I have just returned from Colorado where I interfaced with different persons in my family. There was my mother, who turned 83 when I was there. There was my great niece, Kathryn, who is about one and a half years old. There is my 57 year old sister and her 27 year old daughter and her husband. And there were others.
Being in inter-generational situations is not new or very unusual for me. Much of my life was spent in traditional cultures in Africa and Latin America where segmentation of generations is not normal--at least it was not normal when I was there. People of different ages live together under one roof; play together and often dance together (can you hear an American teen respond "Gross!" at that idea?); pray together in church and work together.
In other words, the kind of predominant youth culture with its own symbols, activities, language, clothing, etc. as we know it in America is somewhat missing in these situations. The idea that youth is split off from the wider community of human care and concern and material endeavor would shock many of my friends in Africa and Latin America as "unnatural."
In these places and elsewhere in the world, young people aspire towards adulthood and heavier responsibility. Not at all like in the USA where adults often take their cues from youth cultures and actually aspire in their constant makeovers to being young or youthful.
Much of my life, especially in the bookstore where I work, is spent interfacing with people much younger than myself. I like it very much! And I have learned so much from other generations. As someone who is nearly 62 years old, I am exposed to youth music, new ideas and many questions that I never remotely entertained when I was the same age as my younger colleague friends.
In my home, I have hosted younger persons for up to two years at a time. They have become my family along with my daughter and son and others.
So, if I get such energy and pleasure out of being with young people, even in this generationally segmented society, what is my problem? My funk?
To put it briefly, I am at home with what Paul Vaillant of Harvard calls "generativity" or caring for the next generation. This seems to come naturally to me. But, what I discovered in Colorado, especially as I tried to interface well and in a healthy way with my mother, is that it is much harder for me to relate to older persons (hey, I mean "older than me at age 62").
We spent some time in the great mountains at Rocky Mountain National Park. Nowhere in that gorgeous place is there a flat surface. I found myself fretting constantly about my mother's balance. I imagined the one fall while I would be with her that would result in a broken hip! Thank God, it did not happen.
I also found it hard to listen to her. Her points of reference are so much in the past and embedded in memories. While I wanted to listen to her as she reminisced about my grandfather or my great grandmother or cousin Hazel, I found myself wanting to have some great discussion about Reinhold Niebuhr or about the state of the world economy . . . . . . . .
Conclusion: I am not good, for whatever reason, with older persons. And, frankly, this bothers me because I am fast on the way to where my mom is now. A fourth of a lifetime only separates where she is now from where I will be.
I returned from Colorado troubled with my inability to reach out as well to the very old as to the very young. This is my intergenerational funk and, you won't be surprised, it is compounded by the fact that it involves my own mother.
So, I am busy mulling this over and trying to learn more about myself and about the aging process itself. My goal has been to age well. But I don't see how this can happen if I can't feel good about those who have already aged. By all accounts, my mom has done a good job. She is in relatively good health, is independent in mind and body and is interested in many things around her. I'll be lucky if I do as well as she has.
Normally, I wouldn't be so introspective on this blog. I decided that it would not be a "stream of conscience" blog when I established it. But my funk surely points to forces that are present in our current society.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Sunday, May 08, 2005
Marketing False Needs
All of a sudden I am seeing a lot of advertisements for things that I supposedly "must" have. The marketing is direct and very concise. Bookstores are putting out lists of "must read" books. Department stores are telling me what are the latest fashion "must buys". There are now "must see" movies and DVDs as well as "must hear" CDs.
Everything that some corporate office looking for enhanced profits in the first or second quarters is billed as something that I, the consumer, "must" do.
What is behind this "must . . . . whatever" advertising wave? It is the idea that unless I possess a certain book, CD, piece of clothing, DVD or whatever else is being promoted that I am basically not in step, not with it . . . . probably can't hold my own.
At least that is what these advertising and marketing people would like me to believe.
And, hey, I am sure it works. So many Americans discover their worth through consumerism that this message must deliver the goods. Who wants to be left out if there is a "must read" book that "everyone" is talking about? Who wants to look like a thrift store buyer if I "must" have a Kenneth Cole new outfit?
So we live in a culture of having and having more all the time. But this emphasis on having, very peculiar to a wealthy country where most of what we have doesn't have any relationship to our survival, can't guarantee happiness, even though that is the promise implicit in the advertising.
I wonder if there are other Americans who, when confronted with a "must read," "must wear," "must have" advertisement decide immediately that they will not under any circumstances let such advertising dictate their needs or purchases.
It is hopeful to me that many thousands of Americans are moving in exactly the opposite direction from the corporate marketing offices. They are trying to simplify their lives and their budgets around core values that demonstrate responsibility to human community and the earth. Just recently the free cycling movement has taken root in many American communities. The idea is to offer your things free to other people who can use them. And maybe you will find something good as well. I am part of this movement here in Indianapolis. I have offered many things online and even have a nice aquarium and air filter that was offered through the Indyfreecycle network (but I had to buy the guppies!).
It seems to me that if we go back to Jesus' teaching about the lillies of the field and the birds of the air and how God takes care of them, we are on solid ground for countering advertising that attempts to create false needs.
Everything that some corporate office looking for enhanced profits in the first or second quarters is billed as something that I, the consumer, "must" do.
What is behind this "must . . . . whatever" advertising wave? It is the idea that unless I possess a certain book, CD, piece of clothing, DVD or whatever else is being promoted that I am basically not in step, not with it . . . . probably can't hold my own.
At least that is what these advertising and marketing people would like me to believe.
And, hey, I am sure it works. So many Americans discover their worth through consumerism that this message must deliver the goods. Who wants to be left out if there is a "must read" book that "everyone" is talking about? Who wants to look like a thrift store buyer if I "must" have a Kenneth Cole new outfit?
So we live in a culture of having and having more all the time. But this emphasis on having, very peculiar to a wealthy country where most of what we have doesn't have any relationship to our survival, can't guarantee happiness, even though that is the promise implicit in the advertising.
I wonder if there are other Americans who, when confronted with a "must read," "must wear," "must have" advertisement decide immediately that they will not under any circumstances let such advertising dictate their needs or purchases.
It is hopeful to me that many thousands of Americans are moving in exactly the opposite direction from the corporate marketing offices. They are trying to simplify their lives and their budgets around core values that demonstrate responsibility to human community and the earth. Just recently the free cycling movement has taken root in many American communities. The idea is to offer your things free to other people who can use them. And maybe you will find something good as well. I am part of this movement here in Indianapolis. I have offered many things online and even have a nice aquarium and air filter that was offered through the Indyfreecycle network (but I had to buy the guppies!).
It seems to me that if we go back to Jesus' teaching about the lillies of the field and the birds of the air and how God takes care of them, we are on solid ground for countering advertising that attempts to create false needs.
Monday, April 25, 2005
What Happened to Civility?
We all know the experience by now: The loud person at the next table in a nice restaurant is babbling on a cell phone. "Where are you? . . . . Oh. . . . . Can you take out the trash?" It is not that we would mind it if something truly urgent were at stake, like a heart attack or something. But everywhere we are subjected to streams of discussion that do not concern us or are none of our business. Worse, sometimes we have to listen when the guy with the cell is fighting with his wife!
All of this is a symptom of an increased loss of manners and civility in the U.S.A. today. Appropriate behavior in appropriate circumstances seems to have been left behind.
I know that saying this will make me sound prim and almost Victorian. So be it. It is worth reminding ourselves that there are plenty of societies in the 21st century world where appropriate behavior is valued, encouraged and rewarded.
But what do I mean by civility? Stephen Carter, law professor at Yale and novelist (several years ago he published The Emperor of Ocean Park) wrote a wonderful little book called Civility: Manners, Morals, and the Etiquette of Democracy (Basic Books, 1998). Here is how Carter defines civility: "Civility . . . . . is the sum of the many sacrifices we are called to make for the sake of living together. When we pretend that we travel alone, we can also pretend that these sacrifices are unnecessary. Yielding to this very human instinct for self-seeking . . . . is often immoral, and certainly should not be done without forethought. We should make sacrifices for others not simply because doing so makes social life easier (although it does), but as a signal of respect for our fellow citizens, marking them as full equals, both before the law and before God. Rules of civility are thus also rules of morality: it is morally proper to treat our fellow citizens with respect, and morally improper not to. Our crisis of civility, then, is part of a larger crisis of morality. And because morality is what distinguishes humans from other animals, the crisis is ultimately one of humanity," pp. 11-12.
