Just a quick observation on this, my final day in Chicago.
I've noticed there is a different dynamic between motorists and pedestrians depending on where you are:
In Flint, a motorist will run over a pedestrian without a second thought. The pedestrians realize this and there are no problems.
In Ann Arbor, pedestrians expect to be given the right of way. The motorists realize this and there are no problems.
In Chicago, motorists will, without a second thought, run over pedestrians who expect the right of way. This results in a type of meat-grinder traffic chaos I've seldom experienced.
How I look forward to my serene Davison Township subdivision. Nothing on the street but the occasional tardy mail truck...
Monday, July 25, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
Hitting the Pavement
There are times when arguments that sound good in theory are horrible when actually carried into practice. Like the Republican insistence that the Federal debt limit should not be raised without cutting the deficit. Sure, it sounds reasonable. The government is spending more than it’s bringing in already and it now wants to be able to borrow more. This, therefore, would appear to be a good time to examine spending priorities and to develop strategies both to contain future expenditures and to pay down the existing debt. Except the Republicans want to somehow magically pay down this debt without actually… uh... paying down the debt. They want to cut spending but not raise taxes. But without raising taxes, how can the debt be paid off?
Let me put it in personal terms. If my credit card debt were out of control, it wouldn’t be enough to simply say I’ll fix the problem by living on Ramen noodles and tap water because they’re cheaper. I would also have to – you know – actually make payments on the debt I’ve already racked up. If I fail to do that, any statement on my part that I really, really, really want to eliminate my credit card debt would be disingenuous. Munching Ramen, while symbolic in an ashes-and-sackcloth sort of way, does nothing to actually reduce my existing debt. The only way to do that would be to make the move of setting aside a larger share of my income and applying it toward paying it down. And while this would be painful for awhile, doing so would be beneficial in the long run. Since once I’m free from debt, I could actually start saving money for cool things I really want to do or buy.
But the Republicans don’t seem to get that. These same people who appear so eager to slash medical and Social Security benefits for the poor and working classes somehow find tax loopholes for gazillionaire oil companies, owners of corporate jets and racehorses sacrosanct. I may not be the brightest bulb on the marquee when it comes to figuring out politics, but when it comes to figuring out whose side these people are on, I sure as hell know it isn’t mine.
When pondering the Republican position on the debt ceiling, I couldn’t help but think of a recent incident in upstate New York. It seems there was a group of motorcyclists who didn’t like the state law requiring them to wear helmets while riding. They felt it was an infringement on their personal freedom. So they had a rally in which they defiantly rode their cycles without helmets. While on this protest ride, one of the cyclists lost control, flew over his handlebars and smashed his head on the pavement with fatal results. Had he been wearing a helmet, authorities stated, he likely would have survived.
Lofty-sounding pronouncements in favor of individual rights and liberties do little to alter the fact that riding a motorcycle without a helmet is a profoundly stupid thing to do. And that, to me, is the perfect analogy to the entire Republican/tea party platform: nice-sounding arguments which, if carried out, would lead to disastrous results.
The Republican willingness to let the US Government default on its loans rather than have the rich pay their fair share of taxes shows me that they’re not serious about deficit reduction. They’re only serious about protecting the rich. They like feeling the wind flow through their hair as they ride. It’s the feeling of freedom.
And if the poor and working classes get their heads splattered on the pavement as a consequence, they can console themselves knowing they were martyrs in the cause of liberty.
Let me put it in personal terms. If my credit card debt were out of control, it wouldn’t be enough to simply say I’ll fix the problem by living on Ramen noodles and tap water because they’re cheaper. I would also have to – you know – actually make payments on the debt I’ve already racked up. If I fail to do that, any statement on my part that I really, really, really want to eliminate my credit card debt would be disingenuous. Munching Ramen, while symbolic in an ashes-and-sackcloth sort of way, does nothing to actually reduce my existing debt. The only way to do that would be to make the move of setting aside a larger share of my income and applying it toward paying it down. And while this would be painful for awhile, doing so would be beneficial in the long run. Since once I’m free from debt, I could actually start saving money for cool things I really want to do or buy.
