Disposable Nation

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They just don't make it like they used to. Or how the saying goes for when we encounter some product that we remember from a previous day that seemed to last forever. Like refrigerators that ran for 30 years or the television your grandparents still watch that they bought new when you were a small child. Vacuum cleaners that are as old as you are and still pick up the dust.

For the exception of a couple of things such as my car and our house that I can honestly see myself still using in 5 years let alone 10 or longer. And absolutely nothing that I see as passing on to my children and my grandchildren. It will all be dust by then.

Some time in the mid 20th century we passed a tipping point where technology became cheaper than labor. It was a gradual shift as skilled laborers retired and eventually died and the cravings of technology driven items such as Walkman radio/cassette players, personal computers and cell phones came into our main stream pop culture.

The overall shift in our culture of values changed at this very time. Households moved from single income male wage earners to more and more homes with two working parents. As the women's movement for equality took greater hold in the 60's and 70's and asserted their own abilities in the male dominated fields, the composition of households changed. Some for the good and some for the worse.

We began to rely on technology to fill in the gaps. Mom's weren't around as much now to bake homemade goods so we started buying up microwave ovens and precooked meals and more and more take-out. Children weren't nearly as busy with after school activities. Guys played football in the fall, basketball/wrestling in the winter and baseball/track in the spring. Gals had volleyball, basketball and track and all of this seemed to fit within biking distance and before dinnertime when mom and dad got home.

The technology of more convenience - we demanded more and more restaurants with drive-thrus and home delivery. We wanted our groceries to require minimal additional ingredients to assemble and cook. We wanted better technology to communicate since we didn't see one another and since no one was in one spot for very long any more. Cell phones showed up and when the costs and the coverages got less and greater service, households latched onto them. Now we are reduced to text messages that don't even use English (OMG! - LOL).

Our family size shrunk and soon a family of four found that a 2,000 SF home wasn't big enough and moved into a 3,500 SF home with the reasoning that it was a "better" neighborhood with "better" schools. As if to rationalize the move on the account of a better life for our kids. Or that all of the people we knew in the old neighborhood moved away and we were left with no one around.

Or that in our neighborhoods today how rare it is for you to know anyone over 100 feet away and that for most of the people around your home, you may or may not even know their names and the only contact has been (possibly) a friendly wave that gave vague credibility that you understood they lived around you. Or that the home you live in today is one that you legitimately see yourself in 10 years from now and that some idea of a better location somewhere across town would be much more ideal to the life you'd like to live.

Modern neighborhoods now have greater spaces between homes with wide sweeping streets that never run in a straight line and are graced with silly names like "West Andrew Creek Street" or "Dulcinea" or "Long Valley Ridge Road". Whatever happened to 3rd Street? The design of the neighborhoods push each home apart discouraging interaction. No wonder that on National Night Out celebrations that it can be an awkward venue of a gathering of strangers.

Our houses today are built with high technology and little craftsmanship. Very few can even afford craftsmanship anymore. Quality stonemasons or finish carpenters are very, very rare. If your home was built after 1990, the home you live in was built with profitability solely in mind with the cheapest products available. With a design not created by an architect with quality in mind but with thin veneers of aesthetics that gave the buyer the impression of high resale.

High resale. People buy their homes so they can sell later. As long as they're next to good schools.

Aren't good schools based upon the constituents that compose them? The faculty provide only a portion of the quality of education, it's the neighborhood that provides the next part and the individual with the rest. People make the assumption that a certain neighborhood with a certain type/style of home will produce classmates of a certain caliber that will "ensure" that your child is in good hands.

Our careers have fallen prey to this as well. I know of no one who has the same job they started out with in their career. They trade them out as they see fit. No long term commitment to the business that gave them the job. The same goes for the employers - very few get behind the lives of their workforce to give them opportunities to grow and feel part of a family. The relationship between employer and employee has boiled down to a purely transactional environment where employees are viewed as individual cost centers that need to produce along with shoving traditional benefits back for employee payment/contribution. Employees view growth opportunities not in terms of years or decades to reach milestones but in matters of months with expected compensation.