Cell phone behavior and road rage are standard examples for people commenting on civility today. But several other examples come to mind:
--At a distinguished Indiana liberal arts college known for its progressive policies, faculty and students, a distinguished conservative journalist is invited to speak. During the presentation, an outraged student throws a pie in his face.
--At a downtown Indianapolis retail establishment, a young woman enters the front door, runs up to a cashier and blows an airhorn in his ear, laughs and runs out the door. The cashier has his hearing potentially damaged and is unable to function out of shock.
--A telemarketer manages to get through the web of "n0-call" which I have established and refuses to stop pitching his goods, leaving me no alternative but to hang up.
--A server in a restaurant endures verbal abuse from a customer who has brought her personal problems into the "marketplace." The server is expected to give good customer service (at below standard wages!) to this woman.
What other examples could you add to this list from your own experience?
On television we see the examples of Jerry Springer, Dr. Phil, Family Courts and we think that it is normal to be rude and to let everything out, no matter how hurtful or uncomfortable it is for others. I can't forget the remark a friend from Latin America once made that after she arrived here in the U.S.A. she felt as though she could say or do anything that was on her mind because this was the way Americans act. When I asked why she had this opinion, she said that this is visible all the time on television. And she is right.
Even at the highest levels of our government, incivility seems to have taken hold. Maybe the arrogance of the Bush administration and its inability to see beyond its own policies, allows it to say things that normally should not be stated by governments. What about the derrogatory comments on France and the supposed "old Europe" when we were being pushed into the tragic war in Iraq? This kind of public language does not model careful conflict resolution among adversaries but encourages verbal abuse, pushiness, cultural insensitivity and rudeness at all levels of society.
As we train our children, places where in former times we worked out good rules of behavior, for example, the dinner table where we say "Thank you" and "Please pass the gravy" have almost disappeared. And the habit of writing thank you notes after Christmas, graduation, even weddings, seems to be a rapidly disappearing art.
My many years living in Africa taught me about the huge difference in cultures. It is still true, even in urban areas of Africa, that when you greet someone, you shake hands and ask how they are doing. You do not walk by a person without saying something, usually a formal greeting of some kind. The idea that you are not and isolated self-made person but someone who belongs to a larger group, with responsibilities to it, is what regulates all behavior. Of course, there are rude persons in Africa and rude behavior. That is human nature in all societies and at all times. But on that continent, which we often unfortunately characterize as "under-developed" the common good comes first.
In South Africa, there is a word umbuntu which implies togetherness and human-ness of the society in general.
I am thinking that America needs a good dose of umbuntu.
All of this is a symptom of an increased loss of manners and civility in the U.S.A. today. Appropriate behavior in appropriate circumstances seems to have been left behind.
I know that saying this will make me sound prim and almost Victorian. So be it. It is worth reminding ourselves that there are plenty of societies in the 21st century world where appropriate behavior is valued, encouraged and rewarded.
But what do I mean by civility? Stephen Carter, law professor at Yale and novelist (several years ago he published The Emperor of Ocean Park) wrote a wonderful little book called Civility: Manners, Morals, and the Etiquette of Democracy (Basic Books, 1998). Here is how Carter defines civility: "Civility . . . . . is the sum of the many sacrifices we are called to make for the sake of living together. When we pretend that we travel alone, we can also pretend that these sacrifices are unnecessary. Yielding to this very human instinct for self-seeking . . . . is often immoral, and certainly should not be done without forethought. We should make sacrifices for others not simply because doing so makes social life easier (although it does), but as a signal of respect for our fellow citizens, marking them as full equals, both before the law and before God. Rules of civility are thus also rules of morality: it is morally proper to treat our fellow citizens with respect, and morally improper not to. Our crisis of civility, then, is part of a larger crisis of morality. And because morality is what distinguishes humans from other animals, the crisis is ultimately one of humanity," pp. 11-12.
Cell phone behavior and road rage are standard examples for people commenting on civility today. But several other examples come to mind:
--At a distinguished Indiana liberal arts college known for its progressive policies, faculty and students, a distinguished conservative journalist is invited to speak. During the presentation, an outraged student throws a pie in his face.
--At a downtown Indianapolis retail establishment, a young woman enters the front door, runs up to a cashier and blows an airhorn in his ear, laughs and runs out the door. The cashier has his hearing potentially damaged and is unable to function out of shock.
--A telemarketer manages to get through the web of "n0-call" which I have established and refuses to stop pitching his goods, leaving me no alternative but to hang up.
--A server in a restaurant endures verbal abuse from a customer who has brought her personal problems into the "marketplace." The server is expected to give good customer service (at below standard wages!) to this woman.
What other examples could you add to this list from your own experience?
On television we see the examples of Jerry Springer, Dr. Phil, Family Courts and we think that it is normal to be rude and to let everything out, no matter how hurtful or uncomfortable it is for others. I can't forget the remark a friend from Latin America once made that after she arrived here in the U.S.A. she felt as though she could say or do anything that was on her mind because this was the way Americans act. When I asked why she had this opinion, she said that this is visible all the time on television. And she is right.
Even at the highest levels of our government, incivility seems to have taken hold. Maybe the arrogance of the Bush administration and its inability to see beyond its own policies, allows it to say things that normally should not be stated by governments. What about the derrogatory comments on France and the supposed "old Europe" when we were being pushed into the tragic war in Iraq? This kind of public language does not model careful conflict resolution among adversaries but encourages verbal abuse, pushiness, cultural insensitivity and rudeness at all levels of society.
As we train our children, places where in former times we worked out good rules of behavior, for example, the dinner table where we say "Thank you" and "Please pass the gravy" have almost disappeared. And the habit of writing thank you notes after Christmas, graduation, even weddings, seems to be a rapidly disappearing art.
My many years living in Africa taught me about the huge difference in cultures. It is still true, even in urban areas of Africa, that when you greet someone, you shake hands and ask how they are doing. You do not walk by a person without saying something, usually a formal greeting of some kind. The idea that you are not and isolated self-made person but someone who belongs to a larger group, with responsibilities to it, is what regulates all behavior. Of course, there are rude persons in Africa and rude behavior. That is human nature in all societies and at all times. But on that continent, which we often unfortunately characterize as "under-developed" the common good comes first.
In South Africa, there is a word umbuntu which implies togetherness and human-ness of the society in general.
I am thinking that America needs a good dose of umbuntu.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Silence and Struggle
Last week I spent the final days of Holy Week (called the triduum) at Holy Cross Monastery, an Anglican Benedictine center, located in West Park, New York. I have always found a disconnect between the demands of retail and the requirements of serious Lenten observation. It is hard to be at one moment in a bustling book store and the next moment in a Good Friday observance of Jesus' crucifixion or a Maundy Thursday footwashing. The deep and profound issues of Holy Week have to do with political structures, death, hope, renewal and new life. These are somber matters not easily contemplated in front of a cash register or while opening a box of incoming books or when providing customer service to an irrate customer.
My expectation in going to Holy Cross was that it would provide me with a space for pondering the Lenten narrative with other like-minded persons. I knew that there would be frequent liturgical celebrations throughout the day in which the Scriptures would be read, chanted and silently reflected upon. Within a day I needed to acquaint myself with the ancient terms for these liturgical moments: matins, diurnum, vespers, compline. The monks welcomed about thirty or so of us from across the United States into their monastery with graciousness and good hospitality.
It was announced that there would be silence in the monastery from Maunday Thursday services and footwashing until after breakfast on Holy Saturday. While packing, I had thought of taking my earphones and some cd's but at the last minute I decided not to do this. The idea of the silence was to provide a setting for deep reflection and prayer. The monks put up signs all over the monastery reminding us of the silent order of things.
Even though I live by myself, there is always the cd player, the television, the radio, the telephone and frequent visits to break any silence. At work, in addition to staff and customers, there is always the overhead music system blaring out strange combinations of classics, rock, blues, bluegrass, hip hop . . . . .
So I welcomed the silence with enthusiasm. I slept more. I read a good deal in the comfortable monastery reading room (including an important book by Columbia economist Jeffrey Sacks titled Ending Poverty that I hope to review eventually on this blog). And I did engage in meditation and prayer.
There is no way that I can express how much this experience with silence had a cleansing effect on my mind and on my body. To use an overused metaphor, it felt like rain in the desert. By not battling an array of imposed sounds, I was able to focus on important matters . . . . . or to even choose not to focus on anything. At the end of the two-day silence, I felt more whole and stronger.
