New Year's memories

Well, when you were born just after the end of World War II, the year 2010 seems pretty darn futuristic. There was a time when even the 1980s seemed a long way off. I can say that I read Orwell's 1984 when it did feel far enough away that it might as well have been titled 2084. But the years pass, and the Contentious One keeps chugging along, just waiting for his first big health crisis--which vital organ will grow the tumor? Ah, the joys of getting older.

Of all the days in the year, perhaps New Year's Eve has been the most eventful for me, in many ways. The fact that kissing at midnight is part of the New Year's ritual has led to a couple of memorable romances, one of which had a particularly significant impact on the path of my life. And then there was that New Year's Eve somewhere back in the 1970s when I was aggressively hustled and hit on (you can't make this stuff up) by a minister of a gay church from San Francisco, at a party in Mahtomedi. It was on that night that I learned how a woman might feel on the receiving end of untoward and unwelcome advances. The fact is that New Year's Eve, especially when you are young and single, invites a certain sort of debauchery--it is as if we are all in a time warp, willing to throw caution to the wind, in a state of suspended animation combined with a mild dose of inebriation. What happens on New Year's Eve stays on New Year's Eve--it's the calendar's equivalent to Las Vegas.

But now, as I grab my AARP membership card and hope for the Senior Discount at Jiffy Lube or some such place, I have to say that those days of debauchery are pretty much ancient history. You see, time projects both ways: in 1968, the year 2010 seemed like forever, and in 2010, 1968 now feels like a very distant but pleasant dream. Could it all have been THAT long ago?

Christmas blues

I'd like to be able to say that Christmas is the happiest time of year for me, but the simple fact is that it's not. Unfortunately, it involves a perfect storm of several things that together make "the most wonderful time of the year" something quite less:

1. It's dark--the days are short.
2. It's cold--the snow is here and more is on the way.
3. It's overcommercialized--and so I must find a way to please the most important people in my life with various objects, always wondering if they are the right objects.
4. It's expensive--and I'm both poor and cheap.
5. It's illogical--the birth story has never made any sense to me. (Virgin mother indeed!) And it brings out some of the most nonsensical beliefs I have ever encountered.
6. It's a focal point for every family issue and old squabble. And it reminds many of better times and lost loved ones.
7. It's bound to be disappointing--because expectations are so darn high.

When Christmas is over, I invariably heave a big sigh of relief. No more trudging through crowded malls! No more 24/7 Christmas music on a couple of my normal radio stations! No more worry about "doing it wrong"! And no more reminders of how our lives fall short of the ideal. It's not that I'm a depressed person by nature--indeed, most of my water glasses at home are half-full. But Christmas is like a stress test on an icy treadmill. I'd rather take a leisurely walk around the lake on a warm spring afternoon.

President Sarah Palin?

Today marked the tumultuous return of "Governor" Sarah Palin to Minnesota. At the Mall of America, she was greeted by throngs of devotees, all waiting in line for many, many hours to have her sign (no more than two) copies of her (ghostwritten) book, Going Rogue.

Let's start with the predictable disclaimers. Sarah Palin is a narrow-minded demagogue. She's about as deep as the Los Angeles River, and has about as much gravitas as an ostrich feather. Having said that, I must grit my teeth and say something that is anathema to liberals: Sarah Palin could indeed become our next President.

Heretofore, we have determined that Ms. Palin is simply too inexperienced and too much of an idiot to be elected to higher office. A colleague of mine at work would be pleased if Palin were nominated in 2012, for that very reason--i.e., in his mind, she simply doesn't have enough broad appeal from people with brains to be elected, so let the Republicans nominate her! But I had to remind my friend of one thing: this is America in the 21st century.

In this modern/postmodern age of media celebrities, Sarah Palin fits in pretty nicely. Many people like her, and many others simply adore her. She's down to earth and she makes sense, in their view--and she's not too bad on the eyes, either. In 2009, that's about all you need. There's a reason why both Jesse Ventura and Arnold Schwarzenegger were elected to be governors--they weren't "typical politicians" and people liked their style. We live in a Cult of Personality, and darn it, Sarah's got that in spades.

So, let's hope the Obama Presidency is reasonably successful. If it isn't, look out! Persistent economic problems and a losing effort in Afghanistan could propel people to once again look for "change." And if you think Sarah is unqualified, just give her a couple of years. In our media-saturated culture, exposure = credibility. Palin was regarded as unqualified because nobody had ever heard of her. But give her a couple of years on newscasts, talk shows, and magazines, and a little grooming from a few advisors, and voila!--suddenly she is way more legitimate than before.

Gosh but it pains me to say all this! I pray to all Higher Powers that I am dead wrong.

Suffocating in data smog

As the academic term ramps up for the Big Crunch at the end of the semester, I continue to marvel at the number of messages that are flying around through cyberspace and good 'ol paperspace. Sometimes I feel as if I am a member of the Borg Collective--you know, those strange creatures, all connected psychically, who lived in a humongous cube on Star Trek: The Next Generation, and always knew what all the others were thinking, in real time. As with the Borg, there are all these thoughts and all this information flying around and we are expected to attend to it, understand it, and respond to it. It's a wonder that anyone can keep up. And I must confess to a certain level of guilt if I fall down on the message-processing job, even if I only let it lapse for a day or two--sometimes even an hour or two!

As we move "forward" in this electronic, information-processing age, a huge challenge will be to find a way to be competent, conscientious, and effective--yet sane. I believe that this will, increasingly, become a quality of life issue as well as a mental health issue. Even if we don't have Borg-like implants in our heads, we are becoming every bit as connected. And I'm getting tired of all that connecting. Jean Luc--help me! Send a shuttle craft to take me away! I'm a cyberprisoner.

Black Friday: capitalism on steroids

And so here we are on Thanksgiving--my favorite holiday. I've always loved Thanksgiving because (a) you don't have to believe anything in particular that is nonsensical (I'll let you infer those references), (b) the message is simple and one that we can all embrace, (c) you get to eat a lot, (d) it's always near or on my birthday, and (e) it's the only holiday left that hasn't been "overcommercialized"--no gifts or cards required. (Thousands of you loyal readers can check my post from November 26, 2008, "Thankful for Thanksgiving," which expresses a similar sentiment.)

But--stop the presses, hold the phone: that last reason is quickly becoming a reason of the past. Yes, things are still pretty darn good until 11:59 pm on Thanksgiving, but then something awful and ugly happens at the stroke of midnight: we arrive at BLACK FRIDAY, which this year (to make matters even worse) coincides with my birthday. As we all know, stores are opening on Black Friday as early as 3:00 am; other "lazy" stores are actually waiting until 4 or 5 am to open on this day. In short, my birthday this year is on a day that bows down to the true Great Gods of America: consumerism, conformity, conspicuous consumption, profit, and superficiality. It's a material world, but I don't want to be a material girl--or a material boy, for that matter.

Yet I am still conflicted. I realize that some of this capitalistic hyperactivity is done with the goal of finding gifts for people we love. And I also realize that in order for our economy to prosper, people do need to buy stuff: that is a very sobering notion to me--the idea that we simply must spend and buy so that everyone can work and profit. But I hark back to a book by the philosopher Alan Watts: Does It Matter? Essays on Man's Relation to Materiality. In one of these essays, Watts argues, in so many words, that we need to re-think our fundamental ideas about money, wealth, and the national economy. His point is at once both totally sensible and rather naive: to wit, we have an incredible amount of wealth (just go to Sam's Club and look at the shelves), and so all we need to do is distribute it to everyone; we have more than enough. "Money" and "debt," in his view, are so 19th century. And if you think about it, he's right: "money" is merely pieces of paper. In Watts's words,

"Money doesn't and never did come from anywhere, as if it were something like lumber or iron or hydroelectric power. We invent money as we invent the Fahrenheit scale of temperature or the avoirdupois measure of weight. . . By contrast with money, true wealth is the sum of energy, technical intelligence, and raw materials. Gold itself is only wealth when used for such practical purposes as filling teeth. As soon as it is used for money, kept locked in vaults and fortresses, it becomes useless for anything else and thus goes out of circulation as a form of raw material; i.e., real wealth."

Hmm. Sounds like Watts was one of those "wealth-spreaders." But really, don't we have quite enough for everyone? Can't everyone have a certain level of material comfort? Why is it rationed in the way that it is, such that guys stand on freeway off-ramps with cardboard signs and we feel like we've saved the world if we give them a frickin' sandwich?

