Newtown

RECESS

When a father emerged from his church to speak with CNN's Anderson Cooper about the death of his child on that terrible Friday in Newton, I was surprised to hear him explain that we all have free will.  

My next door neighbor has guns.  He assured me they are under lock and key  and the family has been trained to safely use them.  I believed him until the day earlier this year when his son shot himself through his hand.  The bullet ended up lodged in their garage, which abuts my home.    

I wonder how that that child's free will was exercised.  I wonder how my free will would have been exercised if the bullet had struck me. 

Check is in the mail to:

Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence
1225 Eye Street, NW, Suite 1100
Washington, DC 20005

 http://www.bradycampaign.org

"If we are all sinners, aren't our public officials just doing what comes naturally?"

Ethics 101

At its core, ethics is about choices.  I am not talking about the acts: to commit adultery, solicit a bribe, or abuse power.  I am talking about developing a system of values.  Without developing values in which we believe, it might be too late when we actually have to make a difficult choice.  An ethical life demands that we consider what we value before we have to make a choice.  If we value a hedonistic life that seeks to use people to gratify ourselves irrespective of the hurt, then we are prepared to make a choice consonant with our values.  If we develop cynical views about politics or business that approve taking advantage irrespective of the harm, again that informs our choice.   These are not my choices. I value loyalty to my family and friends, honesty, and frankness tempered with empathy.  And I am not pretending to be a moral paragon by claiming to be superior to others.  I do not know too much about military codes of honor, political oaths of office, or religious vows.  I suspect they are relevant if consonant with what is valued and considered in relation to how they might be practically applied.  I prefer to develop my own values.  I also believe that once values are considered, we need actually think about how they might be practically applied.  When it comes time to make choices, I can look to my values for guidance.  That is one reason I belong to an Ethical Society.  

Dad!  The liberals have won, the liberals have won!”

“What are you talking about?”

“All the restrooms say ‘Occupado!’”

Occupy

I wanted to like this movement.  Occupy Wall Street originated from a magazine article by Adbusters Foundation that challenged people to challenge corporate greed and economic disparity.  With the economy in the doldrums, politicians in gridlock, and more and more people unemployed, a movement that asked that we reexamine our basic social contract seemed welcome relief to the shrill voices that cared more about winning political power than  about restoring prosperity. I wondered whether the movement would demand politicians agree to compromise or present a bold vision that rivaled the New Deal.  I recall the Civil Rights Movement that protested discrimination and the lack of equal access to education, transportation, voting, and housing.  I appreciate the Gay Rights Movement that protests inequality and mistreatment while promoting legislation and litigation for equality under the law.  Our nation has a long history of movements that engage in lobbying, protests, referendums, litigation, guerrilla theater, and political action to demand an end to abuses of civil and human rights.  It was not so long ago that suffragettes demanded voting rights for women.  I marched and lobbied to end our involvement in the Vietnam War.  Despite my disagreement with its lack of compassion and refusal to compromise and shear ignorance, I understand the Tea Party’s demands for lower taxes, less government, and a balanced budget.   I also see them engage in political activism to achieve their goals. 

Begun as a peaceful protest, the occupiers have devolved into more style than message.  Testing the limits of free speech in public places and employing cute hand signals are not substitutes for an articulate agenda.  As the economy rebounds, will the moment be lost?  Will the casualties of this most severe recession – including the thousands of newly discharged veterans - continue to suffer without meaningful help?  Will the Occupy organizers have squandered their fifteen minutes of fame with catchy demonstrations and memories of what might have been?  

Perhaps I am too critical and from chaos shall spring transformation.  While I prefer a clearly articulated movement, I guess I will have to settle for mainstream Democrats to become energized by the Occupiers’ outrage and craft a message with inspiration and understandable goals for the “movement.” 

The Last Word

                         "My, you sure look like a fright today."

                         "Thanks."

The Last Word

  "Well, the truth of the mater is ... ."  How often did I hear that phrase from my parents to sum up and end a discussion.  Who could possibly refute the truth?  I notice a similar tactic when I post comments to some Facebook posting.  Irrespective of how cogent or intentionally humorous my observation, it somehow necessitates contradiction.  And the argument continues because the last word wins.    