Since returning to Indianapolis, I have been thinking about where persons who are on the outside of power structures or who are in some way counter-cultural get the strength to resist or to oppose things. I mean, as should be clear on this blog site I am distressed by many of the actions of the current United States administration. I also disagree with many of the assumptions of large numbers of Americans about gender, consumerism, relations with the world and with ethnic groups in the USA and a host of other issues. All of this is so big and overwhelming that sometimes I am tempted to just throw in the towel . . . . . and yet, I believe in resistance and opposition as critical activities.
Surely, we get strength for resistance and opposition from community or contact with other like-minded persons. For me this comes through my work in the church or Amnesty International or the ACLU. But the sources of strength need to come from beyond activism and ideas.
And this is where frequent practice of silence and meditation come in. In silence it is possible for the inner part of ourselves to be refreshed. It is possible to sort out and reflect upon our ideas, gaining new perspectives and approaches. It is possible in silence to create new spaces for the reception of new ways of doing things.
For me, this means that I need to declare silent days right here in Indianapolis. Of course, this is not easy. But I need to declare rest from noise and sound and talking so that my soul can be nurtured and refreshed. One thing I am thinking of doing is "keeping silence" from Sunday evening through noon on Mondays. Maybe this is just a short period but it can provide the strength that I personally am looking for in order to engage in the larger struggle as a progressive person.
In all of this I am inspired by the practice of persons like Thomas Merton, Nelson Mandela, Mahatma Gandhi and others who knew how to engage in careful meditation and silence while participating fully in some key historic struggles.
My expectation in going to Holy Cross was that it would provide me with a space for pondering the Lenten narrative with other like-minded persons. I knew that there would be frequent liturgical celebrations throughout the day in which the Scriptures would be read, chanted and silently reflected upon. Within a day I needed to acquaint myself with the ancient terms for these liturgical moments: matins, diurnum, vespers, compline. The monks welcomed about thirty or so of us from across the United States into their monastery with graciousness and good hospitality.
It was announced that there would be silence in the monastery from Maunday Thursday services and footwashing until after breakfast on Holy Saturday. While packing, I had thought of taking my earphones and some cd's but at the last minute I decided not to do this. The idea of the silence was to provide a setting for deep reflection and prayer. The monks put up signs all over the monastery reminding us of the silent order of things.
Even though I live by myself, there is always the cd player, the television, the radio, the telephone and frequent visits to break any silence. At work, in addition to staff and customers, there is always the overhead music system blaring out strange combinations of classics, rock, blues, bluegrass, hip hop . . . . .
So I welcomed the silence with enthusiasm. I slept more. I read a good deal in the comfortable monastery reading room (including an important book by Columbia economist Jeffrey Sacks titled Ending Poverty that I hope to review eventually on this blog). And I did engage in meditation and prayer.
There is no way that I can express how much this experience with silence had a cleansing effect on my mind and on my body. To use an overused metaphor, it felt like rain in the desert. By not battling an array of imposed sounds, I was able to focus on important matters . . . . . or to even choose not to focus on anything. At the end of the two-day silence, I felt more whole and stronger.
Since returning to Indianapolis, I have been thinking about where persons who are on the outside of power structures or who are in some way counter-cultural get the strength to resist or to oppose things. I mean, as should be clear on this blog site I am distressed by many of the actions of the current United States administration. I also disagree with many of the assumptions of large numbers of Americans about gender, consumerism, relations with the world and with ethnic groups in the USA and a host of other issues. All of this is so big and overwhelming that sometimes I am tempted to just throw in the towel . . . . . and yet, I believe in resistance and opposition as critical activities.
Surely, we get strength for resistance and opposition from community or contact with other like-minded persons. For me this comes through my work in the church or Amnesty International or the ACLU. But the sources of strength need to come from beyond activism and ideas.
And this is where frequent practice of silence and meditation come in. In silence it is possible for the inner part of ourselves to be refreshed. It is possible to sort out and reflect upon our ideas, gaining new perspectives and approaches. It is possible in silence to create new spaces for the reception of new ways of doing things.
For me, this means that I need to declare silent days right here in Indianapolis. Of course, this is not easy. But I need to declare rest from noise and sound and talking so that my soul can be nurtured and refreshed. One thing I am thinking of doing is "keeping silence" from Sunday evening through noon on Mondays. Maybe this is just a short period but it can provide the strength that I personally am looking for in order to engage in the larger struggle as a progressive person.
In all of this I am inspired by the practice of persons like Thomas Merton, Nelson Mandela, Mahatma Gandhi and others who knew how to engage in careful meditation and silence while participating fully in some key historic struggles.
Sunday, March 20, 2005
Read The Sign of the Book by John Dunning
This site, the Blue Ogee, bills itself as exploring the intersection between the personal and the public in a virtual coffee shop/bookstore environment. Up to now most of the postings have tilted towards public issues of one kind or another.
But what do we do to refresh our spirits when the public issues seem almost too weighty or intractable?
I read. Since an early age, I have loved books. And in real life, I work in a real bookstore!
I am always on the lookout for a book that is challenging, not dumbed-down and that invites the reader into a credible imaginary world.
For most of my life I have read fiction--lots of fiction. But the mystery genre did not begin to attract me until a few years ago. And now I am trying to be a discerning reader in this genre.
So it was a wonderful discovery, almost serendipitous, when I chanced upon a crisp new copy of John Dunning's new bookman mystery, The Sign of the Book. The "bookman" is Cliff Janeway, an ex-cop who deals in rare books out of a dumpy little store on East Colfax in Denver.
The setting for this fourth bookman mystery is Paradise, Colorado, a gorgeous little town nestled in the Rockies. Janeway has been asked to investigate the murder of Bobby Marshall, a bookseller, by his hotshot lawyer lover, Erin D'Angelo. Bobby Marshall's wife, Laura (an old best friend of Erin's) has been accused of the crime.
Who killed Bobby Marshall? Was it Laura, who confessed? Was it his adopted autistic savant child? Was it a bookselling group of thugs run by a corrupted preacher?
And why does Janeway suspect that the large collection of signed books owned by the deceased hold the clue to his death?
Into this mix enters a series of other wonderfully etched characters: a tough local judge, a sadistic policeman, a good guy elder lawyer, the deceased's disfunctional parents and others.
This is a page turner. You will keep turning until the end to find out who the killer was and why.
In the meantime, you will learn a great deal about the rare and used book trade. Maybe it is because of this aspect of the Cliff Janeway series that has attracted so many people in the book trade to the bookman novels.
Go find The Sign of the Book by John Dunning at your local book store or library. Relax with it and then, if you want, share your comments about it with other Blue Ogee readers. By the way, the author, John Dunning, also deals in fine rare books and you can learn more about him from his www site at: www.oldalgonquin.com
P.S. I am backing up in the series and am reading The Bookman's Promise right now. You can never get too much of a good thing!
But what do we do to refresh our spirits when the public issues seem almost too weighty or intractable?
I read. Since an early age, I have loved books. And in real life, I work in a real bookstore!
I am always on the lookout for a book that is challenging, not dumbed-down and that invites the reader into a credible imaginary world.
For most of my life I have read fiction--lots of fiction. But the mystery genre did not begin to attract me until a few years ago. And now I am trying to be a discerning reader in this genre.
So it was a wonderful discovery, almost serendipitous, when I chanced upon a crisp new copy of John Dunning's new bookman mystery, The Sign of the Book. The "bookman" is Cliff Janeway, an ex-cop who deals in rare books out of a dumpy little store on East Colfax in Denver.
The setting for this fourth bookman mystery is Paradise, Colorado, a gorgeous little town nestled in the Rockies. Janeway has been asked to investigate the murder of Bobby Marshall, a bookseller, by his hotshot lawyer lover, Erin D'Angelo. Bobby Marshall's wife, Laura (an old best friend of Erin's) has been accused of the crime.
Who killed Bobby Marshall? Was it Laura, who confessed? Was it his adopted autistic savant child? Was it a bookselling group of thugs run by a corrupted preacher?
And why does Janeway suspect that the large collection of signed books owned by the deceased hold the clue to his death?
Into this mix enters a series of other wonderfully etched characters: a tough local judge, a sadistic policeman, a good guy elder lawyer, the deceased's disfunctional parents and others.