Unfortunately, Alan Watts's view of things has not prevailed. He was writing in the 1960s, and I couldn't help but notice this passage in the aforementioned book: "If, if we get our heads on straight about money, I predict that by A.D. 2000, or sooner, no one will pay taxes, no one will carry cash, utilities will be free, and everyone will carry a general credit card. This card will be valid up to each individual's share in a guaranteed basic income or national dividend, issued free, beyond which he or she may still earn anything more that he desires by an art or craft, profession or trade that has not been displaced by automation."

Well, he did put an "if" in there! But we are obviously a long way from Watts's vision of the ideal approach to materialism. So, it's 2009--spend like a drunken sailor, pull out that plastic, rack up those frequent flyer miles, bury yourself in gifts, and have fun coping with the millions of other idiots out there who see Black Friday as some sort of festival. Me? I be stayin' home. Call me a Conscientious Objector.

Bowing to tradition

As I have mentioned previously, I have an on-going e-mail debate in progress with an old high school chum who I have called "Kyle" (not his real name). I could discuss a variety of specific issues we have discussed in the last few months, but I thought I'd focus on our most recent exchange, which deals with--of all things--bowing.

Again, Kyle is on the "far right" with respect to virtually any political or social issue. Therefore, his sights are firmly set on our current CEO. (His name is Barack Obama; perhaps you've heard of him.) Well, Obama was recently in Japan, and while there (hold your breath and then expel it in utter shock) he actually BOWED to Japanese royalty. Well, for Kyle, this is tantamount to treason--bowing to a foreign monarch, he argues, has not been done by U.S. Presidents going all the way back to George Washington. And Kyle sent me a web article that called the President's bow both a sign of "idiocy" and "weakness." From the perspective of the far right, the President bows to no one--certainly not a foreign monarch. The Revolutionary War, he noted, was fought to put an end to worshiping monarchs.

As usual, I was a bit shocked at such a notion. Since bowing is a deeply-ingrained part of Japanese social interaction, I considered a bow to be culturally appropriate and as well as a welcome (and fairly innocuous) gesture of politeness. Well, after a little further research (some of it Kyle's postings sent to my in-box) it turned out that Kyle was correct--to an extent. Having never studied bowing closely, I discovered that bowing is not necessarily a traditional part of U.S. Presidential protocol in Japan. But, in the '90s, Bill Clinton did bow somewhat when he visited Japan, and I also found that President Eisenhower once bowed to a foreign head of state. Still, I was flabbergasted that such a gesture would be regarded as either weak or idiotic--from what I know about Japan, bowing deeply could never be disrespectful; far from it.

Kyle provided me with several American conservative yahoos--including one who claims to be a "Japan expert"--to support the idea that the bow was a faux pas. However, I became more interested in the receivers--i.e., what did the JAPANESE think about this gesture? Finding an answer was a little hard to come by--most of the Internet buzz is from those yahoos. But I did find a site that had the following rather telling information, from a web page called examiner.com:

"While the Japanese media has largely avoided commenting on the [bowing] incident, numerous comments have been made on Japanese blogs and open forums. The general comments have been rather different in tone from that of American counterparts. Here are some select comments made on several sites:

[All comments translated from Japanese]

• “What a bow!”
• “Such a deep bow from Obama, what a fine guy.”
• “I’m surprised he bowed. He’s really trying hard to meet the Japanese way!”
• “President Obama is a top-class person, isn’t he? Amazing!”
• “The Emperor is giving a nice smile!”
• “Is the Japanese Emperor really that special?”
• “The Emperor or the Pope, the President or the Prime Minister, whoever is greater is not something that I think can be decided objectively.”
• “I laughed because it was a much better bow than I had imagined.”
• “Obama’s huge!”
• “Obama has more of a true Japanese heart than most Japanese do.”

Not all of these comments are enthusiastically positive, but none is really negative either--and most are quite favorable. At that, I said "whew"--bowing really is OK. I told Kyle that if Obama's gesture marked a change in Presidential behavior, I'm all for it. I have argued that the U.S. has often been arrogant internationally, and Kyle has wanted examples. Well, here's this week's case in point. When in Tokyo, do as the Tokyoans do. And dammit, show a little humility and respect.

The Music Man: Not big in Afghanistan

I've just finished reading a book that was long overdue on my list: Three Cups of Tea, the story of Greg Mortenson and his amazing, heroic efforts to build schools for girls in Pakistan and Afghanistan. This book is a must-read for anyone who is feeling a little hopeless and cynical, and it should be required reading for Bush/Cheney types who think that the War on Terrorism is going to be won with guns.

In one small part of the book, the reader is reminded that the Taliban are not real fond of music--so much so that virtually all music has been banned at times in Afghanistan, with severe penalties for non-compliance. As someone who relies on his iPod Shuffle to get him through a six or eight mile run, I can't help but be struck by the notion that music is bad. Music--the very essence of human creativity, something that separates us from the beasts, one of our noblest enterprises, something that entertains and inspires--of all things, music is illegal.

I try to wrap my head around this idea. What planet are these people living on? What values underlie this perverse fear of a melody, with rhythm? Why so categorical and extreme? (It might be one thing to ban, say, certain rappers, but quite another to throw in Bach and Beethoven.) A world without music is a world without sunshine. You might as well ban chocolate syrup, popcorn, and re-runs of The Rockford Files while you're at it!

Yes, a hedonistic life is a potentially empty life. But listening to music is so far from mindless hedonism that I can only shake my head and say that it's quite a diverse world in which we live. I'd like to say that diversity is always wonderful, but sometimes it's a real headache. I'm happy today to be a "westerner"--one of those times when I appreciate and do not take for granted the pleasure of running around Lake Harriet with Dire Straits' "Walk of Life" pulsing into my ears.

In my life I've loved them all

Have you ever considered all the people you know, and all of the things you have done with them?

As one gets older and more feeble (half-marathons feel a lot better than marathons these days), one (that'd be me) can't help but look back on it all and just be a little amazed. And the truth of the matter is that my life has not been all THAT amazing--in fact, it's been fairly ordinary in many ways. (Imagine the difference if you are Barack Obama, or Kofi Annan, or Britney Spears!) Still, it's quite an awesome array of personalities, events, places, and stories.

Some of the best stories (a) only mean something to me, (b) are too "personal" to share in most any venue, and (c) could easily be interpreted as self-centered or vain or sappy or embarrassing or something else that's not complimentary. The list is so long that I hardly know where to begin. And so I'm left with lots of memories of all sorts--memories that are permanently sealed in my brain and pretty much do and should remain there.

Still, perhaps when I finally get my lingering terminal illness with some bizarre multi-syllabic name, maybe someone will take enough pity on me to listen to a few of those stories, and maybe even a few of my favorite songs:

There are places I'll remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all

Sports mania is insania

It's been a big "sports week" here in the Twin Towns. In the longest college football rivalry in the nation, the Gophers battled the Badgers at home to determine who would win "The Ax." On Sunday we had the Twin Cities Marathon and TC 10 Mile. Then the Brett Favre version of the Vikings took on the Packers in Monday Night Football. And today, right now, the Twins are facing the Tigers in a winner-take-all one-game divisional playoff.

Yes, it's all sort of exciting. And I remember a time in a distant past life (read: junior high school) when my career goal was to become a sportscaster. But at some point (read: late in high school) I realized that there had to be more to life than three-run homers, screen passes, and slap shots. Although sports can be a nice diversion, they are, in the end, just games. And as more than 50,000 Americans were dying in Vietnam, it became harder and harder to take games so seriously. Something else just had to matter more.

Still, some people clearly do take their sports seriously, including various yahoos at the Gopher game who would surely regard themselves as Minnesota fans. Yet their behavior was juvenile to the point of being embarrassing. If a Badger backer (clothed in red, of course--a true Gopher fan had to be wearing gold) walked by the Minnesota faithful, they were subjected to all manner of annoying trash talk (even at the urinals, as I was to discover!). The metamessage was: This football game actually matters. It's a reflection of our civic pride. And we'd better show we're superior. And somehow, winning the game would constitute proof of all that. At some level, it's pretty pathetic--especially since after all the taunting, the Gophers lost, 31-28. A whole bunch of those vocal Gopher fans were left to eat crow and got the insults handed right back at them while heading out the door.

