News To Me

Footprints in the Snow

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I got up too late to see them off. The only tangible evidence that they had been here at all was their footprints in the snow.

That was magic.

Thanksgiving was cold and gray, and quite rainy. Overnight the rain had turned to snow, leaving the ground completely white by morning. For two Arizona kids not used to seeing snow every day, its sudden appearance overnight was nothing short of magic. When one and a half year-old Tommy-girl got up, she just took it in stride, neither impressed, nor bored with the snow –it just was.

But Jay was captivated. First, he stopped dead in his tracks at the top of the stairs. Then he started giggling. Tommy knew something was up, so she started paying more attention. We picked up Tommy and Jay, and stood them on the windowsill, their noses pressed against the glass as they took in a world that had suddenly gone monochromatic white.

“Snow,“ Jay giggled over and over.

“Wow, “added Tommy, in one of the few words I can understand in her one and a half year-old dialect.

After the usual rigmarole of getting small children bundled up to go outside, out they went. Jay promptly marched up and down the deck, leaving distinct footprints everywhere he went. There were some snow angels, and a few sledding trips up and down our small hill. After a few minutes it was cold, and time to come in – two kids thoroughly happy from their experience with the snow .

More wonder followed through the weekend. Looking at the Christmas windows at the Grand America hotel. Discovering the joy of cooking with Mita, and getting to eat dried pineapple for the first time.  Making instant friends out of distant cousins at a family reunion. Assembling a new train set to go around the Christmas tree.

And then… sadness. Jay was almost inconsolable as he gave hugs before bed last night, holding onto each person longer than ever, not wanting the weekend to end. It was adorable. And a little heartbreaking.

We should all be so lucky to have such great kids in our lives. Small children turn what has become the every day, quotidian life that we lead as adults into wonder after wonder after wonder. The unabashed giggling is infectious. The sadness at not wanting it to end is real, but we don’t let ourselves show it as adults very often. But kids? They just let it all show on their faces: joy, wonder, amazement, sadness, friendship, frustration. It’s real, fleeting, and wonderful. 

It was the same on our trip to Minnesota. Callum was almost beside himself with excitement to show us how he figured out the secret dinosaur and simultaneously learned so much by going to the science museum. Lola was completely immersed in her own world, as she danced on our walk to the waterfall, almost oblivious to how beautiful it was because the world in her head is so much more entertaining.

I got up too late to see them off. But there are still footprints in the snow to remind me of a great holiday weekend. In a few days (or maybe hours) those footprints will be gone, too. Then I will have the memories. But those fade too. Eventually all that remains are the feelings we experienced— feelings of being loved.

The River at Sundance

Saturday Morning, 5 AM, Sundance Mountain Resort
River Run, 5A

The sound of the stream rushing by the cabin has played with my ears for hours. Now I can look at it, too, matching the dull roar of rushing water to the images of rivulets bounding down the hill.

It is spell-binding.

It is no wonder that mountains are considered sacred ground, and that in nature God communes with man. Adam the The Garden. Moses and The Mount. Joseph and The Grove. Jesus Christ and another Garden. It is in nature that Man meets his Creator (even atheists and often refer to the earth as Gaia, Goddess of Nature).

Here at Sundance we are nestled beautifully into the side of the mountain, trees mingled with cabins, streams criss-crossed with paths and bridges, architecture and artistry in equal measure. We come here to "get away," but what we are really doing is "getting back"--back to our roots, to the dust from whence we came.

The world is raging. The COVID plague is destroying layers of institutional habits--some of which are centuries old. This little stream scoffs at mere centuries, having been here for millennia. It continues happily down the hill, chuckling at the humans that it encounters. 

"God is here," it gurgles. "Sit still, and listen to His voice."

Leaving High School Behind and Advice to Seniors

It was the summer after my senior year in High School, and I was on top of the world. I had graduated near the top of my high school graduating class, had a great group of friends, and the prospect of MIT was rising on the horizon for the fall. As do many recent high school graduates, I felt invincible.

In addition to all of that, I had Elle*.

I had had a crush on Elle since she moved into my small New Jersey town in 9th grade, but it wasn't until our Senior year that I got the nerve to ask her out. The connection was almost instantaneous, and the latter half of our Senior year we were virtually inseparable. I adopted her friends (and she, mine). We sang together around the piano. We laughed together. We shared deep thoughts and silly picnics. It was a near perfect high school romance.

The town where we grew up was Main Street USA. People think of New Jersey as a dirty, poorer version of New York City, but that wasn't my home town. Summit was clean and beautiful, honoring the title of "The Garden State." Summit was small enough that you could ride your bike across the whole town without too much trouble, but big enough to have five elementary schools. The downtown area was four blocks long by three blocks wide, and had small stores like you want your home town to have: a five-and-dime (Woolworths), a "haberdashery" (Roots--and not the chain), Trosts bakery, a book store (Christopher's) and lots of little nooks and crannies to be explored.  Every year on the Fourth of July the whole town would spread out blankets at Memorial Field and watch an amazing fireworks display. We played football on Thanksgiving Day (against our arch rival New Providence) after marching from the High School to Tatlock field with the band and cheerleaders and homemade floats. It was an idyllic life, at least for me.

Elle was a good match for my high school self. She was smart and witty. She cared about the world around her. She was good to her little brother and loyal to her friends. She was even kind to a former boyfriend (who became somewhat of a stalker). She sang in the choir and acted in the plays and was passionate about her future and education and politics. She was off to Colgate in the fall, and looked forward to her future every bit as much as I did to mine.

I was a pretty arrogant high school student. Because high school academics had been pretty easy, I assigned too much value to my own intelligence. I had not had true heartache or difficulty (though MIT would soon prove to be a humbling experience). While I did my high-school-best to be kind and generous, I am sure that there were plenty of times when I was insufferable.  Nevertheless, Elle was patient with me and my foibles, and we enjoyed each other's company very much. I'm sure that she would say that she had her problems too, but I was wrapped up tightly in my own world, and didn't see them very often. 

Because of my arrogance I had adopted the stance of small-town-kid held back by his circumstances. This wasn't really true: if anything, Summit was a great launching pad for anything I wanted to accomplish. But I was a pretty straight-arrow kid so I needed something against which to be defiant. I chose "small town syndrome" as I called it, and I loved to point out the weaknesses of my limited world, making fun of the very things that I now consider to be idyllic. I used phrases like, "I'm going to shake off the dust of this little town and never look back," in the false bravado that so many high school students adopt.  

The summer wore on, and we spent a lot of time together. I had a part time job (and so did she) but other than that we talked or "hung out" almost every day.

As we approached our last few weeks together, we took a trip to the Jersey Shore with another couple--my best friend, and his girlfiend at the time. The Jersey shore gets a bad rap, too, because of the name of that horrible reality television show. It really is a beautiful, playful beach, and we had a great day just enjoying the sun and the waves.

At sunset Elle and I went for a walk along the beach. Inevitably our discussion turned toward our futures--she to Colgate and I to MIT. Without much emotion (or sensitivity for her feelings) I stated flatly that I didn't expect us to be committed to each other--we were going off to new experiences, and who knew what the world or future held for us. 

She stopped walking. "Are you breaking up with me?" she asked.

"I don't know, am I? You knew that we would go our different ways at some point."

She looked stricken. "I guess...I don't know...I hadn't really thought about it I guess."

We walked a few more steps, and she said, "Can I walk alone for a few minutes?"

"Sure," I said, and I turned back toward our towels on the beach.

And that was that. When she came back to the towels I asked if she was alright, and she said that she was. We didn't talk much in the car on the way home.

Or really ever again.

We corresponded a little during our first semester at college (hand written letters--the way real people communicated before Facebook and Twitter). Our schedules didn't line up so we didn't see each other over Christmas, and then the letters stopped. I haven't heard from or spoken to her since.

I did, indeed, "shake off the dust of that little town" and never really returned. Oh I visited my parents at Christmas and Thanksgiving, but I spent the summer in Boston, and by the following summer I was living abroad. Four years after I graduated my parents retired and moved away from Summit, and that door to my past-- that connection to important people and events that so shaped my adolescent world-- closed forever.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The point of this story isn't lost love or the recapture of youth or nostalgia or some such thing. It is about two things:

1) the fleeting nature of even the deepest of early-life relationships, and

2) the insensitivity caused by looking too far ahead. 

I thought about the first when one of my son's former high school girlfriends got married. She is a wonderful girl, and married a great guy. But...what if? Unlike my experience with Elle, my son and this young woman remained great friends after they dated. But he had broken their relationship after only a few months on fleeting, high-school emotions and circumstances.  Another son saw his senior year girlfriend engaged to someone else before either of them started their freshman years of college.

I have a daughter who is a junior in high school this year. As she heads toward her senior year, I want for her to have the amazing year that I had my senior year. Through most of High School I spent almost every day with a small group of friends; that group expanded to include Elle and her friends the second half of my senior year. While I have connected to several in that group via social media, I did not keep in touch with any of them, except superficially.

So this is my deep insight and advice to this year's seniors: don't blow it. Take advantage of every moment, savor every experience, relish the freedom that you get from being nearly an adult with almost no adult responsibilities. Be spontaneous and silly without causing yourself stupid, long-term problems. 

But also...recognize that there are many, many "lasts." Don't become too maudlin about those, but respect them for what they are--transition points from one life to the next. Don't rush that transition, always looking to the horizon. That horizon is great--college, independence, adulthood. But it will come up way too soon. As Sean Payton, former coach of the NFL's New Orleans Saints, said to a group of high school football players:

"27 years ago I was in a locker room getting ready to play a game just like you are tonight. Walking in here, it still smells the same. One of the things that caught me was how fast 27 years go by...I would give anything tonight if I could jump in one of these uniforms with you guys. That feeling goes away; it goes away, and it doesn't come back every Friday night. It come when you get married. It comes when a child is born. So you get it, you just don't get it every Friday night. That's what I miss...So you Seniors that are focused on college, you're focused on your work after high school and what you're going to do next--you're focused on tomorrow, aren't you? There is plenty of time for tomorrow. But these tonights? They're going by fast. You focus on tonight. Because there are only so many of these nights left."

One last thought: be sensitive to these important people in your life. Very soon--too soon--they will waltz past you for the last time, and you will never see some of them again. Honor the moments you have together.

And to Elle (you know who you are)? I'm sorry for the way that I acted. I hope your life has been as outstanding as you imagined it on those spring nights back in Summit. 

*Elle is not her name. I don’t have her permission to tell this story, so I’m going to leave her anonymous. 

UPDATE!

Elle Replied!

Epilogue: Elle too went on to leave “small town” Summit behind, escaping to the wilds of exotic suburban CT. Moving away in a time before texting and posting made it easy to stay close, she lost touch over time with dear friends that meant a lot to her, including that long ago high school crush. Believe it or not, she often thinks back fondly on all of them, and those fleeting yet memorable high school years. Because when people walk into you life, they touch you and leave their mark. Like a fingerprint on smooth glass, you see through it, but it shapes what you see.

She still lives very much in the moment, and wouldn’t have it any other way. And yeah, she’s still too nice to people who might not deserve it. But maybe that’s a gift, and not a flaw.

And to Russ? No apology needed, my dear friend. Life is outstanding. And I hope that yours has been wonderful, too. 🥰

The Car Accident 11-15-1982

Thirty years ago today--the day before my 17th birthday!--I was in a horrific car accident which required more than 100 stitches to my face, and eventually minor plastic surgery. I decided to share that memory, before it fades too far into my past--more out of recollection and catharsis than mutual interest, though I hope that you find it interesting. If you were in the accident with me, I would be interested in your memories too--especially if you are one of the two people that I can't remember!

BACKGROUND

As a high school sophomore I became a member of Summit High School bowling club, and eventually progressed from club to junior varsity to varsity, earning a letter my senior year. The club met on Monday afternoons, and was three dollars for three games of bowling--a terrific deal. I convinced several of my friends that bowling was fun, and cheap, and so we went together throughout the fall semester all three years at Summit High. Few of them followed me onto the more serious practices and matches in the winter quarter. But for a geeky, gangly high school kid, having a fun group with which to go bowling was a good deal all around..

One of my friends, Sean Wilson, was an sporadic member of the bowling club. Sean had spent most of the previous summer working on his car, a '67 Chevy that he lovingly rebuilt himself from the wheels up. To get to bowling you could ride with the bowling club's faculty sponsor--Mr. Wheeler--in his huge van, or you could find your own way. Once Sean had his own car, we drove with him everywhere, including bowling.

Sean's car had front seat-belts, but they were clipped above each window. It was very easy to simply ignore them, which we almost always did. On the day of the crash, I was not wearing my seat-belt.

THE CRASH

This particular Monday afternoon was beautifully sunny, and Indian-summer warm. Five of us met Sean at his car to go bowling, including Sean's younger brother, and another senior named Tom Clark. For some reason (that has slipped beyond my memory) we were running late. Sean always liked to drive fast--mostly to show off the car--and this gave him an excuse. 

We squealed out of the school parking lot, laughing, listening to music, with the windows down--three of us in the front seat, three in the back seat. I had tossed my bowling ball in the trunk, but had my books with me in the front passenger seat, under my feet. Sean was driving, his younger brother (taller than me, though) sat in the front seat between us. Tom had his bowling ball and books between his legs in the back seat.There were two other passengers--underclassmen, if memory serves--who also sat in the back seat; I can't remember their names.

As we sped toward the bowling alley, we took a back road near the Ciba-Geigy plant--turning right on River Road, and then left on Chatham Road. Sean really opened it up as we sped along Chatham Road. Chatham Road becomes Summit Avenue, and jogs left, then straight, then a slightly sharper right. We then were supposed to turn left on Ogden Street (a shortcut to get to Main St, route 124). 

