This was a crucial line in a movie that I watched over the weekend on DVD, an interesting and well executed movie called "The Great Debaters" with Denzel Washington playing the lead character and protagonist, a professor and debate team coach at a small black Texas college in the 1930's. The line refers to a scene where the coach and his team are on the way to a competition, driving across the Lone Star state at night, and come across the aftermath of a lynching, images that will forever be burned into their souls. It got me thinking about the nature of race in our country today, how our racial history impacts us in the here and now, and how race and racism continue to play a role in so much of modern life.
It is tempting for people, especially white people, to say that this is ancient history, that people of color, as we inaccurately label all non-whites, should get over it and move on. (I've got as much or more color in my skin than many non-whites, and last time I checked even pasty white was still a color) Perhaps. Certainly there is a danger in the self-loathing that can come from excessive martyrdom, and if any people see themselves always as victims, and see another group, namely white people, as the oppressors, they are liable to live in a hostile and bitter world that offers little hope for advancement and for raising their stature in that society. There is also the danger of what is called the slave mentality. I witnessed this first hand while coaching basketball in the inner city a few years back, in fact it was a term I was not familiar with until discussing what we had witnessed with my colleague Anthony Wright, who is black, and who grew up in the inner city.
What we noticed was that when our team, which was predominately black, went on the road to play the mostly white schools, we played almost scared, and certainly at less than our best. It was as if our guys didn't feel that they deserved to be in these nice new gyms, we were fish out of water and we performed like it. When we were practicing in our own gyms, mostly run down and in the inner city, we were a different team. Coach Wright addressed the team one day, and gave us all an education regarding the slave mentality, which basically states that for many Blacks, it is difficult to fully accept that they belong in society on equal footing with Whites. Feeling like this can easily lead not only to self-loathing but also to feelings of resentment and hatred toward Whites, and this just leads to greater intolerance and misunderstandings on all sides. Martin Luther King stated that people don't like each other because they don't understand each other, and that they don't understand each other because they don't know each other. This is a major motivating factor for school and societal integration, but it is not enough for Whites and Blacks to occupy the same physical space, we must truly take the time and put forth the effort to know and understand one another, and that starts with open and honest dialogue as it pertains to race and the myriad cultural factors that stem from it.
One of the coolest things I experienced while coaching basketball was to see how these kids, black kids from the 'hood and white kids from the 'burbs, would fraternize after the games when given the opportunity. They were free and easy with each other, just kids being kids and doing what came naturally to them, away from all of the layers of separation that adult society often puts upon them. It gave me hope that things are really getting better in our society today and that in the future we may indeed live in a world where people are judged not by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.
Yet to get to that point, we must recognize our history, not so that we can make Blacks feel inferior or Whites feel guilty, but as a way to acknowledge what we have so far overcome in hopes that we can continue to travel down the righteous path of equality and justice and respect and love for one another as human beings. Bob Marley sings that if you know your history, then you would know where I'm coming from. So when white folks talk about forgetting the past and letting bygones be bygones, that misses the point. How can Whites or Blacks appreciate each other if they don't know each other's history, where they have been, what they have experienced, what they currently experience?
The argument that this is ancient history doesn't fly either, because Jim Crow didn't end in the South until a couple generations ago, and while I have no first hand knowledge, I understand from people who do that many of these attitudes are still prevalent throughout the old Confederate states. I have seen first hand the more subtle effects of racism, the uncomfortable looks that attend to walking in a restaurant or convenience store with a group of young black men for example, and I have had numerous stories related to me of unfair treatment at the hands of authorities, from police to teachers and school administrators that Blacks still experience today.
Race relations and racial attitudes have certainly improved over time, thanks in large part to the courage of those who took part in the Civil Rights Movement of the 1950's and 60's, laws have been changed and barriers have been knocked down. Today's generation of young people think nothing of certain equalities that previous generations might not even have imagined, from integrated sports teams and universities, to the notion of a black quarterback, to being just a few months away from, in all likelihood, our nation's first non-white president. Now is not the time however to pat ourselves on the back and stop moving forward, because there is still a great deal of work to be done. There may not lynch Negroes anymore in Texas, but they still drag black people behind pickup trucks, they still lynch gay people in Wyoming, and they still shoot Sikhs in Arizona. Racism may be more subtle now, but that only makes it tougher to distinguish and more difficult to root out. When one of us is in chains, none of us are free, and until we can truly unshackle the chains that hold our society back, we won't realize the ideals and the dreams and the promise of our great nation.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Where Have You Gone South Buffalo?
What has happened to the good, honest, hard-working class and hard-working middle class neighborhoods of our youth, places where you felt safe and secure, places where you may not have known all your neighbors but at least you knew some of them, places where you didn't need to shell out your hard earned cash to some anonymous homeowners association to ensure that you could live in a place where people took pride in keeping up appearances. Places where the kids could roam the streets without worrying about being abducted, and without worrying the neighbors that trouble was a-brewin', save for the one grumpy old guy on the corner that hated kids, that guy has always been there in every neighborhood probably since the beginning of time. Streets where you could play in the summer until the street lights went on, and even then you'd keep on going until you couldn't see the ball coming out of the pitcher's hand, or you could barely make out the silhouette of the hoop you were trying to shoot at. I grew up in such a middle class neighborhood in the 1970's and 80's, in suburban Los Angeles, in the city of Torrance, which as my dad liked to point out, was the third largest city in L.A. County behind only L.A. and Long Beach. The title of the column comes from the working class neighborhood that Tim Russert, whose book I recently read, grew up in during the 1950's and 60's, and one thing that struck me as I was reading was how similar our childhoods were, despite being separated by a continent and a generation. And how different in many respects that lifestyle is from what my own kids experience today.
Not that my neighborhood is anything to sneeze at mind you. I am fortunate to live in a nice, clean, safe middle class neighborhood in suburban North Phoenix, in a roomy and at least for the time being, air conditioned house. My unit is nearly 18 years old and showing some troubling signs of frailty, but knock on wood is still holding up, just one more summer please! We have a school smack dab in the middle of our neighborhood, which also doubles as the park, a place where like my own dad did with me growing up, I've spent countless hours with my son playing ball, throwing batting practice, hitting grounders, and chasing my daughter around on the playground and pushing her on the swings, all the good stuff associated with having little kids that still like to hang out with dad at the park. The local high school is only a mile or so up the road, walking distance in my day, although my son seems to think you need a ride just to go down the street, and being the ever accommodating parents of the modern age we generally oblige. The neighbors are all modestly friendly, but I don't know them really beyond a friendly hello or a wave when we see each other out front. We are, and have been for quite some time a backyard society, which in Arizona mostly includes the backyard swimming pool. Sitting out on the front porch and spending time in public is mostly a relic of a bygone era. Throw in the oppressive heat in the desert, which coincides with vacation for the kids, and you have a much different picture than the one I grew up with. It's understandable mostly, but nonetheless I pine for the days of yesteryear and wonder if they can ever return.
If you drove through my childhood neighborhood any summer afternoon you would see people, and lots of them. You would see little kids and their parents on the playground, which could always be found by locating the giant rocket ship that towered over the landscape. You would probably see someone playing tennis, and usually someone else waiting to get on the courts. You would see hoops being shot on the outdoor asphalt courts, which produced some of the dirtiest blackest hands you could imagine and balls that didn't stay bright orange for long. You would see over the line baseball games being played, always over the line on any vacant stretch of grass that allowed enough room for a batter, an infielder, the line, and the deep guy. The park and the school were lined with houses on all sides, and most likely you would see neighbors out and about, tending to their nicely manicured lawns or washing their mid-sized sedans, kids playing in the front yards or shooting hoops in driveways, cars parked up and down the streets. It was a scene that as a kid you just took for granted, never thinking about how lucky you were to have what you did, or that one day this way of life might not be so prevalent.
Maybe it is still prevalent, I certainly am not an expert on the matter, I only have my own experience to go by. Perhaps there are still many neighborhoods like Marble Estates in Torrance, or the Caz Park area of South Buffalo and West Seneca. Maybe kids today are still out and about during summer vacation, staying away from home as long as their parents and the law will allow. Or perhaps what I have come to know is more the norm, kids still congregate, but now they do it online via the Internet and Xbox 360. They still play ball, except in place of the impromptu pick up games that gave us our athletic and competitive fix, they do it in planned practices and organized leagues, always under some sort of adult supervision. Yards are still mostly well cared for, at least in middle class neighborhoods like mine, but there is the constant threat of the dreaded HOA if a stray weed is unattended too long, a garbage bin is left out, a car gets parked in the street overnight, or a house gets painted an unapproved color. In addition to being a backyard and online society, we have also become a society stifled by rules, regulations, dues, and fines. I'll be that Paulville, the new community of Ron Paul supporters springing up in Texas doesn't have an HOA.
Times change, attitudes change, sometimes for the better sometimes not. That's life, and as a progressive I not only accept this change but generally embrace it. But I am also certifiably old-school, and I don't like change for the sake of change, and I think that many things are better left alone or returned to the way they were. I don't know if that's possible, but it's worth considering. Maybe if enough people feel the way I do we can return certain things to the way they were back in the day. Or perhaps I'm just a silly old man who longs for something that is gone and ain't comin' back. If so, then I'm sad for the current and future generations that won't know South Buffalo or Central Torrance, but happy for the memories and the times I've had.
Not that my neighborhood is anything to sneeze at mind you. I am fortunate to live in a nice, clean, safe middle class neighborhood in suburban North Phoenix, in a roomy and at least for the time being, air conditioned house. My unit is nearly 18 years old and showing some troubling signs of frailty, but knock on wood is still holding up, just one more summer please! We have a school smack dab in the middle of our neighborhood, which also doubles as the park, a place where like my own dad did with me growing up, I've spent countless hours with my son playing ball, throwing batting practice, hitting grounders, and chasing my daughter around on the playground and pushing her on the swings, all the good stuff associated with having little kids that still like to hang out with dad at the park. The local high school is only a mile or so up the road, walking distance in my day, although my son seems to think you need a ride just to go down the street, and being the ever accommodating parents of the modern age we generally oblige. The neighbors are all modestly friendly, but I don't know them really beyond a friendly hello or a wave when we see each other out front. We are, and have been for quite some time a backyard society, which in Arizona mostly includes the backyard swimming pool. Sitting out on the front porch and spending time in public is mostly a relic of a bygone era. Throw in the oppressive heat in the desert, which coincides with vacation for the kids, and you have a much different picture than the one I grew up with. It's understandable mostly, but nonetheless I pine for the days of yesteryear and wonder if they can ever return.
If you drove through my childhood neighborhood any summer afternoon you would see people, and lots of them. You would see little kids and their parents on the playground, which could always be found by locating the giant rocket ship that towered over the landscape. You would probably see someone playing tennis, and usually someone else waiting to get on the courts. You would see hoops being shot on the outdoor asphalt courts, which produced some of the dirtiest blackest hands you could imagine and balls that didn't stay bright orange for long. You would see over the line baseball games being played, always over the line on any vacant stretch of grass that allowed enough room for a batter, an infielder, the line, and the deep guy. The park and the school were lined with houses on all sides, and most likely you would see neighbors out and about, tending to their nicely manicured lawns or washing their mid-sized sedans, kids playing in the front yards or shooting hoops in driveways, cars parked up and down the streets. It was a scene that as a kid you just took for granted, never thinking about how lucky you were to have what you did, or that one day this way of life might not be so prevalent.
Maybe it is still prevalent, I certainly am not an expert on the matter, I only have my own experience to go by. Perhaps there are still many neighborhoods like Marble Estates in Torrance, or the Caz Park area of South Buffalo and West Seneca. Maybe kids today are still out and about during summer vacation, staying away from home as long as their parents and the law will allow. Or perhaps what I have come to know is more the norm, kids still congregate, but now they do it online via the Internet and Xbox 360. They still play ball, except in place of the impromptu pick up games that gave us our athletic and competitive fix, they do it in planned practices and organized leagues, always under some sort of adult supervision. Yards are still mostly well cared for, at least in middle class neighborhoods like mine, but there is the constant threat of the dreaded HOA if a stray weed is unattended too long, a garbage bin is left out, a car gets parked in the street overnight, or a house gets painted an unapproved color. In addition to being a backyard and online society, we have also become a society stifled by rules, regulations, dues, and fines. I'll be that Paulville, the new community of Ron Paul supporters springing up in Texas doesn't have an HOA.
Times change, attitudes change, sometimes for the better sometimes not. That's life, and as a progressive I not only accept this change but generally embrace it. But I am also certifiably old-school, and I don't like change for the sake of change, and I think that many things are better left alone or returned to the way they were. I don't know if that's possible, but it's worth considering. Maybe if enough people feel the way I do we can return certain things to the way they were back in the day. Or perhaps I'm just a silly old man who longs for something that is gone and ain't comin' back. If so, then I'm sad for the current and future generations that won't know South Buffalo or Central Torrance, but happy for the memories and the times I've had.
Time to Man Up
What's the deal with guys these days? Where to start, because there is, as I like to say about many things, so much work to do. Let's start off with a premise or two however. I love being a guy, and I am not interested in adding to the mindless man bashing that goes on. Hilary Clinton supporters, jilted lovers, and hard core fans of the WNBA have that market cornered. See, just being able to make silly statements like that is a total guy thing, talking smack is one of my favorite things about being male. I love to feel like I am entitled to the remote control, to be able to drive without needing directions, and sure as shootin' not have to use one of those effeminate and emasculating GPS systems. I took driving directions from a woman once, and ended up lost in some town in Illinois halfway between Chicago and East Moline. If I'm on the 4th fairway and there's no bathroom available until the 6th tee, no problem, there are plenty of trees and spots off the beaten path to take care of that, in fact that's probably where my drive just went anyways so I can kill two birds with one Titleist. If it's a hot day, and what other kind of days are there in the summer in Phoenix, I can take my shirt off while doing yard work, that is if I actually did yard work, but you get the point. There are a lot of advantages to being a guy, for one thing you don't have to deal with sexism being directed against you, and as a white guy I've never been the victim of racism, except for in the summer when i get a little bit dark and am mistaken for a Mexican. But so long as I'm not standing around outside of Home Depot I should be all right on that count as well.
Guys can get away with a lot of stuff that women probably can't. Think about sayings like, oh he's just being a guy, or, boys will be boys. We get bailed out all the time, I think it starts with our mom's, who turn us into little princes, at least the really good ones, and convince us that we are special and hardly capable of doing wrong. As a self-described momma's boy I can attest to this, as can my son, whom we actually call The Prince. If women get less pay for equal work, which statistically is amazingly still the case, then that must mean guys get more pay for the same work. Of course the male brain thinks, how about if I just take the same pay but do less work. According to my wife, at her job it cuts both ways, the males there do get paid more and do less work. Guys are more likely to get the promotion, the girl, and the cool car for graduation. So it's not a bad gig if you can get it, which leads me back to my original premise. What in the heck is up with guys these days?
