A Lonesome Train Whistle in the Night

              

               “The Road goes ever on and on, Down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can…”  -J.R.R Tolkein

The term “sentimental” is often hurled like a projectile, but I welcome it. The dictionary refers to a result derived from feeling rather than reason or thought, and that I do not deny, but feeling illuminates the path in a way that cold logic cannot.

               This morning the house I grew up in is cold and empty and dark but for the glare of the computer screen. The family is scattered. My mother has passed on and my father has moved to a nearby retirement community. I can now mark with certainty the last day that the whole family was under the same roof, the last time the house was filled with the warmth and light of family.  

If we live long enough we will experience many such “lasts.” It is a bitter irony of youth that we rush past the moments that we will one day try to hold on to, but will never again be able to reach. Last night a lonesome train whistle in the distance took me back to the time when, safe and warm under the covers, a child’s imagination could board that train and travel to undiscovered country. Many stops along that journey became real places later in life; became, in turn, new memories to cherish.

To live fully during our journey we must embrace each precious moment of this life as if it were our last, but to live joyfully we must release each moment to be able to grasp the next one. This is truth, but it is armchair truth. It is truth which is very difficult to embrace while we are in pain and it is truth almost impossible to communicate to youth.  

Each generation has experienced the truth of this journey and attempted to warn its successor, yet it seems required of each generation that we ignore the lesson so that every individual can discover it in their own unique way. As a child, a train whistle stirred my imagination to travel to distant lands. Like so many before me, I could not wait to grow up, to leave home and to discover life for myself. Had I known that there is no return ticket on this journey, I might have lacked the courage to take it and my life would not have been as rich or as rewarding. Knowing this lesson can leave a bitter taste, but without bitterness in its proper measure, the other flavors available to the palette begin to fade.

              

Band-Aids Are Not Enough

               We have grown weary of hearing about how our economy is improving, how the recession ended months ago and how we are going to “grow our way out” of economic hardship. We are equally weary of dire predictions of imminent economic and social collapse. These are half truths and political expediencies. The truth, as usual, is somewhere in the middle of the extremes.

               A quick look at the numbers this week should make the case. Numbers can be used for deception when they are overlaid by punditry, but taken in undiluted doses they can bring us closer to the truth than most of the popular interpretations now being used to sell soap on television.  Here we go, and hold onto your hats:

               The number of people on food stamps is now approximately 43.2 million – an all time high at 14 percent of the population.  The U.S. Conference of mayors reports that visits to soup kitchens are up 24 percent this year and there are over 643,000 people seeking shelter in cities every night. The number of people on unemployment has dropped to 9.4 percent – because so many people have dropped out of the system completely. The percentage of working age men over 20 has dropped to 73.6, the lowest rate since this data began being collected in 1948. The percentage of unemployed who have been out of work for over six months now stands at 42 percent, a number we haven’t seen since World War II. Finally, the Gini coefficient, which is used to measure income inequality, has grown to 46.8 percent – a number we have not seen since the “Roaring Twenties,” right before the Great Depression.

               Former Labor Secretary, Robert Reich, succinctly tells the rest of the story: “Corporate America is in a V-shaped recovery. That’s great news for investors whose savings are mainly in stocks and bonds, and for executives and Wall Street traders. But most American workers are trapped in an L-shaped recovery.”

               The student of history and economics may note that the Gini coefficient is a good predictor of social unrest. If we connect the dots we see that bank failures in the Great Depression were due, in part, to the expansion of credit to struggling farmers which was a political solution to the Populist movement of that era. As we have observed before, when history does not repeat itself, it often rhymes. The expansion of sub-prime credit of recent memory, whether or not it was a conscious effort to “buy off the poor,” has contributed to a dynamic similar to that seen just before the crash of 1929. What is different this time around is the extent to which Globalization has contributed to the declining fortunes of half our population.  Moving production to cheap labor countries has helped inflate corporate profits to all time highs, but it has trapped more and more people on the wrong side of the prosperity divide.