This is a page turner. You will keep turning until the end to find out who the killer was and why.
In the meantime, you will learn a great deal about the rare and used book trade. Maybe it is because of this aspect of the Cliff Janeway series that has attracted so many people in the book trade to the bookman novels.
Go find The Sign of the Book by John Dunning at your local book store or library. Relax with it and then, if you want, share your comments about it with other Blue Ogee readers. By the way, the author, John Dunning, also deals in fine rare books and you can learn more about him from his www site at: www.oldalgonquin.com
P.S. I am backing up in the series and am reading The Bookman's Promise right now. You can never get too much of a good thing!
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Post Election Blues: Learn How to Frame
By now it may seem that the national elections in early November 2004 are "ancient history." John Kerry has faded into media obscurity. The disappointment and anger that many progressives felt has had to give way to "moving on" to other issues and problems.
In one of my earlier postings I referred to comments by friends about possible immigration. Of course, all of them are still here in the USA trying to work, pay the bills, maintain ties of family and friends and--most difficult of all--develop hope about who we are in this period of GWB's triumph. Not an easy task, any of this.
While the specific issues of Social Security, Iran, Iraq, Korea, the debt and myriad other concerns should capture our attention, it seems to me that progressive people should be giving thought to broader frameworks of public discourse and communications. We need to consider that the Right has been giving consideration to these matters for a long time and that this explains their increased ability to appeal to the voters.
Since The Blue Ogee bills itself as a virtual coffeeshop/bookstore, then let me give you this bookseller's recommendation: Go to your nearest Borders Books and pick up a copy of Don't Think of an Elephant: Know Your Values and Frame the Debate by Berkley linguist George Lakoff (ISBN 1-931498-71-7).
Lakoff states that the great challenge to progressives in the period leading up to the new elections--if we wish to win--is to learn how to frame and reframe debates on key issues in our national discourse. He says that "frames are mental structiures that shape the way we see the world. As a result, they shape the goals we seek, the plans we make, the way we act, and what counts as a good or bad outcome of our actions. In politics our frames shape our social policies and the institutions we form to carry out policies. To change our frames is to change all of this Reframing is social change." - p. xv
For example, when George Bush began talking about "tax relief" during his first term, he was using a frame. Lakoff notes that "for there to be relief there must be an affliction, an afflicted party, and a reliever who removes the affliction and is therefore a hero. . . . . And if people try to stop the hero, those people are villains for trying to prevent relief." In other words, the Republicans had set a trap for Democrats.
Sometimes, frames, while not exactly lies, run around the truth by presenting another reality. So when we hear about the Clean Air Act, the frame obscures the reality of actual worse air quality. Or when we hear about No Child Left Behind, the frame obscures the reality the initiative masks of children who are, in fact, left behind. Or, in the current debate on Social Security, there have been Republican references to "saving" Social Security when, in fact, the goal is to roll it back, maybe to pre-Roosevelt non-existence.
Frames reflect underlying values. So in the debate over gay marriage, the question should shift from "Do you believe in same sex marriage?" to "Do you believe that all Americans should have equality before the law in choosing life partners?" (that is my rendering of the question). There is a shift in the framing here.
Framing is a matter that is relevant to the makers and shakers of public policy. But it is a matter that is relevant to progressives as they discuss and debate public issues with friends and associates. We all need to learn how to frame issues at this level.
Lakoff is closely associated with the Rockridge Institute, the only progressive think tank dealing with framing. Rockridge has a very nice www site. Visit it to see more of Lakoff's thought and the thought of others: www.rockridgeinstitute.org
In one of my earlier postings I referred to comments by friends about possible immigration. Of course, all of them are still here in the USA trying to work, pay the bills, maintain ties of family and friends and--most difficult of all--develop hope about who we are in this period of GWB's triumph. Not an easy task, any of this.
While the specific issues of Social Security, Iran, Iraq, Korea, the debt and myriad other concerns should capture our attention, it seems to me that progressive people should be giving thought to broader frameworks of public discourse and communications. We need to consider that the Right has been giving consideration to these matters for a long time and that this explains their increased ability to appeal to the voters.
Since The Blue Ogee bills itself as a virtual coffeeshop/bookstore, then let me give you this bookseller's recommendation: Go to your nearest Borders Books and pick up a copy of Don't Think of an Elephant: Know Your Values and Frame the Debate by Berkley linguist George Lakoff (ISBN 1-931498-71-7).
Lakoff states that the great challenge to progressives in the period leading up to the new elections--if we wish to win--is to learn how to frame and reframe debates on key issues in our national discourse. He says that "frames are mental structiures that shape the way we see the world. As a result, they shape the goals we seek, the plans we make, the way we act, and what counts as a good or bad outcome of our actions. In politics our frames shape our social policies and the institutions we form to carry out policies. To change our frames is to change all of this Reframing is social change." - p. xv
For example, when George Bush began talking about "tax relief" during his first term, he was using a frame. Lakoff notes that "for there to be relief there must be an affliction, an afflicted party, and a reliever who removes the affliction and is therefore a hero. . . . . And if people try to stop the hero, those people are villains for trying to prevent relief." In other words, the Republicans had set a trap for Democrats.
Sometimes, frames, while not exactly lies, run around the truth by presenting another reality. So when we hear about the Clean Air Act, the frame obscures the reality of actual worse air quality. Or when we hear about No Child Left Behind, the frame obscures the reality the initiative masks of children who are, in fact, left behind. Or, in the current debate on Social Security, there have been Republican references to "saving" Social Security when, in fact, the goal is to roll it back, maybe to pre-Roosevelt non-existence.
Frames reflect underlying values. So in the debate over gay marriage, the question should shift from "Do you believe in same sex marriage?" to "Do you believe that all Americans should have equality before the law in choosing life partners?" (that is my rendering of the question). There is a shift in the framing here.
Framing is a matter that is relevant to the makers and shakers of public policy. But it is a matter that is relevant to progressives as they discuss and debate public issues with friends and associates. We all need to learn how to frame issues at this level.
Lakoff is closely associated with the Rockridge Institute, the only progressive think tank dealing with framing. Rockridge has a very nice www site. Visit it to see more of Lakoff's thought and the thought of others: www.rockridgeinstitute.org
New Edited Version: Walking and Public Awareness
Following is a slightly edited reposting of my Tuesday, March 8th meditation on walking. Somehow I managed to post those comments in a font that was practically impossible for good reading. I have not deleted the previous posting because there was a fine comment in response to it that you might want to look at. In the future, I will be doing all postings on the Blue Ogee with this font and this size. Let me know if it is easier to read.
_____________
"The Buddha is often represented by artists as seated upon a lotus flower to suggest the peace and happiness he enjoys. Artists also depict lotus flowers blooming under the footsteps of the newly-born Buddha. If we take steps without anxiety, in peace and joy, then we, too, will cause a flower to bloom on the Earth with every step. " -- Thich Nhat Hanha, Present Moment Wonderful Moment, p. 58.
"Get out now. Not just outside, but beyond the trap of the programmed electronic age so gently closing around so many people at the end of our century. Go outside, move deliberately, then relax, slow down, look around. Do not jog. Do not run. Forget about blood pressure and arthritis, cardiovascular rejuvenation and weight reduction. Instead pay attention to everything that abuts the rural road, the city street, the suburban boulevard. Walk. Stroll, Ride a bike, and coast along a lot. Explore." -- John R. Stilgoe, Outside Lies Magic: Regaining History and Awareness in Everyday Places, p. 1.
More than eight years ago, I " divorced" my car, moved to downtown Indianapoois, and began a life in search of more simplicity and slowness. Since then, I have walked and biked a good deal. I switched from a sedentary desk job to one that keeps me on my feet almost eight hours a day.
One of the first benefits of this "life style" change is that my money goes farther--no spiraling gas costs, car insurance, taxes, repair bills, monthly payments. But, for the moment, forget the financial angle. Basically, if my feet or a bike or the occasional IndyGo bus ride will not get me there, I just don't go.
This self-imposed restriction of means of transportation and this slowing-down has caused me to get in touch with my surroundings, to develop a very fine-tuned sense of place and to experience sights, sounds and smells in ways that are exluded from people who speed along the fast lange in vehicles.
They miss so much.
Last Sunday I walked to mass at Christ Church Cathedral--about one mile from where I live. Even walking slowly, it only took me about 25 minutes to get from my porch to the cathedral door.
