation, you quickly find out that the coldest place in winter is on a bridge. You also find out that the longer the bridge is, you will experience more cold for longer periods of time. The absence of the sun exacerbates an already cold situation. These statements are not merely conjecture, but based on first-hand experience of two rather unfortunate fellows.
I called John early in the evening some weekend that we both were lucky enough to have off from our modest food service jobs. I explained that the rest of the people we associated with were at a certain multi-nationals’ home, and that we should go over there for lack of anything else to do. Sadly for John and I, none of our associates thought enough of us that night to come pick us up. That must have been the case, because as cold as it was outside, there is no way that we thought a surprise visit would be a good idea. Neither of us had a car, and I know that I had no lawful right to drive. So, with surprisingly little deliberation, we decided to walk the two miles to the home of someone that we did not like.
Since I lived up the hill, I had to walk to John’s house, which was no small feat in and of itself. It involved walking all the way down Griggs to Randolph, where a large hill always stood as challenge to my endurance. I had been up and down that hill at least 100 times on foot or by bike. It is a dangerous street, summer or winter, on foot, by bicycle, and even by car. The sidewalk is narrow, and old people and derelicts (sometimes being one in the same) heavily populate the pedestrian ways of the hill. There are two prominent bus stops where the least of our human brethren congregate.
You should know that public transportation in the Twin Cities is unlike any other transit system in cities of comparable size. In a functional transit system, all walks of life use the system - it is easier than contending with parking and the hassle of driving that is associated with most downtown areas. By contrast, the only people in the Twin Cities using the bus are those who are mentally incompetent to drive as a matter of law, have had their driving privileges revoked due to some run-in with the law, those like myself who were children who ride the bus as a means of recreation, and others who are otherwise shut-in. People with means drive where they need to go and choose to avoid the hassle of the bus.
Hassle? Yes, public transportation is a hassle in the Twin Cities. On countless occasions, I remember praying for the bus to come before I got much colder. Unfortunately for me, the bus came only once an hour. So just in case the bus came early, I had to go out 15 minutes before the scheduled time to the bus stop, which was an unsheltered street corner with the that white circled “T” sign on a maroon colored-shit background. As my bad luck often dictated, the bus was many times 15 minutes late, which means by the time I was on the bus, it has been 30 minutes of waiting outside to go to downtown Saint Paul.
Why would someone endure waiting at the bus stop for this long on a weekend afternoon? To go downtown. For a kid growing up in the late eighties and early nineties, there was little else to do, so I joined the ranks of bus riders. I encountered many people on the bus, mostly mentally disturbed. Admittedly, this experience of going downtown on the mental bus had an the effect of getting familiar with people who have problems. Most of my friend’s parents would not allow this kind of experience for their10 and 11 year old children, so it was often a solo experience for me.
Being downtown was also a learning experience for me. I saw first hand what the former glory of business activity looked like. I saw what ambitious economic plans dashed by the newest mega-mall in the suburbs did to a city. Downtown Saint Paul was full of monolithic buildings that were closed on the weekend - mostly government offices and corporate headquarters. There were almost no places to eat in the conventional sense, except perhaps, the Taco John’s at the Sixth Street bus stop, which was across an arcade from a Burger King which had been closed for years by the time I ever frequented the area.
The Taco John’s used to be a shoe store, which of course closed because no one went to shop in downtown St. Paul. Now, the entire building is gone and has been made into that harbinger of downtown failure, the parking lot. I remember street peddlers selling cheap transistor radios and other trinkets that you would find at an army surplus store. There was also a perennial street corner preacher who spoke into a microphone hooked into a small portable guitar amplifier. It was somewhat creepy because I never knew who he was talking to since there was no one walking downtown, except for a few stragglers who never heard much of anything, except for errant voices which seemed to emanate from everywhere but their true source in their sorry heads.
Whatever the case, Randolph hill was full of people taking the bus downtown to mill around in an utterly depressing place. Downtown had the effect of leaving a film of boredom upon your person, so much so that you would look forward to going home, which was the very throne of boredom that you left in the first place. Downtown made you feel good about boredom at home.
I have had no fewer than two accidents on Randolph hill. I recall riding my bike on the narrow sidewalks where a car had darted out of an alley and stopped. Before I could do anything, my bike squarely hit the front tire and I flipped over the hood. Of course, being the typical Midwestern boy, I felt guilty about hitting the car, and apologized for it. Of course, the driver was thankful that he didn’t kill me, and felt relieved at the gushing amount of guilt that I poured all over his car. My guilt eclipsed the need to call the police, and my failure to do so was an extension of the good luck bestowed on the driver that day.
I don’t particularly recall the other accident that I was unfortunate enough to get involved with, but I pretty sure there was another one. Again, with the kind and quantity of people you are dealing with on this hill, chances are against any pedestrian. The intersection with Lexington has, for as far as I can recall been an “Accident Reduction Area” marked by yellow and black signs; less than a block later, you have north and south bound ramps for 35E, and then at the end of the hill you have Rooster’s. Rooster’s isn’t really an accident hazard, but it is an important enough part of the hill that I would be remiss if I didn’t make some mention of it.