We can enjoy the drama of sport. And hey, let's root, root, root for the home team. But when an opposing player is injured on the field--as happened a few times to certain Badger players--let's have the decency NOT to yell, "Take him out in a body bag!"

But all that aside, a big WHOOO-HOOO! as the Twins top the Tigers 6-5 in 12 innings--it was a transcendent moment in sports, as good as it gets! Still, it really is only a game. Really.

A chick flick you don't want to see

If you ever wonder why I'm a vegetarian, or why animal welfare is an issue that's near and dear to me, all you need to do is read page A7 of yesterday's Star Tribune. The story, "Video highlights egg industry's practice of killing male chicks," discusses a video shot at an egg hatchery in Spencer, IA over a two-week period in May and June.

OK, so maybe male chicks don't have much of a place in a hatchery; they don't lay eggs. And maybe, just maybe, some might have to be euthanized as a result. But, what the video shows is that a common practice is to throw unwanted male chicks, alive, into a grinder. Yes, alive and into a moving grinder.

A spokesman for the United Egg Producers says that "If someone has a need for 200 million male chicks, we're happy to provide them to anyone who wants them. But we can find no market, no need." Ergo, any means of "disposal" is acceptable. Meanwhile, the Executive Director of Mercy for Animals says, "We have to ask ourselves if these were puppies and kittens being dropped into grinders, would we find that acceptable?"

Our world is rife with violence and insensitivity. It is perhaps a less crude and nasty place than it was in ages past; the whole concept of vegetarianism, for example, has become both common and basically respectable. We've had our collective consciousness raised in so many different ways--for instance, even carnivores have more trouble eating veal and fois gras with enthusiasm, and if you don't think a pig roast is just a bit disgusting, the last few decades have simply passed you by. But, we have a long way to go--it's a violent world in many different ways. Just ask some 200,000,000 chicks that are shredded alive every year.

Saying farewell to the West

Laramie, WY

As our road trip reaches its last stages, if there is one thing that has struck me about The West--something that I have experienced before but had sort of forgotten--it is that The West is BIG. Vast. Expansive. Dramatic. Wide open. And very much up and down, up and down; one gets used to yawning to pop one's ears as the roadway stretches up to the Continental Divide and back down to the foothills. And so, from Laramie, Wyoming, I say "yee haw!"--which is something that a Wyoming cowboy no doubt says about every 10 minutes.

Whether it be the Grand Canyon, or the Las Vegas strip, or the beaches of Santa Monica and Venice, or Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, or the Hearst Castle, or the redwoods in northern California, I have been taken by the immensity of our nation, and its resources, and its wealth. We may think that we have economic problems--and of course we do--but the America I have seen is doing all right. Indeed, my niece and her husband, who live and work in India, sometimes come back to the U.S., look around, and say, "WHAT economic problems?"

Along the way, I have continued to correspond with my old high school classmate "Kyle," who is mentioned in a previous post. Kyle continues to hope that Mr. Obama fails, that he is incompetent, that he wasn't even born here, that he advocates socialism, that he's locked us in to trillions of dollars in deficits for at least the next ten years, and that he's not even a particularly good public speaker--among other things! I have been hoping to at least soften Kyle up a bit on the notion that Obama is a mean, nasty, incompetent person, and that one can disagree with him on the issues without demonizing him or resorting to name-calling and fear-mongering. The jury is still out on whether I will succeed! But looking out over the grand vistas that are the American West, all of that seems like mere politics. When you are standing in the silence of a towering redwood forest, or looking out over the rock formations and buttes in Wyoming that seem to go on forever, what's important seems to change.

Love-hate relationship with Hearst Castle

San Simeon, CA

No visit to the central coast of California would be complete without a visit to the "Hearst Castle," one of several getaways for William Randolph Hearst, newspaper publisher and media mogul of the first half of the 20th century.

One cannot help but be impressed by the sheer size and opulence of this place, and the stories of how millions of tons of material were brought up to this vantage point high atop the hills that look out over the vast Pacific. The tour guide stressed, over and over again, how no expense was spared to make the castle and its grounds a sort of 8th wonder of the world. And wonderful it certainly is. The swimming pools alone are immense, magnificent works of art. And since Hearst was an avid art collector, every wall is graced with some sort of tapestry, or statue, or gold-inlaid tile. We are left to imagine--and, actually, to see, through some grainy old films--how Clark Gable and Charlie Chaplin and Carole Lombard and Hedda Hopper and their ilk whiled away the hours riding horses, playing billiards, watching movies in the theater-sized screening room, and eating sumptuous dinners in a dining hall that literally inspired those who tried to put Harry Potter to life in film.

Having said all that, if one does not feel somewhat conflicted by this incredible homage to capitalism, conspicuous consumption, and the power of money and privilege, then one lacks either a conscience or an understanding of how the world works. Mr. Hearst was fortunate enough to inherit millions from his father George, and to be taken to Europe for a year and a half by his mom, where he became inspired by European castles and cathedrals. If anyone was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, it was William Randolph Hearst. Now, to his credit, he was an incredibly creative, hard-working, and driven fellow, just like his dad. But there are lots of creative and hard-working people out there who don't command the resources of a Hearst; at best they might be employed by a Hearst and manage to get a teeny piece of a massive pie. And we can all understand the desire for immortality, and the legacy that the Hearst castle represents, yet it would be possible to have a VERY, very nice getaway for 1/10th the price--leaving many millions of dollars to be used, potentially, for more socially beneficial ends. Simply put, the Hearst Castle is also the mark of a person with a jumbo-sized ego and a sense of entitlement that comes with more money than you know what to do with.

And so, see the Hearst Castle--it's more impressive than I thought it would be. It is an impressive display of wealth, and architecture--and an impressive display of vanity, materialism, and privilege. You will secretly want to live there, but you will want to remember all of those who stand at freeway off-ramps with cardboard signs, begging for spare change.

Venice, where everyone is welcome

Venice, CA

It's a sweet and in some ways bittersweet return to my old stomping grounds, where I lived from about May 1977 to September 1978. [You're saying to yourself, 1977--how could that be? He only looks about 28 years old! LOL, YAC (You Are Clueless.)]

Strolling down Ocean Front Walk in Venice is something that everyone should experience. With the palm trees lining the walk, the beach and the ocean everpresent on one side, the sun and the breeze filtering through the moist morning air, one feels as if all is right with the world (especially when it's the middle of winter in Minnesota!). But the real treasure of Venice is that it's a place where everyone shows up, and to the extent that it's possible, everyone is welcome.

Ocean Front Walk is humanity on parade, and all can be part of the procession. That includes accountants, street musicians, palm readers and psychics, T-shirt vendors, bikers and in-line skaters, Latinos, LAPD officers (often on bicycles), body builders (at Muscle Beach) and other "beautiful people," paddle tennis players, little kids, tourists from the US and abroad, African-Americans, old folks with walkers, and a definite contingent of "street people"--people with skin wrinkled and bronzed from years in the sun (and years of substance abuse, no doubt) who literally carry their world on their backs, or in their sleeping bags, or attached to their bikes, or piled on top of their rusty 30-year-old campers. If there are still "hippies" left in this world, they are to be found on Venice Beach. Unlike Santa Monica just to the north or Marina del Rey just to the south, there is a feeling in Venice that you can be exactly who you want to be--even if that's a transsexual with spider tattoos and bells in your hair. It is a liberating feeling, and one that speaks to a Midwesterner who often feels the pressure to "be normal" and "fit in."

And the bittersweet part: that Venice represents a period in my life when everything felt possible--when there were few rules, responsibilities, or expectations. The summer of 1977, when I was basically a beach bum and in love with much in the world, had a certain innocence that is hard to recapture. But, with this current visit as an inspiration, maybe I can re-claim at least some of that! Although some of the details have changed, I am happy to report that some three decades later, the spirit of Venice is alive and well.

Las Vegas/Lost Wages

Las Vegas, NV

I feel compelled to post something here from Las Vegas simply because it's costing me money just to open up the browser. I remember my mom saying that she hated Miami because "everyone has their hand out," and that is indeed the case with Las Vegas as well--and in spades! If you like Miami, and you like Disney World, you might like it here too; they are all "American success stories" in a way.

It's $7.99 for two hours of internet service here at the lovely Treasure Island Hotel & Casino; wherever else we have traveled to date, wifi has been free. I refused to buy coffee this morning at the Starbuck's in the lobby because a small one was $3.25. And one scoop of Ben & Jerry's ice cream last night was $5.35--the posted price list was very misleading; I would have never willingly bought one scoop of ice cream for that sum. And tonight we're seeing a Cirque du Soleil performance for a mere $113.90 a ticket (and that was the second-lowest price category).