Here are some of the things that I noticed:
--As I moved towards the center of town from my old and well-preserved residential neighborhood, I couldn't help but feel anger at the wound caused by one of the several interstates. How many beautiful homes and historic sites were wiped out by this highway? I live only a block from the interstate. Does anyone in the many cars and semis wonder what is going on on either side of the highway?
--While walking under the interstate, as it bridges over my street, I looked up to the concrete siding near the top. Someone has been living here. But that "someone" is not here now. Cans, bottles, big pieces of cardboard carton that enveloped a refrigerator, an old wet pillow are all propped on the ledge hear the highway. I almost expected a voice to call my name, as though I were somehow trespassing in a home. But, of course, this didn't happen.
--There is ample time to look at the many interesting things--artefacts of a throw-away society--that have been cast out of cars as unimportant. There are some red flannel boxer shorts. Hmmm. A used condom. A vodka bottle. A CD. A sock. McDonalds ketchup packets. . . .
--Indianapolis was originally planned to have several diagonal streets. As I walk on Ft. Wayne Avenue, one of these thoroughfares, I look at one of the old buildings that had been used for a junk shop, then fixed up and now is a very fine upscale apartment building. Has the building been preserved or has its essential nature been changed? Or both?
--There are different churches: Indianpolis Praise Cathedral, a predominantly African-American congregation; Central Christian Church; First Lutheran--one more downtown congregation that has closed shop, I think. People are beginning to enter Central and the Praise Cathedral . . . . . looking for what? God? Friendship? Time out?
--At Meridian Street I walk down the American Legion Mall. And I am aware of having moved from a residential area to a commercial and business center. But there is much that is beautiful and imposing around me. The Veterans Monument, the Federal Building (oh well, not beautiful but sort of imposing in a sixties brutal concrete way), University Park, and the Indianapolis Circle with a lavish monument to the Hoosier fatalities in the Civil War looms ahead.
--I have walked by myself but also I have passed some joggers and other pedestrians this morning. Almost all of them smiled and greeted me. This is still a "big small town" where some hospitable Midwestern practices survive. I feel new energy from these expressions of civility.
--There is a grassy area by one of the downtown buildings and I can see crocuses popping up here and there. I look at the emerging buds on the trees and see that they are preparing in their mysterious way to open into leaves when the climate sends the right signal.
--As I am walking, I don't maintain a stipulated "topic" of reflection. My mind moves from my immediate surroundings to thoughts about work, my big extended family, even politics. This slow free flow of ideas is wonderful in the clean, crisp morning air.
--When I arrive at Christ Church, I have a sense of being very much alive to everything around me and of having experienced the goodness of exercise. I know that by being aware of the trash, the traffic , the houses, the signs of nature, the architecture and the history so richly arrayed along the sidewalk, that I am ready now to reflect on the mysteries of God.
By walking, I am not cooped up in a hermetically sealed vehicle enjoying my privacy. I am traversing public space and connecting once again with the collective history that has created it and with the people of many backgrounds who use it.
For me, walking is above all an exercise in mindfulness and public awareness.
_____________
"The Buddha is often represented by artists as seated upon a lotus flower to suggest the peace and happiness he enjoys. Artists also depict lotus flowers blooming under the footsteps of the newly-born Buddha. If we take steps without anxiety, in peace and joy, then we, too, will cause a flower to bloom on the Earth with every step. " -- Thich Nhat Hanha, Present Moment Wonderful Moment, p. 58.
"Get out now. Not just outside, but beyond the trap of the programmed electronic age so gently closing around so many people at the end of our century. Go outside, move deliberately, then relax, slow down, look around. Do not jog. Do not run. Forget about blood pressure and arthritis, cardiovascular rejuvenation and weight reduction. Instead pay attention to everything that abuts the rural road, the city street, the suburban boulevard. Walk. Stroll, Ride a bike, and coast along a lot. Explore." -- John R. Stilgoe, Outside Lies Magic: Regaining History and Awareness in Everyday Places, p. 1.
More than eight years ago, I " divorced" my car, moved to downtown Indianapoois, and began a life in search of more simplicity and slowness. Since then, I have walked and biked a good deal. I switched from a sedentary desk job to one that keeps me on my feet almost eight hours a day.
One of the first benefits of this "life style" change is that my money goes farther--no spiraling gas costs, car insurance, taxes, repair bills, monthly payments. But, for the moment, forget the financial angle. Basically, if my feet or a bike or the occasional IndyGo bus ride will not get me there, I just don't go.
This self-imposed restriction of means of transportation and this slowing-down has caused me to get in touch with my surroundings, to develop a very fine-tuned sense of place and to experience sights, sounds and smells in ways that are exluded from people who speed along the fast lange in vehicles.
They miss so much.
Last Sunday I walked to mass at Christ Church Cathedral--about one mile from where I live. Even walking slowly, it only took me about 25 minutes to get from my porch to the cathedral door.
Here are some of the things that I noticed:
--As I moved towards the center of town from my old and well-preserved residential neighborhood, I couldn't help but feel anger at the wound caused by one of the several interstates. How many beautiful homes and historic sites were wiped out by this highway? I live only a block from the interstate. Does anyone in the many cars and semis wonder what is going on on either side of the highway?
--While walking under the interstate, as it bridges over my street, I looked up to the concrete siding near the top. Someone has been living here. But that "someone" is not here now. Cans, bottles, big pieces of cardboard carton that enveloped a refrigerator, an old wet pillow are all propped on the ledge hear the highway. I almost expected a voice to call my name, as though I were somehow trespassing in a home. But, of course, this didn't happen.
--There is ample time to look at the many interesting things--artefacts of a throw-away society--that have been cast out of cars as unimportant. There are some red flannel boxer shorts. Hmmm. A used condom. A vodka bottle. A CD. A sock. McDonalds ketchup packets. . . .
--Indianapolis was originally planned to have several diagonal streets. As I walk on Ft. Wayne Avenue, one of these thoroughfares, I look at one of the old buildings that had been used for a junk shop, then fixed up and now is a very fine upscale apartment building. Has the building been preserved or has its essential nature been changed? Or both?
--There are different churches: Indianpolis Praise Cathedral, a predominantly African-American congregation; Central Christian Church; First Lutheran--one more downtown congregation that has closed shop, I think. People are beginning to enter Central and the Praise Cathedral . . . . . looking for what? God? Friendship? Time out?
--At Meridian Street I walk down the American Legion Mall. And I am aware of having moved from a residential area to a commercial and business center. But there is much that is beautiful and imposing around me. The Veterans Monument, the Federal Building (oh well, not beautiful but sort of imposing in a sixties brutal concrete way), University Park, and the Indianapolis Circle with a lavish monument to the Hoosier fatalities in the Civil War looms ahead.
--I have walked by myself but also I have passed some joggers and other pedestrians this morning. Almost all of them smiled and greeted me. This is still a "big small town" where some hospitable Midwestern practices survive. I feel new energy from these expressions of civility.
--There is a grassy area by one of the downtown buildings and I can see crocuses popping up here and there. I look at the emerging buds on the trees and see that they are preparing in their mysterious way to open into leaves when the climate sends the right signal.
--As I am walking, I don't maintain a stipulated "topic" of reflection. My mind moves from my immediate surroundings to thoughts about work, my big extended family, even politics. This slow free flow of ideas is wonderful in the clean, crisp morning air.
--When I arrive at Christ Church, I have a sense of being very much alive to everything around me and of having experienced the goodness of exercise. I know that by being aware of the trash, the traffic , the houses, the signs of nature, the architecture and the history so richly arrayed along the sidewalk, that I am ready now to reflect on the mysteries of God.
By walking, I am not cooped up in a hermetically sealed vehicle enjoying my privacy. I am traversing public space and connecting once again with the collective history that has created it and with the people of many backgrounds who use it.
For me, walking is above all an exercise in mindfulness and public awareness.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Walking and Public Awareness
"The Buddha is often represented by artists as seated upon a lotus flower to suggest the peace and happiness he enjoys. Artists also depict lotus flowers blooming under the footsteps of the newly-born Buddha. If we take steps without anxiety, in peace and joy, then we, too, will cause a flower to floom on the Earth with every step." -- Thich Nhat Hanh, Present Moment Wonderful Moment, p. 58.