The night that I walked down to meet John, it was cold enough to keep the aforementioned motley Randolph-hill crew in their homes, so in that respect it was quite peaceful. Also, winter air is always more serene than the heat and humidity of the summer. I don’t recall what route we took to get all the way over to Saint Clair to attempt a walk over the high bridge, but somehow we made it to the easterly side of the bridge, ready to cross into the Riverview area.
During those days, a large coal-fired power plant was still standing not far from the base of the bridge. It had one of the largest smokestacks that I had ever seen, now or then, with huge lights situated on the side of the stack which, as a child, reminded me of diamonds. Well, they were flashing pretty good that night. It is also possible that the old Schmidt sign was flashing a bit further beyond that.
The Schmidt brewery is another landmark that Saint Paul’s supposedly enlightened yuppies allowed to fold, along with the older Hamm’s brewery across town. We all had to have micro brews that are alleged to taste better than “The Brew That Grew With The Great Northwest” and beer “From the Land of Sky Blue Waters.” Of course, the enlightened ones didn’t care that their preference for inferior micro brews put thousands of people out of work in favor of lining the pockets of a handful of people who made specialty beers. Doubtless, none of these beer snobs could tell the difference in a blind taste test between Ted Hamm’s and yuppie of the week’s brew.
So John and I started the trek across the bridge - the NSP smokestack blinking, the Schmidt sign spelling out in neon S-C-H-M-I-D-T one letter at a time, then blinking SCHMIDT at the end of spelling it, and the wind blowing like a rather cruel hand dryer that delivers an arctic blast instead of heat. John remembers it being colder than I do, probably because my body thought it was so cold it shut down the part of brain that would register that extreme condition. Also, I am sure John was more sensitive to the cold on the account of him having to pee when we finally got across. Of course it froze. We went to SuperAmerica to warm up, and to look at candy, but we knew we had to continue onto our goal.
We somehow made our way to our destination, to stay for what seemed like just 20 minutes before being mercifully given a ride home by someone. All that work for 20 minutes...didn’t seem worth it at the time. Then again, if that terrible walk allowed me to remember all these fond memories of a city that was these years later, it was worth the suffering. |
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| It Has Yet to be Written |
[Oct. 11th, 2009|03:44 am] |
A comforting thought came upon me tonight, and it came from an unlikely source: Back to the Future, Part III.
“...your future hasn’t been written yet. No one’s has”
Indeed, our future stands before us like unwritten pages in a journal, just waiting to be written. We are free to write how we want our life to go - what we hope to try, what we struggle to avoid, and what we fight to maintain.
On occasion we look back at what we wrote and we marvel at where and what we have been. We try to re-write the same story in an attempt to resurrect what we found best, but it is not as good the second time around. Life demands new material to fill our pages, lest we become stuck in stale material.
Start with a new page and keep writing until something original has been penned out. The story goes on even if we desire familiarity. We all have so many skills and talents that we under-utilize. For most of us, we have our whole lives ahead of us, and so why shouldn’t we try to be spectacular? Why shouldn’t we sparkle? |
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| She Who Gives Quickly Gives Twice |
[Sep. 17th, 2009|11:57 pm] |
Tonight I am brought to you live from Sioux Falls, South Dakota. I am here for a CLE seminar, and for those who are uninitiated, that stands for Continuing Legal Education. I will be exposed to an entire day regarding estate planning, which should be both interesting and depressing at the same time.
Lawyers treat death quite cavalierly. I guess that we have to since it is part of our business, but I think that we are much more compassionate about death than our physician counterparts. Again, that is because we have to be - no would would go to a jackass of a lawyer in a time of grieving otherwise.
On the car ride down here I was listening to the radio and a conservative think tank had a writing contest for students to compose an essay about the greatest constitutional right. I gave a lot of thought to this and I wondered if they wanted only enumerated rights or rights that evolve from judicial interpretations of the constitution. Considering it is a conservative think tank, I suppose that they are strict constructionists, and limit their accepted writing submissions to enumerated rights.
So, I was sitting in the car trying to think what's the greatest enumerated right. There are so many to choose from, like the protection against soldiers being quartered in my home, which is the Third Amendment. Or the Eighth Amendment which provides us with protection against excessive bail. The Twenty First Amendment which restored my right to drink. So many goodies, and not enough space to write about them.
The point is, it is silly to pick out one right that is important and write about why it is so great. I am sure that this think tank wanted the student to pick the right to bear arms by citizenry as provided for in the Second Amendment as their greatest right. And I have no problem with that Amendment or right,, although I would never carry a gun myself. The reason for this being that I rather be shot than have to live with the consequences of shooting someone else. But I digress.
The greatness of a constitution has to be taken as a whole. We do not receive our rights individually or selectively, so it is futile to pick out a few rights that we find to be fundamental and relegate the others to a lower class.. They are either all guaranteed to us, or they are not; to settle for anything different would to be devalue the real value of this document.
While I think that our constitution continues to have a great amount of validity, as I have said before, we should not be afraid to rework it completely. Sometimes it seems that we try to shoehorn a result reflecting what ought to happen in a controversy into the limited frame of the constitution. While using some creativity to justify a desired result is a lawyer's bread and butter, it seems that we are left with too much unpredictability under a broad constitution. Then again, a very narrow and detailed constitution can be a undesirable as well. If I recall correctly, Louisiana's constitution once contained provisions for parking regulations in the City of New Orleans. This result is preposterous.