We were going very fast.

As we entered the sharper right turn, Sean let out a string of foul language (a habit for him in that era), and shouted "Hang on!" and then something about the steering. I found out later that the power steering had failed, so that it must have felt like he was trying to pull a ten-ton weight. We were used to Sean driving fast, and to him swearing, so none of us took it too seriously until...

...we glanced against a tree on the right side of the road (my door). Then it get very quiet, and things seemed to slow down.

I placed my right hand on the dash board, and held onto the handle above my head with my left hand. After we glanced off the tree we were supposed to go left onto Ogden Street, but we never made the turn. Instead we slammed head on into a telephone pole on the corner of Ogen Street and Summit Ave. The phone pole was at the edge of a yard that was elevated about four feet above the street level. We hit the pole so hard that we drove it six feet deeper into the small hillside.

When the insurance adjusters talked to me later, they asked how fast we were going. I had no idea, so I just said, "Pretty fast, I guess." They said, "Would it surprise you to know that the speedometer got stuck at 58 MPH?" No, I answered them, that didn't surprise me at all; we were probably going more like 70 on the straight road before the crash.

IN THE CAR

Immediately after impact there was silence. No noise, no explosion, not even moaning. Everything seemed to be moving slowly, as if we were trying to talk and move underwater. When no one said anything, I shouted, 

"Is everyone alive? Say something! Sean?" He answered. "Tom?" He answered. I named everyone in the car, and they all answered. So we were all alive.

As we hit the telephone pole, my right hand, which had been extended onto the dashboard, had instinctively come up toward my face. The result was that my entire right forearm was littered with glass shards from the shattered winshield, but my face was spared. I couldn't really move my right arm or hand for the pain. Also, blood was pouring down my face, so I couldn't really see. Apparently my head had smashed into the windshield, but instead of being thrown through the glass, I had simply shattered it with my forehead.  I had a cut somewhere above my eye line--I didn't know where--but I immediately and instinctively put my left hand on my forehead. I wasn't thinking about first aid;I was just trying to block the blood from getting in my eyes so that I could see. Paramedics told me later that the instinct--to apply pressure to a wound--slowed the blood flow enough from my head wound that it probably saved my life.

Having determined that everyone was alive, I wanted to get out of the car. Unfortunately, with my right arm full of glass and bloody and my left hand on my forehead, I couldn't figure out how to get the door open. Frustrated, I gave up after a few seconds.

Now there was groaning and crying. I shouted, "Let's sing! Stay awake! Let's sing something!" I vaguely remember someone swearing at me for that suggestion (probably Sean), but i was insistent. "You cannot lose consciousness! Sing!!!" At that point, I began to sing the first song the came to my mind:

The Star-Spangled Banner

I don't know why I chose that; maybe because everyone knows that one. A few blocks away on Summit Avenue some construction workers had heard the crash and came running. When they got to the car one of the men wrenched open my door, and what did he find?

Six high-school boys singing the National Anthem. 

Our high school principal was a volunteer EMT. He heard the construction workers call in the emergency on a radio in his office at the high school, and sprinted to the scene, arriving even before the paramedics. As he was driving the construction workers were trying to help us out. Sean was pinned with the steering wheel pinning him underneath his ribs (they would be shattered). I was still bleeding profusely, and was a little panicked as my blood was getting all over my books (under my feet). 

As my principal arrived at the car, he saw me pleading with the construction worker to protect my books from the blood. Several weeks later, when I went to his office to collect my books, he said he had never seen anything quite like that--a student pleading to save his books! I guess that I was more of a geek than I even realized!

THE AMBULANCE

The EMTs were there very soon after the construction workers and our principal. There were two ambulances and six boys, so they put three of us in each ambulance. I was the one who looked the worst, what with blood covering both arms and my face, and soaking my shirt. Also, my door opened easily, so they took me in the first ambulance.  In my ambulance they put me, Tom Clark (sitting behind the driver), and one of the other people from the back seat. When we glanced off the tree, before we hit the telephone pole, Tom had put his hand down to stablize his bowling ball. On impact the ball had bounced up against the front seat, and smashed his hand. The other boy (who I sadly cannot remember) had minor cuts and bruises, and ended up with a concussion.  

Sean ended up the most injured, with a concussion, separated and broken ribs, and several burst blood vessels in his eye (probably from smashing his head into something). He was trapped in the car, and not bleeding as badly, so he, his brother, and the other boy (that I can't remember) came in the second ambulance. I found out later that Sean had to be cut from the drivers' seat using the "Jaws of Life". 

While we were in the ambulance I was hyper-conscious--extremely aware of everything that was going on around me. They assumed that my right arm (with the glass in it) was broken because I couldn't really move it, so they immobilized that as well as my head, and strapped me to one of those boards that they use for spinal injuries. I told the EMT that I was very cold, and they wrapped me in warm blankets. 

Then came the vital signs fiasco. I was referred to as "Patient A" and the other boys were B and C. Because I was hyper-conscious, I was paying rapt attention to the various vital signs as they took them. When the EMT called into the hospital, she mixed them up--she said "Patient A" with my condition and injuries, but with Patient B's vital signs (blood pressure, temperature, pupils, etc) So I interrupted her and said, "You mixed those up! That was Tom's vital signs and my condition." She told the hospital to hold on, checked them, and then corrected them. She asked me how I knew that she had mixed them up. I'm sure that I said something smart-mouthed and obnoxious, but I don't remember what it was. 

THE PHONE CALLS

Once we got to the hospital, Tom and I were put into adjoining "bays" in the Emergency Room, separated by only a curtain. I don't really remember most of the goings-on in the ER; my hyper-consciousness faded on the ride to the hospital. They asked me for my name and phone number, which I gave them. 

When they called my mother, the ER administrator said, "Your son has been in a car accident. He is at Overlook Hospital, and I am calling for your permission to treat him?"

My mother said, "What happened to him?"

"Oh we can't tell you that over the phone. We are advising you of the accident, and asking for permission to treat. If you want more detail you'll have to come to the hospital and show identification." She gave permission and called my father:

"Our son has been in a car accident, and they won't tell me what happened. Come home immediately and go with me to the hospital."

When they asked Tom about his phone number and family, he told the nurse that his mother didn't handle bad news well, and could they call a family friend, their priest, who could go over and talk to the mother. So that is how they handled it, except...when the priest came by and told Tom's mother that her son had been in a car accident, she assumed he was dead!

In the ambulance they asked us where we were going, and I told them about the bowling club, and that they needed to call the bowling alley and speak to Mr. Wheeler. When he got the call, they said, "Mr. Wheeler, six of your students have been in a car accident. We would like you to come and identify them please." He assumed that we were dead, too!

After the botched phone calls, a nurse came to tell me that my parents were on their way. Then she said, "How well does your mother deal with blood?"

"I don't know--OK, I guess."

"And how attached are you to this shirt?"

"I don't care about the shirt," I answered.

At that point they proceeded to cut the shirt off of me, and throw it away. They cleaned off my face a bit, because the blood was crusting around my eyes and mouth. I guess it didn't matter, though, because when my mother arrived, she gasped at what I looked like. 

THE INJURIES

Sean was seriously injured, as I mentioned before, but recovered relatively quickly. 

Sean's brother had cuts and bruises mostly, but his right hand was seriously damaged by the telepone pole as it came into the front seat. His injury resulted in some nerve damage to his hand, which had not fully recovered by the end of the school year, the last time that I saw him. 

Tom had broken his hand in several places, and required pins and things, but eventually fully recovered. 

I had split open my forehead. What I didn't know, because they never let me look at myself, was that a large flap of my forehead--a semi-circular arc about three inches along the arc--had been lifted up essentially "scalping" me. As they stitched me up that night, I was conscious throughout, with only a local anesthetic. With my mother holding my hand, they stitched up the wound for quite some time--an hour? Could it have been that long?

The doctor was pleasant, and was making jokes the whole time. At one point he said, "Well, that does it--you get the record for most stitches I have ever put into one wound."

I said, "How many stitches was it?"

He answered, "Just tell people more than 150 so that I can stop counting."

It turned out the my arms were fine. My right arm, with the glass in it, bled a lot, but nothing broke; I still have scars on my elbow from the glass. My left arm was fine. My shoulder must have hit something, because it was bruised, but nothing was broken. I had a fairly severe concussion, and they kept me in the hospital for several hours for observation, but not overnight; these days, with malpractice fears, they probably would have kept me for a day or two. We headed home late that evening, with my head bandaged like something out of a M*A*S*H episode, my right arm bandaged from the cuts, and my clothes cut off of me. 

I only missed a week of school. When I returned, I still had the bandage on my head for a while, and the deep scar on my forehead for weeks. Eventually I would have minor out-patient plastic surgery to improve the looks of the scar. Today you can hardly tell that it is even there. 

And the next day after the accident, I celebrated my 17th birthday!

THE CONCLUSION

Sean's car both caused the accident and saved our lives. The power steering fluid had all leaked out, causing him to be unable to turn the wheel at the speed at which we were travelling. Hindsight says that he probably should have just jammed on the brakes, but it is too easy to second guess something that happened in a matter of seconds. But had we been driving anything other than a steel-frame '67 Chevy, we easily would have all been killed. Also, because Sean had replaced the original windshield with safety glasss, instead of flying out of the car and likely being impaled by the pieces of glass, the windshield simply shattered, causing injury but not death. 

Some time later, when undergoing treatment for another illness, a doctor asked me if I had ever had head trauma. When I told him this story, he was amazed--both at the story, and at the relatively minor injuries sustained by all of us. It truly was a birthday miracle.

More Radical Thoughts: Election Day Reform

Recently I put forward a fairly radical idea that the key to reforming the electoral college--splitting states that control more than 10% of the electoral votes needed to elect a president. For today's installment of radical ideas, let's look at the actual day of the election.

With a country as geographically distributed as ours it becomes problematic to have some states vote before other states. By the time many workers in western states have gone to the polls after work, the election is already decided. Or if it isn't already over, it is trending in solidly in one direction, and people are not motivated to vote. The US percentage of age-eligible people who actually vote has not exceeded 60% since Nixon was first elected in 1968!

With those things in mind, here are a few changes that I propose that I think would make a world of difference:

• Make election day a federal holiday, so that everyone but medical and emergency personnel would be able to vote at any time during the day. Most of the objection to creating new federal holidays has to do with lost productivity, which equates to hundreds of millions of dollars. But who says we need a new holiday to do this? It turns out that we have a federal holiday very close to election day, which we could move to election day: Veterans Day. What that be the perfect way to celebrate our veterans? By exercising our unique and powerful right to vote?
• Make the polls open the same time--the same hours--in every state. Not the same local  time, the same absolute time. I propose 9 am to 9 pm Eastern time (6 am to 6 pm in California). With the day off, and twelve hours to vote, there should be little or no excuse to avoid voting. By the way, even Hawaii (4 am to 4 pm) and Alaska (5 am to 5 pm) would have multiple daylight hours in which to vote.
• Because everyone was voting at the same time, there should be no delays in counting the votes. All precincts should be required to report by 10 pm eastern time. This would eliminate the need to track exit polls, as they would be meaningless. 
• Limit early voting to hardship cases--people travelling abroad, servicemen, etc. Why would I want to limit absentee and early voting? Because I want everyone voting on the same information, rather that some voting early before "October surprises" are known. To accomplish that we should make absentee and early voting available, but only for those who truly would have a hardship meeting the new voting schedule.

So, to recap:

• Federal holiday.
• Same voting hours.
• All states reported and delivered simultaneously.
• Limited access to early/absentee ballots.

What would be the next effect? Imagine the moment at 10 pm! It would be the most incredible "And the winner is..." moment anywhere in the world for any competition. Picture the map suddenly lighting up blue here and red there, and within a few minutes the map is completely filled, and a winner proclaimed.

There is a unifying element to voting that only a national holiday serves. If we voted this way, I believe we would get greater turnout and a better sense of the country's preference. And it would be cool...

...and it has zero chance of happening, but it would be fun! 

Political Ears to Hear

In the second 2012 Presidential Debate there was a key moment about the attacks in Benghazi, Libya. Romney accused the President of misleading the American people by blaming the attacks on a spontaneous reaction to the YouTube video for fourteen days. Obama countered by saying that he had called the attack an act of terrorism the very next day. Here is what Obama actually said in that Rose Garden speech, September 12, 2012:

“The United States condemns in the strongest terms this outrageous and shocking attack.  We're working with the government of Libya to secure our diplomats.  I've also directed my administration to increase our security at diplomatic posts around the world.  And make no mistake, we will work with the Libyan government to bring to justice the killers who attacked our people.

“Since our founding, the United States has been a nation that respects all faiths.  We reject all efforts to denigrate the religious beliefs of others.  But there is absolutely no justification to this type of senseless violence.  None.  The world must stand together to unequivocally reject these brutal acts…No acts of terror will ever shake the resolve of this great nation, alter that character, or eclipse the light of the values that we stand for.”

Obama used that phrase "acts of terror," but did not appear to specifically say that the Benghazi attack an "act of terror." Or did he?

In many ways it depends on what you are expecting to hear. Certainly none of the reporters who covered those remarks identified that comment. Indeed, Susan Rice, US Ambassador to the UN, repeatedly said that the attack was a response to the video. So did Hillary Clinton. So did Obama himself, both in individual remarks and in his speech to the UN. So did he really say it was a "terrorist act" or didn't he?

I am reminded of an exchange with my wife nearly 15 years ago. We had been out with the family, and were coming home late, dragging tired children, carrying babies and diaper bags and the general stuff the fills life for a young family. As we entered the house, my wife said, 

"Sure would be nice if someone took out the garbage..."

I immediately answered, "Yeah, sure would be..."