Beyond the outrageous prices, of course, are a variety of other things that represent U.S. culture at its worst. As we pass by the gamblers, I see little joy on their faces as they stare at the slot screens. It's disconcerting to walk by a dozen guys handing out cards for various types of outcall services and strip joints--they push them on you even though you're walking right next to your wife! And there's such a truly faux feeling to things--the Venetian is across the street, and it has "real canals," but they are about as real as the breasts of many of the women who parade down the street (showing cleavage seems to be a requirement around here--it is hot in the desert, after all). It's all glitz and hype, with a lot of alcohol just to keep you loose and willing to part with your money. From the poor folks selling bottled water out of coolers on the sidwalk to the big casinos themselves, everyone has their hustle, and I don't particularly like feeling hustled.

I think what annoys me as much as anything is that Las Vegas tries to exploit human weaknesses--the desire to be rich, to be sexy, to be important, to be trendy and popular. Simply put, the city is built on taking advantage of people's vulnerabilities--in particular, the idea that we can be lucky enough to "beat the odds." All of those losers are the ones who built the swimming pool at Treasure Island that I will visit in just a few minutes. And, it celebrates and reinforces the idea that with a wad of Benjamins in your pocket, a huge margarita in your hand, and a hot young babe by your side, you've got it made in the shade. (Well, actually, that may beat a few pennies, a diet Pepsi, and re-runs of the Golden Girls!)

But all things considered (I may be sounding a bit old, poor, and resentful): as far as I'm concerned, what is in Vegas can stay in Vegas.

Palin the Demagogue

Tusayan, AZ

The Contentious One submits this post from the Grand Canyon, where he and The Misses continue on a road trip of this great land, with Las Vegas, Los Angeles, and San Francisco still in the works.

One might hope that the magnificence of the Grand Canyon would distract me from politics, and of course it can, at least a little bit for a little while. But then Sarah Palin has to open her yap, and the grandeur of the scene and the grandeur of our nation both take a bit of a hit.

I have to admit that Sarah's kind of cute (that's a tough admission to make), but I also firmly believe that she fits the standard criteria for a demagogue. In the fall of '08, she loved to call Obama a "socialist," and she was downright giddy (honest, I read about this) when her party said OK to her use of the phrase "paling around with terrorists" (she actually had to get that approved). Now she's concerned about "death panels," that will enable the government (supposedly) to KILL GRANDMA if they want to. (And after the death panels meet, grandma's estate will be decimated by the so-called death TAX!) Never mind that the "death panel" label has been thoroughly debunked; one CNN analyst I saw at breakfast yesterday said that "Palin's pants were on fire." She throws out these inflammatory labels, with no concern for the truth, and then people react--especially stupid and ignorant people.

I realize that calling her a demagogue is itself a form of name-calling, but if you read any standard definition of the term you'll see that it's not out of line. (And indeed, I was surprised, after thinking she was a demagogue, to find others on-line who agree; "demagogue in a skirt" is one of the pejorative labels for her.)

Speaking of labels, some people are claiming Obama is not only a socialist--he's a Nazi! Over the last 12 months, we have seen such horrific abuses of language, largely by those on the "right," that it makes me ill.

So go ahead, if you want to, and support our socialist, Nazi, terrorist, Muslim, not-even-an-American-citizen President, who favors killing grandma and giving sex education to kindergartners! I know that I am going to--in part to combat the mean-spirited idiots who would claim to love this nation yet don't have a clue about what it means to be the "LOYAL opposition" or what it means to engage in civil discourse.

Culture wars, part '68

In the last week I've been corresponding with an old high school classmate of mine (all right--ALL of my classmates are "old") about a variety of political issues. Since we were both on the debate team in those days, I guess our contentiousness goes back a long way. He's a graduate of the Air Force Academy and helped develop "Star Wars" technology back in the '80s; his favorite President since we graduated is Ronald Reagan. Meanwhile, I'm the vegetarian, Conscientious Objector who has never fired a gun in his entire life. Jeez, I bet you can imagine where this is leading! The results are as predictable as a chemistry demonstration in which two compounds are combined that blow up the lab. The exchanges have been sufficiently voluminous and detailed that I can hardly do justice to them all here. So I'll only focus on a few.

I invited my old chum (let's call him Kyle--not his real name) to read a book that I am just finishing: The Audacity of Hope by Barack Obama. (Perhaps you've heard of Obama--he ran for President this past fall.) I thought to myself, if only Kyle would at least read what Obama has to say so he could, at minimum, take the horns and the pitchfork off his picture of the man. (And, by the way, I do recommend the book as a good way to better understand our current CEO.) But after repeated urgings to do so, Kyle has said no, no, and no--he knows Obama by his deeds and his policies, and he would learn nothing by reading the book. Moreover, Obama didn't even write the book--someone else did--so what would be the point? And besides, in Kyle's view, a lot of "tyrants" have written "thoughtful books"--they are just words. So I told Kyle to pretend that I had written it, and that it represented my view of the world (which it pretty much does), and to react to it on that level, but he still wouldn't bite.

Well, OK Kyle, if you won't read the book, can you say ANYTHING positive about Obama? (When I saw Kyle in person a couple of weeks ago, I said, "I'll say something positive about George Bush if you'll say one positive thing about Barack Obama." But he flat-out refused to say anything.) Now, after 7 or 8 e-mail messages, Kyle has yet to offer even his first concession that Obama must believe or must be doing SOMETHING right. Let's just say that Kyle has very firm views.

In fact, Kyle does not even believe that Obama IS the President, in a legalistic sense. I was unaware, sorry to say, that there are people out there who believe that Obama does not meet the citizenship requirements specified in the Constitution for his office--i.e., he's not actually a natural born citizen. I am highly skeptical that this argument is going to go anywhere out in the real world, but Kyle thinks that there could be a "Constitutional crisis" in our future. Stay tuned.

Among his more recent notes, I was particularly struck by his comment that our success in Iraq "speaks for itself." Even a pro-invasion person, it seems to me, ought to see the complexity of such a claim, its good news/very bad news dimensions. A trillion tax dollars down the drain, more than 4,000 U.S. service personnel killed and thousands more injured, hundreds of thousands of Iraqis either killed or displaced, and plenty of new recruits for al-Qaeda? Those things speak for themselves as well.

Anyway, Kyle--bright as he is, even brilliant--is in a whole different universe than I am, and I need to consider whether it's a good investment of my time to continue our exchanges. I think that I have tried to concede what I can to him, but concessions are not part of Kyle's approach. But as I mentioned to him, one of Obama's goals--which he cynically dismissed--is to bring people like him and me together. And although that's a tall order, I respect Obama for wanting to try; it has been his theme ever since he gave the "no red states, no blue states" speech back in '04. Kyle, give the guy a chance--he's really not the devil!

A note from Pastor Mike

Just when I thought that this blog had a total readership of perhaps one or two hardy souls, along comes "Pastor Mike," who responded to my previous post about "the afterlife" ("Judgment day: no easy decisions here!"). I have no idea who this masochistic fellow is (he must be of that ilk if he's reading ContentiousIntrovert!), but I will paste in his response below, since it might otherwise get lost:

"Well David, I thought you were a learned man??? But your snide comments of God made me rethink my reality. To truly know God is to know that He is a God of love – He is the one and only true God. He does not judge man as our justice system would – He judged His Son on Calvary and Christ Jesus has paid the total debt for the sins of all humanity. The reason some do not enter into Paradise is not due to God! It is due to their lack of faith. It is only by faith in the Son that we are saved (Ephesians 2:8). So to make a short answer even shorter – all God does is look at the person – are they covered in the blood of the lamb? If so they are in – if not then not......there is no bubble. Remember God is love – He loves His creation so much that He will allow anyone not to love Him in return. If I do not believe that Jesus died for my sins.... my sin clings to me and I stand condemned but if I believe my sins are paid in full and I stand righteous and holy before the Father – because of Jesus. To Him be glory forever and ever! Amen. - Your fire and brimstone guy – Pastor Mike"

What to say? I've encountered a lot of sincere and very amiable people in my day, and Pastor Mike may qualify here. Having said that, I might respond in these ways:

1. I think that I am a reasonably learned man--certainly learned enough to know that the questions of human existence do not have simple, pat answers. Pastor Mike seems to believe otherwise, but what he offers is standard Christian dogma--no more and no less--grounded in a document, the Bible, which is thoroughly "human" in its origin. With all due respect, Mike, anyone who believes that the Bible is literally "true" has fallen way off the beam, and I think even most learned people in the field of religion know this all too well.