Then again, as I said before, the very prospect of reforming the Constitution has a very real danger of destabilizing our republic. This is a sufficient reason not to even consider a Constitutional Convention, and that is why talk of one has not even been considered. Still, as the world moves further and further away from 1787, I wonder how we will make the Constitution work for us in a modern age.
Tomorrow is going to be another early morning, so I should leave you with that political thought of the night. Just remember that he who gives quickly, gives twice |
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| May Cause Intestinal Bleeding... |
[Sep. 17th, 2009|02:21 am] |
The ads on television for prescription medication are ridiculous. First of all, I cannot believe how often they are on television. Maybe it has something to do with the time of day that I usually have the tv on, but it seems like it is every other ad. The worse part of the ads is the litany of side affects these drugs have. One of the medications cautioned the user to see their doctor if after taking the medication they are more outgoing or aggressive than usual. What kind of shit do you have to be on to make you more outgoing?
I think the outgoing part struck me as odd because I have never heard of that side affect before. How does a medication affect someone to make them more outgoing? I also wonder why someone would want to get off a medication that made them outgoing. I wonder if the drug companies mean promiscuous rather than outgoing. Then again, now that I think of it, I have heard of a drug on television that cautioned against feelings of promiscuity. Must be bad shit.
I am very skeptical of medications. I mean, not the good ones like antibiotics, but all of this stuff they pedal on television seems dangerous. A few years ago I went in to see a doctor about some problem (I don’t exactly recall what) but he asked me if I wanted something for my acne. First of all, it wasn’t that profound, and in the second place, I didn’t go in there to get my pimples popped. So why did he even mention that?
Well, the obvious answer is that he wanted to push some medication on me so he could get a kickback. It then occurred to me that perhaps he didn’t want his patients to look sickly, because that would be a poor reflection on his practice. However, that does seem quite far fetched, but I tried to think of some non-monetary reason that a doctor would try to push something like that on me.
On a separate note, one of the things I like to have on when I take a mid-afternoon nap is C-Span. True, I do like to watch C-Span even when I don’t plan on sleeping, but it is also perfect environment to encourage sleep. There is no loud or disruptive music or commercials, and most of the lawmakers and others on C-Span are relatively monotone. It also allows me to have something to think about as a drift to sleep.
I have to admit I am somewhat out of ideas tonight. It was a boring day at work, yet I wasn’t able to have lunch until 3. It’s a long story that I cannot go into right now, but the day left me surly. In any case, I have to get up and do it again tomorrow and the day after. Then there is the two days we all live for: the weekend. |
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| Two Things We're Made of: Light and Time (Maybe) |
[Sep. 16th, 2009|02:32 am] |
I have acquired a terrible habit of searching real estate in two states for an affordable cabin to purchase. Gradually, I realized that I would be working too hard to keep up such a place, and started to narrow my search to a camper to pull with my van. I then realized that this also involves maintenance, and I’m barely good enough to keep my residence in good repair. And so, I stopped looking for anything to buy. Instead, I started writing as a substitute to the covetous habit of looking for second homesteads.
The reason for looking for a second place is the classic desire to acquire a “get away” that is all mine. However, I am brought back to the reality of the old saying of, “the more you have, the more you want.” I have reasoned to myself that once I get a second place, I will finally be satisfied with what I have. However, I know better than this; I know that this is a false security and it is too difficult to really be satisfied with something that can be acquired without limit, namely, money and things.
Better than acquiring money, estates, and chattels is the accumulation of education. Still, education is something that can be obtained limitlessly, however, the effects of obtaining it seem to be more positive than accumulating things. The trouble with accumulating education is that it often costs money, or at least it costs time, which we have now equated to money. For me, both are finite. Also, we become educated so that we can obtain knowledge, but sadly, knowledge does not necessarily follow education. After all, how many people do you know obtained an education but act as ignorant as they day they entered high school?
At bottom, throwing yourself into the pursuit of things or even seeking education in vein is a form of escapism from your daily circumstances. When I started practicing law, just about everything was new, which sounds exciting, but actually was frightening. Now, things are more familiar, and the practice has lost some of its challenge. One of my difficulties is that I expect too much from my employment when at the end of the day, it is merely a paycheck. I can pretend that if I were someplace different things would be a lot better, however that is buying into the fiction of the greener grass.
I think I am starting to figure out the perspective of one of my professors from law school, who is also a friend. He always conceptualized the practice of law in terms of storytelling. His basic theory was that the best way to provide representation was to learn the story of a client and then relate it in a way that best promotes his or her legal interests. I now know why he thought this way: it was a way in which he made the law palatable to him after many years of practice. While law schools are churning out thousands of graduates every year, many have left the practice after as few as ten years because the level of satisfaction has reached a crescendo and then dropped off a cliff.
I suppose everything has its highs and lows. It just seems to me that I am working to live instead of living to work. At some point my career made a transition from the latter into the former, and that is a difficult revelation for me to accept. Still, I have to accept it as the only constant is change.
