Just eight days ago--May 14th--marked the 39th anniversary of my dad's death. On May 14th, I always think of dad, and this year the thinking has been more personal, since I am now exactly the same age as dad was when he passed on (on the operating table, in the middle of heart bypass surgery). If that doesn't bring home the theme of mortality, I don't know what will. But of course, I have my semi-legitimate reasons, as well as my semi-rationalizations, as to why I will surely outlive him. However, for the moment, I'll be happy just to "break the family curse" and get to age 59. [There is no such curse, but I like the scary sound of it.]
Along the way, down the path of life [please, spare us the trite metaphors!] I have come to realize two very paradoxical things: that I must be prepared to live, and I must be prepared to die. They are both important, although they don't always co-exist especially well. Today I can prepare to live by consuming vast quantities of yummy, gooey cheese pizza--but then, I need to be prepared to die from clogged arteries! And today I can prepare to die by getting all my affairs in order--but then, damn, I missed that party last night! Jeez--what's a fellow to do?
Big surprise here: there are no easy answers. But at some points in time--hopefully more frequently than less--I say to myself, "Go for it--have fun! You only live once." And at other points in time--again, maybe not every day but hopefully every week--I say to myself, "Are you prepared for the possibility that you could die today? And are you really ready for that?" The two issues are both important ones, and the trick seems to be to address each of them sufficiently well that you can let each of them go. You need to be able to say, "I am ready to live, and I am also ready to die." But, ready or not, here I come!
Friday, May 22, 2009
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Barack rocks
Say what you will about our new President. The guy isn't perfect. But the last few months have been such a breath of fresh air that I can't help but feel grateful that Mr. Obama is in charge.
I have not felt proud about the United States of America for some time. Over the last eight years, we have done things, especially in the foreign policy arena, for which we should be ashamed. The Iraq war in particular has been a nightmare--a colossal waste of money, energy, and lives. And we have fought the "war on terror" with rules that are even beneath the likes of Jack Bauer. Anyone who writes a virtual blank check on forms of torture and degradation is as unAmerican as can be; don't let pious "patriots" tell you that the U.S. is somehow entitled to ignore important humanitarian and legal principles. In both the short and the long run, these principles are our very soul and give us our best hope for true global influence.
The closing of Guantanamo is a welcome first step. So is--despite criticism from the right--going to Europe and owning up to our arrogance on the world stage. And the idea that we should actually talk with our adversaries--a weak and pitiful idea in the minds of some--may have had something to do with the release this week of an American journalist in Iran.
On the home front, there's finally some hope--a sense that we can make progress. And the White House itself has become more the kind of place with which we can identify. A dry drunk is no longer running the show--it's OK to be a little more casually dressed and a little less anal. There's a vegetable garden on the grounds. Gay people are invited to participate in important events. And there is culture in the house--imagine a President who professes to really like poetry! And his wife is just as attractive and smart as anyone we've had as a First Lady.
A long, painful nightmare has ended.
I have not felt proud about the United States of America for some time. Over the last eight years, we have done things, especially in the foreign policy arena, for which we should be ashamed. The Iraq war in particular has been a nightmare--a colossal waste of money, energy, and lives. And we have fought the "war on terror" with rules that are even beneath the likes of Jack Bauer. Anyone who writes a virtual blank check on forms of torture and degradation is as unAmerican as can be; don't let pious "patriots" tell you that the U.S. is somehow entitled to ignore important humanitarian and legal principles. In both the short and the long run, these principles are our very soul and give us our best hope for true global influence.
The closing of Guantanamo is a welcome first step. So is--despite criticism from the right--going to Europe and owning up to our arrogance on the world stage. And the idea that we should actually talk with our adversaries--a weak and pitiful idea in the minds of some--may have had something to do with the release this week of an American journalist in Iran.
On the home front, there's finally some hope--a sense that we can make progress. And the White House itself has become more the kind of place with which we can identify. A dry drunk is no longer running the show--it's OK to be a little more casually dressed and a little less anal. There's a vegetable garden on the grounds. Gay people are invited to participate in important events. And there is culture in the house--imagine a President who professes to really like poetry! And his wife is just as attractive and smart as anyone we've had as a First Lady.