Let's start with all the whining and bellyaching, and then let's just cut it out. It used to be that men were supposed to be the tough ones. Of course that's a fallacy, because women are the ones who give birth, and there isn't any knee or back injury that can come close to matching that. But men are supposed to be able to suck it up, play through the pain, get the job done, all that good stuff. Yet it seems that many guys today are too busy crying in their beer about how the woman done them wrong, or how their female boss doesn't understand them, or how society is taking away their privileges. Nobody wants to hear about your problems, especially if you are part of the gender that has had almost all of the money, power, and opportunities for the past few thousand years or so. If you have to start competing for status and promotions then suck it up and compete, and may the best man, or woman get the goods.
While we're at it, how about remembering how to treat a lady and to act like a gentleman. When did it become acceptable to refer to women casually as bitches and ho's? As in, that bitch just took my promotion, ho probably slept her way to the top. No more than you probably used your back slapping and beer drinking with the boss to get yourself to the top you fat slob, get over yourself and quit being such a misogynist pig. Men love to complain about lack of respect, but like I tell my students all the time, you've got to give it if you want to get it. A gentleman holds a door for a lady, minds his manners and his tongue around a lady, and you're only allowed to ogle her for but a brief moment, we are still guys after all, but after that get your eyes back up top buddy boy, that's probably somebodies wife or girlfriend, possibly a mother, certainly someone's daughter. It's not that women are the weaker sex at all, it's that a gentleman is supposed to do certain things, and respect for women is one of those, chivalry needn't be confused with paternalism.
As our future president said recently on Father's Day, any fool can make a baby, but it takes a man to raise a child. So all you deadbeat dads out there need to man up and do right by your kids. Quit using your evil ex as an excuse, she wasn't evil when you jumped in the sack with her sans condom, or when you forgot to pull out, or when you decided to have kids but then decided you couldn't get along. If you are a dad there's not much in life that can trump that, and there is no smaller man than the one who blows off his kids. The worst cliche is the guy with the ex and kids who live in another state. I'd follow my kids to the ends of the earth to be sure that I was there for them. And the deadbeats that don't pay their child support should be put in some sort of debtor's prison until they pay up, why not put the state of Georgia back to it's original use, and while we're at it we can transfer Sheriff Joe out of Maricopa County and have him set up some tent cities in the heat and humidity of the Peach State, or is it the Bulldog State, complete with pink boxers and green bologna.
Some other suggestions for guys are to get off the couch, put down the hot cheetohs and can of Pabst Blue Ribbon, and check out the inside of a gym once in awhile. It seems that women are taking better care of themselves these days in general, but the boys need to get with the program. How about putting on a shirt with a collar once in awhile in public too, tshirts are great for bumming around the house, going to the gym, taking a trip down to the hardware store, but if you're going out to eat, or getting on a plane, or otherwise out and about in public, put a little bit of effort in. Take it easy on the tattoos, I'm not a fan at all but I suppose one or two might suffice, but if there is more colored ink space on your arms than skin you might have a problem. Try reading a book once in awhile and going to a movie where fewer than a dozen people get killed. And Internet porn, nude bars, and skanky women in pool halls may have their place and time, but if that just described your three primary interests in life then you're not really doing much for the betterment of the gender.
I long for the days when men dressed to go out in public, refrained from using bad language around a lady or kids, unless they're your own kids and they piss you off, that's still allowed, showed up to work on time, took out the garbage and brought the can in within a day or two (are you listening next door neighbor of mine), treated people with respect, knew how to drive a stick shift, loved their country and believed in the value of service to others, took care of their familial obligations, and could basically be counted on to be there no matter what and regardless of how tough things got. Those are the men that I grew up with, the men that I try to emulate. There are a lot of good ones out there, but there are way too many slobs out there that give the rest of us a bad name, and it's time for them to pick up the slack and man up.
Guys can get away with a lot of stuff that women probably can't. Think about sayings like, oh he's just being a guy, or, boys will be boys. We get bailed out all the time, I think it starts with our mom's, who turn us into little princes, at least the really good ones, and convince us that we are special and hardly capable of doing wrong. As a self-described momma's boy I can attest to this, as can my son, whom we actually call The Prince. If women get less pay for equal work, which statistically is amazingly still the case, then that must mean guys get more pay for the same work. Of course the male brain thinks, how about if I just take the same pay but do less work. According to my wife, at her job it cuts both ways, the males there do get paid more and do less work. Guys are more likely to get the promotion, the girl, and the cool car for graduation. So it's not a bad gig if you can get it, which leads me back to my original premise. What in the heck is up with guys these days?
Let's start with all the whining and bellyaching, and then let's just cut it out. It used to be that men were supposed to be the tough ones. Of course that's a fallacy, because women are the ones who give birth, and there isn't any knee or back injury that can come close to matching that. But men are supposed to be able to suck it up, play through the pain, get the job done, all that good stuff. Yet it seems that many guys today are too busy crying in their beer about how the woman done them wrong, or how their female boss doesn't understand them, or how society is taking away their privileges. Nobody wants to hear about your problems, especially if you are part of the gender that has had almost all of the money, power, and opportunities for the past few thousand years or so. If you have to start competing for status and promotions then suck it up and compete, and may the best man, or woman get the goods.
While we're at it, how about remembering how to treat a lady and to act like a gentleman. When did it become acceptable to refer to women casually as bitches and ho's? As in, that bitch just took my promotion, ho probably slept her way to the top. No more than you probably used your back slapping and beer drinking with the boss to get yourself to the top you fat slob, get over yourself and quit being such a misogynist pig. Men love to complain about lack of respect, but like I tell my students all the time, you've got to give it if you want to get it. A gentleman holds a door for a lady, minds his manners and his tongue around a lady, and you're only allowed to ogle her for but a brief moment, we are still guys after all, but after that get your eyes back up top buddy boy, that's probably somebodies wife or girlfriend, possibly a mother, certainly someone's daughter. It's not that women are the weaker sex at all, it's that a gentleman is supposed to do certain things, and respect for women is one of those, chivalry needn't be confused with paternalism.
As our future president said recently on Father's Day, any fool can make a baby, but it takes a man to raise a child. So all you deadbeat dads out there need to man up and do right by your kids. Quit using your evil ex as an excuse, she wasn't evil when you jumped in the sack with her sans condom, or when you forgot to pull out, or when you decided to have kids but then decided you couldn't get along. If you are a dad there's not much in life that can trump that, and there is no smaller man than the one who blows off his kids. The worst cliche is the guy with the ex and kids who live in another state. I'd follow my kids to the ends of the earth to be sure that I was there for them. And the deadbeats that don't pay their child support should be put in some sort of debtor's prison until they pay up, why not put the state of Georgia back to it's original use, and while we're at it we can transfer Sheriff Joe out of Maricopa County and have him set up some tent cities in the heat and humidity of the Peach State, or is it the Bulldog State, complete with pink boxers and green bologna.
Some other suggestions for guys are to get off the couch, put down the hot cheetohs and can of Pabst Blue Ribbon, and check out the inside of a gym once in awhile. It seems that women are taking better care of themselves these days in general, but the boys need to get with the program. How about putting on a shirt with a collar once in awhile in public too, tshirts are great for bumming around the house, going to the gym, taking a trip down to the hardware store, but if you're going out to eat, or getting on a plane, or otherwise out and about in public, put a little bit of effort in. Take it easy on the tattoos, I'm not a fan at all but I suppose one or two might suffice, but if there is more colored ink space on your arms than skin you might have a problem. Try reading a book once in awhile and going to a movie where fewer than a dozen people get killed. And Internet porn, nude bars, and skanky women in pool halls may have their place and time, but if that just described your three primary interests in life then you're not really doing much for the betterment of the gender.
I long for the days when men dressed to go out in public, refrained from using bad language around a lady or kids, unless they're your own kids and they piss you off, that's still allowed, showed up to work on time, took out the garbage and brought the can in within a day or two (are you listening next door neighbor of mine), treated people with respect, knew how to drive a stick shift, loved their country and believed in the value of service to others, took care of their familial obligations, and could basically be counted on to be there no matter what and regardless of how tough things got. Those are the men that I grew up with, the men that I try to emulate. There are a lot of good ones out there, but there are way too many slobs out there that give the rest of us a bad name, and it's time for them to pick up the slack and man up.
Monday, June 23, 2008
What a Country
I just finished reading a wonderful book called "Big Russ and Me" by the late Tim Russert. It was actually next on my reading shelf when Mr. Russert passed a little over a week ago, my wife had just finished reading it and it was my turn. We have it checked out from the Phoenix Public Library, which is how I get nearly all my books now. Why pay for something you are going to use only once when you can borrow it for free? I feel the same way about reading the newspapers as well, I had been paying for home delivery of the New York Times, but no longer do so as I can read not only the Times, but the Washington Post, L.A. Times, and other papers online free of charge. What a country indeed.
Which brings me back to the book. It was a straight-forward and simple tome, but enjoyable and enlightening the way a conversation with a World War II veteran is. Big Russ is Tim's father, a WWII vet, and one of his go to sayings was and is, what a country. I was lucky enough to grow up within a few miles of my mom's parents, whom I affectionately refer to as my Babbie and Pappap. Babbie is an actual word, meaning grandmother in Serbian, and I believe in other Slavic languages as well. Pappap is a made up word, but there was nothing make believe about my relationship with this rare and unique individual. He died 20 years ago this month, a week or so before my high school graduation, and there are still few weeks that go by that I don't think about him, what he stood for, how he treated people, how loved and admired he was by those who knew him, and the impact he has had on my life. I've always felt that if I can be half the man he was, I'll be somebody worthwhile. It's a work in progress, but I think I'm doing him proud, and I know that is what motivates much of what I say and do and how I try to live my life.
My Pappap, John Hasara Jr., fought in the War, proudly serving his country as a member of the 4th Division of the U.S. Marines. He was in Iwo Jima, known as Bloody Iwo for reasons that seem too obvious to state, and he was wounded while fighting for and serving his country, thankfully not seriously or I wouldn't be writing this today. He came home from the war, and having spent time out in Southern California during his training, decided that he would not spend his life in the cold and gloom of Pittsburgh, the city of his birth. So after marrying his best friend and fellow Marine's sister, Ann Mervosh, he followed the advice of Horace Mann and came west. In an interesting twist his best friend, Mike Mervosh married his sister, Margaret Hasara, so my Uncle Mike is my Babbie's sister, while my Aunt Margaret is my Pappap's sister. My Uncle Mike would stay in the Marine Corps, and would rise to the rank of Sergeant Major, which is the highest rank for an enlisted man, or a non-officer. He would meet presidents, he has his picture taken with both President's Ford and Carter, which hung proudly in my Pappap's bar, and also had a brief guest spot on the old TV show Hawaii Five-O. He would also serve as an inspiration to the next Uncle Mike, my little brother Michael, who served in the Marines as a young man before becoming injured in a non-battle situation and receiving a medical discharge.
So while my own generation has been fortunate to have avoided a major war and while I have never served in the military (although I did do the brief stint at military school) I have ingrained in me a sense of duty to country that comes from my people. And while I am a pacifist at heart, and opposed to all wars of choice, I am also a patriot who would not hesitate to serve my country if the situation was warranted, such as it was when the threat of tyranny hung over the world like a dark cloud in the 1930's and 40's, and certainly after the Pearl Harbor attack of December 7, 1941.
It is all too easy in today's times to forget our history, to take what we have been given for granted, and to fall into the trap of easy criticism and self-loathing that some liberals today seem to adhere to. Don't get me wrong, there is plenty to criticize, from a bloated federal government, to an irresponsible foreign policy, to a sometimes apathetic and selfish citizenry. We should criticize our government and ourselves when it is warranted, as Jefferson believed, this is also the duty of the citizen in a democracy. Yet there is a danger in becoming so critical that we forget that we are also a nation that has accomplished a great deal in our brief history, and added so much to the betterment of mankind. Right now I'm sure there are those who are thinking of our history of slavery and treatment of American Indians, the legacy of Jim Crow, and on and on. Yet we are also the nation that fought a civil war in part to end the practice of slavery, that ultimately supported the Civil Rights Movement of the 1950's and 60's which brought an end to segregation in the South, and the nation that a generation after President Woodrow Wilson uttered the famous phrase, did indeed play a major role in making the world safe for democracy.
Even today, with all that is going on, from Abu Grahib to Gitmo, with the uncalled for invasion of Iraq and the unprecedented usurpation of power by the executive branch under the Bush administration, and despite the enormous debt being racked up by the federal government, we still have much to be proud of. I doubt there is another country in the world that comes close to matching our generosity in terms of foreign aid given to countries and people in need. We are still a bastion of civil rights and civil liberties that few nations outside of Western Europe can approach. We have the most diverse and tolerant society in terms of our respect for minority rights and opportunities for women. We have a system of democracy that can best be summed up in the words of Winston Churchill as the worst system of government, except for all the others that have been tried from time to time. We have poverty and hunger and deprivation to be sure, but we also have a social safety net that people in much of the developing world would die for. We have a health care system in need of reform but one which nonetheless provides a level of care that at least guarantees that sick people will get treatment. We are in need of a sensible and humane immigration policy, but when you compare our treatment of migrants to that of much of the world, including the aforementioned Western European democracies, we hold up quite well. We have a primary and secondary education system that needs improvement, but a post-secondary system that draws students from all over the world. We have a culture that many consider to be decadent, but that is admired and copied by much of the world. In short, we have many issues to deal with and needed reforms to attend to, but we also do many things well, and we are more free, tolerant, and diverse in terms of speech, race, ethnicity, gender, and religion than anywhere else that comes to mind.
I don't go for knee-jerk, reactionary patriotism, the America love it or leave it attitude. But I am proud to call myself a patriot, I am proud to call myself an American, I am proud and honored to run my flag up the pole every morning, and I will defend my nation vigorously against unfair criticism while at the same time being an honest and fair critic of her policies and ways when it is warranted. We were founded with the notion that we would be a city on a hill, an example for the rest of the world, which at the time was mostly mired in absolute monarchy, religious wars, and oppression. We were born as a great experiment in democracy at a level not seen outside of ancient Athens, the Roman Republic, and post-Magna Carta England. We have seen our share of failures and certainly have our shortcomings, many bugs and kinks yet to work out. But we have a proud history and a hopeful future, and most importantly we have the opportunity everyday to live our lives as we see fit, and to achieve what we decide we have the determination, the discipline, and the courage to attempt. Much of the rest of the world should be so lucky. What a country.
Which brings me back to the book. It was a straight-forward and simple tome, but enjoyable and enlightening the way a conversation with a World War II veteran is. Big Russ is Tim's father, a WWII vet, and one of his go to sayings was and is, what a country. I was lucky enough to grow up within a few miles of my mom's parents, whom I affectionately refer to as my Babbie and Pappap. Babbie is an actual word, meaning grandmother in Serbian, and I believe in other Slavic languages as well. Pappap is a made up word, but there was nothing make believe about my relationship with this rare and unique individual. He died 20 years ago this month, a week or so before my high school graduation, and there are still few weeks that go by that I don't think about him, what he stood for, how he treated people, how loved and admired he was by those who knew him, and the impact he has had on my life. I've always felt that if I can be half the man he was, I'll be somebody worthwhile. It's a work in progress, but I think I'm doing him proud, and I know that is what motivates much of what I say and do and how I try to live my life.