I have managed to fill a journal page of enough cliches for one night. As trite as they may be, it doesn’t make them any less true. Also, it seems that there is something that is therapeutic about getting these maxims reduced to writing. For me, recording these truths legitimizes them and allows me to move past them. I acknowledge that much of what I say has been said by me and others over the years, but again, it makes the claims no less true. |
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| The Dan Ryan, Bishop Ford, and Stevenson Expressways are Moving Nicely... |
[Sep. 15th, 2009|02:22 am] |
I have been able to make the transition to my bed from spending months sleeping on the couch. As I sit here thinking about it, I cannot put my finger on the exact reason why I decided to make the move. On second thought, I think it had something to do with the fact that there is nothing worth watching on television right now, and television watching was the primary reason for moving onto the couch in the first place.
I woke up too late yesterday to be able to go to church here in town. Even if I had been an earlier riser, I probably would have waited for the 7 PM mass in Pierre, if only for the opportunity to go to Wal-Mart to pick up a few things. Mercifully, church was only an hour on Sunday, which gave me the opportunity to witness dusk descend upon Pierre. As I drove through town going from the gas station to America’s Retailer, I observed the soft glow of living rooms through picture windows out of the best traditions of a Norman Rockwell painting. House after house had a glow about it, some of it illuminating woodwork of the early part of last century, others featuring the kitsch of the eighties in post-war era bungalows. A glow even surrounded those enjoying the sunset sitting on the stoops of duplexes and apartment tenements, spending the final minutes of sunlight boisterously speaking on cell phones or wooing would-be lovers.
The first house that I saw was of the turn of the century type. It briefly transported me to November, 1999. It was the first and only meeting between me and the parents of my first girlfriend. I recall approaching their house and it had a similar glow; although, not that I think about it, it was like a glowing hearth in the background of a house surrounded in the starkness of a fresh snowfall. Even though the seasons were somewhat different, the glow of the house was the same. While my current house is of the same vintage, it doesn’t glow like that one did. Come to think of it, my house doesn’t glow like any of the Pierre homes that I saw. Why won’t my house glow?
As my old man has said, you cannot clap with one hand. Each of these abodes that I have described seemed to have an energy about them that mine is sadly missing. While my house lights up, it doesn’t glow. I have a lot of house to illuminate, and one soul is scarcely enough to make it glow.
Then again, my memories are flash frozen in a block of ice like some hunk of beef. At some point, we start remembering things how we want to, and not as they really were. We do this to save some good memories for the lean times in our lives, when we don’t have much to look forward to. We also do it to minimize the pain of wounds that we have sustained. Somehow, if we think of harm done to us as less injurious than it really was, we are better able to deal with the long term effects of such a wound. It also puts us back in control of the true effects of a harm, which is especially helpful considering that when we are hurt were in a vulnerable or compromising position.
Well, let’s face it: I just can’t get over how fucked up everything has become. I guess I am just sore about the realization that youth was a gift that I took for granted, and that I did not exploit to its full potential. In my youth I was so eager to be a responsible adult and to make adult decisions that I was the thief of my own youth. Sadly, youth is not something that I can gift back to myself, nor is it something that can be provided externally.
On a separate note, I do not believe in nervousness on a wedding day. A friend of mine recently married (no, I am not referring to any of you who are most likely to read this) and I never have seen a man sweat so much in my life. I literally thought that he was going to faint of dehydration. In fact, he sweat through his tee-shirt, through his regular shirt, and into his tuxedo coat. The church was freezing cold and set at sub sixty-five degrees. He was so sweaty that he had to lean over a box fan to blow the sweat off of him. Why all of the worry if you are marrying the right person?
In my estimation, one should have a confidence when marrying, the kind of attitude you take when you got a really good deal on a used car that you know is in cherry condition. You should be acting like you got the best bargain ever known to man. A person does not act nervous when he got a good deal - in fact, he usually want to let everyone know how using his cunning negotiation techniques, he got a steal of a bargain. The same ought to be true in marriage. We should be delighted that we got a good deal. True, perhaps I would feel different if I were ever in that kind of position (ha!), but it just seems unnatural to me to be nervous about such a bargain.
Yes, I think I will be able to make it up to bed again tonight. Again, the only motovating factor is the lack of decent television programming. Instead, I will tune my vintage 50s radio to a far away station like Chicago’s 780 WBBM. I like listening to Chicago stations, especially WBBM because I get the traffic report every 10 minutes. I like the idea of named expressways being jammed with traffic in the middle of the night. I know how absurd this seems to anyone reading this from a metropolis, but the paradox of listening to a traffic report in a town of 850 is too amusing to miss. |
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| Barnicle Bill |
[Sep. 14th, 2009|02:33 am] |
For me, cleaning the house is a task that is slowly started, but once started, is almost a joy. I see it as almost a redemption of the living space - dirty clothes get washed, cluttered kitchens look sanitary, and bathrooms smell less. It has the effect of allowing me to forget that the state of my house is a paradigm of my scattered brain. It is also a time when I really relish television. Tonight, I was fortunate enough to switch on the tube and catch a debate among six historians debating a motion on whether or not Winston Churchill was more of a liability than an asset to the free world. After each of the sides has made somewhat of a lengthy argument (3 historians “for” and 3 “against”), questions were taken by a moderator for thirty minutes, and a vote was taken of the audience. For once, it was nice to hear learned people speak about an issue intelligibly without the demonization of the opposing side. If interested, take a look at intelliegencesquared.com.