2. I take exception to the idea that my comments were "snide." I think what I was trying to say is that it's basically impossible to neatly divide the world into two groups: those who are "saved" and those who are not, and that even God would have some problems with such decisions.

3. I have no idea what it means to be "covered by the blood of the lamb"--well, metaphorically I do, but as a more practical and important matter, I don't know how anyone could clearly make such a determination. The beliefs, attitudes, and most importantly the behavior of humans is complex and multi-faceted and does not lend itself to a "yes or no" outcome. Whether Mike wants to believe it or not, there clearly is a "bubble"--if only the world could be neatly divided into the good guys and the bad guys! But dualistic thinking is not very good thinking.

4. The notion that "God is love" is always appealing, but God's notion of "love" (at least, as Pastor Mike formulates it) is rather perverse (and now I AM being snide). If heaven is only for the chosen few, then God is quite the SOB. God, apparently, loves us so much that He's willing to condemn us to an eternity of suffering if we don't do things just right--that's one deep and abiding love! To put it in Mike's terms, I've used the brain that God gave me, used it to the best of my ability, carefully weighed the evidence and the arguments, and concluded that most of Christian dogma is simply preposterous and that God probably does not exist. In good conscience, I could no more believe what Pastor Mike says than I could believe in the Tooth Fairy--and for that, presumably, God would punish me--not just when I die, but for the next several BILLION years. If Pastor Mike cannot see the disconnect there, he is deluding himself; such a stance toward humanity is just plain wrong.

5. One final irony: despite my raging skepticism, I believe in personal choice and being fully accountable for the choices that I make--that's Existentialism 101. In that respect, I have no "original sin," and if I do, Jesus certainly can't or shouldn't erase it for me--that's my obligation, not his. But, I am here to say that I'm completely comfortable with the choices that I have made in life--enough so, in fact, to believe that if there IS a God, and there IS an afterlife, that I have earned a spot there, regardless of whatever Christian dogma might claim. If God really knows me, he also knows I'm a decent guy--too decent to punish in the manner that narrow-minded Christians would propose.

Thanks for writing, Pastor Mike. God bless you, my man!

[P.S. - Pastor Mike has weighed in again about my rantings in the "comments" section after this post. To my hundreds of thousands of loyal readers: feel free to add your own thoughts!]

Death by chocolate: not so bad?

There's additional news this week that severely restricting one's caloric intake is associated with greater longevity. In lay terms, if you stay really thin--almost unnaturally thin--you may live longer.

Good to know, although in many ways this is a really old issue, and I have really old responses to it.

Somehow we must find our personal balance point between asceticism and hedonism. Yes, life is finite, and yes, we all want to live a long life, but somewhere in there lies a tipping point where longevity ceases to be an inherent "good" in its own right. If I could live another 20 years by only eating tofu and alfalfa sprouts, I suppose I would consider it--but I hope that I would have the good sense to realize that a long life without chocolate would be a life that's long on quantity and short on quality.

During my formative years, we learned that it is indeed unwise to party a bit too hearty. Those who grew up in my era remember Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, and Jim Morrison, all of whom died at the ripe old age of 27. They all lived pretty "large" and paid the price for it. We would be wise to avoid their lifestyles--although chocolate was the least of their worries! Still, the bigger idea is that life entails risk, and some degree of indulgence, and grabbing for the gusto. Life must provide at least some immediate rewards; everything cannot be deferred or avoided out of fear.

We all do what we can. I hope that all of my running (coming up on 19,000 recorded miles) is and will be beneficial. My goal is for people to say, "He sure was in good shape when he died!" But damn: what would life be like without mayonnaise, or fried potatoes, or fudge ripple? To some extent, I have to embrace such sinful and self-destructive behavior, even if research monkeys are living longer without it.

Death by chocolate: I can live with that.

Judgment day: no easy decisions here!

It has reached the point where I have read and considered a variety of Christian, non-Christian, theistic, and atheistic literature. Despite such an effort, one issue that I've never read about will be discussed here--although this idea must have been examined SOMEWHERE; I'm just not sure where.

In a previous post, I tried to point out what a long time "eternity" really is--long enough that the human mind cannot fully grasp it. But mixed in with the idea of eternal life--or eternal damnation, in the fundamentalist view--is the implicit reality that someone (God, presumably) must make a determination of "who goes up, and who goes down," if you will. Yes or no, black or white, up or down: a simple decision, right? To which I say, "you gotta be kidding."

Imagine taking the 6,500,000,000 or so people on the planet and trying to judge their lives. Could we neatly divide them into "bound for heaven" and "bound for hell"? Imagine trying to list those 6,500,000,000 in descending order from "most worthy" for heaven to "least worthy." At the top and the bottom of that list, there would be some clear and relatively easy decisions: "Adolph, you head to the basement, and Mother Teresa, walk up the stairs." But the part that fascinates me are the hundreds of millions of people who would be "on the bubble." And even more so, where one could ever intelligently draw a line between person #3,258,904,886 (you get heaven) and #3,258,904,887 (sorry, buddy: VERY close but no cigar--but thanks for playing our game!). The stakes here would be enormous! To think that one could miss eternal bliss or be condemned to eternal hell requires the sort of judgment that even God Himself would be simply incapable of making, or at least making in a just manner. In short, the difference between a "worthy" and an "unworthy" candidate for the afterlife would be so subtle, so miniscule, and so arbitrary that it would be ridiculous and unfair, and we all know that God would be neither of those!

At any rate, I defy a "fire and brimstone" person to explain to me how such a dichotomous decision could be fairly rendered. At least in the human criminal justice system, there are levels of crimes and levels of penalties for them, including everything from probation to community service to 10 years in the slammer to lethal injection. In short, we have the ability to differentiate a bit more, which is an utterly sane and sensible approach.

If there is a dividing line between the "saved" and the "condemned," I hope that I'm at least one micron on the upward side of that line. But--oh drat--I once bore false witness or lusted in my heart; that may move me down just enough to spend an endless eternity in hell! Suddenly my days as a Little League umpire seem really easy, even if "balls" and "strikes" can be a tad subjective.

A divine plan to kill children

News item from yesterday's Star Tribune:

"A 12-foot pet Burmese python broke out of a terrarium and strangled a 2-year-old girl in her bedroom at a central Florida home, authorities said. Shauna Hare was already dead when paramedics arrived . . . Charles Jason Darnell, the snake's owner and the boyfriend of Shauna's mother, discovered the snake missing from its aquarium and went to the girl's room, where he found it on the girl and bite marks on her head . . . Darnell, 32, stabbed the snake until he was able to pry the child away."

A young, innocent 2-year-old is killed by a 12-foot snake. It sounds absolutely dreadful. Now, let's consider this sad story from the perspective of those who believe that God basically orchestrates everything and/or knows everything and/or controls everything. If you are to make such a claim, then you are required to believe that:

1. God helped a 12-foot python out of its cage.
2. God allowed the python to enter a toddler's room and strangle her.
3. God could have stopped all this but chose not to.

In cases such as this one, I don't know how any reasonable person would conclude that God is micromanaging our lives. At the VERY least, can we all agree that something like this, especially if it's divinely ordained by an omniscient and omnipotent higher power, is just plain cruel? And at the VERY least, can we all agree that too many cruel things happen each and every day to suggest that it's all part of a "plan"? What kind of plan involves killing innocent children? Or for that matter, letting Hitler live as long as he did? (There's a great plan: become an enabler for mass genocide! God just stood by while 6 million human beings were treated like garbage--thanks for all the help, my man!)

If all of this is a "design," it's not a very "intelligent design."

Walk softly in Iran

I'm beginning to sound like a charter member of the Barack Obama Fan Club. But I don't think that the guy walks on water. Still, I must defend him in light of recent criticism regarding our stance toward Iran.

For what seems like forever, the United States has decided that it must be the Leader of the Free World. That sounds like a good thing--and in some ways it is--but it has fostered a mind-set which dictates that the U.S. should be actively engaged in every nation in the world. Don't care for Gaddafi or Castro? Try to assassinate them! Don't like Saddam Hussein? Invade! Things don't seem right in Granada? Send in the troops! In many ways, the perception that we are "the world's policeman" is right on target.