I finally concluded that some of us just need to feel good about ourselves by denigrating others.  Why would our self worth be dependent on feeling superior to another?  I get that in sports, games, and work, competition brings rewards.  I don't understand why in relationships we need to be the top dog by putting our heel to others.  Worse yet, those who feel put upon, oppressed, or "disrespected," find ways to retaliate.  I think Shakespeare got it right when he wrote, "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings. " 

I wonder whether our need to feel good about our selves by belittling others is in some way tied to a pattern we learned as children.  By using our wits to insult bullies, we could successfully defend ourselves.  As grown ups, we no longer need those strategies.  Yet, we continue to use them against our partners, colleagues, and even our Facebook friends.  Is there another approach?  Why not simply say, "thanks for the comment."  Or, we might express respect for another person's opinion even while offering an argument.  And the world will not turn on its axis if someone else has the last word.  If we believe a colleague or partner is wrong, we might ask whether we can look a little closer at what is being suggested.  Really, the approach I am suggesting is geared toward treating each other with dignity.  Ultimately, I believe that we grow in each others reflected light.  

September 11th – Hope

As a younger person, I had a continuous argument with my Mom.  She did not believe in volunteering.  Mom argued that volunteers are not respected.  If the work were valuable, you would be compensated.  She also argued that by volunteering we enable philanthropic organizations to provide goods and services that rightfully ought to be provided by government.    This always seemed like an excuse to get out of volunteering.  The Democrats and Republicans also argue over providing support for the poor, elderly, and infirm.  While they agree that work is preferable to charity, they disagree on how much to distribute.  That is, The Republicans argue that distributing amounts above bare subsistence just encourages them.  This too seems like an argument that excuses selfishness.    

I do believe there are people who would tell a hungry person, “Sorry we have food but we take a principled stance against free lunches.”  And it is not beyond my imagination that some would argue against public libraries because anyone who really wanted to read would find a way without relying on government. 

I believe we are social creatures.  As such, we thrive when we act in concert for the greater good.  If our first priority is simply to grasp whatever we can for our own protection and comfort, how do we explain the efforts we make to care for each other.  Remembering September 11^th makes me both sad and glad.  Sad for the terrible losses that were suffered (and that are still being felt by many families).  Glad for the assistance provided by the police and firemen  to the victims on that terrible day and glad for the long-term assistance provided by our charities and government.

  

Aliens

                                                                  “Shake a leg!”

                                            “Not funny.”



I listened to a recent radio show on NPR that featured a space scientist and a religionist speculating on how discovery of intelligent, extraterrestrials might affect us earthlings.  Would aliens pose a threat to human existence?  What if aliens were silicon rather than carbon based, would salvation be irrelevant because they would be able to replace their worn out parts and live forever?  And would bible literalists be nonplussed over whether humans or aliens were created in the image of God?

Having grown up in the 1950’s and early 1960’s, I am well acquainted with science fiction movies and books. Who cowered under his movie seat when Gort, the giant, metallic robot from “The Day The Earth Stood Still,” emerged from a flying saucer to encounter a military deployment on the grounds of the Washington Monument?   Who threw up during the 3-D version of “The Creature From The Black Lagoon” … or perhaps it was because I devoured two boxes of nonpareils on top of a box of popcorn? 

We certainly know that aliens are a commonly used artistic conceit that permits us an honest view of our fears and aspirations and foibles.  Who marveled at the view of society offered through Valentine Michael Smith, a human raised by Martians, in “Stranger In A Strange Land?”   And my take on the entire discussion involving how the discovery of extraterrestrial, intelligent aliens might affect us was by thinking about how we treat people who seem different from us.  That is, by thinking about how men and women view each other or how we view different racial groups; individuals who have different sexual preferences; persons with disabilities, people with differing political perspectives, or folks with different religious views.  Do we treat each other as aliens from whom we need to be fearful?  Do we use insensitive behaviors that emphasize our stereotypes?  I recall the black cook at a summer camp telling me, “You can touch me, it won’t rub off.”    We do not have to agree with each other.  However, when we demonize each other, I think we set ourselves up to react to destroy rather than to accommodate.  

In Memoriam

Some of those smiling pictures reflect youthful, carefree faces from bygone days. Others portray pleasantly aged folks. Condensed biographies sketch out their age, cause of death, kinfolk, and viewing information.  You would think their listings would be under the kinder word, “Obituaries,” rather than the more realistic heading, “Death Notice.” 

Curious about why these recently deceased folks are portrayed with permanently smiling faces despite their unhappy situation, the reason became obvious.  Relatives had selected the final, public picture by which they would be viewed.  Naturally, I reflected on how I wanted to be portrayed to the world.

1)  I prefer a dour photograph for placement in the “Death Notice” newspaper listing.  I want everyone to know that I am not thrilled about my recent departure.