I did not intend to continue my lengthy discussion over the current political climate that I have been discussing the last couple of days, but I would be remiss if I did not discuss the demonization issue. Along with the use of fear that I discussed yesterday, another political shortcut is to call the other side “evil.” While the reasons for demonizing are manifold, the main reason for its use is it much easier for a citizen to vote against someone who is evil rather than someone who has good intentions but might be wrong. In other words, we are much more willing to go along with someone who has their hearts in the right place who we are familiar with than someone who might be right but who we do not know. Demonization is the fast track to character assassination to win elections.
But like I said earlier, I had not intended on speaking about politics so directly today. While doing my laundry I thought almost obsessively about how my cellular phone provider somewhat got the better of me on the continuance of my service. I kept on thinking about how I got screwed, and how in my negotiations I could have gotten a little bit more out of them if I was willing to hang tough. True, I did talk myself out of a contract that would have required me to pay for a $50 data package that I cannot use out here in 3G-less central South Dakota, but I should not have let them charge me for the last two months for this package (even if they did reduce it to the $30 e-mail only package). I kept on thinking about how I should have insisted on getting all charges absolved.
It then occurred to me that we are much quicker to recognize that we might be getting screwed than we are to realize that we have some pretty meritorious blessings. I realize that it is tired to say that we are really blessed even if we do not recognize it, and that is not exactly what I am saying anyways. It just seems that we (I?) are (am) very quick to recognize that we are getting cheated, and we do not recognize as quickly when things go very good for us. I was speaking to an older lawyer about this issue, and he made a very good point that relates to this phenomenon. As many of you probably already know, once you graduate law school in May, you have to cut the celebration pretty short and start studying for the bar exam. From May until the two days of the exam in July, a law school grad is spending over 12 hours a day, seven days a week studying for this exam. The only other thing that matters is eating, and that is so you can stay alive long enough to take the exam. The older lawyer noted that the hallowed day of finding the results of the exam go something like this: if you find out that you failed the exam, you almost irreparably devastated. If, however, you pass the exam, you do not celebrate and say “this is the greatest day of my life” but rather, you take the attitude that it only figures that you would pass the exam, because after all, you did go to law school. A passing grade on the bar exam ought to follow finishing law school, so what is there to get excited about?
I admit that it is an arrogant attitude to have regarding such an accomplishment. I took that attitude, and I really should not have. However, it should not come as a shock that was the attitude that I took on the matter as it was a reflection on how slowly we recognize the good things in our life. Granted, the attitude exhibited with the passage of the bar was an exaggerated reaction to the recognition of blessings. The surprising part is that it persists, and when do we recognize that we are really better than we could be?
Our delay in the acceptance of good things is a relatively new development in our society. I believe that it has a lot to do with the anxiety that we feel about money (again, see yesterday), and how no matter how nice of a day it might be, we always expect some rain. For me, I expect rain because then I will not be disappointed when it does rain - it is somewhat like an insurance policy on my expectations. The trouble with buying such a policy is that the premiums are really expensive. In fact, the premiums are so pricey that I diminish the chance of hope to such a slight level that it almost does not pay to ever expect it. Dare I say, I have over-insured my expectations at the expense of much joy.
How did I get this way? I don’t think that I was always this way, and certainly I think that the clarity of youth made me less worried about spoiled expectations. Going into college, I found that I had an blank slate that I could fill any way that I wished. Now, I feel like I filled my slate and I cannot find the eraser. Now, more than any other time in the past, we feel locked into our career, our relationships, and our responsibilities. Or, said another way, we enter into such responsibilities without realizing that we will locked into it. One very common responsibility that we enter into without realizing the ramifications is when we say that we “love” someone. This word is used much too recklessly today - to use this word is to acknowledge the kind of relationship that expresses loyalty, affection, want, and need too richly for words to express. Love is taking a bullet for someone - how many people can you truly do this for as you read this today?
It might be said that my unyielding definition of love is too demanding. The trouble is to make it anything less than what I have described it is to rob the word of its power. Indeed, it would drain the very meaning of the word. I have gotten off my original point of the kind of responsibilities that we take on increases our anxiety, but I do not think my examination of the meaning of love is unrelated. In fact, love is a responsibility. The culminations of responsibility, for many of us, equates into anxiety, which in turn, leads us into the anxiety-reducing exercise of expecting the worse, or as I have described metaphorically, buying an expensive insurance policy on our expectations.
Whatever the case, life events do not get any simpler. Many try to “simplify” their life, when in reality this is a futile exercise. A complex substance cannot be made simpler without changing it. Fortunately, we cannot get any simpler than our basic human form that even it its simplest state, retains the dignity and status of being human. While some exercises in simplification may remove the barnacles that have formed on our hull, will still need to deal with the rot and rust that accrues while on the sea or in harbor. While barnacle-less, we still retain the nature and form of an ocean-going vessel.