My Pappap, John Hasara Jr., fought in the War, proudly serving his country as a member of the 4th Division of the U.S. Marines. He was in Iwo Jima, known as Bloody Iwo for reasons that seem too obvious to state, and he was wounded while fighting for and serving his country, thankfully not seriously or I wouldn't be writing this today. He came home from the war, and having spent time out in Southern California during his training, decided that he would not spend his life in the cold and gloom of Pittsburgh, the city of his birth. So after marrying his best friend and fellow Marine's sister, Ann Mervosh, he followed the advice of Horace Mann and came west. In an interesting twist his best friend, Mike Mervosh married his sister, Margaret Hasara, so my Uncle Mike is my Babbie's sister, while my Aunt Margaret is my Pappap's sister. My Uncle Mike would stay in the Marine Corps, and would rise to the rank of Sergeant Major, which is the highest rank for an enlisted man, or a non-officer. He would meet presidents, he has his picture taken with both President's Ford and Carter, which hung proudly in my Pappap's bar, and also had a brief guest spot on the old TV show Hawaii Five-O. He would also serve as an inspiration to the next Uncle Mike, my little brother Michael, who served in the Marines as a young man before becoming injured in a non-battle situation and receiving a medical discharge.
So while my own generation has been fortunate to have avoided a major war and while I have never served in the military (although I did do the brief stint at military school) I have ingrained in me a sense of duty to country that comes from my people. And while I am a pacifist at heart, and opposed to all wars of choice, I am also a patriot who would not hesitate to serve my country if the situation was warranted, such as it was when the threat of tyranny hung over the world like a dark cloud in the 1930's and 40's, and certainly after the Pearl Harbor attack of December 7, 1941.
It is all too easy in today's times to forget our history, to take what we have been given for granted, and to fall into the trap of easy criticism and self-loathing that some liberals today seem to adhere to. Don't get me wrong, there is plenty to criticize, from a bloated federal government, to an irresponsible foreign policy, to a sometimes apathetic and selfish citizenry. We should criticize our government and ourselves when it is warranted, as Jefferson believed, this is also the duty of the citizen in a democracy. Yet there is a danger in becoming so critical that we forget that we are also a nation that has accomplished a great deal in our brief history, and added so much to the betterment of mankind. Right now I'm sure there are those who are thinking of our history of slavery and treatment of American Indians, the legacy of Jim Crow, and on and on. Yet we are also the nation that fought a civil war in part to end the practice of slavery, that ultimately supported the Civil Rights Movement of the 1950's and 60's which brought an end to segregation in the South, and the nation that a generation after President Woodrow Wilson uttered the famous phrase, did indeed play a major role in making the world safe for democracy.
Even today, with all that is going on, from Abu Grahib to Gitmo, with the uncalled for invasion of Iraq and the unprecedented usurpation of power by the executive branch under the Bush administration, and despite the enormous debt being racked up by the federal government, we still have much to be proud of. I doubt there is another country in the world that comes close to matching our generosity in terms of foreign aid given to countries and people in need. We are still a bastion of civil rights and civil liberties that few nations outside of Western Europe can approach. We have the most diverse and tolerant society in terms of our respect for minority rights and opportunities for women. We have a system of democracy that can best be summed up in the words of Winston Churchill as the worst system of government, except for all the others that have been tried from time to time. We have poverty and hunger and deprivation to be sure, but we also have a social safety net that people in much of the developing world would die for. We have a health care system in need of reform but one which nonetheless provides a level of care that at least guarantees that sick people will get treatment. We are in need of a sensible and humane immigration policy, but when you compare our treatment of migrants to that of much of the world, including the aforementioned Western European democracies, we hold up quite well. We have a primary and secondary education system that needs improvement, but a post-secondary system that draws students from all over the world. We have a culture that many consider to be decadent, but that is admired and copied by much of the world. In short, we have many issues to deal with and needed reforms to attend to, but we also do many things well, and we are more free, tolerant, and diverse in terms of speech, race, ethnicity, gender, and religion than anywhere else that comes to mind.
I don't go for knee-jerk, reactionary patriotism, the America love it or leave it attitude. But I am proud to call myself a patriot, I am proud to call myself an American, I am proud and honored to run my flag up the pole every morning, and I will defend my nation vigorously against unfair criticism while at the same time being an honest and fair critic of her policies and ways when it is warranted. We were founded with the notion that we would be a city on a hill, an example for the rest of the world, which at the time was mostly mired in absolute monarchy, religious wars, and oppression. We were born as a great experiment in democracy at a level not seen outside of ancient Athens, the Roman Republic, and post-Magna Carta England. We have seen our share of failures and certainly have our shortcomings, many bugs and kinks yet to work out. But we have a proud history and a hopeful future, and most importantly we have the opportunity everyday to live our lives as we see fit, and to achieve what we decide we have the determination, the discipline, and the courage to attempt. Much of the rest of the world should be so lucky. What a country.
Friday, June 20, 2008
The Fab Four
I'd like to introduce you to some characters that I have come to know. One thing these four young men have in common is their age, they are all 16-17 year-olds, about to begin their senior years in high school. They are all young men, so they share in common the concerns, hopes and dreams, attitudes and prejudices of young men, no longer boys but not yet full adults. They have vague notions of what that adulthood will entail, and they all have big dreams, if not yet the proper concept of what it will take to accomplish those dreams. They are all of average to above average intelligence, they are all nice looking young men, each in their own unique way. They have the bodies of sculpted athletes, not yet worn by time and inactivity and the sedentary lifestyle that most adults lead, their days are still full of physical activity, mainly hours spent each day inside gyms and outside on playgrounds, playing the game they love and excel at. That game is basketball, a beautiful pursuit that requires physical strength and stamina, mental dexterity, emotional toughness and discipline, and athleticism required by few other sports. All four of these young men are excellent high school ballplayers, and while none are what would be termed blue-chippers, can't miss recruits destined for NBA stardom, they all have their own hoop dreams and a realistic shot at obtaining college scholarships. This is what brings them to the same location, the burgeoning desert town of Tucson, Arizona in late June, the hottest yet not most unbearable time of the summer in the desert.
What they don't have in common is where they are from, their social and economic backgrounds, and their race and ethnicity. One is from North Phoenix, less than a couple hours up the interstate from the Old Pueblo. Another is from the suburbs of Los Angeles, one from the inner city in South Phoenix, and the fourth hails from the sticks, a big town or a little city depending on your prospective, Waterloo, Iowa. Two of them come from working class backgrounds, growing up not in absolute but certainly relative poverty. For them, basketball represents a way out of their neighborhoods and a chance at a foothold on the social ladder of upward mobility. One is a middle-class kid, not wanting for the necessities in life but by no means having everything his heart desires. A basketball scholarship for him means the chance to attend a university that his parent's modest means wouldn't otherwise allow. The fourth is an unqualified rich kid, fortunate in many ways, unfortunate in others, to be born into a family of means, secure financially, wanting for nothing in the material sense, but like all young men, trying to figure out his place in the world and where he belongs, torn to some degree by a sense of guilt over having so much handed to him. Basketball is to him a way of fitting in, of being normal, and of relating to people and to a world that is much different from the one he is growing up in. In terms of race and ethnicity, two are white boys, one is a Latino, and one is black. None of them have ever met each other until recently. But they have formed a bond that will not soon be broken, and have been touched by each other's stories and attitudes in such a way that when they do return to their various corners of the world in the fall, they will never be the same as they were before their week spent together forging a bond in the oppressive heat of the desert.
I will be introducing each of these characters individually soon, but wanted to first give a general description of these ordinary yet extraordinary young men. I will be telling their story as individuals, but also as representatives of many of the groups or demographics that they are a part of. I will be discussing their prowess on the court in contrast to their insecurities off the court. I will be looking at their hopes and dreams, their goals, their outlook on life, and how they affect each other and those in their lives. I hope to be able to tell their story in a way that is not only entertaining but enlightening, and in such a way as to illuminate how their journey can ultimately tell us something about ourselves, about our own attitudes, prejudices, assumptions, misconceptions, inner struggles and battles that we wage every day.
Oh, one last thing. These characters are all fictional, certainly based on real people and situations that I know and have known over the years, but otherwise they are figments of my imagination. They are also the characters in the novel that I have been wanting to write for quite some time now about coming of age, social class, race and ethnicity, and gender. Since I originally started writing columns and created this blog as a means of working my way up to writing my first novel, I thought it appropriate to use it as an introduction to what I will be spending a good deal of time working on for the rest of this summer, and beyond. I don't really know where the journey will take me, I have decided not to do too much prep work and planning, but rather to start the trek and go where it leads me, trusting that when all is said and done I will have produced something worthy of being read, and something that was worth the time it will take to write. Thanks for indulging me, I sincerely hope you will enjoy what I am about to put out there.
What they don't have in common is where they are from, their social and economic backgrounds, and their race and ethnicity. One is from North Phoenix, less than a couple hours up the interstate from the Old Pueblo. Another is from the suburbs of Los Angeles, one from the inner city in South Phoenix, and the fourth hails from the sticks, a big town or a little city depending on your prospective, Waterloo, Iowa. Two of them come from working class backgrounds, growing up not in absolute but certainly relative poverty. For them, basketball represents a way out of their neighborhoods and a chance at a foothold on the social ladder of upward mobility. One is a middle-class kid, not wanting for the necessities in life but by no means having everything his heart desires. A basketball scholarship for him means the chance to attend a university that his parent's modest means wouldn't otherwise allow. The fourth is an unqualified rich kid, fortunate in many ways, unfortunate in others, to be born into a family of means, secure financially, wanting for nothing in the material sense, but like all young men, trying to figure out his place in the world and where he belongs, torn to some degree by a sense of guilt over having so much handed to him. Basketball is to him a way of fitting in, of being normal, and of relating to people and to a world that is much different from the one he is growing up in. In terms of race and ethnicity, two are white boys, one is a Latino, and one is black. None of them have ever met each other until recently. But they have formed a bond that will not soon be broken, and have been touched by each other's stories and attitudes in such a way that when they do return to their various corners of the world in the fall, they will never be the same as they were before their week spent together forging a bond in the oppressive heat of the desert.
I will be introducing each of these characters individually soon, but wanted to first give a general description of these ordinary yet extraordinary young men. I will be telling their story as individuals, but also as representatives of many of the groups or demographics that they are a part of. I will be discussing their prowess on the court in contrast to their insecurities off the court. I will be looking at their hopes and dreams, their goals, their outlook on life, and how they affect each other and those in their lives. I hope to be able to tell their story in a way that is not only entertaining but enlightening, and in such a way as to illuminate how their journey can ultimately tell us something about ourselves, about our own attitudes, prejudices, assumptions, misconceptions, inner struggles and battles that we wage every day.
Oh, one last thing. These characters are all fictional, certainly based on real people and situations that I know and have known over the years, but otherwise they are figments of my imagination. They are also the characters in the novel that I have been wanting to write for quite some time now about coming of age, social class, race and ethnicity, and gender. Since I originally started writing columns and created this blog as a means of working my way up to writing my first novel, I thought it appropriate to use it as an introduction to what I will be spending a good deal of time working on for the rest of this summer, and beyond. I don't really know where the journey will take me, I have decided not to do too much prep work and planning, but rather to start the trek and go where it leads me, trusting that when all is said and done I will have produced something worthy of being read, and something that was worth the time it will take to write. Thanks for indulging me, I sincerely hope you will enjoy what I am about to put out there.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Wars We Probably Can't Win
We are a nation that likes to fight wars, or at least to call the fights we take on wars. We do seem to like to fight the real wars as well, in our nation's history, we have fought the War For Independence, the War of 1812, the Mexican-American War, the War Between the States, the Spanish-American War, the Great War, the Second World War, the Korean War, Vietnam War, Persian Gulf War, and the current wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. Many so-called neo-cons are hell bent on starting a new war against Iran, and if John McCain is somehow elected as our 44th president in November, the likelihood of that happening increases exponentially. Something about being a prisoner of war that apparently makes you a military genius and qualified to send other people's sons and husbands, daughters and mothers off to battle. Not even counting the Cold War or the War on Terrorism, which are not traditional wars but which require a great deal of time, energy, and resources to wage, we have, by my unofficial count fought in or are currently fighting in twelve wars in the 233 years since the shot heard 'round the world went off by the rude bridge that arched the flood in Concord, MA. That's an average of one war every 19 years, or roughly one per generation.
But we also wage wars on things, such as communism or terrorism, not to mention the wars that don't require M-16's and tanks to fight, and those wars are the topic of today's discussion. The wars I have in mind are the War on Poverty, the War on Drugs, and the War on Obesity. These are all battles that should be fought, but that quite frankly do not seem likely to produce victories anytime in the near future. That is not to say they shouldn't be waged, but I would like to look at the obstacles to success in these endeavors.
Let's start with poverty, since this is the longest running war we have going, not quite 100 years but long enough that you would think it would make John McCain proud. Started in the 1960's, it is now nearing the end of its fifth decade. If I was writing this for publication somewhere I would no doubt do some research and look at poverty rate statistics and the like, but since this is mostly a mental exercise and a chance to share my ideas with my small group of loyal readers, I will go with anecdotal evidence and general impressions. Certainly anyone out there with harder facts is more than welcome to add your two cents to the discussion. My general impression is that there really hasn't been great progress in this war in many ways. While I think the poor are better off from a material standpoint today, cell phones, designer jeans, expensive shoes, Ipods, and other trappings of middle class life were commonplace in my classroom working down in the 'hood for the last six years, they still mostly live a culturally poor existence in neighborhoods that you and I wouldn't want to be caught in after dark, and go to schools we wouldn't send our own kids to under any circumstances. This may sound insensitive and if it is then so be it, it is based on my observations during my time working in South Phoenix, which is the South Central or East L.A. of Phoenix. The main reason we have poverty is because of poor people. While there are certainly exceptions to the rule, the rule is that most of the people I encountered, while good natured and kind hearted, are not terribly interested in rising out of poverty, at least if their actions are any indication.
Many kids do not attend school regularly, and not only are their parents not scolding them for doing so, in many cases it is the parents who are keeping them from school, requiring them to stay home to babysit younger siblings or to attend to other more pressing concerns. Which gets me to my next problem, the incredibly high teen pregnancy rate. There is very little shame in the barrio when a teenage girl gets pregnant, it has become such a common occurrence and is so accepted that nobody even blinks an eye. Kids are having sex like rabbits, which is probably not all that different than it is for middle class kids, but apparently they aren't getting the memo about using some kind of birth control. On average we would have 25-40 pregnancies each school year, out of a population of around 200-250 girls. Do the math on that one at your own peril, it's astounding to me. When I was in high school I remember two girls in four years that got pregnant, and they were both sent away somewhere. I had generally at least one pregnant girl in every class I taught, sometimes more. One of my star soccer players had a baby with one ex-girlfriend, another ex-girlfriend pregnant, and he was going out with a third girlfriend. And you thought only NBA players got busy like that. Black people overwhelmingly oppose abortion, and Latinos overwhelmingly think they are still living in a pre-industrial society where large families are desired, combine those two factors with loads of carefree and apparently unprotected sex and you have alot of babies being born out of wedlock to kids who can barely even take care of themselves. Is it realistic to expect people in such circumstances, uneducated and overpopulated, to lift themselves up by their bootstraps? All the well meaning programs in the world can't help people that aren't capable or are unwilling to help themselves.