Then I stopped, and turned to her and said, "Wait..Did you just ask me to take out the garbage?"

She said, "Yes."

As you read this, do you think that she asked me to take out the garbage? It didn't seem that way to me, which is why I asked the clarifying question.

Now apply the same principle to what Obama said in his Rose Garden speech. Did he call the attack an "act of terror"? What ears are you using to hear? If you listened with my ears, you did not hear the President call the attack an act of terror, but heard him refer to acts of terror generally. If you listened with the "implied intent" ear (i.e, my wife's asking for me to take out the garbage), then he probably did label the attacks an act of terror.

Radically Reforming the Electoral College

Recently I posted about my support for the Electoral College (EC). While it may be an old-fashioned way of apportioning votes in a Republic, it actually still works. But that doesn't mean that it couldn't stand a little tweaking here and there.

Most Electoral College reform centers around some form of direct popular election: 

• Straight popular vote (abolish the EC). 
• A variation of straight popular vote would be a popular vote with instant run-off, which would mean that you would rank the candidates, rather than voting for only one. Then a computer system somewhere would decide who finished last, and go to those voters' second choice, etc. This would encourage a lot of non-major party candidates, who could wield some significant influence.
• Apportionment of electoral votes. The would allocate EC votes on a congressional district-by-congressional district basis, with the overall state popular votes getting the two senate-apportioned electoral votes. Two states already do this (Maine and Nebraska).

Here is a more radical suggestion: more states!

I think that it is horrible that one state out of fifty should wield up to 10% of the power to elect the President of all of the country. When one state becomes so large that it passes the 10% threshold, it should be required, according to Constitutional Amendment, to divide itself into two (or more, again at its discretion) smaller states under the 10% electoral vote threshold. Each of these new states would get two additional US Senators, so the size of the Senate (and thus the Electoral College itself) would increase.

With 270 electoral votes needed to win, the following four states would need to be split:

• California: 55 electoral votes, or 20.4% of the vote needed to be elected! California would have to be split into three new states (Northern, Central, and Southern). 
• Texas, 38 or 14.1%. Most likely separation would be East and West Texas.
• New York, 29 or 10.7%. Most likely separation would be Great New York City (call it the state of Manhattan), and Upstate New York.
• Florida, 29 or 10.7%. In Florida the division lines are not clear. It really should be Miami and then everything else, but having the peninsula and the panhandle makes sense too.

I believe that somewhere along the way we became enamored with the number "50" for our states; the "fifty nifty United States" and all that. But we added states through the early part of the 20th century, and then just stopped. If we were to divide the four states that I suggest, it has the added benefit of being generally equal (two Democratic and two Republican states) so no party overwhelming wins. We would now have 55 states, and the Senate would thus expand to 110 members.

Radical? Yes, and it has essentially zero chance of ever happening. But it would be cool...

 

Eat the Rich! -- Bill Whittle, Genius

I have long been a fan of Mr. Whittle (see my blogroll on the right). As we come down the homestretch of this election, I am sharing a video he made which clearly illustrates the fallacy that making the rich pay more taxes will solve our current governmental financial problems. This is absolutely worth the ten minutes he spends...

 

Taking ALL the money from ALL the rich people, EVERY rich corporation, and ENTIRE industries gets us enough money to last ONE YEAR! And then there would be no one left to tax!

Daily Five MInutes: President of All the People?

I didn't write this, but I thought it was funny. I took it from the comments on the blog, Just One Minute. The context was Mitt Romney's "secret message" to donors; the commenter signed his name "bgates" [if only!]:

"So I feel that I've been President for all Americans - the stupid Cambridge Police, the members of my security detail who wouldn't think twice about shooting a black guy, doctors who perform unnecessary amputations out of greed; bankers and pitchfork-wielding mobs; Hispanics and their enemies, who I encouraged them to attack; the people who were entitled to money when GM went bankrupt, and the people who got money when GM went bankrupt; filmmakers critical of Islam who give me lots of money, and filmmakers critical of Islam who are invited to come downtown for routine questioning."

"It's on behalf of all of those people that I have worked as hard as I can. That's what you've seen the past few years. Me, working as hard as I can. Barring only occasional moments of rest - a couple of rounds of golf each month, watching less than half of the college basketball that ESPN and ESPN2 televises, a bit of daily exercise, and the odd date night flight to New York or Chicago or Los Angeles or Paris or Rio or Casablanca or Majorca or Fiji or Maui or only a couple of dozen other places - I'm at work every waking moment."

"I don't think most Americans realize how much is involved in this job, probably because I make it look so easy, but I have to give a lot of speeches in front of a lot of admirers, and I feel like I owe it to them to make it the greatest experience of their lives. It's not just speeches, either. There are a lot of dinners where I have to listen to other speeches, and campaign material to film, interviews to sit through, donation reports to review, photo shoots of me working to arrange, state dinners to host, just many different things. Tonight alone, Dave, I'm not just here talking to you, I have to go have dinner next to Beyonce later. Again."

"And then there's the foreign affairs component - of course my opponents are new to diplomacy - but it's a very important component of my job to meet with foreign leaders, smooth over damage that has been done to our relationship due to missteps by previous administrations, and explain to them what I have noticed about how they can fix various problems in their countries."

"The truth is, I don't think Mitt Romney is capable of doing what I've done over the past three and a half years, and frankly I think deep down he knows it."

 

Federal Spending Growth: Enough Blame to Go Around

One of the constant themes of this Republican presidential campaign has been the need to reign in spending. They claim that they "are the party of smaller government! We will cut taxes and cut spending and reduce the size of the Federal government!" or something like that.

Does that ring true?

On the surface, the Republicans seem sincere in their desires to reduce both the size and the cost of the Federal government. But our debt situation is hardly a game in which Republicans are the innocent small-government crusaders agains the evil Democratic spenders. Consider the following chart 

Under Carter, Clinton and Bush I, our Federal spending kept pace with our population growth. Under Reagan and Bush II, our growth in spending signficantly outpaced our population. Under Obama that spending reached a new height, and has remained at that height for his entire administration.

So...Did Obama increase our Federal spending dramatically? Yes, the largest one year jump in the past 35 years (and, in reality, in all of US history)--a huge almost 20% jump in Federal spending per capita in his first year in office. But Reagan had about a 20% increase over his eight years in office, and Bush II had ~25% growth in his eight years. Republicans can spin this all they want--Reagan was fighting to end the cold war, Bush II was fighting wars on two fronts and everyone knows that wars are expensive, both inherited economies in a free fall, etc. But that is just rationalization for the truth that tax-and-spend liberals have nothing on cut-taxes-and-spend-more Republicans.

For some time now I have said that listening to George W. Bush give his last State of the Union address was like listening to Democrats from the 70's, and he certainly spent money like crazy--more than even Jimmy Carter. Saying Obama is "worse" on the spending issue is certainly damning with faint praise. 

If Romney and Ryan are intent on reducing our deficit and debt--and they certainly say that they are--then they will be bucking not just the historic levels achieved under the Obama administration, but the very spending that their GOP predecessors excelled at. 

Here's hopting that Romney and Ryan are up to the challenge.

Lessons from 9/11

I cannot express these lessons any better myself, so here is a repost from Glenn Reynolds on 9/11/01. His wisdom in the aftermath of great tragedy is inspiring:

[Posted at 1:49 PM EDT, 9/11/01]

Here, for your consideration, are a few points to be taken from past experience:

The Fog of War: Nobody knows much right now. Many things that we think we know are likely to be wrong. 

Overreaction is the Terrorist's Friend: Even in major cases like this, the terrorist's real weapon is fear and hysteria. Overreacting will play into their hands.

It's Not Just Terrorists Who Take Advantage: Someone will propose new "Antiterrorism" legislation. It will be full of things off of bureaucrats' wish lists. They will be things that wouldn't have prevented these attacks even if they had been in place yesterday. Many of them will be civil-liberties disasters. Some of them will actually promote the kind of ill-feeling that breeds terrorism. That's what happened in 1996. Let's not let it happen again.

Only One Antiterrorism Method Works: That's punishing those behind it. The actual terrorists are hard to reach. But terrorism of this scale is always backed by governments. If they're punished severely -- and that means severely, not a bombed aspirin-factory but something that puts those behind it in the crosshairs -- this kind of thing won't happen again. That was the lesson of the Libyan bombing.

"Increased Security" Won't Work. When you try to defend everything, you defend nothing. Airport security is a joke because it's spread so thin that it can't possibly stop people who are really serious. You can't prevent terrorism by defensive measures; at most you can stop a few amateurs who can barely function. Note that the increased measures after TWA 800 (which wasn't terrorism anyway, we're told) didn't prevent what appear to be coordinated hijackings. (Archie Bunker's plan, in which each passenger is issued a gun on embarking, would have worked better). Deterrence works here, just as everywhere else. But you have to be serious about it.

For now, the terrorists have won. They've shut down the U.S. government, more or less. They've shut down air travel. They're all over TV. But whether they really win depends on how we deal with this; hysterically, or like angry -- but measured -- adults.

In the days following 9/11 we were all Americans first, various factions (religions, races, political parties, etc.) second. May be become a united people--a truly United States of America--in the future and forever.

Paul Krugman Then and Now

Paul Krugman is an economic professor at Princeton, columnist for the NY Times, a Nobel Prize winner, and a sometimes advisor to presidents and corporations. He once worked for a commission which advised then President Reagan, but he felt out of place because, in his words:

I was then and still am an unabashed defender of the welfare state, which I regard as the most decent social arrangement yet devised. 

He also was embarrassed to have spent even a little bit of time advising Enron, helping them to build a "veneer of credibility" around their scandals.

With that background, please compare and contrast Mr. Krugman's response to the reelection efforts of two Presidents: George W. Bush in 2004 and Barack Obama in 2012:

I know, I know, the usual suspects will roll out the usual explanations. It is, of course, Bill Clinton's fault. (Just for the record, the average rate of job creation during the whole of the Clinton administration was about 225,000 jobs a month. Mr. Clinton presided over the creation of 11 million jobs during each of his two terms.) Or maybe Osama bin Laden did it. But surely there must be a statute of limitations on these excuses. By the time of the election, Mr. Bush will have had almost four years to deal with the legacy of the technology bubble, and more than three years to deal with the economic fallout from 9/11.

What about the argument, which I hear all the time, that Mr. Obama should have fixed the economy long ago? The claim goes like this: during his first two years in office Mr. Obama had a majority in Congress that would have let him do anything he wanted, so he's had his chance. The short answer is, you've got to be kidding. As anyone who was paying attention knows, the period during which Democrats controlled both houses of Congress was marked by unprecedented obstructionism in the Senate.

So which is it, Paul? Should we have been more lenient with Bush, who, rather than battling a Democratic congress had to, you know, actually battle after 9/11? Or should we hold Obama to the "statute of limitations" argument--that it has been more than three years, and Obama should have made some progress by now.

The Question of This Election--Part III: It's About the Jobs

For previous Questions of the Election, see Part I and Part II.

We have no choice, really, but to take the candidates at face value in their propositions for the American people. To do anything but that would be to descend into conspiracy theory and conjecture--the depths of which I am not willing to explore just yet. So with that face value caveat, where do the candidates place their emphasis? From their campaign websites, I draw the following headlines. first from today's Romney campaign (no links, because they change almost daily):

Americans deserve more jobs and more take home pay. Read Mitt's 5-point plan...

and now from today's Obama campaign: 

We don't turn back. We pull each other up. We leave no one behind. 

What does that mean, exactly? It is the campaign of personality, of compassionate soundbites, or the Oprah-fying of America.  To be fair, the Obama website has a series of rotating policy initiatives below that headline, the first of which is "President Obama's Plan for the Economy" (see footnote)*. If you click on "The Presidents Vision" you get this interesting list:

1. Strengthening our education system.
2. More, cleaner energy.
3. Leading through innovation.
4. Job-creating infrastructure.
5. Fair, simple tax reform.

Not jobs? Not "the economy, stupid" as James Carville put it to Bill Clinton in 1992? Not our relationship to the world/protection from terrorism at home? 

With that in mind, the third question of this presidential election is:

What is the one overriding issue on which this election should turn?

For me the most critical graph of the campaign, and the one which should dominate the debate, is this one:

 

*  The others are: "Lead the World in College Graduates by 2020," "Invest in Clean Energy Made in America," "Spur Innovation," "Rebuild American Infrastructure," and "Reform the Tax Code to Tackle the Deficit." This is an interesting choice of things to highlight as your key policy initiatives. 

Obama and Spinal Tap

The Obama campaign has been seeing ever smaller crowds come out to its rallies. For example, at the convention, ostensibly due to predicted rain which didn't materialze, the final night was moved indoors to a venue that was 1/4 the size. According to the campaign, this is intentional:

“We have plenty of time for big rallies,” a campaign spokeswoman, Jen Psaki, said between the rallies on Thursday. “Our focus right now is on exciting our supporters and winning over undecided voters and the smaller and medium-size events are the best venue to accomplish that because the president can closely engage with the crowd."

Big rallies are expensive, especially given the logistical and security challenges for a president as opposed to a mere United States senator. And Obama campaign operatives, both at the Chicago headquarters and in swing states where Mr. Obama recently has stumped, say the campaign intentionally limits crowds by restricting tickets. The reason is to allow the president to better connect with supporters, aides say.[emphasis added]

One of the cardinal rules of political events is to keep the venue smaller than the crowd you expect to draw. In other words, if your candidate can only draw six people to an event, hold it in a broom closet--that way the press coverage will show people pushing and shoving, desperate to get into the event! Under no circumstances do you want to show empty seats. 