And so, in the week ahead, the challenge will be to see how to deal with responsibility in a more manageable way. Responsibility cannot hold us in anxiety indefinitely, as presumably, we take on responsibility to derive some benefit therefrom. A burden without a benefit is irrational. At any rate, whoever you are, have a great start to the work week. |
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| The Death of Persuasion |
[Sep. 13th, 2009|03:14 am] |
There is something about the shower that gets the brain thinking. Perhaps it is the mixture of hot water and soap that encourages the firing of neurons. It might also be the fact that there is nothing better to do in the shower but think about ideas that do not come out at any other time of the day. Whatever the case, the shower allowed me to come to the conclusion that the art of persuasion is dead.
Today, we are more motivated by fear than by being convinced. Much of the citizenry support the war not because Iraq was less than kind to a certain segment of the population, or that Osama is bad. Rather, many supporters of the war are scared that what is theirs is going to be taken away by these people. They are worried that the whole balance of what it means to be American depends on taking out two people, one they should be scared of (Osama), and the other they should not have really cared much about (Saddam Hussein). Whether right or wrong, we do not take much convincing these days - we respond best to being scared.
The use of fear is seen even clearer in the healthcare debate. Opponents of any reform rarely come out and say this is a bad idea and why. Rather, the use of the terms “socialized” medicine, “Communist,” and “Big Government” are used to whip people into a frenzy about a plan, that at worse, seeks to expand Medicare to all, and in its mildest form seeks to ensure that everyone is covered by insurance. These terms are so powerful that they are able to lead many people to believe that this legislation will end our republic as we know it.
Why is fear used instead of persuasion? Most would argue that fear is much more effective than actually convincing people that something is a bad idea. I think that this is especially true in this health care debate when the prospect of universal coverage is a good idea, whether you are a D or an R, a liberal or a conservative. However, this is not the principle reason in this debate why fear is used over persuasion. As a matter of fact, it is much easier for a politician to use fear than to actually convince someone. Fear is used because it is expedient, and the modern politician is too stupid to actually convince people on the merits of a policy.
It might be said that people are too stupid to be convinced, so there is no use in trying to use persuasion. Even if this were true, persuasion was not too much work for one of our greatest presidents of all time, Abraham Lincoln. This was a man who lived in a time where education was far less available, people had far less money, and information spread across the country at a much slower pace. Yet he, along with his political opponent Stephen Douglas, held seven, 90-minute debates for election to the United States Senate. These were men serious about convincing us about the future of slavery in our nation, and took enough time traveling around Illinois to seriously discuss these issues. These days, where seven cities could be visited in one day by a candidate, we do not even have a quarter of the kind of real discussion that we need to have about this issue. This would force both sides to speak frankly about broken state of our nation, which would certainly threaten job security for both Democrat and Republican.
While politicians do not care what non-monied citizens think about policy, we do have to place the blame ourselves, to some degree, for our indifference and apathy. I would shudder to think what would happen if English Parliament decided to terminate the National Health Service - surely they would have riots. I am not saying that we have to riot in the street (although many of these so-called “tea parties” seem somewhat riotous) but we do need to write and call our representation. It is as if we are content to let others do the thinking for us - unfortunately, that will not work any longer.
Another source of our indifference (or disproportionate reaction) towards public policy stems from the way in which it affects our economic interests. If we are no better or worse after the passage of a new law, than we take no position on it. If it is something that is perceived as a “hand out” or “taking from the rich to give to the poor” we have a reaction that is more irritating than eczema on a hot summer day. Admittedly, re-distributive policies can have the affect to be particularly destructive to not only the wealthy, but to everyone else in a nation. However, this is not the case at any level of redistribution. Some get very angry about people on food stamps, “welfare,” or SSI, but do not realize that the benefits from these programs amount to a pittance. For example, SSI, which is disability for people who never worked enough to earn regular disability payment, is a program that pays a maximum of $674 a month for an individual and also puts them on Medicaid. If you are disabled, chances are you are going to go through your $674 in a month much faster than a relatively healthy person. No one is getting rich or even living a decent existence from SSI. It is a meager living that approaches the punitive.
As a general principle, American society is over-worried about money. I have noticed even in myself I dream up ways to pinch a penny without realizing that it might not be necessary to do so. However, I cannot be blamed too much for my stingy ways, as the costs of living are expensive, especially if you should be unfortunate enough to get ill. Over half of all consumer bankruptcies are because someone cannot pay the hospital. This perpetuates an anxiety about money that manifests itself well beyond my self-denial of things that I would like, and even some other things that I need. I am not saying that there is anything wrong with being prudent with money, because we really ought to be. But too much emphasis has been placed on accumulating money and stuff, and not giving any thought about how we want to live.
In any case, enjoy the balance of the weekend and leave your money problems behind. I assume that you have money problems because it is a universal problem we all have. Too little money is an obvious problem; too much is more subtle. Those in the latter category have the burden of figuring out a way to find contentment with something that can be accumulated without limit. They also have to find a way to combat the anxiety and responsibility that such wealth brings. Perhaps most isolating of all, they need to temper their suspicion of others - wondering if friends associate with them because of their money or their personality, strangers who are friendly to them because of their knowledge of their wealth, and others who they suspect are trying to bilk them out of money.