But the Republicans don’t seem to get that. These same people who appear so eager to slash medical and Social Security benefits for the poor and working classes somehow find tax loopholes for gazillionaire oil companies, owners of corporate jets and racehorses sacrosanct. I may not be the brightest bulb on the marquee when it comes to figuring out politics, but when it comes to figuring out whose side these people are on, I sure as hell know it isn’t mine.
When pondering the Republican position on the debt ceiling, I couldn’t help but think of a recent incident in upstate New York. It seems there was a group of motorcyclists who didn’t like the state law requiring them to wear helmets while riding. They felt it was an infringement on their personal freedom. So they had a rally in which they defiantly rode their cycles without helmets. While on this protest ride, one of the cyclists lost control, flew over his handlebars and smashed his head on the pavement with fatal results. Had he been wearing a helmet, authorities stated, he likely would have survived.
Lofty-sounding pronouncements in favor of individual rights and liberties do little to alter the fact that riding a motorcycle without a helmet is a profoundly stupid thing to do. And that, to me, is the perfect analogy to the entire Republican/tea party platform: nice-sounding arguments which, if carried out, would lead to disastrous results.
The Republican willingness to let the US Government default on its loans rather than have the rich pay their fair share of taxes shows me that they’re not serious about deficit reduction. They’re only serious about protecting the rich. They like feeling the wind flow through their hair as they ride. It’s the feeling of freedom.
And if the poor and working classes get their heads splattered on the pavement as a consequence, they can console themselves knowing they were martyrs in the cause of liberty.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
WAY TO GO, NEW YORK!
I was thrilled with the news that the state of New York has decided to legalize same-sex marriage, not only because I think it is the right thing to do in the name of equal rights, but also because it will piss off and annoy people whom I think should be pissed off and annoyed more often. And while I’m certain many gay men and Lesbians in the Empire state will be in a celebratory mood, this straight Michigander will also derive much enjoyment listening to the whining warning cries of impending hellfire and brimstone from those who still hold the medieval anti-gay views which are now slowly – thankfully and hopefully – disappearing from the political landscape.
One of the canards always dragged out by these morons is that the union of gays in matrimony will somehow destroy the "sanctity" of straight marriage. Strangely, however, I have never heard a satisfactory explanation as to why that supposedly will happen. If a couple guys in Albany tie the knot will a happily married straight couple in Binghamton suddenly decide to split? I just don’t get it. It’s all a flaming (pardon the pun) non-sequitur to me. Not that any arguments of the religious right have ever made any sense to me.
If the study of history has taught me anything, it’s that in the long-term the course of human history tends toward more tolerance, enlightenment and freedom. This is not to say there aren’t interludes of horrible intolerance, violence, oppression and injustice on massive scales, but I am a firm believer in the notion that overall, despite the inevitable setbacks along the way, things will –with sometimes glacial slowness – get better. I don’t think I’m being a naïve and hopeless optimist in this view. I think it is borne out by realistically looking at historical trends. And for that reason, I am hopeful that anti-gay bigotry will one day be as rare as defenses of slavery are today.
And so I salute the people of New York for making a small step in the history of tolerance and the improvement of humanity.
Life can sometimes be hard, cruel and unfair. So if there are things we can do to make our time on this planet a little happier for someone during the short time we are alive, why not do them? What makes my neighbor happy may not be my cup o’tea, but so what? He or she may not be into what I like. But if we can both learn to follow our dreams without hurting the other guy, we will both be better off. Life is too short for hate. And if you believe your god tells you to hate, perhaps you should tell your god to fuck off.
For if the choice is really between divinely-inspired hate and human-inspired love, I’ll vote for love - any kind of love - every time.
One of the canards always dragged out by these morons is that the union of gays in matrimony will somehow destroy the "sanctity" of straight marriage. Strangely, however, I have never heard a satisfactory explanation as to why that supposedly will happen. If a couple guys in Albany tie the knot will a happily married straight couple in Binghamton suddenly decide to split? I just don’t get it. It’s all a flaming (pardon the pun) non-sequitur to me. Not that any arguments of the religious right have ever made any sense to me.