The technology of email, overnight delivery, faxing, online conference calling, automated customer service and cell phones have pushed the pace of work to a feverish pitch which only allows for implications at home. Work is never really "left at work". We are becoming more and more accessible - twenty-four hours a day. Emails are expected to be returned the minute they are sent. Call waiting and cell phones are impolite interruptions into face-to-face meetings or ongoing conversations. Demands are immediate.

Our relationships are becoming more and more transactional. We spend less and less time together and more and more time apart. In those times that a couple are together, tending to the household chores take precedence. The bathroom needs to be painted, the lawn mowed, the garaged cleaned. Oh yeah, play with the kids and if there's a few minutes at the end of the day then we can "maintain" a relationship.

Friendships are harder to maintain. When time is made and plans are carried out where a couple invites another couple over for dinner - why is it the the invited couple now feels obligated to return the favor? Wasn't it just a gift in the first place?

Our relationships and friendships are based upon an accounting of the give and the take where if it becomes too far out of balance the relationship or the friendship is disposed of.

We are a disposable nation. One that takes something for the moment and disposes of it when something new comes along. Commitments are rare and even more rarely reciprocated. We judge our success from the outward appearance of things accumulated - a nice home in a respectable neighborhood, a decent car(s), vacations ot the right places, clothes that show we're responsive to the right trends, spouses who have the right prospects and income potential, children who go to the right schools and play the right sports and who are in the TAG programs.

Our furniture has become like clothes and we throw them away or give the to Goodwill when we tire of them. We spend less and less time with quality and more more and more time with appearance. We have acquired a severe lack of substance.

We have sought out technology as the replacement of our community. We rave about Facebook and Myspace but won't take the time to make a new friend in our workplace or across the street. Maybe it's because someone might discover what we're really like? How could we live with that in the open?

In our quest to be all things to all people we've left our character and passion far behind. In that when we are confronted with people who have retained those traits we are immediately drawn to them.

Oscar Wilde once said: "A cynic is a man who knows the price of everything but the value of nothing". Has our culture descended into the grasp of the cynic or could our future be much different?

Hope.

Hope is the cornerstone that things can be different. Hope is the eternal optimist. Hope bathes in joy and wears it like a royal robe. Hope is to believe that all is not lost. Hope is the greatest of all things.

Is it possible to turn the tide of our collective consumer culture to change direction and refocus on those people and things that have and bring value. And with that we make a conscious effort to become a person who brings value to those that are around us. To freely give of our talents and abilities without any thought of reciprocation. To give our our spirit of hope.

I would think that a new day could dawn within this new year of ours. Read more! Read more!

Could a new BCS College Football Playoff work?

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I just can't resist it and leave it alone. Like most people who follow college football to any extent - I can't stand the current system that determines who gets to play for a national championship. But as I've thought of this and why most (if not everybody) is against the system and why nothing will be done about it.

It comes down to what people feel is fair. When too few individuals (or groups) hold too much of the power, people get antsy. It's the feeling of having some level of control over your own destiny. To me, it's the same reason why some people can't stand to fly but are content to drive (or be driven) - even though statistics clearly show that flying (commercially) is far safer than driving. But it's the idea that we have at shot of changing the outcome of an accident directly where when a plane crashes you're along for the ride. We want to feel that there is something "out there" that instills trust that fairness and equality are being championed on behalf of the minority.

There are currently eleven (11) conferences that play at the 1-A level. Six (6) of them are considered "BCS" conferences which are basically an elite tier whose conference champions get to play in big money, nationally televised bowl games around this time of year (you may of heard of some of them...).

The remaining five conferences aren't affiliated with the big money - high profile bowls and since they are deemed weaker by that context - the will have no chance to play for the national championship which only takes the top two BCS computer ranked teams who play in a separate big money bowl. The current payouts for the top four BCS bowls and the National Championship Bowl are $17 million. In 2009, the Big 12 Conference champion Oklahoma will play the SEC Conference champion Florida in the National Championship. But, both conferences also get to play in the other top ranked BCS bowls (SEC - Alabama in the Sugar Bowl and the Big 12 - Texas in the Fiesta Bowl). Meaning that both conferences get a share of another $17 million.

Out of 120 teams at the 1-A level, there are 34 bowl games (including the National Championship). That means 68 teams are playing in a bowl which is slightly over half of the teams. What also bugs me (and most others) is that a team is "bowl eligible" with six wins. Well, in a 12 game season - that's a 0.500 record and if that team loses their bowl game, they actually end the season with a losing record. This bowl season, there are nine (9) teams with a 6-6 record playing and another 16 teams playing with a 7-5 record.