A long, painful nightmare has ended.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Half-marathon anxiety
Never mind that I have run 33 races at a half-marathon or more (6 marathons, 6 25Ks, and 21 half-marathons): when a road race is imminent, I get a little anxious and see my life pass before me. Especially with advancing age, I think to myself, could tomorrow be the day when something bad happens?
Rationally, I know better. This is like flying in an airplane--the odds are surely on my side, but then, you just never know! But I also know that I can be competitive--if not with others, with myself. And that means I can push harder than I should. And I can get preoccupied with times--now that I've been finishing in less than 2 hours at this distance, I would be disappointed if I reverted to my 2:15-ish times of a few years ago. And so I must tell myself to enjoy the journey and try to forget about times. The goal here is merely to finish, and to be around for the next one in a few months.
Running is still a religious experience for me, and it gets me as close to my best self as anything I know. To be lost in the rhythm of my strides, to take in the scenery, and to feel everyone else in the same quest is as near as I get to a peak experience. And I am so incredibly grateful that I can still churn out the miles after all these years; it's the one activity that always enables me to feel young. Because, after all, I'm really just a 22-year-old kid trapped in the body of someone much older.
If I should keel over at mile 11 or 12, I would also have to say that it's my preferred way to go. But tomorrow morning in New Prague, I hope to once again discover the wonder of seeing that finishing gate just a few hundred feet in the distance.
[Postscript: it's now the noon hour on Saturday, and the New Prague Half Marathon has come and gone. I'm happy to report that I didn't keel over and die, but there was a nasty cold headwind for miles 9, 10, and 11, which made things a little grim. Still, I managed a 1:59:53--under 2 hours--which is my goal these days. And so I live to run another day!]
Rationally, I know better. This is like flying in an airplane--the odds are surely on my side, but then, you just never know! But I also know that I can be competitive--if not with others, with myself. And that means I can push harder than I should. And I can get preoccupied with times--now that I've been finishing in less than 2 hours at this distance, I would be disappointed if I reverted to my 2:15-ish times of a few years ago. And so I must tell myself to enjoy the journey and try to forget about times. The goal here is merely to finish, and to be around for the next one in a few months.
Running is still a religious experience for me, and it gets me as close to my best self as anything I know. To be lost in the rhythm of my strides, to take in the scenery, and to feel everyone else in the same quest is as near as I get to a peak experience. And I am so incredibly grateful that I can still churn out the miles after all these years; it's the one activity that always enables me to feel young. Because, after all, I'm really just a 22-year-old kid trapped in the body of someone much older.
If I should keel over at mile 11 or 12, I would also have to say that it's my preferred way to go. But tomorrow morning in New Prague, I hope to once again discover the wonder of seeing that finishing gate just a few hundred feet in the distance.
[Postscript: it's now the noon hour on Saturday, and the New Prague Half Marathon has come and gone. I'm happy to report that I didn't keel over and die, but there was a nasty cold headwind for miles 9, 10, and 11, which made things a little grim. Still, I managed a 1:59:53--under 2 hours--which is my goal these days. And so I live to run another day!]
Sunday, May 3, 2009
God: Santa on steroids
As humans, we love Superheroes. I remember one of those Christopher Reeve Superman movies (Superman II), where Superman is so sorry for something he did that he manages to turn back the clock--literally turn back time--by rapidly flying around the Earth the opposite way that it rotates, making the Earth "spin backwards," and then earning a "do-over" as a result. Considering the total mass of the planet, wow--that's one powerful dude! (No one ever explained how making the Earth rotate the other way could actually turn back time, but who cares about those trivial details....)
Santa Claus, of course, is another one of our most fabled Superheroes. Santa knows every little girl and boy. He has a list; he's checkin' it twice; because he knows who's naughty and nice. (If you've never thought of Santa as "godlike" in this respect, I don't know where you have been.) Now grown-ups understand the fiction involved. And when little Johnny asks a probing question such as, "How can Santa go to all those houses in just one night?" or "How does he get into a house that doesn't have a chimney?" we quietly nod and smirk a little bit, admiring in part little Johnny's emerging critical thinking skills, and amused and challenged to find an explanation for little Johnny that will continue to make the charade somehow vaguely believable. But whether it be Superman or Santa, we know through and through that stupendous stories and amazing claims are not to be taken literally or seriously.