If the study of history has taught me anything, it’s that in the long-term the course of human history tends toward more tolerance, enlightenment and freedom. This is not to say there aren’t interludes of horrible intolerance, violence, oppression and injustice on massive scales, but I am a firm believer in the notion that overall, despite the inevitable setbacks along the way, things will –with sometimes glacial slowness – get better. I don’t think I’m being a naïve and hopeless optimist in this view. I think it is borne out by realistically looking at historical trends. And for that reason, I am hopeful that anti-gay bigotry will one day be as rare as defenses of slavery are today.
And so I salute the people of New York for making a small step in the history of tolerance and the improvement of humanity.
Life can sometimes be hard, cruel and unfair. So if there are things we can do to make our time on this planet a little happier for someone during the short time we are alive, why not do them? What makes my neighbor happy may not be my cup o’tea, but so what? He or she may not be into what I like. But if we can both learn to follow our dreams without hurting the other guy, we will both be better off. Life is too short for hate. And if you believe your god tells you to hate, perhaps you should tell your god to fuck off.
For if the choice is really between divinely-inspired hate and human-inspired love, I’ll vote for love - any kind of love - every time.
Monday, April 18, 2011
The Beat Goes On
Seeing as I'm getting older, and also seeing as I'm fortunate to have decent health insurance, I decided to have a medical checkup. At the checkup, my doctor found what he called a "slight irregularity" in my EKG. He said it was likely nothing to worry about, but as a precaution, he sent me to a cardiologist to get a stress test just to make sure.
It turned out that my ticker is perfectly fine. The stress test confirmed that. Personally, I think all the wires they had hooked up to me were superfluous. I figure if the stress test didn't kill me right then and there, my heart is fine.
I hope to be able to post more in the weeks to come.
It turned out that my ticker is perfectly fine. The stress test confirmed that. Personally, I think all the wires they had hooked up to me were superfluous. I figure if the stress test didn't kill me right then and there, my heart is fine.
I hope to be able to post more in the weeks to come.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Three Weeks. Two Deaths.
2011 has not been a good year.
Three weeks ago, my mother-in-law died. My wife was devastated at the loss of her mother. Though I tried my best to comfort her, I felt pretty inadequate to the task.
Yesterday, my mom's husband died suddenly. (They married after I was already an adult and was on my own, so "stepdad" doesn't seem the right word somehow.) My mom was devastated at the loss and again I felt quite ineffective in my attempts to make her feel at least a bit better.
Socially and emotionally awkward as I am, I'm not good with all the raw emotional stuff: the crying, the hurting, the slow eventual healing. I have a difficult time embracing the fact that these are part of the human condition and must slowly play themselves out. It is not a "problem" that I can somehow "fix". Despite my best intentions, I cannot somehow "save the day" and make everything better for the people I love.
As an atheist, I don't really grieve for those who have died. As far as I can determine, their suffering is over and they no longer exist except in the memories of those who knew them. It's the people left behind for whom I'm sad.
So since I'm not much good at the weepy aspects of the entire mourning thing, I suppose I could try to do something I feel more confident at: writing about the people who have recently died.
My mother-in-law, Lillian Caputo, was born in northern Ontario over 80 years ago. She spoke only French until the age of 16. She grew up impoverished and remained that way until moving to Montreal as a teen to find work and a better life. She married and the family moved to the United States where her husband's mechanical skills were in demand. They lived the typical idyllic 1960's suburban lifestyle. All was well until her husband died of cancer mere months shy of being able to collect a generous General Motors pension. Suddenly faced with having to raise her youngest daughter (eventually to become my wife) on Social Security, she used all her resources to make sure they would be okay. She was smart with her money and she took good care of my wife-to-be through her teen years until I snatched her away. Lillian not only took good care of her daughter, she also felt sorry for me, often feeding me ample meals during my broke student years so I wouldn't have to survive merely on macaroni and cheese and ramen noodles.