Ditto for drug users and the obese. If people are unwilling to tend to their own problems, all the wars in the world won't do much good. We see a similar occurrence in Iraq, where Sunnis and Shiites seem hell bent on blowing each other to smithereens in order to protect their own and retaliate against the other group. Sure, Catholics and Protestants did the same thing, but that was 300 years ago! If people are too lazy and undisciplined to put down the crack pipe, needle or bong, and too uninspired to lay off the McDonald's and other horrendous foods that are out there for the taking, what chance does any kind of war on drugs or obesity have of succeeding? To my way of thinking the answer is, not very much. I'm not saying we should throw in the towel, but we should be realistic about the chances for success. You can enlighten people by educating them, you can give them the tools to do what is in their best interests, but as they old saying goes, you can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink. Similarly, you can offer someone a free high school and college education, a condom, sobriety, and some fresh fruits and veggies, but you can't make them take it or use it.
But we also wage wars on things, such as communism or terrorism, not to mention the wars that don't require M-16's and tanks to fight, and those wars are the topic of today's discussion. The wars I have in mind are the War on Poverty, the War on Drugs, and the War on Obesity. These are all battles that should be fought, but that quite frankly do not seem likely to produce victories anytime in the near future. That is not to say they shouldn't be waged, but I would like to look at the obstacles to success in these endeavors.
Let's start with poverty, since this is the longest running war we have going, not quite 100 years but long enough that you would think it would make John McCain proud. Started in the 1960's, it is now nearing the end of its fifth decade. If I was writing this for publication somewhere I would no doubt do some research and look at poverty rate statistics and the like, but since this is mostly a mental exercise and a chance to share my ideas with my small group of loyal readers, I will go with anecdotal evidence and general impressions. Certainly anyone out there with harder facts is more than welcome to add your two cents to the discussion. My general impression is that there really hasn't been great progress in this war in many ways. While I think the poor are better off from a material standpoint today, cell phones, designer jeans, expensive shoes, Ipods, and other trappings of middle class life were commonplace in my classroom working down in the 'hood for the last six years, they still mostly live a culturally poor existence in neighborhoods that you and I wouldn't want to be caught in after dark, and go to schools we wouldn't send our own kids to under any circumstances. This may sound insensitive and if it is then so be it, it is based on my observations during my time working in South Phoenix, which is the South Central or East L.A. of Phoenix. The main reason we have poverty is because of poor people. While there are certainly exceptions to the rule, the rule is that most of the people I encountered, while good natured and kind hearted, are not terribly interested in rising out of poverty, at least if their actions are any indication.
Many kids do not attend school regularly, and not only are their parents not scolding them for doing so, in many cases it is the parents who are keeping them from school, requiring them to stay home to babysit younger siblings or to attend to other more pressing concerns. Which gets me to my next problem, the incredibly high teen pregnancy rate. There is very little shame in the barrio when a teenage girl gets pregnant, it has become such a common occurrence and is so accepted that nobody even blinks an eye. Kids are having sex like rabbits, which is probably not all that different than it is for middle class kids, but apparently they aren't getting the memo about using some kind of birth control. On average we would have 25-40 pregnancies each school year, out of a population of around 200-250 girls. Do the math on that one at your own peril, it's astounding to me. When I was in high school I remember two girls in four years that got pregnant, and they were both sent away somewhere. I had generally at least one pregnant girl in every class I taught, sometimes more. One of my star soccer players had a baby with one ex-girlfriend, another ex-girlfriend pregnant, and he was going out with a third girlfriend. And you thought only NBA players got busy like that. Black people overwhelmingly oppose abortion, and Latinos overwhelmingly think they are still living in a pre-industrial society where large families are desired, combine those two factors with loads of carefree and apparently unprotected sex and you have alot of babies being born out of wedlock to kids who can barely even take care of themselves. Is it realistic to expect people in such circumstances, uneducated and overpopulated, to lift themselves up by their bootstraps? All the well meaning programs in the world can't help people that aren't capable or are unwilling to help themselves.
Ditto for drug users and the obese. If people are unwilling to tend to their own problems, all the wars in the world won't do much good. We see a similar occurrence in Iraq, where Sunnis and Shiites seem hell bent on blowing each other to smithereens in order to protect their own and retaliate against the other group. Sure, Catholics and Protestants did the same thing, but that was 300 years ago! If people are too lazy and undisciplined to put down the crack pipe, needle or bong, and too uninspired to lay off the McDonald's and other horrendous foods that are out there for the taking, what chance does any kind of war on drugs or obesity have of succeeding? To my way of thinking the answer is, not very much. I'm not saying we should throw in the towel, but we should be realistic about the chances for success. You can enlighten people by educating them, you can give them the tools to do what is in their best interests, but as they old saying goes, you can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink. Similarly, you can offer someone a free high school and college education, a condom, sobriety, and some fresh fruits and veggies, but you can't make them take it or use it.
Monday, June 16, 2008
In Defense of Marriage
Borrowing from the so-called defense of marriage act for the title, here is my version of the defense of the institution that I am a proud member of. Simply put, the recent decision by the California Supreme Court is one that will not only strengthen marriage, but one which advances civil rights and human dignity for all members of society, gay and straight alike. It is a decision which I applaud whole-heartedly and one which makes me proud that I am a native Californian, especially living in my adopted state of Arizona, which I love, but which has a less than stellar history when it comes to respecting civil rights and celebrating diversity. When I first moved here in the late 80's the issue was the lack of a holiday honoring Martin Luther King, one of the greatest Americans in my book, and it took the threat of losing the Super Bowl to get AZ to become the last or next to last state to officially recognize the holiday. Currently we are known for having the toughest immigration laws in the nation, and while I support comprehensive immigration reform, the Arizona approach is more punitive and based on racism than it is motivated by a desire to bring about sensible and humane reforms. Gay marriage in the Grand Canyon State? That seems about as likely right now as a 75 degree day in July, or for that matter a 75 degree night in July. So I will simply applaud and take pride in my native California for doing the right thing on this important issue.
I would like to say that there are legitimate arguments on both sides of the issue. I try to see all sides of issues, even those I feel passionate about. I try to see the merits of a John McCain presidency even though I am a staunch Obama supporter. (I don't see any merits by the way, but at least I've tried) I listen to the legitimate concerns of the other camp in the immigration debate, and think that their concerns can be combined with my concerns, which are namely focused on the children of immigrants who have very few options to further their education and become fully productive members of society once they graduate from high school. I see both sides of the abortion debate, I actually side with the Republicans on free trade issues, at least in theory, as I do on some fiscal issues. I believe, as do many conservatives, that morals and values should be taught in the public schools, not limited to, but also not excluding what would be considered religious teachings. The major world religions offer us much wisdom and knowledge and we should not ignore this, the first amendment in my opinion was never intended to eliminate religious debate from the public square but was merely intended to ensure that no one belief system would have priority over others. I believe, unlike most public educators I know, that President Bush's No Child Left Behind Act, while not perfect, has been generally good for our educational system because it has led to much greater accountability. My point is that while I am a staunch liberal and progressive in most realms, I appreciate other viewpoints and am not afraid to adopt them if I am so moved, even though it causes me to receive grief and consternation from some of my liberal friends who see me as a traitor to the cause. My cause is the common good as I see it, and I'll take good ideas from whichever direction they come, left, right, or straight down the middle. But I just don't see any legitimate, rational, reasonable arguments against allowing people who are in love and wanting to marry to do so just because they are gay or lesbian.
I would like to say that there are legitimate arguments on both sides of the issue. I try to see all sides of issues, even those I feel passionate about. I try to see the merits of a John McCain presidency even though I am a staunch Obama supporter. (I don't see any merits by the way, but at least I've tried) I listen to the legitimate concerns of the other camp in the immigration debate, and think that their concerns can be combined with my concerns, which are namely focused on the children of immigrants who have very few options to further their education and become fully productive members of society once they graduate from high school. I see both sides of the abortion debate, I actually side with the Republicans on free trade issues, at least in theory, as I do on some fiscal issues. I believe, as do many conservatives, that morals and values should be taught in the public schools, not limited to, but also not excluding what would be considered religious teachings. The major world religions offer us much wisdom and knowledge and we should not ignore this, the first amendment in my opinion was never intended to eliminate religious debate from the public square but was merely intended to ensure that no one belief system would have priority over others. I believe, unlike most public educators I know, that President Bush's No Child Left Behind Act, while not perfect, has been generally good for our educational system because it has led to much greater accountability. My point is that while I am a staunch liberal and progressive in most realms, I appreciate other viewpoints and am not afraid to adopt them if I am so moved, even though it causes me to receive grief and consternation from some of my liberal friends who see me as a traitor to the cause. My cause is the common good as I see it, and I'll take good ideas from whichever direction they come, left, right, or straight down the middle. But I just don't see any legitimate, rational, reasonable arguments against allowing people who are in love and wanting to marry to do so just because they are gay or lesbian.
The most common arguments are that somehow if you allow gay people to marry that it will demean the institution of marriage. What demeans the institution of marriage is people that don't take it seriously, get married when they aren't really in love, have kids when they can't even take care of themselves, and then divorce at the first sign of trouble. Another argument against allowing gays and lesbians to marry is the old slippery slope argument. It goes basically like this, if you allow gay people to marry, the next step is to allow adults to marry children, or farm animals, and next thing you know someone is getting married to a hunk of cheese. And if we allow people to marry hunks of cheese, well that's the fourth sign of the apocalypse. OK, so maybe that's a little ridiculous, but the point is that the arguments against gay marriage are mostly ridiculous. Another commonly used argument is the religious aspect, that homosexuality is a sin and goes against the Bible. Personally, I read the Bible, and I've never come across anything mentioning homosexuality. Not that I'm denying it's in there, but I've never seen it mentioned in the parts that I read, in the Septuagint in the Old Testament, or in the Gospels, or in the Psalms or Proverbs. It's not like there is a commandment that thou shalt not love members of the same sex and commit to them for life. There is however plenty about loving thy neighbor and respecting one another, I guess it just depends on what you want to focus on. If your church tells you that homosexuality is a sin, so be it, who am I to tell you how you should feel or think. But who are you to tell me or anyone else who we can love and decide to share our lives with.
Civil unions are not enough, that is second class citizenship and that is inherently un-American. It's not just about being able to share health benefits or having power of attorney, although those are practical considerations that are important. To my way of thinking, it is about the fundamental freedom of association, of being able to follow your heart, to live life as you see fit, to love who you choose to love, and to express that love publicly in the same way that heterosexual people are able to do. Anything less is a denial of civil rights, and basic human rights, period. If the tables were turned, and being straight was shunned and looked down upon by many, if straight people had to deal with discrimination in the workplace and ridicule by small minded barbarians, would I stop loving my wife, would I feel any less worthy than the gay majority? The answer is a resounding hell no! I would love her with all my heart and all my soul, just as I do now, and if people didn't like it then that's on them. So I will defend the right of all people to marry, and hope that both gay and straight people honor their commitments and bring more love to a world that can always use more of it.
Just Win Baby
The NBA Finals are going back to Beantown, for one more game at least, and hopefully two. Forget objective journalism for a moment, I am writing this as a die-hard and long time Laker fan, who like many of my purple and gold brethren, have been through the proverbial emotional roller coaster with our beloved team this season. It started out with our hero and franchise player, Kobe Bean Bryant, demanding a trade. Screw the guy were my thoughts at the time, if he doesn't want to be a Laker let him go to some second rate team, (any team west of the 110 freeway) and live out his life in exile, what did we ever win with him as the leader, can't be any worse without him. But the season began and Kobe was still around, so pro sports today being what they are we overlook the lack of loyalty and move on. And low and behold, the Lakers actually started out halfway decent, maybe they'll finally get back to the playoffs, not that they can compete with the big boys in the west, San Antonio, Phoenix, and Dallas, but at least they're moving in the right direction.
Then the mid season trade with Memphis, the most lopsided deal since Manhattan Island, or at least since the Louisiana Purchase, brought The Spaniard, Pau Gasol to the left coast. Getting Gasol was like a baseball team getting a really good number two starter, not only did it relieve the pressure off of the main guy Kobe, but it allowed Lamar Odom to move to the number three spot, which is what he is better suited to. Along with solid point guard play from Derrick Fisher in his second go-round with L.A., efficient if sometimes sporadic role play from the Slavs, Radmonavich and Vuyacich, the Pac-10 pair, Luke Walton and Jordan Farmar, and the Lakers had a pretty good eight man rotation. Enough to secure the number one seed in the Western Conference playoff tournament, and enough to waltz through the first round against Denver, survive a hard fought second round series against a feisty Utah Jazz squad, and to rather easily dispose of the defending champ San Antonio Spurs in the conference finals. Dallas and Phoenix never materialized as serious threats, exposed along the way as soft defensively, physically, and mentally. When the Lakers won the Spurs series, it seemed a foregone conclusion that the title would be theirs, only the low scoring and overrated Celtics stood in their way, and as we were told all season long, the east was inferior to the west in every way.
As they say, somebody lied to us, because the Celtics as it turns out can play a little ball themselves. After struggling through their first two playoff series against Atlanta and Cleveland, they started to hit their stride by knocking off perennial bridesmaid Detroit in the conference finals, then proceeded to take it to the Lakers in games one and two in Boston. Not to worry though, things would get right back in the City of the Angels (I refuse to use the horrendous terms La La Land or Tinseltown to refer to my hometown) where the Lakers were unbeaten in the playoffs. And sure enough, game three was a victory, albeit with some flaws, but a victory nonetheless, and when game four started off with a 24 point lead for the home squad, it appeared that the ship had been righted and all was once again right with the world.
Then came the collapse of the century, the Lakers blew the lead, the largest blown lead, or if you are looking from the other side, biggest comeback, in NBA Finals history. What should have been a 2-2 series with momentum wearing Laker colors instead turned into a 3-1 Celtics lead. No one has ever come back from a 3-1 deficit in the Finals all the pundits told us. Of course these are the same pundits who reminded us a few years back that no baseball team had ever come back from a 3-0 deficit to win a series, which is exactly what the 2004 Red Sox did to beat their vaunted rival, the New York Yankees in the playoffs that year. These types of stats may be of interest to bettors who try to predict the future based on the past, but they are of dubious value to me. History is always being made in sports, somebody has to be the first. Each series, and each game is a unique event, mostly independent of those that preceded it. In baseball they say that momentum is your next day's starting pitcher. If you flip a coin 99 times and it comes up heads every time, the odds on the next flip are still 50-50.
Which brings us to the present state of the series. The Lakers nearly blew another big lead last night, but held on to win and take the series back to Boston, with the Green and White leading 3-2. Again, we are told how no team has ever come back to win the last two on the road, and the commentators say the Lakers can't play enough defense to win on the east coast. They played enough defense to win two of three on the left coast, is the air thicker or the baskets larger on the other side of the country? And while we're at the no defense argument, how is that the Celtics are lauded for their defensive prowess while the Lakers are lambasted, yet the final score of game five was 103-98 in favor of the Lakers. What am I missing here? The Lakers hold Boston under 100, the Celtics give up over 100, and the Lakers are the team that can't defend?