Makes you glad you don’t have too much of the green stuff, huh? |
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| Xanthan Gum |
[Sep. 11th, 2009|11:55 pm] |
I woke up this morning and the first thing that I did was turn on the television. It had been tuned to PBS from the night before, when I was watching Antiques Roadshow. I should not have been watching television at 4 in the morning, but in my petty life as it has become, that’s some pretty hot action. Anyways, an equally sad occurrence was turning on the television this morning and having Sesame Street come on. I watched almost 45 minutes of a show that is intended for an audience about one-eighth of my age and I found it surprisingly compelling. It was nice to see that the count is still doing his counting, Oscar is still doing his thing (although, he seemed much less surly these days vis-a-vis my youth), and Gordon still reading to Big Bird. It was a really nice show today. The number of the day was 12 and the letter of the day was “I.”
Which brings me to another point, which may seem unrelated to me watching a children’s show: all of our contemporary political and personal conflicts has much more to do with the letter and word “I” than anything else. On a daily basis, I have to address various degrees of I am getting screwed, I do not deserve this treatment, and when do I get what I want? I find this especially true in the family law cases that I become involved in - the parties are talking about the “I” but they do not care about the “we,” namely, the children involved and the estranged spouse. Perhaps I am naiive, idealistic, or stupid, but so often a divorce transitions people from caring about the “we” into the “I.” The reasons for this are certainly obvious enough, but presumably these people loved, or at least liked each other enough to marry. Now, each of the parties do not have a scintilla of scruples about the welfare or desires of the others involved in this divorce. It might be said that at least one of the parties never really cared about the other enough to think of the other as “we,” which would provide for a plausible, yet still troubling conclusion.
Turning the attention to politics, all of the grandstanding that is now occurring, especially by those in opposition to any healthcare reform thinks more about the “I” than the “we.” I am particularly troubled by a lawmaker who personally believes that guaranteeing basic health care to all is the right choice, but is too concerned about being voted out of office over this position. Even in the worse case scenario of being replaced at the end of a term, the lawmaker should feel good that they made the right decision. However, lawmaker is more concerned about keeping his job because “he likes it” than making the right decision. I would be more sympathetic to this view if lawmaker depended on this job of being a lawmaker to support a family and could not find other work. As many know, quite the contrary is the case: the employment prospects of this lawmaker shoot up after leaving office because of the experience he gained, and more importantly, the contacts made within Washington.
Of course, there is another, dirtier side of the conflicted lawmaker’s decision: cash money, homey. A political office is not merely the ability to make laws, it is a catalyst for raising money under the auspices of the “campaign for reelection” for the ultimate (even if indirect) benefit of the lawmaker. As a free society, we need to seriously consider banning private money contributions to candidates. This is the reason why monied public interest groups get the ear of a lawmaker and you and I do not, at least not sincerely.
Another difficulty with our political system is the lack of true statesmen. The last few generations are much more interested in filling a resume with trivial accomplishments or with great positions where we did nothing grand with the power bestowed upon us. I admit that I am guilty of this myself, despite my best intentions. In our schools and homes, we have been told and taught that it is wrong to take a stand, lest it be construed to be disrespectful to authority, and ultimately to our detriment. We look to write a book for its own sake, but not write it to add to anything about knowledge, beauty, or wisdom to the human experience. We work like dogs to eat dog food, not to obtain a ultimate purpose for our existence.
Why do we act like this? One possible explanation is that as the burdens of the world are piled upon as we age, like millstones around our neck, the more conscious we become of the dangers of being perceived as deviant. While it is true that stupid people are unconscious of danger, youth are not idealistic because they are stupid. Those youths (like myself in the day) are outspoken because their judgment is not clouded by the dangers of undue responsibilities. Notice that I said their judgment has not been clouded: this is to say that some youth’s disregard for “respectability” sharpens their reason and argument. Those of us on this side of the age continuum are too concerned about their economic interests being adversely affected by clear thought and reason. As an example of this, I cannot tell you how many times I have thought that these words that I write may bite me in the ass someday if I ever do endeavor to take up a public life.
To paraphrase Fulton Sheen, we forget that citizens rule government, and not the other way around. We have allowed the lawmaker to think only of himself because we have ceded so much control to him to make laws that suit his interests and not our interests. The ramifications of the surrender of authority by the people is that we have created the very thing that this nation sought to escape from, to wit, a new aristocracy. The trouble is that it is even worse now than it is then because this new aristocracy is legitimated by our political indifference. Our saving grace and hope is that we have power as citizens of this country to demand the end of the gravy train that are cash contributions by private organizations and special interests to political candidates. What remains to be seen is if we as a country will work within our political institutions to demand something better.