2)  I also prefer a site at the cemetery near a water fountain.  I would like to think that on a truly hot day people might continue to think kindly of me because of this final foresight.

3)   Unlike the lady I heard about on the radio show, The Car Guys, whose tomb stone was carved with her final words, “I told them I was sick,” I would like my tombstone to read, “Son, Father, Friend, Colleague.”

And this brings me to the purpose of this blog.  Remembrances.  I believe that once dead, we leave behind our memories.  I can not imagine occupying a heavenly park bench or being assigned to a cabin without adequate bathroom facilities for eternity. I am counting on my afterlife being much like the universe itself, lost to eternity.  However, I like to believe that my family, friends and colleagues will remember me and smile…and that is the smile I prefer.    

Shoot First

"What did he say?"
"I didn’t eat all your chocolate, Grandma."
"What did you say?"
"Wipe your mouth, Teddy."

I recall the first time I felt suckered.  It was when the Reverend Al Sharpton focused media and crowd outrage on behalf of Tawana Brawley.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tawana_Brawley_rape_allegations. 

Then, I was led to indignation over several Duke Lacrosse players for having abused a young woman. 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duke_lacrosse_case.  

Remember Shirley Sherrod, the USDA executive, who was erroneously accused and forced to resign for allegedly having engaged in reverse racism? http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Resignation_of_Shirley_Sherrod. 

Well, now I am supposed to condemn George Zimmerman for having killed Trayvon Martin.  Zimmerman claims self-defense.  Martin’s supporters claim that a lethal confluence occurred when a homeowner with a penchant for vigilante behavior was given license to shoot first and ask questions later by Florida’s Stand Your Ground law.  Turns out Zimmerman has tutored African American youngsters and suffered real injuries during his confrontation.  Suspended from school, Martin was simply returning home from a trip to a convenience store for refreshments.  He may have screamed into his cell phone for help. Messy facts.  Bad law.  Incomprehensible police and prosecutorial work.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shooting_of_Trayvon_Martin.

I am glad that the Trayvon Martin’s family was sufficiently outraged to demand attention be paid to their child’s killing.  I am not happy that we are so easily manipulated into condemning George Martin before all the facts are revealed.  What happened to the presumption of innocence?  Why do we require a scapegoat?  Turns out that the Stand Your Ground laws have been advocated by a conservative group…perhaps that is where our outrage should be directed?

 http://www.palmbeachpost.com/news/state/conservative-group-stops-promoting-stand-your-ground-laws-2311079.html.

The Only Thing We Have To Fear Is Fear Itself – A Little Birdy Told Me So

Happy Valley, Fl.

Pop. 54 (oops 53)


This spring, a bird built her nest inside our carport. Technically, the nest is set within a hanging light fixture. Whenever I take out the garbage, the bird reacts fiercely to the commotion. She leaps out of the nest, flaps her wings frantically against the top of the carport, and then flies into the nearest group of trees. This pattern is repeated each time I make too much noise around her nest. This led me to wonder about our protective patterns.

We crave safety by securing our homes with locks and alarms, paying attention to potential threats in our surroundings, learning when to fight or run, maintaining emergency supplies, and arming ourselves. I certainly have my can of yellow jacket spray at the ready to ward off those kamikaze-like insect warriors. We make judgments all of the time about possible threats to our well being. For example, we begrudgingly accept the salesmen who knock on our doors during the day. But, we become extremely nervous and are likely to call the police when we see somebody lurking around our house late at night. Our social contract regarding personal safety has two elements: First, protect us from the others, and, secondly, protect the others from us.

So, each time I take out the trash, I represent a threat to my non-paying tenant who engages in all out protection by flying madly about the carport. Rather than having each of us decide when to flutter about madly because we feel threatened, we agree –as a matter of our social contract - to utilize the police. It is only when we do not believe the police will be able to protect us that we might feel forced to take matters into our own hands. And when any of us decide to use a gun purchased to afford an extra level of security, we better have a darned good explanation for why we undertook to substitute our judgment for the judgment we hired the police to undertake. Otherwise, you just might be a victim of my judgment.

DISPUTES

“I want jelly beans.”
“They are just flavored sugar.”
“I want jelly beans!!”
“Fruit is healthier.”
“Ok, I want fruit-flavored jelly beans.”