Since this bar is so low - most conferences are fielding several teams in bowls. Here's a breakdown:

BCS Conferences

Big 12 - 7 of 12 teams
Big 10 - 7 of 11 teams
SEC - 8 of 12 teams
Pac 10 - 5 of 10 teams
ACC - 10 of 12 teams
Big East - 6 of 8 teams

Non-BCS Conferences

Mt. West - 5 of 9 teams
C-USA - 6 of 12 teams
WAC - 5 of 9 teams
Sun Belt - 2 of 8 teams
MAC - 5 of 13 teams

Independents Notre Dame and Navy are also playing in bowls.

Now for the money - I added up all of the payouts for the 34 bowl games and the total pot is $129,753,000. Games range anywhere from $300k to $17M for payouts. The BCS conferences will collectively receive around $111M this year or 86% of the payouts. The non-BCS conferences and Independents will receive the balance. Since Utah was able to qualify for a BCS game this year, it throws it off - in a "normal" year where only BCS schools are receive BCS bowl game money, the figure would be around $120M which constitutes 92.5% of the total bowl money.

That figure gets split up amongst the winning team representing the conference with a portion going back to the other teams in the conference. Here is the breakdown of winnings that will go to each conference:

BCS Teams:

Big 12 - $22,540,000
Big 10 - $23,475,000
SEC - $26,600,000
Pac 10 - $11,440,000
ACC - $16,450,000
Big East - $10,975,000

Non BCS Teams:

Mt. West - $10,050,000 (Utah's $8.5M for it's Sugar Bowl Appearance)
C-USA - $2,812,500
WAC - $1,874,000
Sun Belt - $537,500
MAC - $2,300,000

Independents (they don't share with anyone else):

Notre Dame - $199,000
Navy - $500,000

It reeks of unfairness. The lower caste teams can't reach the top to make the big money even though they are ranked on the same scale as the upper crust conferences and since they can't get the big money (often enough), the funds aren't there to build the conferences up so that they can be competitive. It's amazing when you really think about the level of money that non-BCS teams play so well to be ranked in the top 25 let alone breaking the top ten (both Utah and Boise State did this year). The system is designed to keep the little guy out but does allow for a little table scraps to be thrown out on occasion.

So, what if I were king and could rearrange things so that all teams had an equal shot at the national championship along with instituting a bonafide play-off system? Here's what it may look like:

I would attempt to keep most of the conferences stable for traditions sake but there are some major changes that would need to be enacted. I would propose that we cut the conferences down from eleven (11) to nine (9). I would dissolve the WAC, C-USA and the Sun Belt to do this and take those teams and redistribute. I would create one entirely new conference as well. Each conference would have at least 12 teams split into two divisions that would allow for a conference championship. (I have included a graphic of what each conference would look like - CLICK ON THE PICTURE TO ENLARGE).



SOUTHERN ATHLETIC CONFERENCE - this is a new conference consisting of ex Sun Belt and C-USA teams.

MOUNTAIN WEST CONFERENCE - this has the same name and only four of the original teams but has taken on most of the newly dissolved WAC.

BIG EAST CONFERENCE - this is expanded from eight (8) teams to 12. Teams from C-USA, Sun Belt and MAC would fill out this roster.

BIG NORTH CONFERENCE - this is formally the BIG 10. I added Iowa State from the BIG 12 to balance out the new "west" region.

PACIFIC COAST CONFERENCE - this is formally the PAC 10. I added Utah and BYU to make twelve and split the conference into north and south regions.

SEC - there are no proposed changes

BIG 12 - With Iowa State going to the BIG NORTH, Colorado State was added to the BIG 12 north division. TCU was also added as a 13th team in the south division.

ACC - there are no proposed changes

MAC - Removed one team - Temple would now be part of the Big East.

INDEPENDENTS - Western Kentucky would now be part of the new SOUTHERN Conference. Air Force would join the other service academies as independents along with Hawai'i.