She was also extremely handy with tools and had an artistic side which I wish she would have explored. When we bought our house years ago, she was the one who helped my wife paint the place while I was at work. I remember once when she bought a folk-art painting and wire piece. Her thrifty nature started bugging her and she decided she could make one just like it for much less. And she did. Perfectly. Her recreation of the piece was so spot-on it was indistinguishable from the original. So she returned it, got her money back and kept her identical copy.
Lillian was generous with her time and money. A gift from her made a huge dent in the down payment on our house. The best gift she left, however, was her daughter. Lillian made sure that her daughter Leanne grew up to be a healthy and happy and confident young woman who became a loving wife and attentive mother. And in that sense, though Lillian is now gone, her legacy remains.
My mom's husband, Chuck Franklin, was 60-years-old. I don't know too much about his early life because I never bothered to ask. I know he served in the military in Germany for a few years and then worked various jobs from furniture sales to long-distance driver. He ate, smoked and drank a lot. He had some failed marriages. Then he met my mom. To say that their pairing was unlikely is an understatement to anyone who knew them. But somehow they meshed. Chuck got his life together, stopped smoking and drinking and tried his best to watch his diet. After awhile my mom and Chuck were married. Though Chuck was over a decade younger than my mom, he seemed to have a premonition that he would die first. He accepted that in a matter-of-fact manner, saying that his marriage had added 15 years to his life regardless.
Anyone who knew Chuck would be struck by his sense of humor, his genuine warmth and kindness once you got to know him and - most of all - his uncanny culinary abilities. Chuck was perhaps the best cook I have ever known in all my life. I would look forward to each Thanksgiving for some of his delicious stuffing, mashed potatoes (he always made a huge quantity knowing I loved them) and amazing chocolate pies. Thanksgiving will never be the same from now on. I remember one time I was at my mom's for no real reason. I was probably just dropping something off or just stopping by to say hello or something. Out of the blue Chuck asked if I'd like some pan-seared steak. Not being one to turn down such an offer, I readily accepted. The steak was delicious, of course, but more surprising was the side dish: mushrooms. Normally, I view those fungi as the tasteless gray mass one usually tolerates on pizzas. I didn't really want to eat them, but I figured since Chuck went through all that trouble I should at least be polite and choke them down. But as I took that first bite: a revelation! THESE mushrooms were not only tolerable, they were delicious! In fact to this day that serving of mushrooms was among the best things I've eaten in my life. No mushrooms before had ever come close... and I suppose none ever shall again.
I have many other nice memories of Chuck - his attempt to show the finer points of trout fishing to my outdoors-challenged son - the time he took us to the Soo to see the locks and the museum ship there. But damned if those mushrooms don't keep popping back into my memory. I suppose there's a lesson in there somewhere. What for Chuck may have been a simple act of kindness, a mere cooking of a steak, something that he might have forgotten about even doing shortly thereafter, became an event that helped define who he was and became one of the fondest memories of him after his death.
So I suppose if you ever feel like doing something nice for someone - even something small - please do it. It may be what you're remembered for after you're gone.
And there I must end things. I have to go to the Post Office to pick up my mother-in-law's ashes.
As I said: 2011 has not been a good year.
Three weeks ago, my mother-in-law died. My wife was devastated at the loss of her mother. Though I tried my best to comfort her, I felt pretty inadequate to the task.
Yesterday, my mom's husband died suddenly. (They married after I was already an adult and was on my own, so "stepdad" doesn't seem the right word somehow.) My mom was devastated at the loss and again I felt quite ineffective in my attempts to make her feel at least a bit better.
Socially and emotionally awkward as I am, I'm not good with all the raw emotional stuff: the crying, the hurting, the slow eventual healing. I have a difficult time embracing the fact that these are part of the human condition and must slowly play themselves out. It is not a "problem" that I can somehow "fix". Despite my best intentions, I cannot somehow "save the day" and make everything better for the people I love.
As an atheist, I don't really grieve for those who have died. As far as I can determine, their suffering is over and they no longer exist except in the memories of those who knew them. It's the people left behind for whom I'm sad.