In the interest of full disclosure, I picked L.A. to win this series in five games. I underestimated the Celtics, and thought that with the way the Lakers played against Utah and San Antonio, in particular the way that Pau Gasol, aka The Spaniard (Gladiator reference if you've seen the movie) and Lamar Odom produced that L.A. would win handily. I was wrong, and have thus sworn off making any more NBA predictions, at least until next preseason. I also picked the Miami Heat to win the Eastern Conference before the season started, to give a little background on just how bad a prognosticator I am, and thought that when the Suns traded for Shaq they would win the title. Mark the Serb I'm not.
But I do know this, the games are not decided based on what some ex-journeyman with no hair and a cheap suit think, or what some east coast blowhard with the middle initial A tells us will happen, just as they are not decided by what some wanna be writer with a blog read by a handful of close friends and family predicts. The games are decided between the white lines, by the players, coaches, and refs, but mostly by the players. Home court advantage is overrated, and the most talented team usually, not always, but usually wins out. Each game is an individual event. There isn't a whole lot of carry over from one game to the next, for that matter even from one quarter to the next. These are two good teams, pretty evenly matched, and anything can happen in the next game. The Lakers best chance to win game six will be if they get 20-10 nights from Gasol and Odom, a bit of production from their bench, and an MVP caliber performance from Kobe. That would produce a Game 7 on Thursday and once again, anything can happen. As the players would say and most likely have, they don't need to win the next two, they just need to win the next game, and then they can take it from there. In the words of the once legendary Al Davis, now is the time to forget all the analysis and predictions, buckle down, stay focused on the big prize, and just win baby, just win.
Then the mid season trade with Memphis, the most lopsided deal since Manhattan Island, or at least since the Louisiana Purchase, brought The Spaniard, Pau Gasol to the left coast. Getting Gasol was like a baseball team getting a really good number two starter, not only did it relieve the pressure off of the main guy Kobe, but it allowed Lamar Odom to move to the number three spot, which is what he is better suited to. Along with solid point guard play from Derrick Fisher in his second go-round with L.A., efficient if sometimes sporadic role play from the Slavs, Radmonavich and Vuyacich, the Pac-10 pair, Luke Walton and Jordan Farmar, and the Lakers had a pretty good eight man rotation. Enough to secure the number one seed in the Western Conference playoff tournament, and enough to waltz through the first round against Denver, survive a hard fought second round series against a feisty Utah Jazz squad, and to rather easily dispose of the defending champ San Antonio Spurs in the conference finals. Dallas and Phoenix never materialized as serious threats, exposed along the way as soft defensively, physically, and mentally. When the Lakers won the Spurs series, it seemed a foregone conclusion that the title would be theirs, only the low scoring and overrated Celtics stood in their way, and as we were told all season long, the east was inferior to the west in every way.
As they say, somebody lied to us, because the Celtics as it turns out can play a little ball themselves. After struggling through their first two playoff series against Atlanta and Cleveland, they started to hit their stride by knocking off perennial bridesmaid Detroit in the conference finals, then proceeded to take it to the Lakers in games one and two in Boston. Not to worry though, things would get right back in the City of the Angels (I refuse to use the horrendous terms La La Land or Tinseltown to refer to my hometown) where the Lakers were unbeaten in the playoffs. And sure enough, game three was a victory, albeit with some flaws, but a victory nonetheless, and when game four started off with a 24 point lead for the home squad, it appeared that the ship had been righted and all was once again right with the world.
Then came the collapse of the century, the Lakers blew the lead, the largest blown lead, or if you are looking from the other side, biggest comeback, in NBA Finals history. What should have been a 2-2 series with momentum wearing Laker colors instead turned into a 3-1 Celtics lead. No one has ever come back from a 3-1 deficit in the Finals all the pundits told us. Of course these are the same pundits who reminded us a few years back that no baseball team had ever come back from a 3-0 deficit to win a series, which is exactly what the 2004 Red Sox did to beat their vaunted rival, the New York Yankees in the playoffs that year. These types of stats may be of interest to bettors who try to predict the future based on the past, but they are of dubious value to me. History is always being made in sports, somebody has to be the first. Each series, and each game is a unique event, mostly independent of those that preceded it. In baseball they say that momentum is your next day's starting pitcher. If you flip a coin 99 times and it comes up heads every time, the odds on the next flip are still 50-50.
Which brings us to the present state of the series. The Lakers nearly blew another big lead last night, but held on to win and take the series back to Boston, with the Green and White leading 3-2. Again, we are told how no team has ever come back to win the last two on the road, and the commentators say the Lakers can't play enough defense to win on the east coast. They played enough defense to win two of three on the left coast, is the air thicker or the baskets larger on the other side of the country? And while we're at the no defense argument, how is that the Celtics are lauded for their defensive prowess while the Lakers are lambasted, yet the final score of game five was 103-98 in favor of the Lakers. What am I missing here? The Lakers hold Boston under 100, the Celtics give up over 100, and the Lakers are the team that can't defend?
In the interest of full disclosure, I picked L.A. to win this series in five games. I underestimated the Celtics, and thought that with the way the Lakers played against Utah and San Antonio, in particular the way that Pau Gasol, aka The Spaniard (Gladiator reference if you've seen the movie) and Lamar Odom produced that L.A. would win handily. I was wrong, and have thus sworn off making any more NBA predictions, at least until next preseason. I also picked the Miami Heat to win the Eastern Conference before the season started, to give a little background on just how bad a prognosticator I am, and thought that when the Suns traded for Shaq they would win the title. Mark the Serb I'm not.
But I do know this, the games are not decided based on what some ex-journeyman with no hair and a cheap suit think, or what some east coast blowhard with the middle initial A tells us will happen, just as they are not decided by what some wanna be writer with a blog read by a handful of close friends and family predicts. The games are decided between the white lines, by the players, coaches, and refs, but mostly by the players. Home court advantage is overrated, and the most talented team usually, not always, but usually wins out. Each game is an individual event. There isn't a whole lot of carry over from one game to the next, for that matter even from one quarter to the next. These are two good teams, pretty evenly matched, and anything can happen in the next game. The Lakers best chance to win game six will be if they get 20-10 nights from Gasol and Odom, a bit of production from their bench, and an MVP caliber performance from Kobe. That would produce a Game 7 on Thursday and once again, anything can happen. As the players would say and most likely have, they don't need to win the next two, they just need to win the next game, and then they can take it from there. In the words of the once legendary Al Davis, now is the time to forget all the analysis and predictions, buckle down, stay focused on the big prize, and just win baby, just win.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Dear Dad
Dear Dad,
I just wanted to write you a thank you note for all you have given to and done for me over the years.
Thank you for putting the old baseball glove in my crib as a newborn, I have to believe that had something to do with my love of baseball and ability to play it.
Thank you for taking me to more Dodger games than I can remember. My oldest memory is from the game when Bill Buckner hit a big home run but it got called back because he used an illegal bat. I didn't really understand what was going on, I couldn't have been more than five or six years old at the time, but you explained it to me. I remember going to picture day on that hot summer day, getting there early, going down on the field, drinking a bunch of orange sodas, then throwing up all over the bleacher seats before the game even started. And then you taking me to the LAAC to cool down and go swimming, we never got to see the game, but I remember getting a sense of satisfaction out of the fact that the guy sitting next to us that had to deal with the stench was wearing a Giants cap. Guess I was kind of warped even as a little kid. I remember the drives to the game, talking and listening to Dodger Talk on KABC with Geoff Witcher, who you never really cared for because you said he was a homer, and so I never really liked him either. I remember finding the fat guy and getting our seats out in the right field bleachers, parking in our secret spot, and then trying to keep up with your adult strides as we made our way through the parking lot. I remember the excitement and wonder that always came when we caught that first glimpse of the outfield grass upon entering the stadium, seeing my beloved Dodgers warming up and taking batting practice, the Dodger Dogs, the orange sodas, the peanuts, those rock hard frozen chocolate malts with the flat little wooden spoons, getting a program and keeping score, putting on the jacket you always insisted I bring because it would get cold once the sun went down, the drive home hoping to beat the traffic, and looking forward to the next game.
I remember the numerous hours you spent with me at the school playing ball, playing catch, throwing me batting practice, hitting me grounders, taking out your pitching wedge and hitting golf balls while I went out into the outfield and tried to catch them in my glove without them going through the webbing.
I remember all my little league games that you came to, always taking off early from work, finding your spot out in the outfield because you didn't like sitting in the stands with the other parents, your Chevy Malibu parked out beyond the fence. I can't even tell you how much I loved seeing you there and knowing that I was trying to play well and make you proud of me. Basketball was my thing, and I think Pappap got the biggest kick out of seeing me play football, although you were at all those games as well, but I know you enjoyed watching me play baseball the most. I never realized just how much until I was sitting at Jake's little league games, watching my own boy play.
I remember how Mom and I would hide those little blue tabs under your pillow and how you would pretend to be all annoyed by it, I got such a kick out of that.
I remember you laying on the couch after dinner and a hard day's work, reading the LA Times and listening to the Dodger game on the radio, and having me get you another toothpick and three-quarters cup of coffee. To this day I love the newspaper, and I just realized this but I usually only fill my coffee cup up three-quarters of the way. You'll be happy to know that I read the papers online now, so I don't leave the newsprint marks on the walls by the light switches that you used to get on me about. And I never slam the front door, nor do I step on and break sprinkler heads.
I remember you holding me accountable when I screwed up, whether it be with the belt, or by grounding me. I didn't like it much at the time, but I appreciate that you cared about me enough to instill discipline in me. I remember you getting on me for doing yard work, half-assed as you called it, and teaching me that if a job was worth doing it was worth doing it the right way. I remember the night in Sacramento that you were pissed at Michael and me, most likely for good reason, and the waitress asking you if it had been a long day and you said it had been a long decade. That one hurt at the time, but you apologized for it later, and as a dad myself now, I know exactly how you felt. Sometimes raising kids can be a real pain in the ass, you feel like you're not appreciated and you aren't making any progress. But then you get over yourself and carry on because that's what you signed on to do, and you taught me that.
I remember how you always took care of your family, how you were always good to Mom, how you treated her with respect and love. I remember one time I swore in front of Mom and you got on me big time, I don't think I ever did that again. I remember one time driving home from a family function, I was in the other car with some of the relatives, and they started talking about you and what a great family guy you were, I can't describe how proud that made me feel that you were my pops.
I remember when you catching me ditching school in 8th grade, walking down the alley from Will Shilling's apartment, not a time I was glad to see your Chevy Malibu. I remember you deciding to send me to military school, a decision I hated at the time, but one I look back on and admire the balls it must have taken you to make such a hard decision. I remember the drives in on Monday morning, and how much I dreaded seeing the Cherry Street exit on the freeway, but how much I loved seeing you coming to pick me up on Friday afternoons. And mostly I remember that a few months later how you allowed me to convince you that I had grown up and gained from the experience, and that I should be able to go to Torrance High instead of back to military school. Looking back on it, that time meant alot to me, it did cause me to get over myself and grow up, and it made me appreciate what I had.
I remember you telling me that I could be anything I wanted to be in life, and that the only thing that would ever stop me in life was myself. You were right by the way.
You taught me how to be a man, how to be disciplined, how to put my family ahead of everything else, how to be a loyal and faithful husband, how to be a dedicated and loving father, how to stick with it no matter what, how to be a competitor and not to accept failure, how to always try to keep improving and getting better all the time. You gave me, and continue to give me love and support and guidance, while at the same time respecting my fierce independent streak and not preaching to me or telling me how to live my life. I've never told you this, but you are the one man in this world who truly gets me, and the one man whom I would rather spend time with than anyone else. So Happy Father's Day Pops, we'll be talking tonight like we do on most Sundays, chats I look forward to without fail. Thanks for the memories, and here's to those that are yet to be made.
Love,
Your son,
Mark
I just wanted to write you a thank you note for all you have given to and done for me over the years.
Thank you for putting the old baseball glove in my crib as a newborn, I have to believe that had something to do with my love of baseball and ability to play it.
Thank you for taking me to more Dodger games than I can remember. My oldest memory is from the game when Bill Buckner hit a big home run but it got called back because he used an illegal bat. I didn't really understand what was going on, I couldn't have been more than five or six years old at the time, but you explained it to me. I remember going to picture day on that hot summer day, getting there early, going down on the field, drinking a bunch of orange sodas, then throwing up all over the bleacher seats before the game even started. And then you taking me to the LAAC to cool down and go swimming, we never got to see the game, but I remember getting a sense of satisfaction out of the fact that the guy sitting next to us that had to deal with the stench was wearing a Giants cap. Guess I was kind of warped even as a little kid. I remember the drives to the game, talking and listening to Dodger Talk on KABC with Geoff Witcher, who you never really cared for because you said he was a homer, and so I never really liked him either. I remember finding the fat guy and getting our seats out in the right field bleachers, parking in our secret spot, and then trying to keep up with your adult strides as we made our way through the parking lot. I remember the excitement and wonder that always came when we caught that first glimpse of the outfield grass upon entering the stadium, seeing my beloved Dodgers warming up and taking batting practice, the Dodger Dogs, the orange sodas, the peanuts, those rock hard frozen chocolate malts with the flat little wooden spoons, getting a program and keeping score, putting on the jacket you always insisted I bring because it would get cold once the sun went down, the drive home hoping to beat the traffic, and looking forward to the next game.
I remember the numerous hours you spent with me at the school playing ball, playing catch, throwing me batting practice, hitting me grounders, taking out your pitching wedge and hitting golf balls while I went out into the outfield and tried to catch them in my glove without them going through the webbing.
I remember all my little league games that you came to, always taking off early from work, finding your spot out in the outfield because you didn't like sitting in the stands with the other parents, your Chevy Malibu parked out beyond the fence. I can't even tell you how much I loved seeing you there and knowing that I was trying to play well and make you proud of me. Basketball was my thing, and I think Pappap got the biggest kick out of seeing me play football, although you were at all those games as well, but I know you enjoyed watching me play baseball the most. I never realized just how much until I was sitting at Jake's little league games, watching my own boy play.
I remember how Mom and I would hide those little blue tabs under your pillow and how you would pretend to be all annoyed by it, I got such a kick out of that.
I remember you laying on the couch after dinner and a hard day's work, reading the LA Times and listening to the Dodger game on the radio, and having me get you another toothpick and three-quarters cup of coffee. To this day I love the newspaper, and I just realized this but I usually only fill my coffee cup up three-quarters of the way. You'll be happy to know that I read the papers online now, so I don't leave the newsprint marks on the walls by the light switches that you used to get on me about. And I never slam the front door, nor do I step on and break sprinkler heads.
I remember you holding me accountable when I screwed up, whether it be with the belt, or by grounding me. I didn't like it much at the time, but I appreciate that you cared about me enough to instill discipline in me. I remember you getting on me for doing yard work, half-assed as you called it, and teaching me that if a job was worth doing it was worth doing it the right way. I remember the night in Sacramento that you were pissed at Michael and me, most likely for good reason, and the waitress asking you if it had been a long day and you said it had been a long decade. That one hurt at the time, but you apologized for it later, and as a dad myself now, I know exactly how you felt. Sometimes raising kids can be a real pain in the ass, you feel like you're not appreciated and you aren't making any progress. But then you get over yourself and carry on because that's what you signed on to do, and you taught me that.