For many pundits, this calls to mind the quintessential mockumentary, "This is Spinal Tap." If you aren't familiar with "Spinal Tap" it follows the trajectory of an aging heavy metal rock band trying to recapture its past and continually fading glory. As they embark on a new world tour, they find the reception to their music to be lukewarm--essentially holdovers from their glory years. Here is the exchange in the movie about the ever-shrinking crowds:

Marty: The last time Tap toured America, they were booked into 10,000 seat arenas, and 15,000 seat venues, and it seems that now, on their current tour they’re being booked into 1,200 seat arenas, 1,500 seat arenas, and uh I was just wondering, does this mean uh…the popularity of the group is waning?

Ian: Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no…no, no, not at all. I, I, I just think that the.. uh.. their appeal is becoming more selective.

Heh. "Their appeal has become more selective." You mean, like, down in the polls?

The Clinton Effect

Bill Clinton spoke to the Democratic Convention tonight.  Most Republican reactions to Clinton's speech miss the point, as Republicans have always missed the point when it comes to Bill Clinton. He is clearly the most talented politician alive today, and the heir-apparent to Reagan as the Great Communicator. If he were running again this year he would win in a landslide, even given his sketchy history.

Tonight he was spellbinding. His political oratory skill varied from "aw shucks--isn't it obvious that the Republicans are wrong?" to wonky, I've-been-there-and-I-know-better "data" (quotation marks intentional) about just how big are the Republican "lies" (also intentional). It doesn't matter whether or not he was telling the truth--he seemed genuine, and he seemed knowledgable. If someone so genuine and knowledgable and gosh-darn-it likable thinks that Republicans are wrong and Obama is the right man, then by golly Obama must be the right man.

The fact-checkers will tell you that he got his facts wrong. The Republicans spin doctors will tell you that he misrepresented their positions, oversimplified their proposals, and falsely accused them of starving little children. And that won't matter; the damage is done--the Republicans will be running against Clinton for several days, if not weeks. We should call Obama's inevitable convention bump "The Clinton Effect."

The only recovery is Obama himself. He may just be too narcissistic to allow Clinton's speech to be the highlight of the convention. In attempting to out-do Clinton he may remind us--painfully--the he is most definitely not Clinton.  

As for Romney? He should marginalize Clinton as much as possible. Something like, "President Clinton's speech was tremendous. It is clear why people elected him, twice. He was so convincing he almost made me want to vote for him. But he is not running, and he gave the exact same type of endorsement to John Kerry in 2004. He is going to support the Democratic party, and he is going to demonize the Repubican party because that's what he does. We wish him well in his retirement and his humanitarian efforts. Now, about Obama..."

Prior to Clinton's remarks the convention was a mess. It started with the kerfuffle over removing the word God from the party platform, and followed that problem with a series of soulless speakers whose very prominence on the stage made them seem that much smaller. That is another reason why the Clinton speech will stand out; he made Elizabeth Warren and Sandra Fluke irrelevant.

The Question of This Election--Part II

There are several key questions facing voters in this election. I posited the first one, a referendum on Obama's record, here.

The first night of Democratic National Convention included the usual suspects: several stirring speeches, some partisan barbs, and an emotional and personal presentation from President Obama's wife. In addition to the speeches the Democratic party produced and debuted a video presentation which included a brief, but powerful statement:

"The government is the thing we all belong to..."

This provoked a response from the Romney campaign, which said:

"We do not belong to government; the government belongs to us."

This is a continued discussion from the Obama campaign's "Life of Julia" presentation, which demonstrates government interaction in the life of a fictional woman, from age 3 to 67. The Republican response to "Life of Julia" was a recitation of the problems of governmental intervention in Julia's life. 

Perhaps the most stark differentiation between the two parties' views on the role of government was President Obama's statement to the National Governors Association, that if you own a business, you didn't build that on your own, the government helped you built that. This engendered myriad Republican responses, not the least of which was the theme of the Republican National Convention, "Built by US," with the intentional play on words of "us vs. U.S."

On the Republican side the rise of the Tea Party movement traces its roots back to a protest over the expanding role of the Federal government, and specifically the stimulus package.

All of these examples point to significant differences in the way that the two parties, and by extension the two candidates, approach how they would govern. For some time now the two parties have been converging in their approach to Federal governing, while remaining apart in social issues. This election, then, is a return to the debate of Adams vs. Jefferson, which is this:

What should be the size and scope of the role of the Federal government?

The Question of This Election--Part I

During the 1980 election Ronald Reagan famously asked, "Are you better off than you were four years ago?" That was--and is--a powerful question to ask of each Presidential election. In 2008 the question was clearly "no", and both parties essentially ran against the George Bush years. In 2004 the question wasn't about the economy; the "better off" meant "safer", and there was no question that the country felt safer under a Bush presidency than it was going to feel under Kerry. In 2000 the answer was "Yes," and by all rights Al Gore should have won the 2000 election if he hadn't bungled his campaign so badly. And on and on it goes back, through history--the honest answer to that question reveals who will win the presidency (Al Gore's idiocy notwithstanding)

There are many who are asking this question again today, and the answer is a resounding, "No"--as a nation, we are clearly not better off than we were four years ago. If there is any doubt in your mind, visit this amazing painting, and scroll around a bit at the wreckage of the last four years. Median household income is down 5% since he took office, the world's economy--based in large part of the performance of the US economy--is teetering on the brink of disaster. Our allies are confused about US support and our enemies are emboldened due to lack of US action. And on and on and on.

So why isn't Romney winning in the polls? The answer to that second question may be found in this exchange from Sunday's "Face the Nation" program:

Face the Nation host Bob Schieffer: “Can you honestly say that people are better off today than they were four years ago?”

Martin O’Malley, Democratic governor of Maryland: “No, but that's not the question of this election. The question, without a doubt, we are not as well off as we were before George Bush brought us the Bush job losses, the Bush recession, the Bush deficits, the series of desert wars -- charged for the first time to credit cards, the national credit card.”

Schieffer: “George Bush is not on the ballots.”

The Obama campaign wants us to continue to run the 2008 election. They want the focus to be on George Bush's record and the state of the country that he gave to Obama. To be fair, much of the problem that we are facing Obama did not cause, but neither did he fix. 

Recently the Wall Street journal reported that Obama intended to remain in "campaign mode" even after the election: [link for subscribers only] 

The president views a second term in some ways as a second chance, an opportunity to approach the office differently... He would like to tackle issues such as climate change, immigration, education and filibuster reform. He has told some aides that a sizable mistake at the start of his administration was his naiveté in thinking he could work with Republicans on weighty issues.

I think that there is something very telling in this answer:

1. Obama admits his inbility to work with Republicans. Reagan worked with a Democrat-controlled Congress (both houses). Clinton worked with the Republicans after the overturning of Congress in 1994. Obama's admission is tantamount to saying, "I wasn't ready to do the job."
2. Obama admits that climate change, immigration, education and filibuster reform are not important issues. They are peripheral issues--valuable in their spheres, but much less critical than the economy or the global war on terror. 

So what should the question of this election be? Very simply it should be this:

What one problem can you point to that the Obama administration has unequivocally solved?

* * * * * * * * * *

Welcome visitors! I don't write very often, but couldn't stay away during this momentous election season. Hope you enjoy your visit, and choose to stay around for a while. If you are interested, here is the post that started me writing, even sporadically, and my favorite entry. 

Daily Five Minutes: Climategate Revisited

The debate about global climate change should be considered as a bad reality show entitled "Scientists Behaving Badly"; sort of like Jersey Shore for the Ph.D. set.  From suppressed or fudged data by of the "Warmthers" (who believe that Global Warming is real, and preventable) to Gleick's recent "fake but accurate" depiction of that data (discrediting the people who would discredit the "warmthers"), the entire climate change community should be ashamed of itself.  

With that in mind I was reminded of a post that I made several years ago. In that post I referenced the opinion of Gregg Easterbrook, an author of profressive credentials who also happens to write a football column on ESPN.com. Given all that has happened since then I was surprised to find that his opinions still hold water. I repost them as a reminder that a moderate position on social hot buttons is often (usually?) a good idea.

Easterbrook says:

• There is indeed a strong scientific consensus regarding climate change. The deniers simply aren't honest about this. 
• The consensus is that in the last century, air has warmed by about one degree Fahrenheit while the oceans have warmed a little and become slightly acidic; rainfall patterns have changed in some places, and most though not all ice melting has accelerated. 
• That consensus is significant, but hardly means there is a crisis. Glaciers and sea ice, for example, have been in a melting cycle for thousands of years, while air warming has so far been good for farm yields. The doomsayers simply aren't honest about how mild the science consensus is.
• Predictions of global devastation -- climate change is a "profound emergency" that will "ravage our planet" -- are absurd exaggerations, usually motivated by political or fund-raising agendas. 
• Climate change has serious possible negative consequences, especially if rainfall shifts away from agricultural regions. 
• Global poverty, disease, dirty air and lack of clean water in developing world cities and lack of education are far higher priorities than greenhouse gas emissions. 
• Smog and acid rain turned out to be far cheaper to control than predicted; the same may happen with greenhouse gases.
• The United States must regulate greenhouse gases in order to bring American brainpower, in engineering and in business, to bear on the problem.
• A carbon tax, not some super-complex cap-and-trade scheme that mainly creates jobs for bureaucrats and lawyers, would be the best approach.
• If the United States invents technology to control greenhouse gases, no super-complex international treaty will be needed. Nations will adopt greenhouse controls on their own, because it will be in their self-interest to do so. Smog and acid rain are declining almost everywhere, though are not governed by any international treaty; nations have decided to regulate smog and acid rain emissions on their own, because it is in their self-interest to do so.

 

Canada: No Statute Limitations on Horrific Behavior

Most Americans do not pay close attention to legal matters in Canada, even if they involve sports figures. Fewer still follow the results of events that happened decades ago, even as they are thrust into the national spotlight. The Sandusky and Fine scandals, for instance, flashed upon our national consciousness briefly, but are no longer the top stories.

So it is little wonder that the case of Graham Jones has remained largely under the radar in the US. Graham Jones was a well-respected junior hockey coach in Canada, personally selecting young men to receive additional coaching and opportunities which ultimately could land them in the NHL. He was also a serial child molester who repeatedly targeted boys and then threatened those future hockey plans if they did not succumb to his pedophile behaviors.

Yesterday Graham Jones pleaded guilty to child molestation charges based on events that happened in the 1980's. It took a professional hockey star, Theo Fleury, to write a memoir long after Jones could do him any harm, to draw attention to the power that these coaches have over young, immature and impressionable minds.

Too many boys. Too often. Mostly unnoticed. How do we stop it?

Did JoePa turn a blind eye? Or is Sandusky lying?

Jerry Sandusky says that Joe Paterno never confronted him about allegations of abuse.  Never. Not in 1998 when a mother reported Sandusky for showering with her son. Not in 2002 when Assistant Coach McQuery went and spoke with Paterno about an attack that he stopped. 

Never.

In the same interview, Sandusky says that he never did anything wrong. Not one of the eight victims listed in the Grand Jury indictment. None. The assistant coach and the janitor did not see what they said they saw. Neither of them. And he, Sandusky, did not abuse any of the children.

Never.

So do you believe him? Or do you believe some things he said and not others? Is he a credible source of information?

 

10 Great Excuses for Missing Work

I have been heavy on the Penn State/Syracuse scandal lately so I thought I would lighten up a bit. From a Career Builder survey (posted here), here are 10 creative excuses for missing work:

• "Bats got in her hair."
• "Got a cold from a puppy."
• "Hurt his back chasing a beaver."
• "Had a headache after going to too many garage sales."
• "Brother-in-law was kidnapped by a drug cartel while in Mexico."
• "Ate too much at a party."
• "A refrigerator fell on him."
• "Got his toe caught in a vent cover."
• "Drank anti-freeze by mistake and had to go to the hospital."
• "Deer bit him during hunting season."

My best excuse?

I BROKE MY ARM WHILE CHASING A RUN-AWAY COW FOR FIVE HOURS!

The Recipe for Abuse?

What do the sexual abuse scandals at Penn State and Syracuse have in common? If we can analyze that, then perhaps we can concoct a recipe for potentially abusive situations in the future, and act before they get out of hand. With that in mind, here are six similarities between the two scandals:

1. A head coach who is perceived as "unassailable" by the university. The label "unassailable" in this context is used to denote not-fireable, above the law or rules of the school, more identified with the college than any other factor (including academics), etc.  
2. A long-time assistant coach who mostly flies under the radar. By being a "second fiddle," successful assistants enjoy all the trappings of a successful program without the limitations of notoriety or scrutiny. Realistically had anyone (outside of rabid fans) really heard of Jerry Sandusky or Bernie Fine before the scandals broke?
3. A means to gain access to victims outside of "normal" channels. For Sandusky, it was his Second Mile charity, which brought at-risk young boys into his circle. For Fine it was the coach/ballboy relationship with the team. 
4. A college campus and/or program that is unrealistically driven by a history and expectation of success. Penn State has two national championships in football; Syracuse has one in basketball, one national runner-up and numerous Sweet Sixteen appearances.
5. A place without the media coverage of the large markets (except for the sport in question). Though well-known in athletic circles, Happy Valley, PA, and Syracuse, NY, both qualify as "off the main path" places.
6. Evidence of a lack of concern over athletic misbehavior on the part of the head coach. Paterno was notorious for handling even the most serious allegations "in house." While prior to this scandal Boeheim was not implicated in serious wrong-doing, his program did receive sanctions for NCAA violations in 1992, and several of his players have had marijuana violations (most notably Carmelo Anthony).