So since I'm not much good at the weepy aspects of the entire mourning thing, I suppose I could try to do something I feel more confident at: writing about the people who have recently died.
My mother-in-law, Lillian Caputo, was born in northern Ontario over 80 years ago. She spoke only French until the age of 16. She grew up impoverished and remained that way until moving to Montreal as a teen to find work and a better life. She married and the family moved to the United States where her husband's mechanical skills were in demand. They lived the typical idyllic 1960's suburban lifestyle. All was well until her husband died of cancer mere months shy of being able to collect a generous General Motors pension. Suddenly faced with having to raise her youngest daughter (eventually to become my wife) on Social Security, she used all her resources to make sure they would be okay. She was smart with her money and she took good care of my wife-to-be through her teen years until I snatched her away. Lillian not only took good care of her daughter, she also felt sorry for me, often feeding me ample meals during my broke student years so I wouldn't have to survive merely on macaroni and cheese and ramen noodles.
She was also extremely handy with tools and had an artistic side which I wish she would have explored. When we bought our house years ago, she was the one who helped my wife paint the place while I was at work. I remember once when she bought a folk-art painting and wire piece. Her thrifty nature started bugging her and she decided she could make one just like it for much less. And she did. Perfectly. Her recreation of the piece was so spot-on it was indistinguishable from the original. So she returned it, got her money back and kept her identical copy.
Lillian was generous with her time and money. A gift from her made a huge dent in the down payment on our house. The best gift she left, however, was her daughter. Lillian made sure that her daughter Leanne grew up to be a healthy and happy and confident young woman who became a loving wife and attentive mother. And in that sense, though Lillian is now gone, her legacy remains.
My mom's husband, Chuck Franklin, was 60-years-old. I don't know too much about his early life because I never bothered to ask. I know he served in the military in Germany for a few years and then worked various jobs from furniture sales to long-distance driver. He ate, smoked and drank a lot. He had some failed marriages. Then he met my mom. To say that their pairing was unlikely is an understatement to anyone who knew them. But somehow they meshed. Chuck got his life together, stopped smoking and drinking and tried his best to watch his diet. After awhile my mom and Chuck were married. Though Chuck was over a decade younger than my mom, he seemed to have a premonition that he would die first. He accepted that in a matter-of-fact manner, saying that his marriage had added 15 years to his life regardless.
Anyone who knew Chuck would be struck by his sense of humor, his genuine warmth and kindness once you got to know him and - most of all - his uncanny culinary abilities. Chuck was perhaps the best cook I have ever known in all my life. I would look forward to each Thanksgiving for some of his delicious stuffing, mashed potatoes (he always made a huge quantity knowing I loved them) and amazing chocolate pies. Thanksgiving will never be the same from now on. I remember one time I was at my mom's for no real reason. I was probably just dropping something off or just stopping by to say hello or something. Out of the blue Chuck asked if I'd like some pan-seared steak. Not being one to turn down such an offer, I readily accepted. The steak was delicious, of course, but more surprising was the side dish: mushrooms. Normally, I view those fungi as the tasteless gray mass one usually tolerates on pizzas. I didn't really want to eat them, but I figured since Chuck went through all that trouble I should at least be polite and choke them down. But as I took that first bite: a revelation! THESE mushrooms were not only tolerable, they were delicious! In fact to this day that serving of mushrooms was among the best things I've eaten in my life. No mushrooms before had ever come close... and I suppose none ever shall again.
I have many other nice memories of Chuck - his attempt to show the finer points of trout fishing to my outdoors-challenged son - the time he took us to the Soo to see the locks and the museum ship there. But damned if those mushrooms don't keep popping back into my memory. I suppose there's a lesson in there somewhere. What for Chuck may have been a simple act of kindness, a mere cooking of a steak, something that he might have forgotten about even doing shortly thereafter, became an event that helped define who he was and became one of the fondest memories of him after his death.
So I suppose if you ever feel like doing something nice for someone - even something small - please do it. It may be what you're remembered for after you're gone.
And there I must end things. I have to go to the Post Office to pick up my mother-in-law's ashes.
As I said: 2011 has not been a good year.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
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