"Get out now. Not just outside, but beyond the trap of the programmed electronic age so gently closing around so many people at the end of our century. Go outside, move deliberately, then relax, slow down, look around. Do not jog. Do not run. Forget about blood pressure and arthritis, cardiovascular rejuvenation and weight reduction. Instead pay attention to everything that abuts the rural road, the city street, the suburban boulevard. Walk. Stroll. Saunter. Ride a bike, and coast along a lot. Explore." --John R. Stilgoe, Outside Lies Magic: Regaining History and Awareness in Everyday Places, p. 1.
More than eight years ago, I "divorced" my car, moved to downtown Indianapolis and began a life in search of more simplicity and slowness. Since then, I have walked and biked a good deal. I switched from a sedentary desk job to one that keeps me on my feet almost eight hours a day.
One of the first benefits of this "life style" change is that my money goes a lot farther--no spiraling gas costs, car insurance, taxes, repair bills, monthly payments. But, for the moment, forget the financial angle. Basically, if my feet or a bike or the occasional IndyGo bus ride will not get me there, I just don't go.
This self-imposed restriction in means of transportation and this slowing down has caused me to get in touch with my surroundings, to develop a very fine-tuned sense of place and to experience sights, sounds and smells in ways that are excluded to people who move along the fast lane in vehicles.
They miss so much.
Last Sunday I walked to mass at Christ Church Cathedral--about one mile from where I live. Even walking slowly, it only took me about 25 minutes to get from my porch to the cathedral door.
Here are some of the things that I noticed:
--As I moved towards the center of town from my old and well-preserved historic neighborhood, I couldn't help but feel anger at the wound caused by one of the several interstates. How many beautiful homes and historic sites were wiped out by this highway? I live only a block from the interstate? Does anyone in the many cars and semis wonder what is going on either side of the highway?
--While walking under the interstate, as it bridges over my street, I looked up to the concrete siding near the top. Someone has been living here. But that someone is not here now. Cans, bottles, big pieces of a cardboard carton that enveloped a refrigerator, an old wet pillow are all propped on the ledge near the highway. I almost expected someone to call my name, as though I were somehow trespassing in someone's home. But, of course, that didn't happen.
--There is ample time to look at the many interesting things that have been thrown out of cars as unimportant. There are some flannel boxer shorts. Hmmm. A used condom. A vodka bottle. A CD. A sock.
--Indianapolis was originally planned to have several diagonal streets. As I walk on Ft. Wayne Avenue, one of these thoroughfares, I look at one of the old buildings that had been used for a junk shop, then fixed up and now is a very fine upscale apartment building. Has this building been preserved or has its essential nature been changed?
--There are different churches: Indianapolis Praise Cathedral, a predominantly African-American congregation; Central Christian Church--people are beginning to enter these buildings.
--At Meridian Street I walk down the American Legion Mall. And I am aware of having moved from a predominantly residential area to a commercial and business center. But there is much that is beautiful and imposing around me. The Veterans Monument, the Federal Building, and Indianapolis Circle with a monument to Hoosier fatalities in the Civil War looms ahead.
--I have walked by myself but I have also passed some joggers and other pedestrians this morning. Almost all of them smiled and greeted me.
--There is a grassy area by one of the downtown buildings and I can see crocuses popping up here. I look at the buds on the trees and see that they are preparing in their mysterious way to open into leaves when the climate is right.
--As I am walking, I don't have a stipulated "topic" of reflection. My mind moves from my immediate surroundings to thoughts about work, my family, even politics. This slow free flow of ideas is wonderful in the clean crisp morning air.
When I arrive at Christ Church, I have a sense of being very much alive to everything around me and of having experienced the goodness of exercise. I know that by being aware of the trash, the traffic, the houses, the signs of nature, the architecture and the history so richly arrayed along the sidewalk, that I am ready now to reflect on the mysteries of God.
By walking, I am not cooped up in a hermetically sealed vehicle enjoying my privacy. I am traversing public space and connecting once again with the collective history that has created it and with the people of many different backgrounds who use it.
For me, walking is above all an exercise in mindfulness and public awareness.
"Get out now. Not just outside, but beyond the trap of the programmed electronic age so gently closing around so many people at the end of our century. Go outside, move deliberately, then relax, slow down, look around. Do not jog. Do not run. Forget about blood pressure and arthritis, cardiovascular rejuvenation and weight reduction. Instead pay attention to everything that abuts the rural road, the city street, the suburban boulevard. Walk. Stroll. Saunter. Ride a bike, and coast along a lot. Explore." --John R. Stilgoe, Outside Lies Magic: Regaining History and Awareness in Everyday Places, p. 1.
More than eight years ago, I "divorced" my car, moved to downtown Indianapolis and began a life in search of more simplicity and slowness. Since then, I have walked and biked a good deal. I switched from a sedentary desk job to one that keeps me on my feet almost eight hours a day.
One of the first benefits of this "life style" change is that my money goes a lot farther--no spiraling gas costs, car insurance, taxes, repair bills, monthly payments. But, for the moment, forget the financial angle. Basically, if my feet or a bike or the occasional IndyGo bus ride will not get me there, I just don't go.
This self-imposed restriction in means of transportation and this slowing down has caused me to get in touch with my surroundings, to develop a very fine-tuned sense of place and to experience sights, sounds and smells in ways that are excluded to people who move along the fast lane in vehicles.
They miss so much.
Last Sunday I walked to mass at Christ Church Cathedral--about one mile from where I live. Even walking slowly, it only took me about 25 minutes to get from my porch to the cathedral door.
Here are some of the things that I noticed:
--As I moved towards the center of town from my old and well-preserved historic neighborhood, I couldn't help but feel anger at the wound caused by one of the several interstates. How many beautiful homes and historic sites were wiped out by this highway? I live only a block from the interstate? Does anyone in the many cars and semis wonder what is going on either side of the highway?
--While walking under the interstate, as it bridges over my street, I looked up to the concrete siding near the top. Someone has been living here. But that someone is not here now. Cans, bottles, big pieces of a cardboard carton that enveloped a refrigerator, an old wet pillow are all propped on the ledge near the highway. I almost expected someone to call my name, as though I were somehow trespassing in someone's home. But, of course, that didn't happen.
--There is ample time to look at the many interesting things that have been thrown out of cars as unimportant. There are some flannel boxer shorts. Hmmm. A used condom. A vodka bottle. A CD. A sock.
--Indianapolis was originally planned to have several diagonal streets. As I walk on Ft. Wayne Avenue, one of these thoroughfares, I look at one of the old buildings that had been used for a junk shop, then fixed up and now is a very fine upscale apartment building. Has this building been preserved or has its essential nature been changed?
--There are different churches: Indianapolis Praise Cathedral, a predominantly African-American congregation; Central Christian Church--people are beginning to enter these buildings.
--At Meridian Street I walk down the American Legion Mall. And I am aware of having moved from a predominantly residential area to a commercial and business center. But there is much that is beautiful and imposing around me. The Veterans Monument, the Federal Building, and Indianapolis Circle with a monument to Hoosier fatalities in the Civil War looms ahead.
--I have walked by myself but I have also passed some joggers and other pedestrians this morning. Almost all of them smiled and greeted me.
--There is a grassy area by one of the downtown buildings and I can see crocuses popping up here. I look at the buds on the trees and see that they are preparing in their mysterious way to open into leaves when the climate is right.
--As I am walking, I don't have a stipulated "topic" of reflection. My mind moves from my immediate surroundings to thoughts about work, my family, even politics. This slow free flow of ideas is wonderful in the clean crisp morning air.
When I arrive at Christ Church, I have a sense of being very much alive to everything around me and of having experienced the goodness of exercise. I know that by being aware of the trash, the traffic, the houses, the signs of nature, the architecture and the history so richly arrayed along the sidewalk, that I am ready now to reflect on the mysteries of God.
By walking, I am not cooped up in a hermetically sealed vehicle enjoying my privacy. I am traversing public space and connecting once again with the collective history that has created it and with the people of many different backgrounds who use it.
For me, walking is above all an exercise in mindfulness and public awareness.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Would You Immigrate?
Just following the November elections, I heard several of my friends say that now they would think about about immigrating to Canada. One friend said that she might want to go to a truly constitutionally free country, South Africa. if you have ever read South Africa's constitution established following years of apartheid, you will know why she is attracted to that country.
Like so many others who hoped for a change in the White House, I found myself deeply disappointed and even emotionally upset following the Bush victory. The prospect of another four years of ignoring significant domestic and international issues of social justice seemed then--and seems now--almost intolerable. Given the clear evidence from many sources that the American people had been lied to about the reasons for invading Iraq, I could not believe that the electorate would return Bush to power. But he was returned to power.