So what programs fit this recipe? Here is a chart showing the longest tenured NCAA Football coaches (courtesy of Business Insider):

In basketball, there are 19 Division I coaches with tenures longer than 15 years (from Rivals.com). If we shorten the list to include only those school with rabid fans and long-standing winning traditions, the list looks like this (in order of tenure):

• Jim Boeheim, Syracuse (Paterno was #1 on the football list before his firing this year)
• Mike Krzyzewski, Duke
• Jim Calhoun, Connecticut
• Tom Izzo, Michigan State

If we similarly shorten the football list to those programs that regularly compete for the national championship, we get:

• Frank Beamer, Virginia Tech
• Mack Brown, Texas
• Bob Stoops, Oklahoma

I am in no way trying to suggest or implicate any of these seven programs in any kind of scandal in any way. Period. But...shouldn't we take a closer look at these seven to see if they match any of the other ingredients for a scandal?

Sandusky Home Life Troubling Too? Plus Penn State scandal predictions...

Reports from ABC News indicate that Child Welfare services was contacted in 1993 (or thereabouts) regarding Jerry Sandusky's behavior toward one of his adopted sons. The boy's biological mother began to see changes in his behavior, eventually leading to a juvenile conviction of arson. She reported the changing behavior to the authorities, but again nothing was done about it.  And more information is coming out, as people are gaining courage based on the actions of others.  

I predict that:

• we will eventually find out that there was widespread knowledge of Sandusky's behavior, 
• victims will number in the dozens,
• Sandusky also had other aberrant behavior (in additional to homosexual child rape).
• we will see a huge ban on the Penn State football program--five years of no recruiting and no scholarships, minimum.  
• Jerry Sandusky will spend the rest of his life in prison

 

Et tu, Syracuse?

The Penn State scandal cannot and should not go away. But it is now joined by the Fine Case of Syracuse basketball. While the extent of the allegations (8 victims and 40 counts of abuse at Penn State vs. 3 victims and no official legal charges yet at Syracuse). The cases have similarities:

• A long time, well-respected assistant coach at a very successful, big-time college sports program
• Initial denials by administration and other coaches
• Abuse is of at-rick boys, who have little or no other voice to support them
• Abused boys were allowed to "sleep over" at coach's house with little or no supervision
• Abuse was originally investigated years ago, but not believed or pursued with vigor. 

People with a lot more time and resources than I have will undoubtedly explore these similarities over the next few days. The questions we should be asking are:

• Are there other scandals out there waiting for someone to believe them? The accusers in the Syracuse case brought their allegations years ago (2002) and no one believed them. They are of questionable character, to be sure, and the primary victim of abuse also had sexual relations with the abusers wife, as well as trying to extort money from him years after the abuse.
• What are the conditions that exist/should be avoided that made this type of abuse possible?
• How can we create a system that allows us to believe accuser/victims without opening up coaches and institutions to unfounded allegations?
• Is it possible to have a successful division I athletic program over a long-period of time without creating a separated sub-culture of exceptions for the athletes?

More questions will be asked an answered. For now, Syracuse is not Penn State. Boeheim is a highly successful coach, but not the campus godfather that Joe Paterno was, and consequently did not wield the same kind of power that Paterno did. There has been no grand jury investigation at Syracuse (though the police and the FBI are involved). That said, the abuse is similar, and the conditions are at least somewhat comparable.

Shame on Syracuse (lack of institutional control again?). 

 

Tracking Penn State Theories

Our little thoughts on Penn State were picked up by another web site called Penn State Conspiracy Theories. Let's keep pushing until changes happen and the truth is available for the world.

Why Paterno Didn't Fire Sandusky Earlier

By many accounts Joe Paterno is a gracious and humble man, who would go out of his way to help a total stranger and who is often surprised by the accolades he receives. That is the "JoePa" grandfatherly figure that we know from his off-field behavior.

But on the field, Paterno is a controlling egomaniac, who believes that all questionable behavior can be remedied with a few extra laps. Which brings us to the real reason that Paterno and Penn State looked the other way when it came to Jerry Sandusky and his problems. 

Winning percentage.

The cold hard numbers are these:

• WITH Jerry Sandusky as an assistant for 31 years, Penn State and Paterno won 79% of their football games, with only one losing season and two seasons with no bowl games.
• WITHOUT Jerry Sandusky as an assistant over a 14 year period (before and after Sandusky), Penn State and Paterno won 69% of their football games, with four losing seasons and five seasons with no bowl games.

Football success trumped children's safety. What a disgrace.

As you settle in this holiday season to enjoy football games--and I plan to watch an enjoy as many as I can--please remember the cost of those victories. Penn State looked the other way while children were raped--in the name of football success. Let's celebrate the teams that truly do "win with honor," that win with high academic standards and high expectations of moral conduct. Let's celebrate true victory--conquering self. 

And let's hope that Penn State turns town any bowl invitations this season in a first step to restoring its honor.

A rivals view of Penn State

According to ESPN, many people believe what I believe: that Joe Paterno knew about the Sandusky scandal:

"Joe doesn't know why [Sandusky] resigned?" says a former athletic director at a rival institution. "Bull----. That was the first cover-up. … In '99, when Sandusky resigns, you think this coaching staff didn't know what was going on? 

"In 2002, this could have been a two-day story: 'Ex-Penn State assistant coach is arrested.' I'm not saying it wouldn't have been a painful story, but it would have been dealt with. But there's so much arrogance to think they can keep it a secret. And it starts with Joe … Monumental ego and arrogance."

 

Paterno's "Boys will be Boys" Attitude

As part of my analysis that Joe Paterno knew about Jerry Sandusky's behavior, I cited his reaction to an opponent's sexual assault scandal. Seems I was not alone in my assessment.

Paterno apparently believes that current poor sexual behavior by players is only a problem because more people know about it. For example, "I can go back to a couple guys in the '70s who drove me nuts," he said. "The cops would call me, and I used to put [the players] in bed in my house and run their rear ends off the next day. Nobody knew about it. That's the way we handled it."

Seriously, Joe? Again, his attitude seems to be "boys will be boys." He would handle discipline his own way, by allowing the behavior, and then running their rear ends off. None of the players cited for legal violations ever missed a game.

Dr. Vickey Triponey was Penn State's officer for standards and conduct.  She repeatedly found that Paterno looked the other way when it came to poor behavior on the part of his football team. She feared that Penn State was creating a separate set of standards regarding football player conduct, and that the football leadership--including Paterno--was ignoring her requests to meet. She said, 

"Coach Paterno would rather we NOT inform the public when a football player is found responsible for committing a serious violation of the law and/or our student code despite any moral or legal obligation to do so."

Eventually her insistence led to a meeting, at which she was insulted and belittled by Paterno. Paterno loudly criticized Triponey for "meddling". So that's "Winning with honor" Joe?

No, Paterno did not commit the crimes against children. But by creating a culture of indifference towards sexual assault, he as much as gave Sandusky free reign to behave however he wanted. What did Joe do to Sandusky after he first learned of the assaults--make him run laps?

Too Easy to Forget

We like scandals...but only for a moment. We like the titillating effect, the "ooh that was bad" moment, and the hint of danger. Then we move on. 

We don't like to live in scandals because that would imply dealing with some of the darker, more sinister side of humanity. Stories about serial killers or killings last in the news for a few days, and then move on--we are interested to know that the killer was caught, piqued by just how bad he was, pleased to move on from that moment and not have that evil touch us again.

So it is with most scandals, and so it has been with Penn State. The nation was shocked at the revelations of a decade or more of depraved behavior on the part of a well-respected coach. Shocked again that so many people knew of the incidents and so few people did anything. Saddened to see the scandal bring down a coaching legend.

And then they moved on.

Move back, people! This scandal should NOT go away. We must not let our reaction to the Penn State scandal descend into indifference, like we do with so many other scandals. This scandal is perhaps the worst in major sports history--a town, a football program, and an entire university so blinded by football success that it let a pedophile prey on the most vulnerable of victims--at risk boys.

Joe Paterno knew this was happening. He knew it was going to be bad, so he fired the coach in question. He knew he might be liable--if not criminally then civilly--so he divested himself of assets. The university knew about the behavior and said, "We'll look the other way, just don't do that kind of stuff on campus." A janitor saw the behavior and did nothing, fearing the powerful assistant coach. A grad student stopped an incident, but didn't go to the police, or even resign his position in protest. 

DO NOT MOVE ON, PEOPLE! Let's expose this scandal to the light, and learn from it. Read the Daily Collegian, which is not dismissing the scandal. Stay on top of this. Demand accountability from leaders of children--of all kinds, including well-respected coaches.  And let's make sure that this type of indifference doesn't keep us from protecting the next group of vulnerable children from the next monster.

If you need a refresher on this horrific story, see parts one and two.

Mistakenly Identified as disgraced Penn State Coach

Have you ever Googled your own name? Just for fun? I did that today and found out that I was a champion motocross mechanic who recently passed away (there is even a YouTube tribute for my peaceful rest), an advocate for the business advancement of Montana, and a salesman of cheap humidors. Humorous, interesting, but not too troublesome.

Now imagine your name is Gerry Sandusky. That's Gerry with a G, not to be confused with Penn State accused child molester Jerry Sandusky (with a J). Imagine that you are involved in sports--football even. Wouldn't life be a living hell for you these last few weeks?

And so it was (read about it here). Poor Gerry Sandusky, sportscaster for the Baltimore Ravens, will likely be linked to Jerry Sandusky, football coach and child abuser at Penn State, for a long time. When your name is a homonym for someone else's name, and that person has become synonomous with child rape, things aren't going to go easy for you.

Sorry for your troubles, Gerry.

(but not you, Jerry).

Penn State Conspiracy Theory?

When a scandal is so large it is difficult to believe that more people did not know. In the case of 40 counts of sexual abuse by a respected coach and emeritus faculty member, it is even harder to believe. That disbelief gives rise to conspiracy theories. Here is one:

The Penn State scandal very closely mirrors a recent episode of "Law & Order: SVU", called "Personal Fouls." In the episode a well-respected basketball coach is accused of sexually abusing his players over a number of years. In order for the police to make the charges stick they need the cooperation of reluctant players from previous years, some of whom have gone on to play professionally. 

Here's where the conspiracy theory comes in. The episode in question was written by Bryan Goluboff, who also penned "The Basketball Diaries." Goluboff is not a very common name in the US and yet...there are two faculty members at Penn State with the surname Goluboff.

Could the SVU episode be a fictional representation of the real Penn State scandal? Might Bryan have heard from his relative/sister/cousin/brother at Penn State about allegations regarding a coach--months before those things became public knowledge?

That's why we love conspiracy theories...

Mission Thoughts at the Half Way Point

My son Bradley reaches the halfway point of his mission this week. As I think back 25 years to my mission, I am nostalgic and perhaps a little jealous. But mostly i am grateful at the opportunity he has to change his life. This is what I told him about this milestone:

 

For many missionaries, their mission is the hardest two years of their lives--away from home, long hours of walking and working, difficulties with a different language and culture, etc. But for me--and I hope for you--they were the two best years: two irreplaceable years of hard work, yes, but also of joy and growth. I am constantly impressed by the depth of your testimony as expressed in your letters, and by your approach to the work. Your new "system" for tracking investigator progress seems great! And the humility with which you approach your service is exemplary. Enjoy it! These two years will never come again...

 

There is a country song called "The Boys of Fall" about football in small towns. At the beginning of the video, an NFL coach is talking to the boys of his old high school about what it is like to grow up. He says, 

"27 years ago I was in a locker room getting ready to play a game just like you are tonight. Walking in here, it still smells the same. One of the things that caught me was how fast 27 years go by...I would give anything tonight if I could jump in one of these uniforms with you guys. That feeling goes away; it goes away, and it doesn't come back every Friday night. It come when you get married. It comes when a child is born. So you get it, you just don't get it every Friday night. That's what I miss...So you Seniors that are focused on college, you're focused on your work after high school and what you're going to do next--you're focused on tomorrow, aren't you? There is plenty of time for tomorrow. But these tonights? They're going by fast. You focus on tonight. Because there are only so many of these nights left."

 

If he had been writing about missions, he wouldn't have changed very much. I would give anything to jump into a missionary suit and name tag and trade places with anyone on your mission. But that's not my role anymore.  As you begin to count backwards from the midpoint toward coming home, remember that the feeling you have of serving really never comes again--not in the same way, and certainly not every day. Cherish these moments. You may never again have the chance to serve the Lord so directly every day.

 

I get the same mission feeling when I am teaching the family and the spirit is there. Or when I go to the temple. Or during a particularly inspiring sacrament meeting. Or when any of my children was born. But it doesn't come every day. So don't worry about the tomorrows--they'll come soon enough with their own set of worries. You focus on serving the Lord today. 

Good Friday Thoughts

As a Christian, today has profound meaning for me. As part of that meaning, I was moved this morning by a quotation that my sister sent to me. While it is written specifically for women, the message is universal. It was written by a woman named Chieko Okasaki, in her book Lighten Up:

We know that Jesus experienced the totality of mortal existence in Gethsemane. It’s our faith that he experienced everything- absolutely everything. Sometimes we don’t think through the implications of that belief. We talk in great generalities about the sins of all humankind, about the suffering of the entire human family. But we don’t experience pain in generalities. We experience it individually. That means he knows what it felt like when your mother died of cancer- how it was for your mother, how it still is for you. He knows what it felt like to lose the student body election. He knows that moment when the brakes locked and the car started to skid. He experienced the slave ship sailing from Ghana toward Virginia. He experienced the gas chambers at Dachau. He experienced Napalm in Vietnam. He knows about drug addiction and alcoholism.