Yet for some, God is a very notable exception. In the view of some people, God is essentially Superman and Santa on steroids. God can do absolutely anything. Like Santa, God is watching over us all the time. And considering that there are probably trillions of sentient beings in the universe (surely you don't think that God created all this just for you and me), He has an amazing filing system. Think for a moment about what it would take to monitor even the 6 billion people on this planet every second of their lives; it is way beyond mind-boggling. And if God can even read our thoughts, which some believe, that adds yet another fantastic layer of data. (And, all this makes me even more self-conscious if I happen to fart or pick my nose--sorry, Big Guy--I'm only human!) The notion that God sees all, knows all, and can do all is so patently ridiculous that it's amazing people can't see through it. If they can see through Santa, why can't they see through such notions about God? Well, I'll answer my own question: because they really don't want to. Perhaps if they read The Future of an Illusion by Sigmund Freud they would have at least a basic appreciation of the human psyche and its less-than-rational nature.
Santa Claus, of course, is another one of our most fabled Superheroes. Santa knows every little girl and boy. He has a list; he's checkin' it twice; because he knows who's naughty and nice. (If you've never thought of Santa as "godlike" in this respect, I don't know where you have been.) Now grown-ups understand the fiction involved. And when little Johnny asks a probing question such as, "How can Santa go to all those houses in just one night?" or "How does he get into a house that doesn't have a chimney?" we quietly nod and smirk a little bit, admiring in part little Johnny's emerging critical thinking skills, and amused and challenged to find an explanation for little Johnny that will continue to make the charade somehow vaguely believable. But whether it be Superman or Santa, we know through and through that stupendous stories and amazing claims are not to be taken literally or seriously.
Yet for some, God is a very notable exception. In the view of some people, God is essentially Superman and Santa on steroids. God can do absolutely anything. Like Santa, God is watching over us all the time. And considering that there are probably trillions of sentient beings in the universe (surely you don't think that God created all this just for you and me), He has an amazing filing system. Think for a moment about what it would take to monitor even the 6 billion people on this planet every second of their lives; it is way beyond mind-boggling. And if God can even read our thoughts, which some believe, that adds yet another fantastic layer of data. (And, all this makes me even more self-conscious if I happen to fart or pick my nose--sorry, Big Guy--I'm only human!) The notion that God sees all, knows all, and can do all is so patently ridiculous that it's amazing people can't see through it. If they can see through Santa, why can't they see through such notions about God? Well, I'll answer my own question: because they really don't want to. Perhaps if they read The Future of an Illusion by Sigmund Freud they would have at least a basic appreciation of the human psyche and its less-than-rational nature.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Thoroughly modern Millie--er, Davie
I've been thinking about the Modern Age (or, perhaps, the Postmodern Age--are we there already?). Despite all of its neurotic and crazy qualities, I think there's a lot to be said for modernity. In fact, I would go so far as to say that "traditional, old-fashioned" ideas about the world are often both dangerous and scary.
We live in a world that bases its understanding of the cosmos, human behavior, and social issues on (often bizarre) evidence and reasoning that sometimes dates back to antiquity. Want to know the right stance on gay marriage? Check the Bible! Need to know what the proper role of women is? Study the Quran! Will I have a good day? Read today's horoscope! After a while, one begins to see that our understanding of many things is not enhanced by tradition, but is, rather, very much messed up by tradition--by source material that is inevitably flawed, misguided, or downright weird in one way or another. (If some Bible passages don't strike you as weird, then I don't know what to say....)