I remember how you always took care of your family, how you were always good to Mom, how you treated her with respect and love. I remember one time I swore in front of Mom and you got on me big time, I don't think I ever did that again. I remember one time driving home from a family function, I was in the other car with some of the relatives, and they started talking about you and what a great family guy you were, I can't describe how proud that made me feel that you were my pops.
I remember when you catching me ditching school in 8th grade, walking down the alley from Will Shilling's apartment, not a time I was glad to see your Chevy Malibu. I remember you deciding to send me to military school, a decision I hated at the time, but one I look back on and admire the balls it must have taken you to make such a hard decision. I remember the drives in on Monday morning, and how much I dreaded seeing the Cherry Street exit on the freeway, but how much I loved seeing you coming to pick me up on Friday afternoons. And mostly I remember that a few months later how you allowed me to convince you that I had grown up and gained from the experience, and that I should be able to go to Torrance High instead of back to military school. Looking back on it, that time meant alot to me, it did cause me to get over myself and grow up, and it made me appreciate what I had.
I remember you telling me that I could be anything I wanted to be in life, and that the only thing that would ever stop me in life was myself. You were right by the way.
You taught me how to be a man, how to be disciplined, how to put my family ahead of everything else, how to be a loyal and faithful husband, how to be a dedicated and loving father, how to stick with it no matter what, how to be a competitor and not to accept failure, how to always try to keep improving and getting better all the time. You gave me, and continue to give me love and support and guidance, while at the same time respecting my fierce independent streak and not preaching to me or telling me how to live my life. I've never told you this, but you are the one man in this world who truly gets me, and the one man whom I would rather spend time with than anyone else. So Happy Father's Day Pops, we'll be talking tonight like we do on most Sundays, chats I look forward to without fail. Thanks for the memories, and here's to those that are yet to be made.
Love,
Your son,
Mark
Saturday, June 14, 2008
If It's Sunday...
Many Americans get up on Sunday morning, have some breakfast, or not depending on whether they are taking communion that day, get in the shower, get dressed up in their Sunday best and head out the door for church. I am not one of those, not that I have anything against church, I've been on occasion and it's something I never regret having done afterwards, but I am just not a churchgoer. My faith is expressed in my own, personal and unique style, which suits me and God perfectly fine. My Sunday morning routine includes waking early before the rest of the household is up and about, putting on a pot of coffee, turning on my laptop, and reading the Sunday papers online, checking emails and Facebook, often writing in my blog and hopefully soon, as in tomorrow, starting to write the novel I've been wanting to start for quite some time. Then when my wife wakes up, we turn on the TV, go to the DVR list, and put on Meet the Press with Tim Russert. It generally takes us well over an hour to watch the show, because we are constantly pausing and discussing and debating the topics covered, the statements made, the hair styles and quality of the suits being worn, anything and everything. It is one of my, if not my favorite times of the week, just me and my best girl, politics and issues, and Mr. Russert.
When I learned of his passing yesterday it both shocked and saddened me. I was on the elliptical at the gym, getting a mid-day workout in while my son was in physical therapy rehabbing his knee from recent arthroscopic surgery. I was watching the France-Netherlands soccer match on the screen directly in front of me, and after a break in the action turned to look at the other screens and saw the news on CNN. Tim Russert dies at 58. I immediately texted my wife with the news. It seemed surreal at first, you don't expect someone at that age to die. When Jim McKay passed recently it was not unexpected, he had long since retired from the public spotlight and was 84 years old. But someone who goes shy of their 60th birthday makes you stand up and take notice. Especially when your own dad just turned 60, seeing the onscreen headline, Tim Russert 1950-2008 really hit home because my dad was born in 1948. My next text, my phone happened to be on the top of the machine that day, was to my mom and my dad telling them I loved them and looked forward to seeing them next month. Like Mr. Russert, I am enamored of my own father, and forever in his debt for raising me with the right mix of love, tenderness, understanding, appreciation, toughness, discipline, and support. He taught me, as much with his own actions as with his words, how to be a man. I am trying, not always successfully, but trying nonetheless to impart these teachings onto my own son, whom I love and admire dearly. So far, despite my own shortcomings as a father, he has managed to become a pretty special and amazing young man, I'll give most of the credit on that note to his mom, to him, and to God. I'll take whatever credit is left to go around. More on this issue tomorrow, in honor of father's day I will be writing about the men who raised me and the son I'm raising now.
I bring this up however, because one of the things that made Russert so beloved is his humanity, the fact that he unabashedly showed love for his own father and son. He was someone you felt that you could relate to, that somehow you knew, even though you knew you didn't. Some people are blessed with a certain charisma, an ability to relate to others and a genuineness that shines through in everything they do. It draws people to them, it's natural, never forced, always real. My pappap was such a person, whether we were hitting balls at the driving range or out eating breakfast, he could strike up a conversation with anyone anytime about anything. My daughter has that quality as well, one of the reasons my personal nickname for her is sunshine girl. Tim Russert, although I never met the man, seemed to have this quality, and if the comments about him by those who knew him are any indication, he touched many people in his life.
He was, as Senator McCain eloquently and aptly put it yesterday, the pre-eminent journalist of his time. Some people don't get appreciation until after they are gone, but Mr. Russert was not such a person. My wife and I talked often about how much we admired his work, how he was easily our favorite journalist. In fact, if I had a Mount Rushmore of journalists, it would have three busts on it, Jim Murray, Bob Woodward, and Tim Russert. He was thorough, tough, fair, and enlightening. He, like too few of his compatriots in the mainstream media, embodied the notion of the media as the fourth estate, the watchdog and informer of the workings our three branches of government. He was a part of our Sunday mornings for a long time, and his passing is something that will leave those mornings a little less enjoyable, entertaining, and enlightening. In honor of his memory, I'll leave with his trademark closing, if it's Sunday, it's Meet the Press.
When I learned of his passing yesterday it both shocked and saddened me. I was on the elliptical at the gym, getting a mid-day workout in while my son was in physical therapy rehabbing his knee from recent arthroscopic surgery. I was watching the France-Netherlands soccer match on the screen directly in front of me, and after a break in the action turned to look at the other screens and saw the news on CNN. Tim Russert dies at 58. I immediately texted my wife with the news. It seemed surreal at first, you don't expect someone at that age to die. When Jim McKay passed recently it was not unexpected, he had long since retired from the public spotlight and was 84 years old. But someone who goes shy of their 60th birthday makes you stand up and take notice. Especially when your own dad just turned 60, seeing the onscreen headline, Tim Russert 1950-2008 really hit home because my dad was born in 1948. My next text, my phone happened to be on the top of the machine that day, was to my mom and my dad telling them I loved them and looked forward to seeing them next month. Like Mr. Russert, I am enamored of my own father, and forever in his debt for raising me with the right mix of love, tenderness, understanding, appreciation, toughness, discipline, and support. He taught me, as much with his own actions as with his words, how to be a man. I am trying, not always successfully, but trying nonetheless to impart these teachings onto my own son, whom I love and admire dearly. So far, despite my own shortcomings as a father, he has managed to become a pretty special and amazing young man, I'll give most of the credit on that note to his mom, to him, and to God. I'll take whatever credit is left to go around. More on this issue tomorrow, in honor of father's day I will be writing about the men who raised me and the son I'm raising now.
I bring this up however, because one of the things that made Russert so beloved is his humanity, the fact that he unabashedly showed love for his own father and son. He was someone you felt that you could relate to, that somehow you knew, even though you knew you didn't. Some people are blessed with a certain charisma, an ability to relate to others and a genuineness that shines through in everything they do. It draws people to them, it's natural, never forced, always real. My pappap was such a person, whether we were hitting balls at the driving range or out eating breakfast, he could strike up a conversation with anyone anytime about anything. My daughter has that quality as well, one of the reasons my personal nickname for her is sunshine girl. Tim Russert, although I never met the man, seemed to have this quality, and if the comments about him by those who knew him are any indication, he touched many people in his life.
He was, as Senator McCain eloquently and aptly put it yesterday, the pre-eminent journalist of his time. Some people don't get appreciation until after they are gone, but Mr. Russert was not such a person. My wife and I talked often about how much we admired his work, how he was easily our favorite journalist. In fact, if I had a Mount Rushmore of journalists, it would have three busts on it, Jim Murray, Bob Woodward, and Tim Russert. He was thorough, tough, fair, and enlightening. He, like too few of his compatriots in the mainstream media, embodied the notion of the media as the fourth estate, the watchdog and informer of the workings our three branches of government. He was a part of our Sunday mornings for a long time, and his passing is something that will leave those mornings a little less enjoyable, entertaining, and enlightening. In honor of his memory, I'll leave with his trademark closing, if it's Sunday, it's Meet the Press.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Envelopes Full of Cash
Envelopes full of cash, and other forms of corruption, deceit, and downright cheating is the topic of today's ramble. From politics, to sports, to the average Joe, it seems that there is, if not an epidemic, at least quite alot of shenanigans going on these days. So much so that we can easily become numb to it all as our tolerance levels get so high we almost forget to notice. Immoral behavior then starts to become the norm, the bar is shifted, and society is often worse for the wear.
Morality comes from Latin and roughly translates as manner, character, and proper behavior, which is a good place to start an examination of what should be versus what increasingly is. How we treat people, how we represent ourselves, and how we act define our morality. Morality speaks to our sense of right and wrong. There are certain universal accepted truths, think of the ten commandments, or at least the ones we can easily remember, such as thou shalt not kill. Most people would agree that killing another human is wrong, except under extreme circumstances such as self-defense, or during a justified war. But like with most things, there are areas of disagreement, some legitimate, such as when is war justified and what is the line between self-defense and preemption, two questions that get to the heart of the Iraq War. Some justifications however are indefensible to my way of thinking however. Just the other day I heard the story of a teen named Larry King, who was shot and killed by a high school classmate for the crime of, get ready for this one, being gay. As if this horrendous taking of life was not bad enough, a woman being interviewed all but excused the killer as just a kid who should be treated with kid gloves. Can't imagine that the fact the victim was gay had anything to do with her lenient attitude. Amazing how bigotry will allow people to turn a blind eye to human cruelty and immorality.
Another of the big ones as far as Moses' top ten list (straight from the home offices in Sinai) is thou shalt not commit adultery. Apparently our nation's politicians, governors especially, seemed to miss the memo on this one. From the adulterer-in-chief Bill Clinton, to former New York governor Elliot Spitzer, his replacement David Patterson, and now apparently the governor of Nevada are all known adulterers. Throw in prostitution and it gets even better, as in for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in state or federal government. We get numb to it so that by the time the next guy gets caught with his hand, or some other body part, in the cookie jar, will we be as outraged and indignant? The other night on the Colbert Report I watched an interview with a writer for the New Yorker who is making the argument, heard elsewhere also, that men are just unfaithful by nature and that we need to stop being so prudish. In a rare departure from his on show character, the real Stephen Colbert came out and summed up perfectly how I feel on the matter by asking if this wasn't just an excuse for someone to be an a-hole. Which of course is exactly what it is. One of the things that separates us from the other animals, both human and non-human, is our ability to use judgement based on morality, knowing what is right and what is wrong and having the discipline to act accordingly.
The world of sports and entertainment are often a mirror of society at large, and this is certainly the case on this topic. The latest has to do with the NBA and allegations of game fixing for the purposes of profit, both for individual referees, and if we believe the allegations of Tim Donaghy, for the benefit of specific teams and the league as a whole. Sports are supposed to be a bastion of fair play, sportsmanship, and meritocracy. Professional sports, while still entertaining, have become havens for cheating and poor behavior, witness all of the baseball brawls we see lately, a good number of which are among teammates no less. We have football coaches secretly video taping opponents signals, and now college baseball teams, my Alma mater in fact, faking fights before the game to try and distract the other team. And the scourge of professional sports, most notably baseball but likely prevalent in other sports as well, is doping. Not the 1970's style of doping, where players would actually smoke dope, or take other recreational drugs openly in clubhouses, or the 1930's style where players would get loaded on booze before games, but the modern style which includes needles in the backside and human growth hormones, the so-called steroids scandals. It has gotten to the point where we hardly even bat an eyelash when another ballplayer is exposed, Roger Clemens alone is alleged to have used steroids, had an affair with a teenage girl, and also used Viagra as an aid for his pitching. Talk about killing two birds with one stone. Don't think we'll be seeing anymore commercials with him and his wife anytime soon.
The list goes on, and on, and on. What is shocking one day is commonplace the next, until something newer and more shocking comes along. I don't have any answers or neat tidy conclusion, and no songs come to mind. The title by the way comes from what I heard when I turned on the radio the other day, listening to the BBC news on the way home from the gym, and the first thing I hear is the announcer in a British accent talking about envelopes full of cash. I laughed to myself, thinking that nothing good ever comes from that one. Turns out it was a story of corruption in the Israeli government. Even a nation based on the one of the world's great religions is not immune to bribery and immoral behavior. I suppose there is nothing new under the sun, this type of stuff has been going on since day one, and likely will continue. I'm not an overly moralistic or a preachy type, I'm certainly no saint, but I'm old school enough to appreciate right from wrong, and doing the right thing never goes out of style. Maybe that will catch on, and the new trend will be playing by the rules, staying faithful, and treating each other with respect and dignity. It's worth hoping for at least.
Morality comes from Latin and roughly translates as manner, character, and proper behavior, which is a good place to start an examination of what should be versus what increasingly is. How we treat people, how we represent ourselves, and how we act define our morality. Morality speaks to our sense of right and wrong. There are certain universal accepted truths, think of the ten commandments, or at least the ones we can easily remember, such as thou shalt not kill. Most people would agree that killing another human is wrong, except under extreme circumstances such as self-defense, or during a justified war. But like with most things, there are areas of disagreement, some legitimate, such as when is war justified and what is the line between self-defense and preemption, two questions that get to the heart of the Iraq War. Some justifications however are indefensible to my way of thinking however. Just the other day I heard the story of a teen named Larry King, who was shot and killed by a high school classmate for the crime of, get ready for this one, being gay. As if this horrendous taking of life was not bad enough, a woman being interviewed all but excused the killer as just a kid who should be treated with kid gloves. Can't imagine that the fact the victim was gay had anything to do with her lenient attitude. Amazing how bigotry will allow people to turn a blind eye to human cruelty and immorality.
Another of the big ones as far as Moses' top ten list (straight from the home offices in Sinai) is thou shalt not commit adultery. Apparently our nation's politicians, governors especially, seemed to miss the memo on this one. From the adulterer-in-chief Bill Clinton, to former New York governor Elliot Spitzer, his replacement David Patterson, and now apparently the governor of Nevada are all known adulterers. Throw in prostitution and it gets even better, as in for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in state or federal government. We get numb to it so that by the time the next guy gets caught with his hand, or some other body part, in the cookie jar, will we be as outraged and indignant? The other night on the Colbert Report I watched an interview with a writer for the New Yorker who is making the argument, heard elsewhere also, that men are just unfaithful by nature and that we need to stop being so prudish. In a rare departure from his on show character, the real Stephen Colbert came out and summed up perfectly how I feel on the matter by asking if this wasn't just an excuse for someone to be an a-hole. Which of course is exactly what it is. One of the things that separates us from the other animals, both human and non-human, is our ability to use judgement based on morality, knowing what is right and what is wrong and having the discipline to act accordingly.