We have a constitution that is well over 200 years old that we cling to so very tightly. Perhaps it is time for a new constitution - one that embraces the best of the old, and recognizes and addresses the political and social problems and realities of today. For many, what I am proposing equates to blasphemy for no other reason besides tradition. Others are skeptical of the idea because of the danger of injecting instability into our relatively stable republic. Admittedly, the skeptics have a very valid point that even causes me pause. Even if replacing this ancient document is not an option, we do need a different view of our republic. The original drafters of the Constitution never envisioned a government as complex and large as it now exists. Arguably, our government as it operates now is not in conformity to the original intent of the Constitution, which causes difficulty to me and strict constructionists. Those who take a more expansive view of the Constitution advocate the document as it stands because it can be read so broadly. This leaves open the possibility of a government much worse than we currently endure.
Thinking is difficult. That is why so many of us choose not to do it. However, this is hardly the time to stop thinking - this is a time to think about what kind of society that we want to make for now and the future. We should not seek to be seen as the generation that gave nothing and left nothing, but rather one that thought less about “I” and more about and “we” and “us.” I am cringing inside about how tired and trite this goal sounds, but in the end, we cannot be merely self-interested at all costs. Individualism is important and is essential in promoting the idea of basic human dignity. However, we have risen individuality to such an extent that we care not if other people are suffering at the hands of our indifference.
I am brought back to my original point - why did Sesame Street enchant me for so long this morning? I think it was because it was the first television show that I have seen in a while that did not focus on selfish individualism that we now place at our high alter of our society. There was no conflict - there was just counting and hijinks. It was an opportunity for my mind to think of something simple for once to the exclusion of the never-ending to-do lists that dominate all of our lives. The next time you are feeling stressed, try an episode of Sesame Street. It is certainly cheaper than a shrink and is probably more effective. |
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| It's The Great Big Convoy... |
[Jul. 17th, 2009|03:35 am] |
It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Actually, this has been my first opportunity in a while that I could actually sit down and think about something. You see, I am over half way through a week-long vacation that was supposed to include a visit to our easternmost state of Maine. Instead, I got something that looked like a boil on the back of my throat that made me feel miserable while I was being lodged back home. So, instead of traveling roads I haven’t before, I will be traveling a road that I have, as tomorrow I leave for Hot Springs.
Many things have occurred to me during my long absence of writing, but I have either been too tired, busy, or upset to write. So, in lieu of those musings, I am left with what has been occupying my thoughts the last twelve hours or so. I have been listening to hours of the testimony of the new Supreme Court nominee, so that has sparked a lot of my thinking.
Not that it matters to anyone, but I am not attacking this nominee. Although I disagree with her politically, it seems that she should probably be confirmed as our newest Supreme Court justice. Nevertheless, it occurs to me that she and most of her current and future colleagues have Ivy League backgrounds, and it seems that these are the people that we are choosing to fill the vacancies of the highest court in the land. It leads me to believe that unless you come from one of about a dozen schools in the country (and, by the way nobody reading or writing this graduated from a school belonging to this exclusive club) there is an absolute bar to reaching this level. It is true that one of Minnesota’s own, Warren Berger, a graduate of the predecessor to William Mitchell College of Law was appointed as a Supreme Court Justice. He sold life insurance while going to school. He was a laborer in the building of the Robert Street Bridge in Saint Paul. Still, someone with such a normal background could not be elevated to the nation’s highest court today.
This should be troubling to us. Anyone who has spent time in college knows that there are students and professors alike that are out of touch with reality. Anyone else who has spent time in law school knows that there are a higher concentration of such people within that university department. I can only imagine that prestige of a school discolors the state of the world even more, even to those people who came from humble roots. To choose exclusively from such places for those who pass judgment represents a true disparity between what our courts and what out country’s population look like. It is true that one that comes from a more common background will not necessarily judge better than his prestige-laden colleague, however, someone who has worked on building a bridge knows something about the value of money. People from prestigious backgrounds either never needed to know what earning money is about, or forgot about it somewhere along the way. In any event, we are not well served by choosing almost exclusively from people who attend the perceived educational Walhalla that is the Ivy Leagues.
It has become so easy to be cynical about how power works in this country. It doesn’t help that our cynicism is confirmed time after time by the choices that our American political society deems good enough to judge. I am not attacking the thought of anyone who had the ability to attend one our nation’s hallowed institutions; however, students and graduates of the Jerkwater States across the nation have pondered some of the same fundamental questions of our day. In short, the Ivy’s have no monopoly on competent, intelligent people to lead our nation.
Unfortunately, it’s the graduates of the Jerkwater States that feel that they are inadequate. After all, there are many more graduates of Jerkwater States than there are of the Ivy Leagues. I think that the Jerkwater graduates probably reasoned that someone from the Ivys taught them, so they must have all the answers. Also, Jerkwater State was also the second choice for many of us, so we recognize our inadequacy. Still, it is interesting that we as a society feel that the Ivys have a monopoly on original thought.
Oh, in case you are wondering, the irony of me referring to the several thousand private and state colleges and universities collectively as “Jerkwater State” is not lost on me. I am a believer in making light of things, even if it does undermine the persuasive force of my arguments. Sadly, it’s my idea of fun.
I have to be on the road at somewhat of a decent hour tomorrow to make it to Hot Springs in a reasonable amount of time. Plus, I’m looking forward to playing with my newly installed CB radio in my van. I’ll let you know if I hear anything interesting. |
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