For all of its faults, the modern intellectual world has at least offered a modicum of rationality to our knowledge of things. With the exception of some moral and ethical issues--which to some extent transcend time--I have become increasingly skeptical that "the ancients" have much to offer us in the way of "truth" at this point in history. And who can really blame those old farts? It wasn't their fault--they were operating off of a limited, embryonic data set. The gospels were written decades after Jesus died, and no one could "go back to the video." They didn't have microscopes back then, or carbon dating, or knowledge of DNA. And the planet did not possess an army of physical and social scientists who have explored just about every facet of existence. As "backward" and short-sighted as our contemporary thinking can be, I still think we are light years beyond the many generations that have preceded us. Christopher Hitchens makes a similar point when he writes,
"One must state it plainly. Religion comes from the period of human prehistory where nobody--not even the mighty Democritus who concluded that all matter is made from atoms--had the smallest idea what was going on. . .Today the least educated of my children knows much more about the natural order than any of the founders of religion...." (God is Not Great, p. 64)
So I say, "Three cheers for the modern world! Thank goodness that I'm living in the 21st century, and too bad I won't be around for the 22nd!"
We live in a world that bases its understanding of the cosmos, human behavior, and social issues on (often bizarre) evidence and reasoning that sometimes dates back to antiquity. Want to know the right stance on gay marriage? Check the Bible! Need to know what the proper role of women is? Study the Quran! Will I have a good day? Read today's horoscope! After a while, one begins to see that our understanding of many things is not enhanced by tradition, but is, rather, very much messed up by tradition--by source material that is inevitably flawed, misguided, or downright weird in one way or another. (If some Bible passages don't strike you as weird, then I don't know what to say....)
For all of its faults, the modern intellectual world has at least offered a modicum of rationality to our knowledge of things. With the exception of some moral and ethical issues--which to some extent transcend time--I have become increasingly skeptical that "the ancients" have much to offer us in the way of "truth" at this point in history. And who can really blame those old farts? It wasn't their fault--they were operating off of a limited, embryonic data set. The gospels were written decades after Jesus died, and no one could "go back to the video." They didn't have microscopes back then, or carbon dating, or knowledge of DNA. And the planet did not possess an army of physical and social scientists who have explored just about every facet of existence. As "backward" and short-sighted as our contemporary thinking can be, I still think we are light years beyond the many generations that have preceded us. Christopher Hitchens makes a similar point when he writes,
"One must state it plainly. Religion comes from the period of human prehistory where nobody--not even the mighty Democritus who concluded that all matter is made from atoms--had the smallest idea what was going on. . .Today the least educated of my children knows much more about the natural order than any of the founders of religion...." (God is Not Great, p. 64)
So I say, "Three cheers for the modern world! Thank goodness that I'm living in the 21st century, and too bad I won't be around for the 22nd!"
Monday, April 20, 2009
Dealing with idiots
OK, my wife's siblings and their spouses are not idiots. But in some ways they're not real sharp, either. And they are sufficiently dogmatic and ignorant that they can seem like real idiots.
On Friday I had the misfortune of walking into the middle of one of their discussions, which included a number of amazing revelations:
1. The taxpayer revolt/tea party protests have led at least 8 states to consider seceeding from the union. (Breaking news!)
2. The media are biased against conservative causes--they would publicize a gay-pride rally in San Francisco, but not that two "Christians" were (presumably) murdered (by two gay people? it was never clear and I was afraid to ask).
3. The media are similarly squelching the anti-abortion movement in America. More of that liberal media agenda.
4. In kindgergartens now, kids are being told that "mom/mom" and "dad/dad" are perfectly OK ways to form families. And as we know, it's a "fact" (their word, not mine) that God would disapprove of two gay parents, or homosexuality in general.
5. And (oh yes), in case you didn't know, there's not a "gay gene," which means, apparently, that anyone can simply choose to be any way they want to be when it comes to sexuality.
After discussing these matters with the four of them for about 15 minutes, I was experiencing a weird combination of sorrow and anger--enough so that I abruptly said, "I have to go," at which point I headed for the car, backed out of the driveway and drove around for some time, fully intending to have dinner (that's what we were there for) at a local restaurant. But a phone call from The Misses as I was scanning the restaurant menu led to me re-consider and to try to make nice. So I went back, kept my distance for at least 30 minutes, and then ate dinner with them--and along the way a few conciliatory words were uttered all the way around. Things finished on a positive note.