Let me go further. There is nothing you have experienced as a woman that he does not also know and recognize. On a profound level, he understands the hunger to hold your baby that sustains you through pregnancy. He understands both the physical pain of giving birth and the immense joy. He knows about PMS and cramps and menopause. He understands about rape and infertility and abortion. His last recorded words to his disciples were, “And, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.” (Matthew 28:20) He understands your mother-pain when your five-year-old leaves for kindergarten, when a bully picks on your fifth-grader, when your daughter calls to say that the new baby has Down syndrome. He knows your mother-rage when a trusted babysitter sexually abuses your two-year-old, when someone gives your thirteen-year-old drugs, when someone seduces your seventeen-year-old. He knows the pain you live with when you come home to a quiet apartment where the only children are visitors, when you hear that your former husband and his new wife were sealed in the temple last week, when your fiftieth wedding anniversary rolls around and your husband has been dead for two years. He knows all that. He’s been there. He’s been lower than all that. He’s not waiting for us to be perfect. Perfect people don’t need a Savior. He came to save his people in their imperfections. He is the Lord of the living, and the living make mistakes. He’s not embarrassed by us, angry at us, or shocked. He wants us in our brokenness, in our unhappiness, in our guilt and our grief.

So much of life can be filled with a lonely emptiness that says, "No one understands this. No parent can understand the uniqueness of my challenges with my children's decisions. No spouse has seen the kind of difficulties in my marriage. No adult can identify with the unique sense of worthlessness that accompanies my financial difficulties, despite my abilities. I am alone in my quiet despair."

And then...He comes. His understanding of "all things" means that He gets it--all of it. He gets the challenges with my son, my spouse, my work. He understands what failed dreams feel like, or disapproving family members, or lost opportunity. And His message is simple:

"Be of good cheer; it is I. Be not afraid."

When I am in tune enough to remember that simple message, I am calmed and comforted. In fact, of all of the names given to the spirit of God, "Comforter" appeals to me the most.  The scriptures tell us that, "The Comforter knoweth all things, and beareth record of the Father and of the Son." That feeling--that my Lord has experienced my exact situation, and that His spirit knows and bears record of those experiences--makes life bearable, enables me to be positive, gets me out of bed when I don't want to, holds my hand when I am lonely, softens my heart when I am angry, and deepens my love for my children, my wife and my life.

Happy Easter

 

 

Audio: Shaving the Yak

On our daily motivational phone call, today I talked about "Shaving the Yak." You can find the conversation here: "Shaving the Yak."

Two Elements of Great Movements

Recently I participated again in my company's daily 10 minute motivational phone call. The link for that call is below:

"Two Elements of Great Movements"

The basic idea is this: great movements are made up of people who believe. Therefore, in order to initiate a great movement, you have to convince people of the following things:

1. YOU are special, and

2. WE are going somewhere you want to go.

This works for positive movements as well as negative ones. In positive movements (say, LDS church missionary work) the message is this:

1. YOU are a child of God. He loves you, and wants happiness for you on this earth.

2. WE are going to the celestial kingdom, and provide you the one sure path of getting there.

For negative movements people attempt the same thing. For example, the Nazi movement in 1930's Germany:

1. YOU are a member of the chosen race, set aside from the rest of humanity which should serve you in your greatness.

2. WE are going to conquer the world and assume our rightful place at the top of world domination.

It is a powerful formula.

The Deficit, as explained by an alcoholic

If each shot of whiskey represented a BILLION dollars...

 

 

Not bad, and pretty understandable, even for someone who doesn't drink...

Daily Five Minutes: Face to Face

I shared another successful principle today for my company's daily call. Today we talked about the value of face-to-face communication. Let me know what you think...

 

Face-to-Face

Daily Motivational Call

My company, ASEA, has launched a daily motivational call entitled "ASEA 10fx", which stands for "10 Minutes with Founders or Executives."  So far the response has been great, and I have been enriched by the commentary from my co-workers.

Today it was my turn. I based my text somewhat on my blog post "Resolved" coupled with a story about the recovery from the Challenger disaster. 

If you want to listen to me on the call, go to this link: "ASEA 10fx--Resolve"

Cry the Beloved Country

My son created a PowerPoint presentation for a class at his high school.  I think that it is worth a look:

 

Cry the Beloved Country

Resolved

A new year brings a great opportunity to set goals and evaluate changes you want to make. We call them "New Year's Resolutions," but really they become wish lists; that's why so many of them are violated by the end of January. I like the term "Resolutions" better: we resolve to do something different, something better. When you resolve to do something, that implies a level of commitment, of enthusiasm, of dedication. So if I say, "I resolve to lose 30 pounds," that is better than simply setting a goal to lose weight. In Congress, bills/laws are stated as "Given the following conditions, X, Y, and Z, be it Resolved that the US will do A, B, and C." In other words, we are committing our country to action around a set of principles. The statement from the legislature of the colony of Virginia regarding separation from England said, "Resolved: That these United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent states." In other words, the colonies committed themselves, dedicated and worked for independence--they "resolved."  By choosing to resolve instead of just wishing, our New Year's Resolutions are a year-long effort in the same way that the Lee Resolution from Virginia did not suddenly make the colonies free, but set in motion the dedication to action that eventually resulted in freedom. 

So, resolve to do specific things in your life. Resolve to change behaviors that may be limiting you and to adopt new ones that will expand your horizons. Resolve to be a better friend, to repent of smaller indiscretions daily rather than waiting for larger ones to appear, to develop a love of all things spiritual. But don't just wish: resolve.

 

Daily Five Minutes: 9/2/10--Buckhead

I haven't done DFM in some time. So...as I seem to do every year...we start again.

 

Some random thoughts from my hotel room...

I am in the Atlanta area; specifically, the Buckhead area. Seriously? Buckhead? Who came up with this name? Buckhead sounds like a word the teachers invented when they dealt with some offensive graffiti by adding some semi-circles to the capital 'F' making it a 'B'. Can't you picture it? "Some kids thought that they would ruin our school; well, we showed them. No one will be offended by BUCK-head!"

I didn't know what I would find when I came to Buckhead, given that dialog that was running through my head. Turns out, Buckhead is a posh area of Atlanta--sometimes referred to as "East Beverly Hills". It has a mall with valet parking for heaven's sake. There is a movie-dinner theater; you can watch Inception or Eat. Pray. Love. while you eat (praying and loving are optional). 

Now the dialog in my head isn't about changing foul words to meaningless words. Now the dialog is more like someone trying to one-up his brother in naming his estate with snobbery. "Oh Phineas--you're so predictable. So you named your estate "Moraine Crest" eh? Well, I have named mine 'Buckhead.'"

Here in Buckhead I came across the regional headquarters of Fifth Third bank. Fifth Third? Again, seriously? I'm sure the boring answer is that there was a Fifth bank and a Third bank and they merged (turns out that's true). But what might Fifth Third mean? Does it mean 15th? Or is it like a competition where five different teams tie for 3rd place, so you are the "Fifth Third" and the next team is actually...eighth?. Or maybe it is 5/3, as in 1 and 2/3. "Sure, your bank is the First National Bank, but our bank is 2/3 better than that!"

As I walked around downtown Buckhead, I was surprised to see that Buckhead is also the headquarters of Spanx. Spanx is a company that makes, well, essentially girdles. No, these are not your grandmother's girdles or sexy Victoria's Secret corsets. These are modern, lycra-inspired compression-ware, and are the current favorite to make a woman's body seem to lose anywhere from 2 to 10 pounds instantly. Celebrities love them, including Oprah, Gwynneth Paltrow and Jessica Alba.

By itself, the headquarters of Spanx is no big deal, other than the whole be-honest-with-your-body thing. But...Spanx headquarters is on the same block as Ruth's Chris Steak House. Ruth's Chris must be the Fifth Third of steakhouses. Ruth's Chris? As opposed to Joan's Chris or Allison's Chris? Is Chris some specific way to prepare meat? No, it's much more boring than that. Some woman named Ruth bought a steak house from a guy named Chris. She ran it as Chris' Steak House for several years, and then her contract ran out and she moved to a new location. But so many people knew her restaurant as "Chris" that she named the new restaurant "Ruth's Chris". I'm sure she got funding from Fifth Third.

Anyway...Ruth's Chris has the largest portions of steak you can imagine. I have eaten there, and your arteries begin to harden just by looking at the menu. So you can eat an enormous steak just a stone's throw from Spanx headquarters. "Hmmm, if I buy a Spanx can I eat the "Porterhouse for Two" by myself?"

Lastly my day of random Buckhead observations was made complete by a guy I ran into on the subway (the Marta) who was selling Krispy Kreme donuts as a fundraiser. His pitch was amazing: "$5 for a dozen glazed donuts. Guaranteed Fresh--so fresh that if you actually have to use your teeth to eat one I'll give you your money back." He was personable, friendly and funny, and didn't mention that he was fundraising even once (except for the fact that the donut boxes said "Fund Raising" on them). He got off at the Buckhead stop, and as we walked down the platform together, I asked him for what was he raising funds?

Turns out the organization is fairly unique, and quite cool: Hip Hop Horticulture Society. And this is the guy: Harvey Jones.

Example of the Believers, Chapter One

In the late 1800's a congregational minister wrote a serial story for the youth of his congregation. That story was later published as the book In His Steps. Due to some copyright mistakes the book has passed into the public domain. I was moved by the book, and decided to update it for our time and to adjust it for a Mormon audience. This is the first chapter of that attempt.

Bishop Henry Maxwell was enjoying a solitary Saturday morning. Spring in Missouri had come cold and quiet, and the Bishop took his early morning study hours to prepare his annual Easter talk, though Easter was still two Sundays away. He thought of it as part of a bishop's responsibility to speak at least once a year, and he usually chose a holiday when more people were likely to be in church.  With a family of six children he often found it difficult to meditate, ponder or prepare while everyone was awake. But these early-morning hours; these were a gift to be treasured in the company of his thoughts, his journal and his scriptures.

A convert to the church, Henry had come to his love of the scriptures as an adult, having missed out on the experience of learning the stories as a child.  Because of that he had thrust himself into a heavy study of the scriptures immediately prior to and following his baptism, which had become a healthy obsession as he grew older. His journal reflected countless questions and answers that had both perplexed him and comforted him through the years. 

He heard the sounds of his family stirring. He could hear the footsteps of his wife, Mary, making the rounds to wake the children, though waking teenage sons on a Saturday was more than a routine task. Knowing that if anyone was awake that meant that four-year-old Eliza would be bounding down the stairs ahead of the pack at any moment, and with her any opportunity for further study would vanish.

One more moment, perhaps. “For hereunto were ye called, because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that ye should follow his steps.” His Easter sermon was to be a mixture of the story of the great sacrifice of the Savior and the practical nature of the Atonement in our everyday lives. It was coming together nicely, but there was something missing, something tangible, vital to his message.

It wouldn’t come today, as Eliza, on cue, burst into the room. “G’morning Daddy!”

Saturdays were predictably busy days for the Maxwells. As with all active latter-day saints, they avoided doing the regular mundane weekend tasks on Sundays, leaving Saturdays as the “get the work done day” for all the necessary chores.  This was especially true for a bishop, who would likely be busier on his day of “rest” than any other day of the week. Though the weather had not yet warmed up enough for regular gardening, there were still a number of outdoors tasks to be done, which Henry and his two teenage boys set upon with vigor.

Bishop Maxwell was working on repairing a broken fence post with 15-year-old Thomas when his wife, Mary,  called from the back porch.  “Henry? Could you come here?”

As Henry approached her, she continued, “There is a man at the door asking for you.”

“Who is it?”

“I’ve never met him, but I saw him walking around downtown last week. I think he’s homeless.”

“Mmmm. Awkward for a bishop,” he muttered, mostly to himself, as he went around to the front door.

A man was standing at the door, a tattered baseball-style cap in one hand with the word “Simonds Trucking” in white script across the front of it. He shuffled his feet a little bit, not impatiently but more out of nervousness. Staring at the ground, he began.

“I got your name from the phone book. You’re a priest for the local Mormons, right?”

“Bishop, actually. Yes,” Bishop Maxwell answered haltingly.

“I’m sorry to bother you at home. I went to the church first--the other day--but I didn’t find anyone there. When I went there today there were some men playing basketball. They told me to come to talk to you, and I recognized your name from the phone book,” he repeated. He shuffled his feet again, and twisted the cap in his hands.

“I need work, sir, Reverend...Father,” he stammered.

“Bishop. Are you a member of the Church”

“Bishop...” he repeated, respectfully. “No, I’m not a member. I was a truck driver for Simonds in Wichita--more than 15 years worth of driving,” he said, his voice turning slightly nostalgic. It struck Bishop Maxwell that the man was probably about his same age, though he looked much older. “Simonds was an independent firm, did driving for Walmart, Stouffers, lots of big companies. Anyways, the economy and all...Simonds lost some big contracts and lots of us got cut off.”

“I’m sorry I can’t really help. Jobs are pretty scarce right now,” said Henry, backing away slightly.

“I’m not asking for a handout, sir. I want to work--I can do more than drive, I’m willing to do anything,” he said, continuing his nervousness, but seemingly surprised at his own semi-aggressive tone. “Anything.”

“I wish I could offer you something. I work for an accounting company, and we’re going through layoffs too,” answered Henry. “I’m sorry. I hope you find something,” he added, as an afterthought.

The man nodded and turned, placing the cap on his head as he started to shuffle off. “Thanks,” he said.

Bishop Maxwell called after him, “Have you eaten? Are you hungry--we’d be happy to feed you something...”

“No, thank you,” the man said, stopping briefly. “The shelter fed me well enough this morning. Thank you though.”

Bishop Maxwell nodded as he shut the front door. As he glanced through the window he caught a glimpse of the man walking slowly down the street. He had been sincere in his desire to work, but the Bishop could not think of anything he could do to help the man. He had several out-of-work members of his ward, and he didn’t have jobs for them either. There was something in this man’s countenance--a look of resigned despair--that had a certain elegant humility to it. Henry watched him for a few moments before the man disappeared behind the trees past the neighbor’s house.