The world of sports and entertainment are often a mirror of society at large, and this is certainly the case on this topic. The latest has to do with the NBA and allegations of game fixing for the purposes of profit, both for individual referees, and if we believe the allegations of Tim Donaghy, for the benefit of specific teams and the league as a whole. Sports are supposed to be a bastion of fair play, sportsmanship, and meritocracy. Professional sports, while still entertaining, have become havens for cheating and poor behavior, witness all of the baseball brawls we see lately, a good number of which are among teammates no less. We have football coaches secretly video taping opponents signals, and now college baseball teams, my Alma mater in fact, faking fights before the game to try and distract the other team. And the scourge of professional sports, most notably baseball but likely prevalent in other sports as well, is doping. Not the 1970's style of doping, where players would actually smoke dope, or take other recreational drugs openly in clubhouses, or the 1930's style where players would get loaded on booze before games, but the modern style which includes needles in the backside and human growth hormones, the so-called steroids scandals. It has gotten to the point where we hardly even bat an eyelash when another ballplayer is exposed, Roger Clemens alone is alleged to have used steroids, had an affair with a teenage girl, and also used Viagra as an aid for his pitching. Talk about killing two birds with one stone. Don't think we'll be seeing anymore commercials with him and his wife anytime soon.
The list goes on, and on, and on. What is shocking one day is commonplace the next, until something newer and more shocking comes along. I don't have any answers or neat tidy conclusion, and no songs come to mind. The title by the way comes from what I heard when I turned on the radio the other day, listening to the BBC news on the way home from the gym, and the first thing I hear is the announcer in a British accent talking about envelopes full of cash. I laughed to myself, thinking that nothing good ever comes from that one. Turns out it was a story of corruption in the Israeli government. Even a nation based on the one of the world's great religions is not immune to bribery and immoral behavior. I suppose there is nothing new under the sun, this type of stuff has been going on since day one, and likely will continue. I'm not an overly moralistic or a preachy type, I'm certainly no saint, but I'm old school enough to appreciate right from wrong, and doing the right thing never goes out of style. Maybe that will catch on, and the new trend will be playing by the rules, staying faithful, and treating each other with respect and dignity. It's worth hoping for at least.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
How About a Little Cheese With That Whine?
There seems to be quite alot of whining, bellyaching, moaning and groaning, complaining, and hand-wringing going on these days. Sure, there is always plenty to bemoan, but at some point we've got to stand up and say enough is enough. I believe that it's important in life to pick your battles, so on that note we should also be a bit more judicious in what we choose to complain about. Because a legitimate complaint can easily turn into a whine, which only goes to drown out the real stuff we should be concerned with.
Case in point number one is the cost of gas. Look, I hate high gas prices as much if not more than the next guy or gal. I drive 22 miles to work each day, although that is down from my previous job, where I drove 28 miles each way, so at least my driving is down by around 20%. Every little bit helps. I also drive 9 miles each way to the gym most weekdays, and would love to see the large chain gym I belong to open up a branch closer to home, but again, what are you gonna do, it's not like I can stop going to work, or to the gym, or running errands and so forth. Life must be lived and in the modern world we live in that means driving. So gas keeps going up every day, deal with it. To borrow from the wise philosophers Led Zeppelin, cryin' won't help you, prayin' won't do you no good. Here's a thought, instead of complaining about how high gas prices are, drive slower and more efficiently. How many people boo-hooing about gas are still driving super-sized gas guzzlers, racing off the line, tailgating, and driving well in excess of the speed limit. The right lane is actually a pretty peaceful place to be I have come to find out. Who knew?
For the next group of whiners, I have a simple request: get over it already, your candidate lost, move on and support Senator Obama in the fight against the dark side. Hillary Clinton is an amazing woman, her run for the Democratic nomination blazed trails that as a father of a daughter and a person who loves, admires, and has great respect for women makes me hopeful for a future where a glass ceiling is something that simply allows us to bring more natural light into our houses. But the race has been run, and the people have spoken. Stop the talk about supporting McCain, and stop thinking that somehow all Obama supporters are a bunch of sexist joke making, he-man woman haters. Again, whining only serves to detract from the attention that should be given to the sexism and chauvinism (are they the same thing, I'm not sure) that is out there. Believe me, if it were reversed and Clinton had won, I would be telling Obama supporters the same thing.
Sports has never been short of complaining, crying, and excuse making, and now is certainly no exception. Big Brown lost the Belmont fair and square. He ran hard for about three-quarters of the race, and when he would have been expected to make his stretch run and blow away the competition as he had in Louisville and Pimlico earlier this spring, he simply didn't have it. No excuses, sometimes you have that extra burst, some days it just ain't there, that's sports, heck that's life. Stop blaming the hoof injury, the heat, the compressed schedule, the jockey, and just accept defeat and move on. At least the horse himself isn't complaining, his handlers should take their cue from him.
The Lakers are down 2-0 to the Boston Celtics in the NBA finals, which so far have shown LA to be as overrated as Boston was underrated, at least by me and probably by most west of the Rocky Mountains. The Lakers are down because they are being outplayed, out hustled, out coached, and oh yeah, outscored by the team that apparently can put it in the basket after all. Stop blaming the refs and box out once in awhile, move your feet on defense and find some heart, you might find results more to your liking. Or maybe the Celtics are just the better team, if so then battle as hard as you can, then accept your beat down like men. I know that's a sexist notion, and probably not accurate because many women I know are very tough, but it's a tried and true expression so I'm sticking with it. Before you complain about it, remember the theme here. Regardless, strive for victory, accept defeat if it comes, and stop looking for someone else to blame. This is good advice for all of the youth sports dads out there with Earl Woods syndrome as well. Stop blaming the coach, the umps, and the refs if little Johnny isn't the star player of the team, or hitting where you think he should in the lineup. You'll enjoy the games alot more, as will your son, and fewer good coaches, umps, and refs will be driven from their mostly volunteer gigs working with our youth.
So is there anything worth whining about? Sure, just be certain that if you are going to complain then you are ready to do something about it. I had a boss who was known for taking a complaint and turning it into a committee chair assignment, in other words, if you see a problem then you can be in charge of the solution. Flawed trickle down economic policies that lead to greater income inequality is worth a beef or two, you can easily rectify that at the ballot box in November. Ditto for the cost of health care, corporate welfare, the war in Iraq, and America's low standing in the eyes of the world. The next president and Congress won't be able to do much about the high cost of gas in the short term, but the aforementioned issues can and should be dealt with by the next government. While we're at it, it's worth a mention to address wasteful government spending, the lack of a sensible and effective energy policy, environmental policy, immigration policy, and we could do much better in terms of our overall educational system. So there is plenty to complain about, knowing which battles to fight is the key. But while we're waiting for everyone to get on board, how about passing that plate of cheese over my way, it's looking good and my stomach is starting to grumble.
Case in point number one is the cost of gas. Look, I hate high gas prices as much if not more than the next guy or gal. I drive 22 miles to work each day, although that is down from my previous job, where I drove 28 miles each way, so at least my driving is down by around 20%. Every little bit helps. I also drive 9 miles each way to the gym most weekdays, and would love to see the large chain gym I belong to open up a branch closer to home, but again, what are you gonna do, it's not like I can stop going to work, or to the gym, or running errands and so forth. Life must be lived and in the modern world we live in that means driving. So gas keeps going up every day, deal with it. To borrow from the wise philosophers Led Zeppelin, cryin' won't help you, prayin' won't do you no good. Here's a thought, instead of complaining about how high gas prices are, drive slower and more efficiently. How many people boo-hooing about gas are still driving super-sized gas guzzlers, racing off the line, tailgating, and driving well in excess of the speed limit. The right lane is actually a pretty peaceful place to be I have come to find out. Who knew?
For the next group of whiners, I have a simple request: get over it already, your candidate lost, move on and support Senator Obama in the fight against the dark side. Hillary Clinton is an amazing woman, her run for the Democratic nomination blazed trails that as a father of a daughter and a person who loves, admires, and has great respect for women makes me hopeful for a future where a glass ceiling is something that simply allows us to bring more natural light into our houses. But the race has been run, and the people have spoken. Stop the talk about supporting McCain, and stop thinking that somehow all Obama supporters are a bunch of sexist joke making, he-man woman haters. Again, whining only serves to detract from the attention that should be given to the sexism and chauvinism (are they the same thing, I'm not sure) that is out there. Believe me, if it were reversed and Clinton had won, I would be telling Obama supporters the same thing.
Sports has never been short of complaining, crying, and excuse making, and now is certainly no exception. Big Brown lost the Belmont fair and square. He ran hard for about three-quarters of the race, and when he would have been expected to make his stretch run and blow away the competition as he had in Louisville and Pimlico earlier this spring, he simply didn't have it. No excuses, sometimes you have that extra burst, some days it just ain't there, that's sports, heck that's life. Stop blaming the hoof injury, the heat, the compressed schedule, the jockey, and just accept defeat and move on. At least the horse himself isn't complaining, his handlers should take their cue from him.
The Lakers are down 2-0 to the Boston Celtics in the NBA finals, which so far have shown LA to be as overrated as Boston was underrated, at least by me and probably by most west of the Rocky Mountains. The Lakers are down because they are being outplayed, out hustled, out coached, and oh yeah, outscored by the team that apparently can put it in the basket after all. Stop blaming the refs and box out once in awhile, move your feet on defense and find some heart, you might find results more to your liking. Or maybe the Celtics are just the better team, if so then battle as hard as you can, then accept your beat down like men. I know that's a sexist notion, and probably not accurate because many women I know are very tough, but it's a tried and true expression so I'm sticking with it. Before you complain about it, remember the theme here. Regardless, strive for victory, accept defeat if it comes, and stop looking for someone else to blame. This is good advice for all of the youth sports dads out there with Earl Woods syndrome as well. Stop blaming the coach, the umps, and the refs if little Johnny isn't the star player of the team, or hitting where you think he should in the lineup. You'll enjoy the games alot more, as will your son, and fewer good coaches, umps, and refs will be driven from their mostly volunteer gigs working with our youth.
So is there anything worth whining about? Sure, just be certain that if you are going to complain then you are ready to do something about it. I had a boss who was known for taking a complaint and turning it into a committee chair assignment, in other words, if you see a problem then you can be in charge of the solution. Flawed trickle down economic policies that lead to greater income inequality is worth a beef or two, you can easily rectify that at the ballot box in November. Ditto for the cost of health care, corporate welfare, the war in Iraq, and America's low standing in the eyes of the world. The next president and Congress won't be able to do much about the high cost of gas in the short term, but the aforementioned issues can and should be dealt with by the next government. While we're at it, it's worth a mention to address wasteful government spending, the lack of a sensible and effective energy policy, environmental policy, immigration policy, and we could do much better in terms of our overall educational system. So there is plenty to complain about, knowing which battles to fight is the key. But while we're waiting for everyone to get on board, how about passing that plate of cheese over my way, it's looking good and my stomach is starting to grumble.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
DDay Plus One
Yesterday marked the 64th anniversary of one of the most important and incredible days in our national history, and while I thought about the importance of the day throughout and intended to write, I didn't get around to it, so on the idea that late is better than never, here goes nothing.
I would like to start off by paying my respects to those who gave their lives on this day, and for that matter on any day from April 19, 1775 to the present day. While my pacifist, anti-war sentiments are a matter of record, my respect for those who serve their country in the military and who put their lives on the line is immense. Any tribute that I would offer to these soldiers is by definition lacking, as I have not been willing to make the same sacrifices, so I offer my humble appreciation to those that have and do. I will continue to oppose the war in Iraq, not because I am unpatriotic or callous to what our soldiers are trying to accomplish, but because I believe with all my soul that to send young men and women into battle is something with grave consequences and should be done only under the most extreme, most urgent, and most necessary circumstances. If I felt that such a situation truly existed and that I could play a part, I would willingly join such a cause and serve my country. There is a scene in the greatest and most humane war movie ever created, "Saving Private Ryan", that always brings tears to my eyes. It is the scene where Captain Miller, played by Tom Hanks, tells the men that he is an English teacher back home and coaches baseball in the springtime. He wonders how he'll ever tell his wife about "days like today" when he gets home. That sums up the sacrifices made by those who served at Normandy, who landed on Omaha and Utah beaches on June 6, 1944, and who proceeded to form the greatest fighting force in history and to defeat the biggest threat to peace and liberty ever put together. It speaks to the fact that these were not trained killers, but regular, every-day people, put into incredible circumstances, doing whatever they could to accomplish their mission, protect their buddies who fought alongside them, and make it home to their families and friends.
Of course many never made it home, and many of those who did are no longer with us, fewer and fewer of them as time continues to pass. But like the deeds of Achilles and Hector over 3000 years ago, what they did and how they lived will continue to live on well after they have passed. As an aside, I am not comparing the accomplishments of the soldiers during Operation Overlord to those of the Trojan War, the Normandy invasion was infinitely more important and necessary, I am simply using an analogy to illustrate how one's actions may long outlive the man himself.
As a pacifist, I am completely fascinated and intrigued by combat, by the methods used, the reasons for fighting, the results produced, and ultimately by the mindset, discipline, and commitment of those who engage in battle. I suppose it may be tantamount to a vegetarian being interested in the different cuts of beef, but it is who I am and what interests me, so be it. I like to think that by better understanding military tactics and as best I can as someone who has never experienced it first hand, what it must feel like to be in battle, that I can gain a greater appreciation of the world around me and those I share it with. One thing that strikes me consistently is that those who have experienced it, at least the ones I have known, are the least likely to glorify war, least likely to consider themselves to be heroes, and the most likely to recognize unnecessary and immoral wars when they see them. The opposite tends to hold true as well, namely that those who seem to be the most gung-ho are the ones that have never experienced the whiff of grapeshot. I always took John McCain to be an example of the former and George W. Bush and Bill Clinton examples of the latter, unfortunately McCain seems to have become a major hawk, one of the reasons that make his candidacy for president a non-starter for me.
But back to the men who landed on the coast of northern France three score and four years ago, and for that matter all of those who served in the War. I believe that I, and we as a nation and free society owe such a gratitude to these people and to their families and friends who sacrificed for a cause greater than any self interest or material gain. It is a gratitude that comes from the depths of my soul, and can only be expressed fully by living a decent, honest life of service to others, to my family first and foremost, to my friends and acquaintances, and to my fellow citizens and residents, whether they be my students or the guy down the street that I hardly know. We are all Americans, and even beyond that we are all citizens of the world. We are all in this thing together, and despite numerous differences, we share a common national and cultural heritage, we share a common humanity. That humanity was seriously threatened seven decades ago by the forces of tyranny and oppression, and it is a tribute to the soldiers and those on the home front, not only in America, but in Britain, France, and numerous other allied countries, that we live today in a world that while imperfect, offers more freedom, liberty, and equality than it ever has, certainly more than it would have had the Nazis and Fascists won the day. So this is my tribute on DDay plus one, it may not be much but it's what I have to offer in my own unique way, it's my best effort to remember, honor, and respect what those much greater and more courageous than I have given to me, and to all of us.