Now, some of that military presence is justified--South Korea, for example. But people forget (or never knew) that prior to 9/11 we had thousands of troops in Saudi Arabia for many years, attempting to shore up a shaky regime. And it is that presumption that the U.S. must be involved that gives us the reputation for both "meddling," and worse, coming off as "imperialistic." We simply must be able to see ourselves the way that others often see us.

So, back to Iran. I agree with the President that we should be concerned but not particularly engaged in this mess. I agree with him that too often, the U.S. can become a "foil" for others to charge that the U.S. is really behind all the problems in the world. There are times to be actively involved, and there are times to keep our distance; this is one of those times when the latter makes more sense. And such a stance is a far, far cry from "isolationism."

We need to walk softly sometimes. And not even carry a big stick.

Once again, StarTrib editors can't stop me

I'm not sure what my batting average is when it comes to getting letters to the editor actually accepted and printed, but it's probably around .400. That's pretty darn good in baseball, but the CI (Contentious Introvert) likes to get to the plate every time if he's suited up for the game. But enough baseball metaphors: Katherine Kersten, the Strib's "conservative" voice, wrote a column on Sunday about religion that annoyed the crap out of me. And indeed, it annoyed the crap out of more than 300 people who ragged on her at the StarTrib's website, where "interactive journalism" is quite alive and well. Here is what she wrote:

Hostility to religion bodes ill for society

Without belief in a higher truth, people may give way to base impulses.

By KATHERINE KERSTEN, Star Tribune

We're increasingly uncomfortable with religion these days.

As a society, we tolerate pastors, priests, rabbis and other religious folks, so long as they confine their message to a vanilla "God is love" theme and bless babies, brides and caskets.

But when religious leaders speak out on the issues of the day -- especially using morally tinged language -- the elite gatekeepers of public opinion in the media, government and academia warn shrilly that a new Dark Age is upon us.

More and more, we see outright hostility to religion -- particularly to Christianity. Consider the wild popularity of a recent spate of best-sellers by "New Atheist" superstars, including Richard Dawkins' "The God Delusion" and Christopher Hitchens' "God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything."

Far from being dispassionate critics of faith, the New Atheists are zealous crusaders for their own creed: materialism. They are passionately committed to the idea that the universe is a random accident, that transcendent truth is a myth, and that man's life has no inherent purpose or meaning.

Why the growing audience for notions like these?

Religion poses a serious challenge to our cherished idea of personal autonomy. Unlike our forebears, we define freedom as the right to live as we choose -- to "be ourselves" -- unconstrained by social norms or a morally grounded sense of guilt or shame.

Judeo-Christianity throws a wrench in this, teaching that universal standards of right and wrong trump our personal desires.

In addition, it raises troubling questions about the vision of scientific "progress," so central to our modern age. The mere fact that we are capable of, say, genetically altering or cloning human beings doesn't give us moral license to do so, it cautions.

It's tempting to embrace the New Atheist gospel -- that man makes himself and has no higher judge. But before we do, we would be wise to consider the potential consequences.

What, for example, is the source of the bedrock American belief in human equality? It has no basis in science or materialism. Some people are brilliant, powerful and assertive, while others can't even tie their shoelaces. If "reason" alone is the standard, the notion of equality appears to be nonsense.

And why should we act with charity toward the poorest and weakest among us? "Reason" -- untempered by compassion -- suggests that autistic children and Alzheimer's sufferers are drags on society. In ancient Rome, disabled babies were left on hilltops to die. Why lavish care and resources on them?

We Americans take the moral principles of equality and compassion for granted. Yet these ideas are deeply counterintuitive. We've largely forgotten that their source is the once-revolutionary Judeo-Christian belief in a loving God, who created human beings in his image and decreed charity to be the first of virtues.

Can we reject belief in such a God and still retain the fruits of faith -- including a belief in the dignity and infinite value of each human being?

The signs aren't promising.

Human beings are prone to selfishness, lust, vindictiveness and cruelty. Once we cease to believe that the moral rules constraining us are rooted in transcendent truth, they become mere preferences -- a matter of personal taste, and so expendable.

Theologian David Bentley Hart, a critic of the New Atheists, puts it this way: "How long can our gentler ethical prejudices ... persist once the faith that gave them their rationale and meaning has withered away?"

The historical record here should give us pause. The French Revolution, Hitler's Germany, Stalin's Soviet Union -- all sought to replace Judeo-Christian ethics with reason, and ended in massive bloodletting.

Nor does science offer moral guidance. That way lies Social Darwinism -- the notion of the survival of the fittest. Unless scientific ambition is constrained by religion, it can come to see humanity as just another form of technology, to be tinkered with and perfected with utility in mind.

Hart dismisses the New Atheists as intellectual lightweights. They push "attitudes masquerading as ideas" and fail to honestly consider the likely consequences of their creed, he writes. But he takes a different view of Christianity's greatest critic -- philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, who declared in 1882 that "God is dead."

"Nietzsche was a prophetic figure precisely because he, almost alone among Christianity's enemies, understood the implications of Christianity's withdrawal," Hart has written. "He understood that the effort to cast off Christian faith while retaining the best and most beloved elements of Christian morality was doomed to defeat."

Well, for Mr. CI, them's fightin' words. And so I dashed off a quick response, knowing that it had to be brief if there was any chance for it to be published. So in three paragraphs, I wrote:

Katherine Kersten's rant about those who criticize organized religion (Star Tribune, June 7) reveals a profound lack of insight. Worse, it fuels fear that without the dogma of organized religion we would behave like savages.

Her hatchet job on people like Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens is misleading and mean-spirited. These writers do not promote a crass philosophy of "materialism," as she alleges, nor do they say that life without God must be a life without "truth," values, or meaning. And that Kersten fails to grasp the potentially toxic nature of organized religion--that is, the way in which God has been used to justify all sorts of cruelty and inhumanity over the centuries--shows a very selective and narrow-minded understanding of things.

Kersten might consider the empirical example of Japan. Far more Japanese than Americans would regard themselves as atheists, yet civil behavior and human decency in Japan are certainly as or more common than in the U.S. Being Christian or even being theistic is not a prerequisite for being nice, moral, or good. People can be and are decent to one another not because God ordains it, but because humans have decided that it's the right thing to do. If Kersten thinks that only God can give our lives purpose and meaning, she shows a poor grasp of history, philosophy, and sociology in ways that I can only allude to in one short letter to this newspaper.

David Lapakko
Richfield, MN

Well, now I can take a cleansing breath. But I am still pretty agitated that this woman can command as many column inches as she does--and meanwhile, a whole host of savvy critics (some 333 of them on the Strib's website) are left to air their views in the relative obscurity of cyberspace. (The newspaper finally printed one semi-critical letter in response to her commentary, but it was pretty lame and not at all representative of the furor she created on the web page.)

Oh, and by the way, read Christopher Hitchens' God is Not Great and decide for yourself if he is, as Kersten alleges, a "lightweight"! She has a lot of nerve to take such a stance.

The so-called "liberal bias"

Much has been made of the so-called "liberal bias" in our nation, particularly in the mass media. And, maybe there is something to that idea--I'm not sure, partly because I don't even know how to measure such a thing. And I should add that there are "conservatives" out there--columnist George Will, for example--who have a reasonably informed and coherent point of view, even if I seldom agree with the tone and substance of what they say.

However, some things are really not "liberal vs. conservative" issues. When a relative tells me that it's a "fact" that God condemns homosexuality, that's not a "conservative" view--it's an ignorant view. When Pat Robertson counsels a woman on the air who is engaged to an atheist that she needs to break up with the man because he is aligned with Satan, that's not a "conservative" stance--that's sheer idiocy. And when televangelist Jack Van Impe says that the rapture will occur sometime between 2002 and 2018, that's not a "conservative" idea, but a crazy one. (I dearly hope that both Jack and I are around in 2019--I'd love to hear what he says then!)

In other words, sometimes what we call "liberal" views are merely informed views, and what we sometimes call "conservative" beliefs are simply ignorance. How different would our understanding of some of these issues possibly be if we saw them for what they actually are: not a conflict between liberalism and conservatism, but a gigantic chasm separating enlightenment from stupidity.

Health care reform, anyone?