The rest of that Saturday went by with further interruption. That evening the family sat down to dinner together, as they always tried to eat a family meal to begin their monthly fast. “You going out tonight, Thomas?” asked Henry.

“Yeah, Cory and Eric are going to watch movies at Sarah’s house.” Thomas was a socially talented boy, with a large group of friends, both boys and girls.

“Home before eleven,” said Mary, “and remember that we’re fasting.”

“Yeah,” answered Thomas, in that tone of voice that teenagers use to indicate that they heard you, but didn’t really listen. Bishop Maxwell let the minor defiance pass.

“What did that guy at the door want, Dad,” asked 11-year-old Rachel. She was an alert, caring girl, with powerful mothering instincts. 

“He wanted a job,” said Henry. “Worked for Simonds--same as the Phillips’ dad,” he said  more to his wife than to Rachel.

“Did you give him one?” Rachel persisted.

“Well...no, I didn’t have a job I could give him. It’s hard, with so many people needing work right now.”

“Did you give him some money?” she continued.

“He could have some of my money!” shouted seven-year-old Stephen. Everyone smiled; Stephen would give away everything he had to anyone who asked.

“That would be nice of you,” said Mary. With the regular chaos of dinner, Rachel dropped her questioning.

Sunday dawned clear and cool, with bright sunshine that teased at providing more warmth than anyone actually felt. Bishop Maxwell went early to the church to handle his weekly Sunday meetings, leaving Mary to get the rest of the family ready for the block of meetings at 10 a.m. Being Fast Sunday, the bishop did not have to worry about the speakers being on time or whether or not they would provide a strong spirit this week.

The Excelsior Ward was set in a strong middle-class community just north of Kansas City, Missouri.  The ward members were pleased with their proximity to church historical sights in Independence, Liberty and Far West. Partly due to these attractions, the ward was one of the strongest wards outside of Utah, and a comparatively large percentage of the local population were members of the church. 

The ward boasted several former mission president and a very high percentage of full tithe payers. Included in the congregation were a number of successful families: among others there was Sam Morgan, plant superintendent at a local warehouse; Virginia Jackson, a young, wealthy woman whose family had owned the large farm that had been turned into most of the houses in town; Cameron Chase, a successful journalist and returned missionary; and Jack Wolcott, publisher of the most widely circulated regional newspaper in the midwest.

The chapel had a pipe organ, a remnant from the days of non-standard ward buildings. The ward used this organ to great effect, having an excellent ward choir and hosting regular community musical events. One ward member had a glowing musical pedigree: Rose Winslow. Rose was a beautiful young woman in the ward, recently graduated from the University of Virginia with a degree in musical performance. The ward took full advantage of her voice when she was at home, asking of her solos and lead performances in ward choir numbers.

The quiet affluence of the congregation was apparent as the members took their seats on this Fast Sunday. Bishop Maxwell enjoyed sitting on the stand early, and watching as families took their usual seats, including his own family on the second row. The meeting proceeded as usual, with announcements and hymns and the passing of the sacrament. 

On this particular Sunday, Bishop Maxwell conducted and therefore began the testimony portion of the meeting with his own words. He was an excellent speaker--a true natural at combining word and feeling into memorable talks. Even his impromptu testimony felt like a sonnet, with a natural rhythm and crescendo as he shared his genuine feelings about the Savior. But the bishop was not one to let his emotions overwhelm him when he spoke. He didn’t believe that one had to shed tears to indicate his spirituality, and he rarely gave in to that common occurrence.

Several testimonies were shared followed by intermittent stretches of silence. There were the usual brief remarks from small children and a few heartfelt thoughts from adults. As the meeting continued, virtually no one noticed the man with the baseball cap in his hands slip in the side door in the gym and listen intently to the various remarks.

As the bishop was contemplating closing the meeting, satisfied that all had had the opportunity to bear their testimonies, the man with cap stood up and asked for the portable microphone from one of the deacons. It would be hard to adequately describe the surprise that rippled through congregation as the stranger began.

“Hello. Er. Good Morning,” he said, and heads began to turn to see who was the man associated with this unrecognized voice and unfamiliar syntax for a Mormon meeting.

“My name is Michael Powers. I’ve never been to a Mormon church before, but I like the idea that preaching is for anybody to get up and do.” There were a few polite chuckles around the room.

“I’m not much for religion, but I believe in being a good man. I’ve been wandering around for months now, looking for work. Folks in your town have been nice to me, but lately I’ve been wondering--what does following Jesus mean to you folks? I’m not meaning to judge, just wondering...

“When I came in today y’all were singing a beautiful song.” He opened the hymn book that was on his bench. “ ‘Come follow me the Savior said. Then let us in his footsteps tread.’ So I was wondering, what does it mean to y’all to follow in Jesus’ footsteps?

People were riveted in their seats. No one could remember this type of direct commentary during a ward testimony meeting before. His words were not offensive or bitter; just direct. Bishop Maxwell watched from the edge of his seat on the stand, looking very sad at this man’s testimony.

“As I asked different people for work around here, no one was mean to me but mostly people just ignored me. About the nicest person was your bishop who at least offered to feed me if I was hungry. As I said I’ve been looking for work for a long time. I’ve slept in the street and eaten out of garbage cans. I’ve watched men pass out from hunger and exhaustion and stress. I’ve seen some of the strongest, toughest men I know break down and cry at not being able to feed their children.

“And then I hear people like you good people, sitting in here, dressed like you are, singing about following Jesus, and I ask myself, what does following Jesus mean? I don’t mean to be a jerk or anything, but I wonder...

“What would happen if all of the people who sang songs like that one actually went out and followed Jesus? I think that Christian people own a lot of businesses in this town, but none of them wanted to even talk to me. Were they following Jesus? No...” he stopped for a moment.

“No, that was mean. I don’t mean to be mean. I’m just asking.”

He started to shuffle his feet, just as he had done on the Bishop’s doorstep the previous day. His voice was raspy and breathy, and as he proceeded, he seemed to be laboring to get the words out.

“I drive a truck--drove a truck--for a living. Does that make me less of a person than you?” He coughed a little deeper.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your meeting. Just one more thing,” he paused, as if gathering his strength. “Yesterday, I came to your church here--just like I’ve gone to other churches for months--trying to find some Christian people to help me. There were some men here playing basketball, and they told me to talk to your Bishop. When I was walking away from your bishop’s house, I saw two of those man, and I sort of followed them for a while.” Several men shifted uncomfortably in their seats. “As they crossed the street, I heard them laughing,” he gathered himself some more, “laughing about me.

“I just stopped. They were laughing at how I was dressed, and why did I think that I would find someone to help them at the church. Can you believe that? I...”

He stumbled a little, and lurched forward. Several people near him turned toward the sound, as he stood up again.

“I’m not a bad man. I’m just in trouble, and I thought, well...it IS a church...” He coughed. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be mean...”

The man tried to sit down, but seemed to miss the chair and fell to the ground, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. As he collapsed, several ward members jumped to his aid, including Dr. Martin, a prominent local physician. Bishop Maxwell stood up on the stand to get a better look, and then he quickly sprinted up the aisle to the back of the chapel where the man lay.  

For a few awkward moments the congregation stood transfixed at the scene before them. Brother Harrison, one of the bishop’s counselors, said quietly into the microphone, “We’ll consider this meeting adjourned,” as he pulled out his cell phone to call for help.

***This is only Chapter One of this story; I am trying to decide whether or not to continue writing it. I would appreciate feedback--positive and negative--either in the comments or via email. Thanks.

Daily Five Minutes 1/25/10: Elementary Ballroom

You haven't lived until you have spent a Saturday afternoon watching Elementary Ballroom.

Let me set the scene: Mountain View High School gymnasium, with way more fans than the usual high school basketball game.  12 Elementary Ballroom schools represented (~200 dancers?).  Parents of all of the kids.  The kids are grouped into two sides of the gym (girls with roses in their hair and girls with daisies in their hair).

The competition starts with some required dances (Merengue, Fox Trot, Cha cha cha). Everyone dances their required "Heats" in front of a panel of judges.  There is no tapping you on the shoulder if you're terrible, just notes taken down and submitted to the "panel." Then there are dances by the "featured couples".

Got the picture?

OK, now for the fun. Most of the boys don't really want to be there, so their expressions range from fright (no one wants to screw up, even if they don't want to be there) to disdain (girls still have cooties at this age, remember) to disgust ("I'm dancing when I wish I were playing sports"). I don't know what would get a boy to dance who doesn't really want to (of all of the parental battles to fight, that one seems close to last on my list just above "You must memorize the names of all of

The boys who DO want to be there are having a great time, though. The dances are usually lively and the music if fun.

Daily Five Minutes 1/2/10: Nerd Dating

I took most of the holidays off from blogging and from using the computer in general. I have a lot of things that I think are interesting and "news-y", but here's a little weird one to start off the year:

"10 Ways to Flirt with a Nerd".

As a lifelong nerd, I was amused by the title of this article, so I read it (though I don't normally frequent "Marie Claire"). Some truisms:

[Nerds flirt as much as anyone else. For example] if a hunger policy expert comes over and, out of the blue, starts telling you about food insecurity issues in rural Texas, he’s probably hitting on you — but just doing it very poorly.

The author's definition of nerd is encouraging--it is anyone with a driving and passionate interest in a particular subject and the absence of social graces when it comes to talking about that subject. From the article, if Tommy Lee (a heavy metal drummer) would expound at length on the proper way to prepare a snare drum for a concert to anyone who would listen, then he would be a "drum nerd" AND a rockstar. Nerd status is not conveyed solely on the Star Trek/Comic Con crowd.

So that makes all of us nerd-like in certain areas of our lives.

By the way, how do you know if a nerd is falling for you? Well...

He actually notices he’s rambling on about the neurology behind toxoplasmosis, for instance, and stops himself, saying, “But enough about zombies. Would you like another glass of wine?”

So, to the nerd in all of us I say, "Happy New Year"! Now let me tell you about voter fraud...<grin>

Daily Five Minutes 12/22/09--ClimateGate

The scientists that have been researching human-effected climate change in the UK have now admitted that they witheld or downright falsified data and research in order to further their position. To some this reflects the political nature of science, while to others it is more sinister, and nothing less than "sham science" to extort more money from governments.

I have a rather eclectic opinion on climate change, a mixture of "it's human driven therefore humans must reverse it" and "it's part of nature's cycles and there isn't much we can do about it." I was interested to find a pundit whose opinions quite nearly match my own. I found his comments in, of all places, a football column. To be fair, Gregg Easterbrook is a Fulbright Scholar who happens to write a good football column, but still...

Here is an excerpt from his column that is a good summary of the whole issue:

• There is indeed a strong scientific consensus regarding climate change. The deniers simply aren't honest about this.
• The consensus is that in the last century, air has warmed by about one degree Fahrenheit while the oceans have warmed a little and become slightly acidic; rainfall patterns have changed in some places, and most though not all ice melting has accelerated.
• That consensus is significant, but hardly means there is a crisis. Glaciers and sea ice, for example, have been in a melting cycle for thousands of years, while air warming has so far been good for farm yields. The doomsayers simply aren't honest about how mild the science consensus is.
• Predictions of global devastation -- climate change is a "profound emergency" that will "ravage our planet" -- are absurd exaggerations, usually motivated by political or fund-raising agendas.
• Climate change has serious possible negative consequences, especially if rainfall shifts away from agricultural regions.
• Global poverty, disease, dirty air and lack of clean water in developing world cities and lack of education are far higher priorities than greenhouse gas emissions.
• Smog and acid rain turned out to be far cheaper to control than predicted; the same may happen with greenhouse gases.
• The United States must regulate greenhouse gases in order to bring American brainpower, in engineering and in business, to bear on the problem.
• A carbon tax, not some super-complex cap-and-trade scheme that mainly creates jobs for bureaucrats and lawyers, would be the best approach.
• If the United States invents technology to control greenhouse gases, no super-complex international treaty will be needed. Nations will adopt greenhouse controls on their own, because it will be in their self-interest to do so. Smog and acid rain are declining almost everywhere, though are not governed by any international treaty; nations have decided to regulate smog and acid rain emissions on their own, because it is in their self-interest to do so.

I find it unusual and refreshing to have someone lay out the common sense of the matter. Thanks Gregg!

Daily Five Minutes: 12/20/09--Charter Battle in the News

No one really reads this blog on Sunday anyway, but here is a quick update on the Charter school situation.

As I mentioned on Friday, there was a brouhaha on Thursday night at the school. Well we have grown from a mention in the Daily Herald to the local big name--two stories in the Deseret News--followed by another mention in the Daily Herald. The second Daily Herald article is particularly detailed, and quotes one teacher as saying the environment at the school is "toxic." (for the record and by way of full disclosure, the "man" mentioned in paragraphs four and six was me).

My question remains the same as before: if this were a public school, wouldn't this be a bigger story? A local school Board removes a popular teacher and then stonewalls the public (and the teacher) about the reasons why. This sounds like a "60 Minutes" episode, doesn't it? Wouldn't MSNBC be decrying the lack of school oversight and Joy Behar sounding off on this on The View and at least local people-in-power vowing to review this situation and make changes? And yet...

...while the local newspapers eventually caught on and covered the story, it was reported in the Saturday editions, when virtually no one reads those papers. So the power of the press, or media power in general, isn't being used to effect this situation. The local people-in-power don't seem to know or care about this particular school, or its troubles.

If the school goes under because of this problem (Thursday night one teacher said that this situation would crash the school "brick by brick"), the collective community will probably shrug and say, "Well, it was a Charter school anyway. Serves those parents right for not having their kids in public schools."