Every person who told me that s/he was thinking about immigrating has mentioned the topic again. So does that mean that they were just engaging in hyperbole or, as people often say nowadays, they were "over-reacting"?
Here is a question for you to think about: What would it take for you to seriously consider immigrating to Canada or South Africa or anywhere else that is ostensibly more democratic?
For myself, contemplating (even in a sort of fantasy-imagination world) immigration is almost as painful an exercise as contemplating the next four years with GWB. To put it bluntly, I like the U.S.A., even with Bush at the head, and I don't see why I should be the one to leave. Or, as we sang in the 60's, "this land is my land . . . " And even if at present progressive politics have not won the day in all of the U.S.A., people-centered politics has a place in our traditions. I am writing these notes from Indiana which was the home of Eugene Debs, who ran for president even when he was jailed by a conservative government. My ancestors fought in most of the significant major conflicts of this country. I am the descendant of German immigrants who moved from Hesse-Darmstadt in 1852 and settled in Pennsylvania. For sure, when I think of these things, I know that this land is my land.
Nonetheless, what would it take for me to immigrate? I was thinking about this today as I walked to work in a late winter snowstorm.
I decided that it would be intolerable to continue living in this country if any of the following were to occur:
--A suspencion of constitutional rights and the muzzling of free courts, even temporarily for whatever reasons;
--Publically approved scapegoating and/or open, government-sanctioned violence against any racial, religious, ethnic or sexual minority.
In the meantime, I am staying in the U.S.A. as a citizen proud of the achievements and concerns of progressive Americans throughout history. I have a sense of place in this country and in this city, Indianapolis, USA. This is GWB's country and he apparently represents lots of people out there. But it is mine also and I plan on staying and working for issues of economic-social justice that I care about.
Again, how about you, good reader? What would it take for you to immigrate? Think about it and if you feel comfortable doing so, share your comments.
Like so many others who hoped for a change in the White House, I found myself deeply disappointed and even emotionally upset following the Bush victory. The prospect of another four years of ignoring significant domestic and international issues of social justice seemed then--and seems now--almost intolerable. Given the clear evidence from many sources that the American people had been lied to about the reasons for invading Iraq, I could not believe that the electorate would return Bush to power. But he was returned to power.
Every person who told me that s/he was thinking about immigrating has mentioned the topic again. So does that mean that they were just engaging in hyperbole or, as people often say nowadays, they were "over-reacting"?
Here is a question for you to think about: What would it take for you to seriously consider immigrating to Canada or South Africa or anywhere else that is ostensibly more democratic?
For myself, contemplating (even in a sort of fantasy-imagination world) immigration is almost as painful an exercise as contemplating the next four years with GWB. To put it bluntly, I like the U.S.A., even with Bush at the head, and I don't see why I should be the one to leave. Or, as we sang in the 60's, "this land is my land . . . " And even if at present progressive politics have not won the day in all of the U.S.A., people-centered politics has a place in our traditions. I am writing these notes from Indiana which was the home of Eugene Debs, who ran for president even when he was jailed by a conservative government. My ancestors fought in most of the significant major conflicts of this country. I am the descendant of German immigrants who moved from Hesse-Darmstadt in 1852 and settled in Pennsylvania. For sure, when I think of these things, I know that this land is my land.
Nonetheless, what would it take for me to immigrate? I was thinking about this today as I walked to work in a late winter snowstorm.
I decided that it would be intolerable to continue living in this country if any of the following were to occur:
--A suspencion of constitutional rights and the muzzling of free courts, even temporarily for whatever reasons;
--Publically approved scapegoating and/or open, government-sanctioned violence against any racial, religious, ethnic or sexual minority.
In the meantime, I am staying in the U.S.A. as a citizen proud of the achievements and concerns of progressive Americans throughout history. I have a sense of place in this country and in this city, Indianapolis, USA. This is GWB's country and he apparently represents lots of people out there. But it is mine also and I plan on staying and working for issues of economic-social justice that I care about.
Again, how about you, good reader? What would it take for you to immigrate? Think about it and if you feel comfortable doing so, share your comments.
Saturday, February 26, 2005
An Anti-Science President
When I was in college in the early sixties, our U. S. history introduction class learned about the Scopes Trial earlier in the century. It seemed that this was the last gasp of American fundamentalists regarding Darwin. We thought that the Scopes trial was a vestige of ignorance that would not be repeated in our public life again.
We were so wrong! Now we have an entire administration beholden to the Christian Right. When scientific knowledge is not compatable with so-called Christian perspectives (from an evangelical or fundamentalist perspective) it is put aside and public policy is formulated on the basis of faith and values.
An example of this is the "abstinence only" approach to sex education which the federal government apparently funds up to nearly one billion dollars annually. In a December 2004 Congressional study, it was found that some of the programs funded with these public monies teach, among other things, that the HIV virus can be transmitted through sweat and tears or that abortion can lead to sterility and suicide (see Gay and Lesbian Review, March - April 2005, p. 8).
Another example of the anti-scientific bias of the Bush administration is its refusal to deal seriously with global warming and to heed the warnings of the scientific community that time is running out in the battle against greenhouse gases. The Bush administration has refused to participate in the Kyoto protocol which would require cuts in carbon emissions on the basis that possible technological solutions to carbon emissions might be discovered.
Yet, the Financial Times on February 25, 2005 made the following statement: "'Carbon emitted now will stay around in the atmosphere for as much as a century,'" says Stephen Schneider of Standford University. Even if we stopped burning fossil fuels now, the effects of global warning would still worsen for up to 100 years. This latency means we cannot affort to wait, say climate experts." (Financial Times, February 25, 2005, p. 8).
Scientific consensus informs an huge number of critical public issues. The tendency of President Bush and his supporters in the Republican Party to simply sweep aside scientific consensus when convenient is frightening because the stakes are enormous. Sometimes, as in the discussions on sex education or education concerning the origins of the universe and life, scientific thought is pushed aside in favor of faith considerations. Sometimes, as in the discussions on global warming, scientific consensus is neglected by proposing an alternative supposedly scientific approach (developments of new technologies to combat carbon emissions).
I could go on and on and talk about other issues where anti-scientific bias results in faulty public policy (what about the battles around creationism in local school districts around the country and the witch hunts of teachers and school board members that have resulted?). But the point is that on many critical matters our leaders have chosen to ignore sound scientific thinking.
What to do? That is the question I am struggling with. The best thing, in my mind, is to begin as of now to be active advocating better policies (such as ratification of the Kyoto protocol). It doesn't seem too early to be politically active in the hopes of removing the Republicans from the White House in 2008. The anti-scientific bias is just one of a large number of reasons for wanting this to happen.
And if you are a person of faith--but not far-right--now is a time to try to reconcile just public policy, sound scientific evidence and socially conscious Christian values. We need to make clear that Falwell and Dobson and their constituencies are not the only Christians on the block who are concerned about this country.
We were so wrong! Now we have an entire administration beholden to the Christian Right. When scientific knowledge is not compatable with so-called Christian perspectives (from an evangelical or fundamentalist perspective) it is put aside and public policy is formulated on the basis of faith and values.
An example of this is the "abstinence only" approach to sex education which the federal government apparently funds up to nearly one billion dollars annually. In a December 2004 Congressional study, it was found that some of the programs funded with these public monies teach, among other things, that the HIV virus can be transmitted through sweat and tears or that abortion can lead to sterility and suicide (see Gay and Lesbian Review, March - April 2005, p. 8).
Another example of the anti-scientific bias of the Bush administration is its refusal to deal seriously with global warming and to heed the warnings of the scientific community that time is running out in the battle against greenhouse gases. The Bush administration has refused to participate in the Kyoto protocol which would require cuts in carbon emissions on the basis that possible technological solutions to carbon emissions might be discovered.
Yet, the Financial Times on February 25, 2005 made the following statement: "'Carbon emitted now will stay around in the atmosphere for as much as a century,'" says Stephen Schneider of Standford University. Even if we stopped burning fossil fuels now, the effects of global warning would still worsen for up to 100 years. This latency means we cannot affort to wait, say climate experts." (Financial Times, February 25, 2005, p. 8).