While listening to the argumentation during the last several days before the Supreme Court on whether the Patient Protection and Affordable Health Care Act passes muster under the United States Constitution, I ended up somewhat staggered. Not having read the Act itself or the reams of underlying law, court cases, and economic studies, I am not surprised by my lack of comprehension. Nevertheless, I was awed with the ping-pong like dialgue. Questions were hardly answered when new and even more difficult questions were posed. What does it all mean?

Well, one side seemed to argue that the federal government is only allowed to require people to buy stuff pursuant to specific Constitutional authority. They essentially argue that it just ain’t right to force people to buy health insurance irrespective of the public benefit because America is founded on individual liberties. The other side argues that the Federal government has a duty to advance commerce and protect its citizenry even to the point of requiring that we purchase health care insurance. They essentially argue that citizens are sometimes called upon to sacrifice individual rights for the public good.

I was also impressed with the endless examples, analogies, and hypothetical situations contrived to prove or disprove points of view. What about social security? Can the federal government force us to obtain inoculations if we were to be visited by a plague? What about automobile anti-pollution devices? What’s to stop Congress from making us eat broccoli, buy automobiles, or purchase twelve loaves of bread every week to stimulate the economy?

That is when I really began to get dizzy.

“Nobody is going to make me stock my pantry with bread.”
“I sure want everyone inoculated against a plague.”
“The Feds can’t really stuff me full of broccoli, can they?”
“I like the social security scheme.”
“Could bikes be substituted for cars?”
“Yikes.”

At the end of the day, I guess the Constitution will mean whatever the nine justices declare. For me, I just know that if the Health Care Act is declared unconstitutional, my kids will not be covered by my policy as they reach their twenty-first birthdays. Lucky the federal government requires that hospitals maintain free access to their emergency rooms…for now.

Ding, Dong, Bell

“Mrs. White, is it time to go home?”
“No, Charley, this is first grade. We stay here the entire day.”

“Who signed me up for this?”

I vividly recall my first day in first grade at Bragaw Avenue Elementary School. We were assigned our own little desk/chairs. Being small, all I could see was the back of the girl’s head who sat directly in front of me. The teacher made the mistake of handing out supplies, including dull, little-kid scissors. But, not too dull for me to quickly experiment by cutting off one of the little girl’s braids. Just as quickly, I found myself sitting alone, facing the wall, with my shoes removed. I suppose the shoe idea was to make sure I did not run away.

How different I found my first day helping with a project at the Northern Virginia Ethical Society Sunday school. The children’s excitement was only tempered when we asked them to watch a demonstration about how to construct bird feeders by shmearing peanut butter onto card board tubes that would then be rolled in bird seed and given a yarn string for hanging. Of course, paper bags that would hold their creations needed decorating. No yelling, no haircutting, no biting, and no arguing. The fifteen or so children ranging in age from two to ten years old actually asked to share material. The older children helped the younger kids with the tricky string part of the construction. I don’t know if the birds and squirrels enjoyed their treats, but I totally enjoyed helping. The excitement was palpable. So different from regular school where I eventually learned that school was intended to subdue children into obedience

I am so glad that our children have a chance to see that life has glimmers of fun that includes learning, working cooperatively, and building self esteem.

The Argument

“How was school today, bub?”
“Okay.”
“What did you do?”
“Stuff.”
“It’s so nice to have these mother-and-son talks.”

As a younger person, I had a continuous argument with my Mom. She did not believe in performing volunteer work for charitable and educational organizations. Mom argued that volunteers are not respected because they are not paid. That is, if the work was valuable, you would be paid for your efforts. She also argued that by volunteering you enabled nonprofit organizations to provide goods and services that rightfully ought to be provided by our government…that is by our entire society. Ultimately, her argument boiled down to “we pay for what we value.” The converse being that when we are unwilling to pay for something, it is obviously not valued irrespective of the lip service. For example, most people claim to value teachers, yet they are paid at the lower end of professional scales.

I argued that even if she was correct, government does not pay for goods and services needed by many people. What would she tell the hungry person in need of food? “Sorry we have no foodstuff because our volunteers took a principled stance against charities providing free lunches.” And how would she explain to the under funded library that it will just have to cope without volunteers shelving books, reading children’s’ stories, or handing out information. Of course, neither of us had spent any real time offering our services as volunteers. We were armchair critics. She had worked her entire life while raising a family. I had gone to school. I was not sure what I actually believed in terms of the worth of volunteering.

Then something funny happened. Mom retired to Florida and vowed never, ever to work again. She began taking a few courses at Florida International University. Then, she volunteered to lead an adult discussion course on current events for the University. Mom followed up on this by volunteering to lead another discussion group at the local library. Soon she was on the County’s library board of directors. Then she was heading up an arm of the Democratic Party. All unpaid jobs. I asked what led to her change of mind. She said, “I am enjoying each of these activities. They keep me energized.”