This situation is the whole school choice issue writ small. If school choice is going to work, then there must be some way--other than market forces--that requires smaller, charter or parent-run schools to be held accountable for their actions. If market forces are all that there are, that means that parents' only choice is to move schools, since working to improve the situation without external help seems pointless.

I hold out hope that this is not a pointless exercise on the part of this school, that the Board and the parents and the teachers can work collectively to resolve the "toxic" nature of the environment, that future oversight issues can be addressed with proper parent representation. I hold out this hope because I believe in rational discourse between reasonable adults. Unfortunately, history shows me that rarely are adults truly rational, that pride often rules where logic and thought fail, and that it is often harder to reverse an unpopular decision (and in this case, I believe a wrong one) than it is to simply dig in one's heels and hope that the problem boils over.

But I will still hope.

More Charter School ...Discussion

So our little school (Renaissance Academy) made the big time news: the Provo Daily Herald. Here's the link (read the comments too; they're fun).  Last night the school's Board held an Emergency Public Forum, agreeing to hear what parents had to say on the recent issues.

So, I went. It reminded me a little of a political party convention: there were a lot of people who wanted to talk, and several of them had really good things to say, but on the whole the meeting was ... long.

Several teachers spoke out about the climate of fear that has crept into the faculty. "If Teri Griffin can be fired like that, than anyone can be fired," said one teacher. Another added, "I fear for my job and that fear is increasing because I am standing here saying that I fear for my job. But unlike other places where people might worry about losing their jobs, my worry affects your children's education."

My take on it is this: the Director of World Languages, whose firing kicked up the furor, was outspoken and a little obstinate in opposition of some constraints placed on her by the Board. Given her obstinance, the Board was able to fire her "for cause," most likely insubordination.  That they fired her two weeks before Christmas smacks of some "last straw" event or conversation, where the Board just felt they couldn't take it anymore.

Absent any information from the school to the contrary, I am free to 'imagine' any scenario I want regarding the termination. The problem for the Board is that the teacher is very well-liked by parents, including us. By firing her in the way that they did at the time that they did, they lit a fuse under every complaint about the school (petty or substantive, real or imagined).

At the meeting I shared this thought: reinstate her. The big elephant in the room is that everyone agrees she is/was a great teacher. Surely whatever were the reasons for her termination can be handled by well-meaning and reasonable adults. If they don't reinstate her, then there will continue to be an outcry about everything the school does as imcompetent, biased, or worse.

So to the school I say: reinstate her. Appoint a moderator to work with the insubordination, if that's what it is. Deal with the problem directly, rather than stonewalling a response and hoping things will blow over. They won't, and that situation will be much worse than what you are facing now.

Pick My Brain: 12/17/09--Trust Issues

Last night I got mad. I was mad because someone I trusted implicitly--in this case a religious leader of a former congregation to which I belonged--violated that trust egregiously. I won't share the details (too private on my end and too maddening on his end), but suffice it to say that my trust in the relationship between pastor and member of the flock was shaken.  In this particular instance, information shared in confidence was used to defame a family member, and information given--nee promises made--were discovered to have been untrue (at best) or outright lies (at worst).

It made me want to be "lawyerly". When I have dealt with antagonistic lawyers in the past, they usually follow up our conversations with a document outlining the discussion and asking me to agree that the document contains the essential elements of the conversation. They do this so that there is a written record of the conversation, and so that neither one of us can go back later and say, "I never said that or agreed to that."

Should I have to do that with my religious leader? "Uh...sorry for the hassle, bishop, but could you sign this document indicating the details of our latest meeting? You know, just in case you decide to deny the things you said later on?" Uggh. I would hate to become that person.

Trust is a big thing with me. I don't like to violate trust in simple things with my kids. I don't like it when people in positions of implied authority abuse that authority and with it my trust.  I don't even like it when public figures that I have come to admire abuse that form of trust.

I generally give people more trust than they have earned; my brother has told me that that is a flaw of mine, and it certainly has gotten me into trouble (I believe his exact words were, "You often reward trust and loyalty were none was tendered.").  I have trusted people with money, only to have them renege on agreements made. I have trusted people with information about me and my family ("You're far too open with the details of our life," my wife tells me), only to have them use that information either to belittle or embarrass me later.

While there are other examples of violated trust, almost always that trust has been reciprocated, and both sides have been enriched by it. I guess that's what frustrates me the most: when that mutually beneficial relationship of trust is broken to my detriment, it causes me to begin to distrust every relationship and every situation. It causes me to want to be lawyerly.

Uggh.

Pick My Brain: 12/16/09--Charter School Oversight

There are some 'goings on' at my children's charter school. The school administration has taken some steps recently that have the entire school population up in arms, either in favor or against. For example, over the summer the Board voted to remove a position from the Board called, "Keeper of the Vision" (KOV), whose role it was to make sure that Board decisions were made in keeping with the original intent of the school's Founding Parents. Then the school year started with a popular foreign language teacher not receiving a contract; she taught anyway, only to receive a contract that was a fraction of her previous year's salary. Then just yesterday the school dismissed the Director of World Languages, actually escorting her from the building during school hours.

This behavior was seen by many parents as an abuse of power by the Board and Administration. Four of the Founding Parents broadcast an email to many of the other parents at the school that read, in part:

We are disappointed in many of the decisions and actions of the leadership of our school over the past year and their inability to appropriately handle conflict resolution.  Today’s actions of terminating the employment of [name omitted], World Language Director, are a reflection of the Board’s and Administration’s inability to do what is in the best interest of our most important stakeholders – our students.

Strong words, indeed. The letter goes on to detail many of the complaints these Founders have with the current Board, and culminates with this:

It is time to take action...Here are some actions that other parents and faculty have suggested to help facilitate change:

1. Picket in front of the school during carpool this week
2. Sign petitions while waiting in carpool
3. Participate in a boycott on Wednesday Dec. 16^th where teachers would call in sick and parents would not send their kids to school that day.
4. Write emails to administration and the board [followed by the email address of the Principal, Vice Principal, Board President and all of the Board members]
5. Attend a meeting to become more informed on the current situation

And so it was, when I dropped my kids off at school, there were about a dozen parents picketing the carpool drop-off lane with signs that read, "Parents Demand Answers," "Teachers are the Heart of the School", etc. I used the occasion to teach my children about Freedom of Speech and Right of Assembly (thank you, 1st Ammendment), but it was still a difficult thing for them to see.

That was followed by another flurry of emails from parents of the opposing perspective. One such email read:

I am extremely disappointed in the previous founding parents and Board members who are supporting picketing, boycott, strike, or keeping our kids home from school. This is shameful and in my opinion should not be supported by any of us. Calling for a boycott by the parents/students/faculty is not an action that bespeaks major concern for the education of our children.  In fact, I'd say it indicates just the opposite.  Shame on you - leading a revolt against the current board of directors?  No one did anything like that when you were the ones making the hard decisions. I believe the slogan adopted was "this school isn't for everyone - if they disagree let them seek education elsewhere". [emphasis added]

The poor teachers and students are caught in the crosshairs of this battle over power. Afterschool tutoring was cancelled for today due to an "emergency faculty meeting." One teacher felt compelled to say that yes, she would be in school on Wednesday. Another wrote this heartbreaking email:

I wanted to let you know that I will be teaching my class on Wednesday. This does not however show that I am in agreement with the administration or with the founding parents in regards to the letter many of you have been sent. I do not know all of the facts that have led up to this situation and problem. Please feel free to do as you wish and desire.

I am here to teach your children and we will be finishing our unit on Festivals and Holidays around the world. We will be completing our gifts and allowing the students to learn through creative ways. [emphasis added]

Why is that heartbreaking? Why does a teacher have to remind us that he is there to teach the children or that he would allow the students to learn? Shouldn't that be a given? Isn't that why he became a teacher in the first place?

I have omitted the names of the school and the participants in this drama because I think that the specifics of the situation obscure the larger picture, which is:

Who oversees Charter Schools?

Public schools have school districts and superintendents to keep them in line, and teachers have teachers' organization and representation to make sure that they are treated fairly and schools all have some form of parent organization to give the students and parents a voice.

But at a charter school, run with public money no less, there is virtually none of this oversight. The Board can act with impunity as it sees fit, responding only to...well, itself, I guess: there is no real course of redress for anyone. Well except for one: I can remove my children from the school, or a teacher can quit. There is a public school nearby, and I can simply move my kids from this pseudo-private school to the public one.

That's what I call the "Armageddon answer" to difficulties. Don't like it? Leave! It is the grown-up equivalent of a wounded grade school kid saying on the playground, "If you don't play by my rules I'm going to take my ball and go home!" In this case, "If you don't like how we run the school then leave!"

Surely reasonable adults can arrive at reasoned decisions. However that rationality requires a few things:

• Transparency. You fire a teacher for cause? What was the cause? At a public school that information is kept private, but at a Charter School it must be made public. Why? So that the Board/Administration action can be measured by the school's families, and assessed for whether or not they agree with the direction of the Board. 100% of Board meetings should be open to the parents' community, including discussions over salary and discipline
• Vision. Why does the school exist? What are the guiding principles? Most Charter Schools (including this one) have this published and posted clearly. But when actions of teachers, programs or the administration appear to be in contrary to those principles and values, it should be transparent enough for everyone to see, and they should be held accountable.
• Accountability...to the parents. Public schools are accountable to the School Board and the State Board of Education. Charter Schools must be accountable to the parents.

Elementary school goes by much too quickly for children to be worrying about whether or not their teacher will be here for the rest of the year. Worse, we cannot wait until school Board elections to "vote out" an overly aggressive Board (or Board member); we can't lose a year of a child's eduction due to a power struggle between teachers and administrators.

So who oversees the Charter Schools? Dunno, but it doesn't appear to be these guys...

Tiger Woods and the Role of Fathers

The Tiger Woods scandal is everywhere these days. If you haven't heard about it, then I can't believe you are reading my blog, but here it is in a nutshell: Woods, arguably the greatest golfer that has ever played, has maintained several illicit sexual relationships over the past few years, while maintain a squeaky-clean, family-man image with his model-gorgeous wife. There are more details to the story, but that is the gist of it.

My take on it is this: Tiger misses his father.

Sorry that that is so simplistic, but I believe that there is some truth to that. Tiger's father provided an anchor, a yard-stick to measure his life against, a support mechanism to balance all of the fame and adulation. When Tiger's father died, Tiger said, "My dad was my best friend and greatest role model, and I will miss him deeply."

Earl Woods died of cancer in 2006; Woods' affairs began in 2007. Without the anchor, the role model, the yardstick, even someone as talented as Tiger Woods let his life run off of the rails.

Tiger is far from the only star athlete to have similar problems. Michael Jordan was unable to control his gambling addiction in the wake of his father's shocking murder in 1993. He withdrew from basketball for a time, ultimately to return and be successful. But without a guiding hand, his life became increasingly difficult, and he divorced his wife in 2002 (followed by a brief reconciliation and then a final divorce in 2006). He allegedly had affairs during the aftermath of his father's death and his gambling addiction ran into the millions of dollars per year. In the minds of many, his image was forever altered by his bitter Hall of Fame acceptance speech. I believe that had his father been alive, Michael would not have become so bitter.

Mike Tyson never had a father, having been abandoned by his natural father when he was two years old. Tyson had repeated troubles as a child, finally being rescued from reform school by boxing legend Cus D'Amato. When Tyson's mother died, D'Amato became his legal guardian, and the only father figure Tyson would ever know.  D'Amato got Tyson to channel his ferocious nature into the bouts in the ring, and thereby control it. When D'Amato died in 1985, Tyson was beginning his career as the youngest heavyweight champion of the world. By 1990, without D'Amato to guide him and mentor him, Tyson's professional discipline had disappeard, and he lost the heavyweight  title to unheralded Buster Douglas. Two years later, his personal life would also disintegrate, as he battered his wife, and began a decline into laughing-stock status, in and out of jail and the tabloids. 

There are other less well-known examples. Chuck Knoblauch, an all-star second baseman for the New York Yankees, idolized his father. His father coached Chuck in Little League and later in High School, and was a personal and professional mentor. In 1996, Chuck's father was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's disease. The distraction proved too much for Knoblauch, and by 1999 he was a shell of the former All-star caliber player he had once been. He became incapable of throwing a baseball from 2nd base to 1st base--a purely mental roadblock that directly coincides with his father's struggles (according to baseball-reference.com, he had eight errors in a complete season in 1996, in 1999 he had 26, and by 2000 he projected to more than 40 when they stopped letting him play 2nd base).

In each of these cases, and countless others, a father has provided the anchor and yardstick to an extremely talented son. Without that anchor the son has slid into self-destruction. As a father I am humbled by the realization that my sons look to me for an anchor, and that my actions can continue to guide them even when I am not present for every moment of their lives.

My own father is still alive. At 88 years old he is extremely active (tennis 3-4 times per week, a new college course every semester, busily writing physics papers and reading up on history). While I am far from famous, I have had my share of difficulties. Still, for me he continues to provide a rudder to my life; even as everything around me can seem to be in chaos and turmoil, my father is a rock, a foundation to which I can always turn for guidance and direction.

I did not intend this to be a treatise on the importance of fathers; there are plenty of good examples of that. This is simply an observation: these famous, successful men owed a lot of their success to the influence of fathers or father figures. Their downfalls, to varying degrees, can be traced at least in part to the sudden or unexpected absence of those same father figures. Doesn't it follow that their recovery, therefore, would necessitate a reconnection with someone to play that mentoring role for them?

So to Tiger, I would say this: find that person who can provide that anchor on earth. At one time it probably could have been your wife, though that time may have passed. And Tiger? Try to remember the morals and values that made your father so proud of you in life. There really is no replacement for your Dad.