A huge chunk of the world makes no sense. Take the so-called "health care" world (in quotes because "health" hardly seems like the goal of the system). Recently my spouse was confronted with an episode of atrial fibrillation--basically, an elevated, irregular heartbeat. She spent one night in the hospital--ONE FRICKIN' NIGHT. No surgery, nothing special except an echocardiogram, a couple of drugs, and the standard types of monitors.

The bill for one night in the hospital? TEN THOUSAND dollars! ($10,118.85, to be precise) Now, insurance will pay for $5129.69 of that, and another $4544.59 is an "insurance discount," whatever the hell that is. That leaves us to pay $444.57. I guess one says at this point, thank goodness for health insurance--but isn't there something terribly wrong here?

Also, Helen's arrhythmia was measured in a clinic, and because she was so irregular, they insisted that she take an ambulance to the hospital. And what was the ambulance bill (separate from the hospital bill)? A mere $1445--$1265 for the 9-mile ride to the hospital, plus another $180 ($20 per mile) in mileage. Insurance is paying $1156 of that, leaving us to pony up the remaining $289.

So, the total for both, for 24 hours of care: $11,563.85. If that isn't a case for health care reform, I don't know what is. This is no way to run a railroad.

Prepare to live; prepare to die

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!

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.

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!]

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.

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!"

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!

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.

Embracing absurdity

If I ever have enough disposable income to pay the extra fee for a personalized license plate, I would want that plate to say: ABSURD. I think that would be a cool word to have, and I like it because it has sort of a "mundane" meaning (aren't personalized plates a little absurd?) and a deeper, more "philosophical" meaning (isn't human existence a little absurd?).

Absurdity. Get used to it. Because the dominant competing paradigm just doesn't make a lot of sense. That paradigm--at least the more extreme version--proposes that life has inherent meaning because God has a plan for you. Now, how we are supposed to DETERMINE what that "plan" involves is certainly elusive--at best, we can maybe "look at the signs" and make inferences. But in the end, the plan is almost impossible to discern, unless one regards every moment in life as de facto evidence of a "plan." (I got an "A" in math? God must want me to be a math teacher! I vomited after eating a porterhouse? God must want me to be a vegetarian! The guys in the locker room love my ballads in the shower? God must want me to be a singer! There is no end to such speculation.)

Equally problematic to me are the many things in life that make no sense whatsoever and couldn't possibly be part of a plan by any loving, omniscient being. This week, a lovely actress, Natasha Richardson, died after a skiing accident, an accident that seemed relatively innocuous at first. So what part of the "plan" was that? Was it a plan for Natasha? A message to her husband, actor Liam Neeson? A message to the couple's two young sons? If God's plan for Natasha was to have her die an untimely death at the age of 45, in the peak of her life, leaving a husband and two sons to grieve, I'd say that ain't much of a plan. I think I could do better.

And if all that wasn't sufficiently problematic, how can life really HAVE any meaning if everything is already planned? If all I am doing is trying to "follow God's plan," then I am essentially a kind of marionette or puppet, doing what God has already determined I should be doing in the first place--and what kind of life is that? And again, how do I even know if I'm "doing it right" to begin with? And where does "free will" come in? Do I necessarily have to agree with God's plan? As long as I'm not hurting anyone else, can't I have my OWN plan? I just think there are too many problems with the "plan" idea, whether that plan is micromanaging our lives or merely involves painting the canvas with a broader brush.

Absurdity. Accept it. Embrace it. It's really not so bad once you get used to it. (Keep chanting this with John Lennon's song "Imagine" playing in the background.) An absurd view of the world makes life all at once clearer, sweeter, more liberating, more amusing, more bizarre, and more tragic. But there is in the end no totally satisfactory answer to the dilemmas of human existence. Even the concept of absurdity is, well, a little absurd.

Eternity Bites: Part 2

As long as I'm thinking about eternity (see previous post), it's hard to resist thinking about the notion that in one's afterlife, there will be 72 virgins awaiting the virtuous--an idea that is subscribed to in some small corners of Islam. Now, the quotation below may not be suitable for the youngsters--so send them off for some milk and cookies! But, according to WikiIslam (OK, it's apparently like Wikipedia, but I think Wikipedia is somewhat over-criticized):

This concept [of the 72 virgins] is also quoted in the Tafsir ibn Kathir (Qur'anic Commentary) of Surah, the work of Ibn Kathir (Qur'an 55:72). Orthodox Muslim theologians such as al Ghazali (died 1111 CE) and Al-Ash'ari (died 935 CE) have "admitted sensual pleasures into paradise." The sensual pleasures are graphically elaborated by Al-Suyuti (died 1505), Koranic commentator and polymath. He wrote:

"Each time we sleep with a Houri we find her virgin. Besides, the penis of the Elected never softens. The erection is eternal; the sensation that you feel each time you make love is utterly delicious and out of this world and were you to experience it in this world you would faint. Each chosen one [i.e. Muslim] will marry seventy [sic] houris, besides the women he married on earth, and all will have appetising vaginas."

Well, thanks for sharing, Mr. Al-Suyuti. I do worry about the idea that "the penis of the Elected never softens"--seems to me if that happens on Earth for more than 4 hours that we're supposed to seek medical help! Ah, the joys and sorrows of an Eternal Erection.

But, I'm not really here to make cheap, cheesy jokes. (Well, maybe I am.) But if I have a serious point, it is how utterly human and flawed is our sense of eternity. Will 72 virgins be sufficient for billions of years? What about the virgins themselves--is THEIR idea of paradise to have endless sexual relations with Old Geezers like me? (Don't answer that--it's a rhetorical question.) And what about the women in the afterlife? Are there 72 randy 16-year-old boys waiting for them in paradise? The more one thinks about all these things, the more utterly absurd they seem to be.

But the absurdity is by no means limited to the Islamic world. The person I took to prom when I was in 11th grade has written a book titled "The Antichrist Spirit in America." And in the preface to that book, she says that she knows there is a heaven, that God is sitting in heaven, and that He has a book--literally a book, mind you--which already has her name written in it. She has, apparently, a free pass, and the papers to prove it! When she enters the pearly gates, she should be sure to get a receipt.

Whoever you may be: I'm eternally grateful that you've read this! And that's really saying something.

Eternity: It's Not All That It's Cracked Up to Be

When the kids were little, we used to read them a book about the Berenstain Bears, the title of which was Too Much Birthday. The jist of the story, as I remember it, is that one of the bear cubs enjoyed his birthday so much that he wanted EVERY day to be his birthday. After all, there are presents, and games, and cake!

And so the parents obliged. The next day, they had another birthday party. And darn if the cake didn't still taste good--maybe not quite as good as the first day, but still good. And on the third day, with the third birthday party, some of the presents weren't quite as special, and the cake was even a little less tasty. Well, perhaps you see where this is going: by about the fifth day of this continuous revelry, the cub was ready to call it quits--he had, in essence, Too Much Birthday.

Hmm. There may be a lesson here. Many people claim to either want eternal life or believe that they will be "rewarded" with eternal life. With the Berenstain Bears in mind, be careful what you wish for!

It's very hard to get a mental handle on the concept of eternity, just as the concept of "infinity" boggles the mind. But it's important to try. If you have eternal life, that means that you will be "alive" in the year 3256, the year 32,256, and the year 32,556,668,994,331,440,227,749,225,057,939,641--and beyond! Now, what are you going to be doing for eternity? Are there elaborate buffets, or lots of board games, or endless re-runs of Gilligan's Island? (If there are buffets, I hope they have both pizza and potato salad.) What in the heck would one DO for eternity? And if there is nothing to do, and one is simply in a sort of "state," what would be the joy in being in that perpetual state for BILLIONS of years? Wouldn't it get kind of "old"?

Our lives are defined by limits and boundaries. If everything was infinite, it would cease to be meaningful. We cherish life for that very reason. And while it's perfectly "normal" to want to exist forever, forever is a really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really long time.

Time flies when you're having fun?

Seventeen days: it's been that long since my last post, but I'm not quite sure where those seventeen days went. One of my favorite "edgy" novelists, the late Henry Miller, wrote that "When you forget to eat you know you're alive." I think he was trying to say that if you are so immersed in "authentic life projects" that food becomes secondary, or an afterthought, you are "living the good life." But right about now, I'd say "not so much."

When you're busy, life speeds up. A whole month can go by and you say, "Where in the hell did February go?" And I suppose that's better than twiddling your thumbs, looking at the clock, and hoping to make it through just one more hour or one more day of existence. (Some people who yearn for immortality hardly know what to do with themselves for an entire Saturday afternoon!) Still, the balance point between "activity" and "inactivity" in our culture is clearly not in the middle of such a continuum.