But they really are idiots. And as I told them, it wasn't just that they said these things, but that they represent millions of other people with the same views. It's a real Culture War, I said--and that the opposition is so cock-sure of themselves and so darn crazy scares the beejebers out of me. Be afraid my friends--be very afraid!
On Friday I had the misfortune of walking into the middle of one of their discussions, which included a number of amazing revelations:
1. The taxpayer revolt/tea party protests have led at least 8 states to consider seceeding from the union. (Breaking news!)
2. The media are biased against conservative causes--they would publicize a gay-pride rally in San Francisco, but not that two "Christians" were (presumably) murdered (by two gay people? it was never clear and I was afraid to ask).
3. The media are similarly squelching the anti-abortion movement in America. More of that liberal media agenda.
4. In kindgergartens now, kids are being told that "mom/mom" and "dad/dad" are perfectly OK ways to form families. And as we know, it's a "fact" (their word, not mine) that God would disapprove of two gay parents, or homosexuality in general.
5. And (oh yes), in case you didn't know, there's not a "gay gene," which means, apparently, that anyone can simply choose to be any way they want to be when it comes to sexuality.
After discussing these matters with the four of them for about 15 minutes, I was experiencing a weird combination of sorrow and anger--enough so that I abruptly said, "I have to go," at which point I headed for the car, backed out of the driveway and drove around for some time, fully intending to have dinner (that's what we were there for) at a local restaurant. But a phone call from The Misses as I was scanning the restaurant menu led to me re-consider and to try to make nice. So I went back, kept my distance for at least 30 minutes, and then ate dinner with them--and along the way a few conciliatory words were uttered all the way around. Things finished on a positive note.
But they really are idiots. And as I told them, it wasn't just that they said these things, but that they represent millions of other people with the same views. It's a real Culture War, I said--and that the opposition is so cock-sure of themselves and so darn crazy scares the beejebers out of me. Be afraid my friends--be very afraid!
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Max is gone
On Tuesday of this week, our 20-year-old cat, Max, died as I was sitting right next to him. For at least a year and a half, he had had a growth of some sort (tumor or cyst--they don't know) in his abdomen--a growth that had gotten so large that it was pressing against other organs and making his life much more of a challenge. We had reluctantly made an appointment to have him euthansized at 4:30, but Max beat us to the punch by 60 minutes. And in a way, we were happy that he was able to pass on at home, lying on his favorite spot on his favorite couch.
I thought I would feel a bit more liberated after he died. Max could be a real pain the butt, yammering for food (loudly and plaintively!) first thing in the morning, missing his litter box sometimes when he peed, and leaving cat hair just about everywhere. But I am surprised at my sense of loss, and am constantly amazed by the empty spot on the couch. At 20, he was, after all, older than our daughter; he was a bona fide member of the family. Several days later, I still habitually look at that couch as I round the corner, thinking I will see him there and wanting to know if there's anything he needs.
Ironically, I think that pets--animals--help make us more human. They remind us about things like lack of judgment, unwavering acceptance and trust, and unconditional love. In a world with some cold pricklies, Max was always a warm fuzzy--he sought us out and wanted to be with us no matter what.
A significant measure of our humanity involves how we treat animals. Although Max had a way of demanding our attention, he also had a way of getting into our hearts. I miss you, big guy--rest in peace.
I thought I would feel a bit more liberated after he died. Max could be a real pain the butt, yammering for food (loudly and plaintively!) first thing in the morning, missing his litter box sometimes when he peed, and leaving cat hair just about everywhere. But I am surprised at my sense of loss, and am constantly amazed by the empty spot on the couch. At 20, he was, after all, older than our daughter; he was a bona fide member of the family. Several days later, I still habitually look at that couch as I round the corner, thinking I will see him there and wanting to know if there's anything he needs.
Ironically, I think that pets--animals--help make us more human. They remind us about things like lack of judgment, unwavering acceptance and trust, and unconditional love. In a world with some cold pricklies, Max was always a warm fuzzy--he sought us out and wanted to be with us no matter what.
A significant measure of our humanity involves how we treat animals. Although Max had a way of demanding our attention, he also had a way of getting into our hearts. I miss you, big guy--rest in peace.
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