               We do not know what solutions may be effective in addressing our current economic and potential social problems, but solutions to address our wounds are unlikely to be found in speeches and in the Band-Aids of symbolic legislation which Congresses passes to sustain the illusion that they are doing real work.  Our system is out of balance and in need of correction, and to borrow a phrase from economist, Bill Bonner, we are in the midst of a "Great Correction.” We do not believe our current government has the wherewithal to, by way of example, “pull off the Band-Aid” all at once. Instead we foresee a slow, painful, “hair by hair” removal.

Leadership When We Need It

               “There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells. God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day.”

I didn’t want to write this article. The issues that it addresses sound a dissonant chord amongst the holiday music still echoing in my head. For many Americans, the shootings in Tucson, Arizona which occurred on January 8^th banished all memories of holiday cheer. Almost two weeks later the tragedy still dominates the headlines as the media does what it does best, which is to embrace the negative, dissect it and display it from every possible angle. On the information superhighway as well as on the Interstate, the only time we slow down and look is when an accident occurs.

               Monsters have always lived among us and for their victims it does not matter whether we find our explanations in the psychology of a diseased mind or in the spiritual realm of a lost soul. History is full of events which equal and exceed the horrors of Tucson. Events like this have occurred for as long as humans have occupied this planet and no amount of knee-jerk legislating or pulpit pounding will prevent them from happening again.

               Today we will leave the re-telling of the tragedy with its accompaniment of theories and explanations to others and focus instead on one positive development which has grown up out of the event.  It has been easy for us to criticize President Obama. His healthcare plans and his relationships with the financial industry invite criticism and for me personally, if the election were held today, the emergence of a qualified candidate from any political party would make it unlikely that Mr. Obama would get my vote. Nevertheless, credit must be given where credit is due. When disaster occurs the nation needs leadership.  In his speech for the victims of the Tucson shooting, President Obama provided that leadership. 

On the other hand, the pundits who make their living fanning the fires of hatred continued their efforts. Sarah Palin, whom some consider as the standard bearer of the Republican Party, made a pathetic attempt to inject herself into the discussion. Her comments about the tragedy in Tucson were, characteristically, all about her. If her irrational behavior and celebrity seeking have not yet served to divest any disenchanted voter of any illusions as to her qualifications for leadership, her response to the killings should do so.

We have not, in my opinion, always (or often) elected the best candidate to the office of President of the United States. Fortunately for our nation, if the man was not ready for the job, the job has many times made the man.  Witness the accelerated graying and wizening of everyone who has occupied the Oval Office. President Obama is no exception. And while his policies may prevent me from giving him my vote in 2012, it is a comfort to know that the country does, indeed, have a leader in the Whitehouse.

In closing, consider these words from President Obama’s speech in Tucson:  “So sudden loss causes us to look backward - but it also forces us to look forward, to reflect on the present and the future, on the manner in which we live our lives and nurture our relationships with those who are still with us. We may ask ourselves if we’ve shown enough kindness and generosity and compassion to the people in our lives. Perhaps we question whether we are doing right by our children, or our community, and whether our priorities are in order. We recognize our own mortality, and are reminded that in the fleeting time we have on this earth, what matters is not wealth, or status, or power, or fame - but rather, how well we have loved, and what small part we have played in bettering the lives of others.”

Let it Snow

               There is a foot of snow on the ground in our cove this morning. Reclining in front of a warm fire, I’m watching the birds through the window as they energetically carry away sunflower seeds from the feeder. Firewood stacked in the shop, propane tank full, gas in the generator and food in the pantry, I am content that the thin line of technology separating us from the forces of nature will hold for the day. I am thankful for the excellent maintenance of our electrical right of way that has enabled me to sit in a warm and lighted room watching the snow fall out of the window and the Atlanta traffic snarl on the television. I’m grateful for the crews who risk life and limb to keep the power on whatever the weather may bring. I’m mindful of the plight of our neighbors to the south who will get more ice than snow in this second major storm during a winter that was predicted to be “warm and dry.”