I'm haunted by passages such as this one in Miller's novel Plexus: "Finally it came about that I remained away from the office three days handrunning. It was just a sufficient break to make it impossible for me to return. Three glorious days and nights, doing exactly what I pleased, eating well, sleeping long, enjoying every minute of the day, feeling immeasurably rich inside, losing all ambition to battle with the world, itching to begin my own private life, confident of the future, done with the past, how could I go back into harness?

Hmm. I have a book in mind that I'd like to write. I'll call it "Civilization and its Discontents." (Catchy title, dontcha think?)

My goal: to eat, belch, and watch movies

The Contentious One has been neglecting this site for a couple of weeks, proving once again that a person can only do so much. And that indeed is my Thought for the Day. (When you Capitalize Something, it makes it seem more profound and important.)

As I go through the daily grind, I am struck by the demands of life and how much depends on proper execution of a series of mundane tasks.

I'm driving to work: if I'm inattentive at the wrong moment, suddenly I'm in the ditch, or injured, or dead.

I'm paying bills: if I miss one and don't catch the omission, the Visa people will tack on a ridiculous late fee and my credit rating may suffer. (And don't get me started on tax season! In our household, that's a project unto itself, chock full of lovely details.)

I'm chopping vegetables: and suddenly I remember seasoned chefs at my very first employer, Diamond Jim's Nightclub, with parts of their fingers missing.

I'm teaching a class: and then I realize I need to check out the appropriate video, remember that so-and-so was gone last time, so-and-so needs to make up the last exam, and so-and-so needs to see me after class. (And that the section of the text I'm dealing with I haven't actually re-read anytime in the last six months!)

I'm rushing around in the morning: and at that moment I mentally take in all the things I need to do today and all the places I need to be, and how my perceived competence depends on getting everything right--being in the right place at the right time and doing the right things in the right way.

Indeed, if I AM doing everything right, no one will notice and life will proceed smoothly. (Which, in a weird way, is ironic and even unfortunate--if you're doing things right, it can all be so seamless that people don't even appreciate what's involved.) But to make all that happen requires an intense devotion to being on-task, and a constant demand to prove to yourself and to the world that you can do it.

I look forward to the day when maybe my only tasks will be to eat, belch, and watch movies from Blockbuster. As I have argued elsewhere, there is a neurotic underpinning to Western Civilization, based on getting things done, and in a certain manner, that can weigh down even the most anal-retentive individual. In fact, the more anal, the more this is the case! Hmm--the Contentious Introvert may be ready for retirement, but retirement isn't ready for him for at least ten years.

24 pounds of flesh

The Contentious One was struck (struck, but not killed--ho ho) by a story in the January 12 issue of Newsweek titled, "Remains of the Day." It turns out that to this day, there are people who are still collecting, storing, cataloguing, and DNA-matching pieces of flesh from the remnants of 9/11. And Mr. CI (quit referring to yourself in the third person--a sure sign of mental illness!) made special note of the following: "What's left of the terrorists--which, all told, likely amounts to less than 24 pounds of flesh and bone fragments--are sequestered at undisclosed locations in New York and Virginia. They are 'stored as evidence in a refrigerated locker in sealed containers and test tubes,' says Richard Kolko, a spokesman for the FBI." And, surprise, surprise: no one quite knows what to do with these 24 pounds of flesh and bone.

Like many other endeavors in life, this one has its gruesome qualities. I can't imagine what it's like to be a mortician, or a coroner, or a slaughterhouse worker, or an EMT, or a surgeon, where the "physicality" of things is right in your face. When Madonna sang that it's a "material world," she was right in ways that she probably didn't even realize. In the U.S., many of us are largely shielded from the "grittiness" of things--e.g., pieces of individuals strewn about in a cafe by a suicide bomber in Israel, urine and bowel movements in plain view on a sidewalk in India, chickens being killed right in front of you at a wet market in Malaysia (a personal gruesome moment!), public beheadings in Saudi Arabia, and so on. The enormity of it all leaves one with only coping strategies; as noted in other posts, I have given up trying to change the world significantly--there's just too much to change. My youthful idealism has given way to a combination of (a) resignation and (b) quiet optimism that sometime in the next couple of centuries things will get better. But right about now, all I can think about is what those 24 pounds of flesh must look like, and how ghastly and bizarre a sight it must be.

My own MLK tribute

OK, tomorrow is Martin Luther King Day in the U.S. I sort of wish it wasn't always in the throes of winter, but that's the way it is. (King was born on January 15, so we must always celebrate his day in the deep freeze.)

When people commemorate the day, the focus is on race--as well it should be. This nation has made significant strides forward in that regard. Hard to believe that at a certain point in my lifetime, race could dictate which water fountain you could use, which restaurants and hotels you could patronize, and which part of the bus you could ride on. As many have said, the inauguration of Barack Obama moves us up a notch even higher with respect to the status of people of color.

But, I'm a white guy. Thankfully, I didn't have to struggle with these things. So the most important personal influence of Martin Luther King for me did not involve his ultimate goals, but his persuasive tactics. What I owe to Dr. King isn't a better understanding of the need for equality (gosh, I think I've always understood THAT), but a lifelong appreciation for and belief in the value of non-violence.

I read King's Stride Toward Freedom way-back-when. It chronicles the struggle to fully integrate the bus system in Montgomery, Alabama. After that, I read Where Do We Go From Here: Chaos or Community? In both books, King explains how he was influenced by Gandhi, and the need to resist, nonviolently, and not to stoop to the level of one's oppressors. Such a stance takes immense courage and self-control. I cannot even begin to appreciate what a price people paid for non-violent resistance in the 1960s. But I can appreciate its impact.

King led me to Gandhi. Gandhi's authobiography led me to an even deeper belief in non-violence. That in turn led me to vegetarianism. And all of that led me to become a Conscientious Objector to the war in Vietnam. One could easily argue that without Martin Luther King and Mahatma Gandhi, I would be quite a different person today. And so, Dr. King, I thank you for helping us all to understand that violence and hate can never win in the long run. You are a role model to me not because you advocated for racial equality, but because you showed how that advocacy needed to be done.

Keeping your head up

One of the challenges of this time, or any time, is to find a way to keep your sanity and your optimism in the midst of all that life throws at you. Right now, it's the middle of winter--BLAH! Two of my most influential professors--Scott Nobles at Macalester and Ernest Bormann at the University of Minnesota--have died in the last couple of weeks. The economy is tanking. Things in Israel/Gaza really suck. Job responsibilites and financial pressures are everpresent. And dysfunction and craziness abound: I read the cover story in this month's National Geographic about the horrific lives of the men, women, and children around the planet who try to make a living by mining for gold; I didn't realize how unhealthful and depressing their lives really are, and all built around finding little pieces of metal. So in the midst of all this crap, what's one to do?

I'd like to say that religion provides some sort of answer, but it simply doesn't. (Why a loving, omniscient, omnipotent God would tolerate even half of this mess is totally beyond me and beyond anyone with half a brain.) I'd like to say that politics provides an answer, and it may, to some extent--but I am quite powerless to make anything meaningful happen; if I were Mr. Obama, my mindset would be different. I would hope that education can provide an answer, but education is a slow and often agonizing process--exactly what's needed in the long run, but quite ineffective in the short run. I'd like to just forget or ignore some of these things, but that's not really possible either. And (perhaps unfortunately?) drugs are not an easy answer either--when used, they tend to be more of a problem than a solution.

So again, what's a fellow to do? People have been searching for answers to this problem for centuries, so, hard as it may be to believe (ha ha), Contentious Introvert is not going to be able to magically solve this one. It's not as though Maslow's "peak experiences" are an everyday occurance. But I can say that I have at least one coping strategy, which may be silly and hackneyed but seems to help: every day I try--in a very intentional way--to find or make at least one or two "positive" things happen. It may be a long run around the lakes, and the feeling that comes with it. It may be a thank you card to a long-lost person. (For example, such a note to my 8th-grade social studies teacher paid off in a big way.) It may be going a little out of my way to help a student. It may be just one special moment with a person who is special to me. The key for me is to make it a conscious strategy, not just something that happens by accident. Now all of this still doesn't do one thing to change the world, but it enables me to keep on truckin'. And at times--maybe most of the time--that's the best that I can do.