As a volunteer for several organizations, I too see things differently now. I do not believe I am engaging in volunteer work for the benefit of particular charitable and educational organizations or to serve the downtrodden because government has fallen short. Helping organizations fulfill their mission or picking up the slack for government are incidental benefits. I am engaged in volunteer work for me. When I worked, I was really serving my needs for security, ease, stimulation, validation, and companionship. I now believe that my volunteer work meets my current needs. It also keeps me from driving my spouse nuts.

Rules

Don’t Let St. Francis Near the Birdcages!

Many years ago I was driving with my family back to Virginia from New Jersey when we saw a road marker for a state park. We immediately decided to pull off the interstate and eat our bag lunch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at the park. I drove into the parking lot, grabbed a picnic table that was located on a grassy spot adjacent to where we parked, and we began to eat. The day was gorgeous, mild weather and not another person in sight. As we bit into our sandwiches, a New Jersey State Park Police car approached. The officer slowly got out, pulled on his Smoky the bear style hat, and sauntered over. Without taking off his sunglasses, he said, “You’ all need a permit to camp at this park.” I explained that we were tired, we had just pulled off the road, and we would be leaving as soon as our young children finished their P&J sandwiches. “Sir you can purchase a one-day permit for $10 from the park headquarters.” I declined. We finished our sandwiches while sitting on our car.

I understand that rules are the price we pay for a civilized society. I also understand that rules have an objective, which should not be the exercise of power. Enforcement is a tool, not a goal. And that brings me to the current debate about the size and role of government. I prefer efficient government that looks after my welfare with respect to law enforcement, safe roads, fire and ambulance services, affordable medical care, and a safety net that offers a balance between providing assistance and requiring me to help myself. I find the Tea Partiers and the Occupiers equally dogmatic in their beliefs, the former for individualism and the latter for government programs. Save us from the intolerant for surely they will impose their views irrespective of my wishes or the outcomes.

NUTCRACKER and NOSTALGIA

"What kind of tea are we drinking?”
“It’s a musically inspired blend.”
“What’s it called?”
“Chai Kovsky.”

I recently saw my tenth Nutcracker performance by the Virginia Ballet Company. It’s not that I am addicted to Christmas Nutcracker performances; it’s that my daughter decided that dance is her thing. This was her last VBC Nutcracker before college.

So, first I want to talk a bit about the actual performance. When the glorious Tchaikovsky music begins, the audience sees a couple of girls sashay across the floor in front of a closed curtain. They are pretending to dust imaginary furniture in preparation for an elegant, Christmas party. As they move offstage, the curtains open and the audience is treated to a brightly lit stage full of gay partiers. The ladies are dressed in colorful gowns and the men attired in formal wear. Little children are dashing here and there. The performance includes dancing dads who engage their daughters in an elegant minuet. I auditioned as a dancing dad one year because several of the ballerinas encouraged me. That is when I discovered that during my hip operation, the surgeon mistakenly gave me two left legs. When the party scene ends, an energetic dream sequence unfolds pitting marauding mice and a rat king combating nutcracker troops. Naturally, the nutcrackers prevail. The rest of the production features a fantasy in which the young girl of the house dreams about a series of exotic dancers and graceful ballerinas, some solo and some with male partners, showing off for her amusement. All too soon the dream ends and the cast bids goodbye to each other and to the audience.

Now, I want to mention the nostalgic part. I used to drop Sarah off every day at the ballet school for her lessons. That was my time to talk with the many parents who also had children training in ballet. As the years passed, we got to know each other. I learned about their lives and shared my life’s adventures. Then disaster struck. Sarah got her driver’s license. No more chit chats with fellow parents. No more conversations with the wonderful ladies who manned the front desk. No more shared time learning about dance from the artistic director and her staff. I went from total engagement to cold turkey. But, performances were another matter. I could still schlep costumes, backdrops, scenery, and props with the best of them. I could help usher, staff the will call table, pull curtains, and sweep floors. That is, until this last, final, ending, finished, kaput Nutcracker. Yes, there will be a spring show. But, it is not the same because the spring show engages far fewer parents and lacks the excitement of a winter-time, holiday-season, Nutcracker.

So, I will attend other Nutcracker performances. I will likely see a parent or two by chance. But, the glory days of parenting a young ballerina are over.