Scientific consensus informs an huge number of critical public issues. The tendency of President Bush and his supporters in the Republican Party to simply sweep aside scientific consensus when convenient is frightening because the stakes are enormous. Sometimes, as in the discussions on sex education or education concerning the origins of the universe and life, scientific thought is pushed aside in favor of faith considerations. Sometimes, as in the discussions on global warming, scientific consensus is neglected by proposing an alternative supposedly scientific approach (developments of new technologies to combat carbon emissions).
I could go on and on and talk about other issues where anti-scientific bias results in faulty public policy (what about the battles around creationism in local school districts around the country and the witch hunts of teachers and school board members that have resulted?). But the point is that on many critical matters our leaders have chosen to ignore sound scientific thinking.
What to do? That is the question I am struggling with. The best thing, in my mind, is to begin as of now to be active advocating better policies (such as ratification of the Kyoto protocol). It doesn't seem too early to be politically active in the hopes of removing the Republicans from the White House in 2008. The anti-scientific bias is just one of a large number of reasons for wanting this to happen.
And if you are a person of faith--but not far-right--now is a time to try to reconcile just public policy, sound scientific evidence and socially conscious Christian values. We need to make clear that Falwell and Dobson and their constituencies are not the only Christians on the block who are concerned about this country.
Saturday, February 19, 2005
What I Learned from Kim Phuc
She is petite and radiant on stage. Her name is Kim Phuc. I am with a friend at Clowes Hall on the Butler University campus hearing this 40-ish Vietnamese woman speak about her personal journey since the Vietnam War.
Of course, I have seen Kim Phuc. We have all seen Kim Phuc in the incredible picture taken by phtographer Huyng Cong Nick Ut that later won him a Pulitzer Prize. It was taken on June 8, 1972 of a little girl running and screaming from third degree burns inflicted from a napalm attack on her village. (If you do a Google search for Kim Phuc you can pictures--that will have to work until I figure out how to post pictures on this site.) That picture has always haunted me and seems to me to be one of the defining images of the Sixties.
I thought that Kim Phuc must be dead.
But tonight (February 15, 2005) she is very much alive. What happened?
Photographer Ut took her to a specialized hospital for burn victims in Saigon. From that point until adulthood, Kim Phuc had to undergo many operations. She still has scars from these operations. She still experiences much pain and during hot weather suffers because she cannot even sweat.
Her anger and confusion about what happened to her and others in her family left scars as well. Much of what Kim Phuc had to say to the Indianapolis audience had to do with moving from deep anger and resentment to forgiveness. In fact, her very presence evokes peace and harmony. Basically, Kim Phuc has struggled mightily with the question posed by Rabbi Kushner: Why do bad things happen to good people? She is not embittered but believes that she has been strengthened by her experiences.
As I was listening to Kim Phuc share her life, I thought of another survivor of great human evil, Nelson Mandela. He came out of apartheid's jails ready to create a new world, even ready to forgive his jailors.
Now Kim Phuc is a Goodwill Ambassador for the Culture of Peace for the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization. She has founded a foundation that funds international programs that assist child victims of warfare in several continents (www.kimfoundation.com). A book has been writen on Kim by Denise Chong: The Girl in the Picture: The Story of Kim Phuc, the Photograph and the Vietnam War, ISBN 0140280219. If you are interested, look for it in your bookstore or library.
Kim Phuc is not analytic. She doesn't dissect the world's political situation in great detail. She tells her own narrative of what happens to children (and adult survivors) of warfare. She spins a marvelous story of human transformation.
As we were sitting in Clowes Hall, child victims in Darfur, Iraq, Palestine and other scenes of intractable warfare were still screaming. With our now-embedded journalists we don't see scenes of human horror very often to remind us what war is really about.
Yet, in a very dark world, Kim Phuc spoke about her own transformation. And I was reminded that points of light can exist in even the darkest moments.
Of course, I have seen Kim Phuc. We have all seen Kim Phuc in the incredible picture taken by phtographer Huyng Cong Nick Ut that later won him a Pulitzer Prize. It was taken on June 8, 1972 of a little girl running and screaming from third degree burns inflicted from a napalm attack on her village. (If you do a Google search for Kim Phuc you can pictures--that will have to work until I figure out how to post pictures on this site.) That picture has always haunted me and seems to me to be one of the defining images of the Sixties.
I thought that Kim Phuc must be dead.
But tonight (February 15, 2005) she is very much alive. What happened?
Photographer Ut took her to a specialized hospital for burn victims in Saigon. From that point until adulthood, Kim Phuc had to undergo many operations. She still has scars from these operations. She still experiences much pain and during hot weather suffers because she cannot even sweat.
Her anger and confusion about what happened to her and others in her family left scars as well. Much of what Kim Phuc had to say to the Indianapolis audience had to do with moving from deep anger and resentment to forgiveness. In fact, her very presence evokes peace and harmony. Basically, Kim Phuc has struggled mightily with the question posed by Rabbi Kushner: Why do bad things happen to good people? She is not embittered but believes that she has been strengthened by her experiences.
As I was listening to Kim Phuc share her life, I thought of another survivor of great human evil, Nelson Mandela. He came out of apartheid's jails ready to create a new world, even ready to forgive his jailors.
Now Kim Phuc is a Goodwill Ambassador for the Culture of Peace for the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization. She has founded a foundation that funds international programs that assist child victims of warfare in several continents (www.kimfoundation.com). A book has been writen on Kim by Denise Chong: The Girl in the Picture: The Story of Kim Phuc, the Photograph and the Vietnam War, ISBN 0140280219. If you are interested, look for it in your bookstore or library.
Kim Phuc is not analytic. She doesn't dissect the world's political situation in great detail. She tells her own narrative of what happens to children (and adult survivors) of warfare. She spins a marvelous story of human transformation.
As we were sitting in Clowes Hall, child victims in Darfur, Iraq, Palestine and other scenes of intractable warfare were still screaming. With our now-embedded journalists we don't see scenes of human horror very often to remind us what war is really about.
Yet, in a very dark world, Kim Phuc spoke about her own transformation. And I was reminded that points of light can exist in even the darkest moments.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Welcome to The Blue Ogee
I always wanted to open a coffee shop or a combination coffee shop/independent book store called The Blue Ogee.
So what's an "ogee"? The Encarta Dictionary states that it is"an arch whose sides curve gently inward near the top and then curve upward steeply to meet in a point." When I finally get this blog up and running, I will post a picture of an ogee. In the meantime, look it up yourself in a dictionary or encyclopedia, if you are interested. Better yet, go to this link to see some examples of elegant ogees: www.ontarioarchitecture.com/ogee.html
You would enter this imaginary coffee shop/book store through an ogee arch painted blue. Inside, the lights would be subdued--but the blue-ness and simple furnishings and friendship of the staff (me) would encourage people to talk to each other about important things.
Economic reality doesn't let me open The Blue Ogee (for now, at least). But I have decided to create a virtual site where the same kinds of discussions might occur.
I don't see this site as a personal diary or journal. I envisage it more as a place where I can put out some of my ideas. These ideas would probably try to connect the personal and the public dimensions of our lives. I would like to post about spirituality, wholeness, politics, sexuality and the arts.
So this is an invitation. Walk through the imaginary blue arch and get your expresso and sit down and listen and talk. Bring your own narrative to the table but be open to other narratives.
The Blue Ogee is ready and open for business.
So what's an "ogee"? The Encarta Dictionary states that it is"an arch whose sides curve gently inward near the top and then curve upward steeply to meet in a point." When I finally get this blog up and running, I will post a picture of an ogee. In the meantime, look it up yourself in a dictionary or encyclopedia, if you are interested. Better yet, go to this link to see some examples of elegant ogees: www.ontarioarchitecture.com/ogee.html
You would enter this imaginary coffee shop/book store through an ogee arch painted blue. Inside, the lights would be subdued--but the blue-ness and simple furnishings and friendship of the staff (me) would encourage people to talk to each other about important things.
Economic reality doesn't let me open The Blue Ogee (for now, at least). But I have decided to create a virtual site where the same kinds of discussions might occur.
I don't see this site as a personal diary or journal. I envisage it more as a place where I can put out some of my ideas. These ideas would probably try to connect the personal and the public dimensions of our lives. I would like to post about spirituality, wholeness, politics, sexuality and the arts.
So this is an invitation. Walk through the imaginary blue arch and get your expresso and sit down and listen and talk. Bring your own narrative to the table but be open to other narratives.
The Blue Ogee is ready and open for business.
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