I would like to start off by paying my respects to those who gave their lives on this day, and for that matter on any day from April 19, 1775 to the present day. While my pacifist, anti-war sentiments are a matter of record, my respect for those who serve their country in the military and who put their lives on the line is immense. Any tribute that I would offer to these soldiers is by definition lacking, as I have not been willing to make the same sacrifices, so I offer my humble appreciation to those that have and do. I will continue to oppose the war in Iraq, not because I am unpatriotic or callous to what our soldiers are trying to accomplish, but because I believe with all my soul that to send young men and women into battle is something with grave consequences and should be done only under the most extreme, most urgent, and most necessary circumstances. If I felt that such a situation truly existed and that I could play a part, I would willingly join such a cause and serve my country. There is a scene in the greatest and most humane war movie ever created, "Saving Private Ryan", that always brings tears to my eyes. It is the scene where Captain Miller, played by Tom Hanks, tells the men that he is an English teacher back home and coaches baseball in the springtime. He wonders how he'll ever tell his wife about "days like today" when he gets home. That sums up the sacrifices made by those who served at Normandy, who landed on Omaha and Utah beaches on June 6, 1944, and who proceeded to form the greatest fighting force in history and to defeat the biggest threat to peace and liberty ever put together. It speaks to the fact that these were not trained killers, but regular, every-day people, put into incredible circumstances, doing whatever they could to accomplish their mission, protect their buddies who fought alongside them, and make it home to their families and friends.
Of course many never made it home, and many of those who did are no longer with us, fewer and fewer of them as time continues to pass. But like the deeds of Achilles and Hector over 3000 years ago, what they did and how they lived will continue to live on well after they have passed. As an aside, I am not comparing the accomplishments of the soldiers during Operation Overlord to those of the Trojan War, the Normandy invasion was infinitely more important and necessary, I am simply using an analogy to illustrate how one's actions may long outlive the man himself.
As a pacifist, I am completely fascinated and intrigued by combat, by the methods used, the reasons for fighting, the results produced, and ultimately by the mindset, discipline, and commitment of those who engage in battle. I suppose it may be tantamount to a vegetarian being interested in the different cuts of beef, but it is who I am and what interests me, so be it. I like to think that by better understanding military tactics and as best I can as someone who has never experienced it first hand, what it must feel like to be in battle, that I can gain a greater appreciation of the world around me and those I share it with. One thing that strikes me consistently is that those who have experienced it, at least the ones I have known, are the least likely to glorify war, least likely to consider themselves to be heroes, and the most likely to recognize unnecessary and immoral wars when they see them. The opposite tends to hold true as well, namely that those who seem to be the most gung-ho are the ones that have never experienced the whiff of grapeshot. I always took John McCain to be an example of the former and George W. Bush and Bill Clinton examples of the latter, unfortunately McCain seems to have become a major hawk, one of the reasons that make his candidacy for president a non-starter for me.
But back to the men who landed on the coast of northern France three score and four years ago, and for that matter all of those who served in the War. I believe that I, and we as a nation and free society owe such a gratitude to these people and to their families and friends who sacrificed for a cause greater than any self interest or material gain. It is a gratitude that comes from the depths of my soul, and can only be expressed fully by living a decent, honest life of service to others, to my family first and foremost, to my friends and acquaintances, and to my fellow citizens and residents, whether they be my students or the guy down the street that I hardly know. We are all Americans, and even beyond that we are all citizens of the world. We are all in this thing together, and despite numerous differences, we share a common national and cultural heritage, we share a common humanity. That humanity was seriously threatened seven decades ago by the forces of tyranny and oppression, and it is a tribute to the soldiers and those on the home front, not only in America, but in Britain, France, and numerous other allied countries, that we live today in a world that while imperfect, offers more freedom, liberty, and equality than it ever has, certainly more than it would have had the Nazis and Fascists won the day. So this is my tribute on DDay plus one, it may not be much but it's what I have to offer in my own unique way, it's my best effort to remember, honor, and respect what those much greater and more courageous than I have given to me, and to all of us.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
The Times They Are a-Changin'
I have had a theory for a long time, what I call my generational theory. Basically, there are three generations of adults living at any one time, and a fourth generation that is coming of age. The old generation is the generation that gives their approval to the workings of the middle generation, who has the majority of the power to actually make things happen. The young generation is still coming to terms with itself and learning to wield its' power, and as such is most important for the ideas it has, it sets the tempo. So the young generation sets the wheels in motion with its' fresh ideas and new ways of looking at the world, the middle generation puts these ideas into play because they run things, and the old generation allows it all to take place, namely because they are the generation that votes in the greatest numbers.
Currently, the old generation is the GI Generation, or as they have been dubbed, the Greatest Generation. These are the people that are now mostly retired, senior citizens, the generation that grew up during the Depression, fought and won the War, and built the country in the post-war period. They also got busy and kept after it, producing the middle generation, the Baby Boomers.
The Baby Boomers are the group that came of age in the 60's and early 70's, and were shaped by sex, drugs, and rock and roll, long hair, Vietnam, Watergate, and some of the best music ever made. This was the first generation to outwardly clash with their parents over basic values and belief systems, giving rise to the term generation gap. They accomplished a great deal, failed to accomplish a great deal, and continue to have an over sized impact due in part to their large numbers. While they may have been getting busy just as often if not more often than their parents, they also were introduced to birth control pills and liberalized divorce laws, leading to a proceeding generation much smaller in number.
What Generation X, my generation, lacks in quantity they make up for in quality. We didn't grow up having to fight off large numbers of siblings for the leftover table scraps, we got plenty of attention from our parents, even though that love for many of us, thankfully myself not included, came from divorced households. But not to despair, that just meant more presents at Christmas as we now had step parents and grandparents doting on us. My generation never had to worry about tough economic times and world wars like our grandparents, and we never had to see our friends go off to be killed and maimed in pointless and immoral wars like Vietnam. We came of age in the Reagan era, and if we didn't fully trust the government to do the right thing, we had hope that it could, in theory at least. We took on many of our parents liberal attitudes about individualism and tolerance, not to mention their taste in music.
So back to my theory, the simple version goes like this: The older generation, great as they may be in many regards, and as much of a debt as we owe them for saving the world from the forces of evil such as the Nazis and Fascists, are nonetheless mostly intolerant, conservative, and quite often narrow minded. They still use terms like colored people to refer to anyone who is non-white, and while they may not be overtly racist, they aren't anywhere near enlightened either. They drink the hard stuff, eat red meat and anything fried, and would still smoke filterless cigarettes if they could. They don't trust anyone who deviates from the norm, whether that be someone who smokes a little pot once in awhile, or listens to loud and angry music, or gets busy with someone of the same gender. We owe this generation much, but this generation holds back our progress as a people. That's why there was such a clash with their own children, the so-called culture wars that started with the Beatniks back in the 50's and continued with the hippies in the 60's.
The Baby Boomers are down for the most part, sure some have sold out and become their parents generation, but many still listen to the music, talk the talk, and even walk the walk when it comes to tolerance and openness and respecting diversity. I'm not sure what it is, but there is something I find heartening about seeing the balding hippie who, despite the gaping hole in the middle of the continent, still wears the pony tail halfway down their back. It says to me, yeah, I'm old and I can't change that, but I'm still young at heart and I won't conform to the man, even if as the one commercial jokes, I now am the man.
My generation has been called slackers and worse, and much of it is true, but we have good hearts, good heads, and I think that we have been raised with the values of the Boomers who parented us, but with the smarts to learn from their mistakes and to put more of our values into play.
But the generation to really watch out for is the current up and comers, the Millennial Generation. For my money, this is the real greatest generation, raised by Gen X'ers, they can relate to their Boomer grandparents on many levels, but they take tolerance and openness and diversity to a new level. They aren't hung up on race and social divisions nearly as much as previous generations, they are more compassionate and in tune with the world around them, they are adaptable, technologically savvy, and ambitious, but not just in a material, let's go out and get paid sense.
So my hope is this, that as the transition which is already underway continues, that the Boomers will become the older generation, giving their nod of approval to the Gen X'ers, who are starting to run things and put into play new ways of doing things. And both generations will be spurred on and kept honest by the incredible talents and enormous energy of the Millennials, who are just starting to come of age and take their place at the table.
What are some manifestations of this? The recent decision in California by the state supreme court to legalize gay marriage is a good place to start. While the decision may end up being overturned on appeals and voter referendums, the die has been cast. It is only a matter of time before the forces of tolerance win out, and gays and lesbians can have the same rights of marriage, and all the legal benefits, as straight people, with no preconditions or second-class status. One day soon we will look back on the days when gays and lesbians had to settle for civil unions or move to certain states for their civil rights to be recognized with as much amazement as we now look back on the days when Whites and Blacks couldn't legally marry. It's only a matter of time before a gay man or woman can not only marry and adopt and raise children, but also join the military without having to not tell if asked.
Another great example of the generational transition taking place is in our presidential politics. Less than a half century after Blacks finally gained full voting rights, a black man is poised to become our nation's next, and in my humble opinion, one of its' greatest presidents. Less than a century after women were granted the right to vote, a female candidate has garnered more primary votes than anyone other than Barack Obama. Hillary Clinton will not become our first female president in all likelihood, but it is now only a matter of time before it happens, because she has blazed the trail and given the American people a living example of what a female president will look and sound and feel like. The true sign of progress will be when these things aren't even a big deal anymore, just as it was once a big deal for an NFL team to start a black quarterback, it now goes with hardly a mention, especially by the younger generations.
In the words of one of the earliest Boomers, in spirit if not officially in age, Mr. Bob Dylan:
The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Is rapidly past
The order is rapidly fadin'
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'
And from where I sit, it's happening not a moment too soon.
Currently, the old generation is the GI Generation, or as they have been dubbed, the Greatest Generation. These are the people that are now mostly retired, senior citizens, the generation that grew up during the Depression, fought and won the War, and built the country in the post-war period. They also got busy and kept after it, producing the middle generation, the Baby Boomers.
The Baby Boomers are the group that came of age in the 60's and early 70's, and were shaped by sex, drugs, and rock and roll, long hair, Vietnam, Watergate, and some of the best music ever made. This was the first generation to outwardly clash with their parents over basic values and belief systems, giving rise to the term generation gap. They accomplished a great deal, failed to accomplish a great deal, and continue to have an over sized impact due in part to their large numbers. While they may have been getting busy just as often if not more often than their parents, they also were introduced to birth control pills and liberalized divorce laws, leading to a proceeding generation much smaller in number.
What Generation X, my generation, lacks in quantity they make up for in quality. We didn't grow up having to fight off large numbers of siblings for the leftover table scraps, we got plenty of attention from our parents, even though that love for many of us, thankfully myself not included, came from divorced households. But not to despair, that just meant more presents at Christmas as we now had step parents and grandparents doting on us. My generation never had to worry about tough economic times and world wars like our grandparents, and we never had to see our friends go off to be killed and maimed in pointless and immoral wars like Vietnam. We came of age in the Reagan era, and if we didn't fully trust the government to do the right thing, we had hope that it could, in theory at least. We took on many of our parents liberal attitudes about individualism and tolerance, not to mention their taste in music.
So back to my theory, the simple version goes like this: The older generation, great as they may be in many regards, and as much of a debt as we owe them for saving the world from the forces of evil such as the Nazis and Fascists, are nonetheless mostly intolerant, conservative, and quite often narrow minded. They still use terms like colored people to refer to anyone who is non-white, and while they may not be overtly racist, they aren't anywhere near enlightened either. They drink the hard stuff, eat red meat and anything fried, and would still smoke filterless cigarettes if they could. They don't trust anyone who deviates from the norm, whether that be someone who smokes a little pot once in awhile, or listens to loud and angry music, or gets busy with someone of the same gender. We owe this generation much, but this generation holds back our progress as a people. That's why there was such a clash with their own children, the so-called culture wars that started with the Beatniks back in the 50's and continued with the hippies in the 60's.
The Baby Boomers are down for the most part, sure some have sold out and become their parents generation, but many still listen to the music, talk the talk, and even walk the walk when it comes to tolerance and openness and respecting diversity. I'm not sure what it is, but there is something I find heartening about seeing the balding hippie who, despite the gaping hole in the middle of the continent, still wears the pony tail halfway down their back. It says to me, yeah, I'm old and I can't change that, but I'm still young at heart and I won't conform to the man, even if as the one commercial jokes, I now am the man.
My generation has been called slackers and worse, and much of it is true, but we have good hearts, good heads, and I think that we have been raised with the values of the Boomers who parented us, but with the smarts to learn from their mistakes and to put more of our values into play.
But the generation to really watch out for is the current up and comers, the Millennial Generation. For my money, this is the real greatest generation, raised by Gen X'ers, they can relate to their Boomer grandparents on many levels, but they take tolerance and openness and diversity to a new level. They aren't hung up on race and social divisions nearly as much as previous generations, they are more compassionate and in tune with the world around them, they are adaptable, technologically savvy, and ambitious, but not just in a material, let's go out and get paid sense.
So my hope is this, that as the transition which is already underway continues, that the Boomers will become the older generation, giving their nod of approval to the Gen X'ers, who are starting to run things and put into play new ways of doing things. And both generations will be spurred on and kept honest by the incredible talents and enormous energy of the Millennials, who are just starting to come of age and take their place at the table.
What are some manifestations of this? The recent decision in California by the state supreme court to legalize gay marriage is a good place to start. While the decision may end up being overturned on appeals and voter referendums, the die has been cast. It is only a matter of time before the forces of tolerance win out, and gays and lesbians can have the same rights of marriage, and all the legal benefits, as straight people, with no preconditions or second-class status. One day soon we will look back on the days when gays and lesbians had to settle for civil unions or move to certain states for their civil rights to be recognized with as much amazement as we now look back on the days when Whites and Blacks couldn't legally marry. It's only a matter of time before a gay man or woman can not only marry and adopt and raise children, but also join the military without having to not tell if asked.
Another great example of the generational transition taking place is in our presidential politics. Less than a half century after Blacks finally gained full voting rights, a black man is poised to become our nation's next, and in my humble opinion, one of its' greatest presidents. Less than a century after women were granted the right to vote, a female candidate has garnered more primary votes than anyone other than Barack Obama. Hillary Clinton will not become our first female president in all likelihood, but it is now only a matter of time before it happens, because she has blazed the trail and given the American people a living example of what a female president will look and sound and feel like. The true sign of progress will be when these things aren't even a big deal anymore, just as it was once a big deal for an NFL team to start a black quarterback, it now goes with hardly a mention, especially by the younger generations.
In the words of one of the earliest Boomers, in spirit if not officially in age, Mr. Bob Dylan:
The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Is rapidly past
The order is rapidly fadin'
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'
And from where I sit, it's happening not a moment too soon.
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