               In last week’s column I threatened to leave the Christmas decorations up in civil disobedience to our culture’s mandate to rush ever onward. Last night with the whole family under the same roof (and at the same time) the glittering lights reflected in the new fallen snow helped rekindle some leftover holiday magic. A good snow storm, if used properly, can offer us something we usually only get on our holidays, stretched out so few and far between, and that is an excuse, if not a demand, to simply stop and be – be at home, be with our loved ones, be content in the knowledge that there is nothing to do and nothing that can be done. A culture defined by megapixels, measured in nanoseconds and driven by relentless needs can do with a little reminder that so much of what drives us, so much of what we choose to believe is so urgent and important, is but a footprint in the snow. Life on earth moves in rhythms older and deeper than we can imagine and occasionally they remind us that our own brief moment is much like the snowfall, to be enjoyed before it melts away.

Rage Against the Machine

                    "I awake and find myself lonely in the vast world. After many an inebriating farewell cup, I come to my senses. The slanting moon on the wax is shaped like a crescent." -Hồ Xuân Hương

I have always liked the idea of the twelve days of Christmas. I am reluctant to take down the Christmas tree and all the decorations so painstakingly arranged, preferring to leave them up and glittering at least until Epiphany.  Driving around my old neighborhood in the suburbs of Gainesville last night and enjoying the decorations still visible, I was happy to find that quite a few people seem to share the same reluctance.  A perfectly green and functional Christmas tree tossed to the curb, to me is a sad sight, all the expectation and joy once surrounding the icon of our holiday season, now headed for the land fill.

Our time on this earth is so fleeting, the older I get, the more I rage against the machine we have created which seems to require that the vast majority of our waking moments be consumed by the grueling pursuit of digits to pay for widgets. Our celebrations and moments of vacation and renewal are few and far between in comparison to our hours of work and worry, not to mention the commute in between. Our moments of rest are disturbed by the constant background noise of information and drama. Ancient societies that we now consider “primitive” worked far fewer hours than their more sophisticated descendants.

What is it that drives us to press our flesh to the grindstone as it strips away the days of our lives in efforts which, now more than ever, enrich the few while barely sustaining the many? Perhaps it is the very real fear of finding ourselves adrift in a society which has replaced the cultural obligation of caring for the poor, the sick and the elderly with an institutional, governmental substitute that is more effective at making insurance and drug companies profitable than it is in providing quality care.

Perhaps it is the ascendancy of the competition paradigm. Millions of Chinese people work like insects, flogged by fears of failing to compete with the Americans. Their party bosses grow rich in the same way as our own corporate masters. Americans are told that older cultures than ours, not so intent on world domination, which work fewer hours, take more holidays, longer lunches, more breaks - and retire at a younger age – are corrupt, are decadent. Yet these “inferior” people live longer than we do and they suffer from less heart disease and cancer during their longer life spans.

All too soon my own work week will begin again. I am grateful, as I have been instructed to be, as millions of Americans who have seen their benefits diminish or disappear and who have not received a raise in years, have been instructed to be, that I still have a job in this economy. What can one person do against a planetary paradigm anyhow?

I’ll tell you what one person can do. One can choose not to participate in the seductions of a consumer culture which serve to further enslave. I can refuse to borrow money to pay for things I do not need but have been conditioned to want. I can learn to want what I already have. I can find pleasure in the myriad facets of life in a magical and remarkable world that does not depend on this thin veneer of human activity for its magic and remark-ability. I can learn to spend less than I earn and to save and invest wisely and dispassionately. I can leave my Christmas tree up until spring if I want to.   

           

 

Thanksgiving without misgivings

We approach the holiday season each year with a variety of choices between thanksgiving and misgivings. For many the holidays are a welcome relief from the drudgery of commuting to the cubicle. Fellowship with family and friends and the festivity of traditions from around the world blended together in a uniquely American way is something that sustains us from the darkening days of October well into the next year.

For some of us the holidays are less than festive when we are basted in happy images of perfect families feasting from a cornucopia of material prosperity; images which invite us to compare or own less sparkling reality to something that is, for most people, virtual and unattainable. Holiday marketing does for many of us what images of half starved, made-over models “Photoshopped” for magazine covers does for the self esteem of “average” young girls who compare themselves to pictures of glittering unreality and forget their own innate beauty.

Holidays are a much needed break in routine for most of us, but for many the busy routine is some protection from the remembrance of things past – and when that routine is broken, holidays can be a reminder of the empty seats at the table, the companions who have passed on, the children who have grown up and gone away. I will always remember visiting my favorite aunt in the nursing home during her last Christmas on this earth, the miniature decorations in her window, the way she sat quiet and alone in her room, staring out of the window and across the years…

Many Americans will enjoy the holidays with considerably less material prosperity than they did last year. A decade of grim headlines and color coded fears will end this year with the weakest dollar of our lifetimes, with high unemployment and higher prices for food and fuel. Some of us who have spent a lifetime measuring success and gauging happiness in terms of material things will have a chance to shift our awareness this year. We can choose to be thankful for the friends and family we still have while so many are alone, for the job we complain about when so many have none, for the opportunities that this great land still produces and for the freedoms we have and take for granted. We will gather and we will feast as we have done in the past, but perhaps this year our festivities will be tempered by a greater awareness of the planet we live on rather than the empire we live in - and perhaps by a little more compassion for our fellow travelers.

We know not the number of our days and as the wheel of time turns, many things diminish. My own circle has grown smaller over the years and there will be many empty seats around the table at Thanksgiving. I do not know how many more days I will be privileged to share a meal or enjoy a holiday with loved ones. When we are young we spend our days like tossing coins into a fountain. Nature tells me that for some loved ones there are fewer coins remaining than have been spent, but oh how precious is this treasure and how golden. In these moments there is real prosperity and a source of heartfelt thanksgiving.

Hope

In our efforts to walk the middle path between hope and fear we sometimes find that a lifetime of programming has made fear the easier choice, just as a car with an underinflated tire will pull in that direction. Today we make a conscious effort to pump up the flat. Hopeful signs are abundant and clear, lacking only in emphasis.

Hope is the expectation that the events we wish for will occur. In classical Greek mythology, Zeus gave to Pandora a gift which was never to be opened. When Pandora’s curiosity overwhelmed her discretion and she opened the gift, all the ills of humanity escaped with every disaster and disease which has plagued us ever since. Trapped under the lid, Hope remained; a singular quality seemingly small in comparison to the evils of the world, but one which has sustained humanity in the face of overwhelming odds.

Hope is essential for good health, both mental and physical. Much of the disease which plagues the body begins in the mind and in the spirit, where hope functions to protect and to heal. Hope for Christians is the companion of faith, “the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” Hope is the lifeline that religion casts into the beyond to anchor us to something that will elevate our lives above the daily struggle for the survival of the body. Hope is the offering we make of that portion of our daily struggle for the benefit of our children and grandchildren, our family, our community, our nation.

Hope is also a tender place to be guarded against the grasping of those who would bend our will to their own desires. The clever play of fear against hope attempts to solicit our hard earned money, our vote or our compliance. To defend the sale of plasticized cardboard boxes full of high-fat, high calorie processed food to children, McDonalds portrays Happy Meals as boxes of hope, as if accountability for the health problems of thousands of could be purchased by a meager donation to some worthy cause in a kind of “cap and trade” exchange for junk food emissions. Their effort is but one example of the technique. Many marketing companies offer the fulfillment of our hopes and dreams in the purchase of their material goods.

Politicians and pundits offer us false dilemmas in a choice between our unrealized fears and their hopeful platitudes. Every two, four and six years hope is dangled in front of us like a carrot on a stick, always just out of reach. So strong is the motivation of hope that we follow the most appealing carrot trustingly, never noticing that we are traveling in circles like oxen turning a mill.

We travel in circles and so history has a tendency to repeat. Where it doesn’t repeat exactly, if often rhymes. We are similar in many ways to the generation of our grandparents and our great-grandparents at the beginning of the 20^th century. Arrogance and naiveté led to WWI, the Great Depression and act II of the Great War played out in World War II. These trials and tribulations forged the generation of our parents, the Greatest Generation, whose efforts yielded a period of the greatest peace and prosperity the world had ever seen.

The arrogance and naiveté of your author’s generation of Baby Boomers has produced challenges as great as any faced by our parents, and this is the legacy we will leave our children. Yet hope is still abundant and readily found in those children. It is being forged on the battlefields of Afghanistan and Iraq. It will continue to be found in the generation of young people who are emerging from the fire with a humility born of hardship to counter the hubris of their parents and with a worldly wisdom inspired by hope to counter the bitterness of innocence betrayed.