The nine (9) conferences would produce one conference champion that would be entered into the national playoff system consisting of the top 16 teams. The other seven (7) teams would come from the conferences and/or independents who are in the top ranks as determined by the BCS computer program. For instance, if the Big 12 produced three top 10 teams with one being the champion with an automatic slot, then then the other two could find their way into the playoffs as seeded at-large teams.

The first round of playoffs would be held at the higher seeded team's home field with a much higher payoff ($5-8 M from endorsements). Quarter and Semi finals would be held at neutral sites where I proposed the four BCS bowls along with adding the Cotton and the Liberty Bowl. These payoffs would be larger - $10-12 M for the quarter finals and $12-15 M for the semis. The national championship would be the same with a final payout around $15-20 M.

A team making to the national championship would earn tens of millions for their school and conference along with allowing all conferences the ability to legitimately compete for a national title.

The existing bowl exhibition games could still be used for those teams who didn't make the playoffs and those funds could be distributed accordingly. I would guess that in a couple of years those bowls wouldn't be all that interesting and would fade.

Now, there are a lot of obvious problems with this fantasy - first, the people in power aren't willingly going to relinquish it so a "self-governed" system isn't going to spring up from the grassroots. Secondly there are a lot of traditions that would have to be reshaped to accommodate this. Third, the system would allow for unequal funding to go to dynasty conferences and the money would have to be figured into this. Conferences that only field their champion and they lost in the first round would get very little compared to the previous system, but those that did make it to the quarters, semis and finals would rake in 3-4 times what they do now.

And maybe with all "grass is greener" fantasy scenarios that the truth of it is that in the quest of fair play and equality, those factors could (and do) spur their own set of problems and controversy and those sports who have leveled the playing field (such as Indy Car), public interest quickly fades. The populace wants and craves a controversy and the heralded Cinderella story where the little guy gets his day. So with that in mind - maybe we should just suck it up? You let me know.


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Transitions

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When I find myself in the near sleep state where dreams are the most vivid and the colors of the mind paint up the canvas of the closed eye into wonderful renditions of fantasy, my subconscious takes over and ornate tales are woven. There are times when my dreams display the visual representation of the mood that I am feeling - or in some cases what I would like to feel. Such as walking through a field of spring wheat near dusk when the colors are vibrant greens and the sky's blazing orange of the sunset offsets the deepest blues of the clouds that just seem to be high enough that I can't touch them. And as I walk towards the sunset the feelings of peace and harmony lift me slightly above the ground so that my pace becomes floating and I glide for the briefest of moments above my surroundings.

In that in some dreams I take off in flight lifting ever so gently in the sky to hover above the place where I once stood. Looking down at that spot as I rise into the low sky then pitching my vision forward towards the lakes and forest and mountains beyond. Never rising very high - just enough to flirt with the tree canopies, the glassy surfaces of the lake and the rocky outcroppings of snow capped mountains.

I feel as if I'm bathing in the joy of a freedom granted from all humanly limitations to encounter the world through a perspective that is impossible but in the mind's eye lives and breathes in its fully richness of possibility. With a tapestry of visual treats and crispness of clarity where all things reside in focus from the individual stalks of the wheat field to the tiny veins on the leaves of the trees to the clearest of water that I'm gliding over.

There is no wind or rain.

Nor hot or cold.

Just the warmth like a comfortable blanket on a perfect night. It is there that I find my place and I drift off into the blackness of comfort gained and happiness fulfilled. For sleep has come to take me home. Read more! Read more!

Bug

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When I turned 16 and since I was the oldest sibling, I got to go shopping with my dad for a car for me (unbeknowest to me, it was to shuttle my brother and sister around thus saving my parents the burden of taxi driver). Since we didn't have a lot of money, we ended up at the car lots that most of us try to avoid where a tall moderately dressed salesman showed my dad and I the options on the lot. When my dad finally saw the car that was soon to be mine, the gravitational pull far exceeded any logical purchasing methodology and immediately we were sitting inside.

It was a 1973 VW Superbeetle: Kelly green. It had a bad torsion bar in the back so the rear end sat a little too low, the turn signal didn't work so some previous owner had attached some aftermarket switch to the steering column and it had a wheel for a gas pedal (yes, a wheel). My father had owned a 1968 VW Beetle when he and my mother were married so the car had a bit of nostalgia attached to it. Granted, that car was new when they owned it and this one had several thousand more miles of use along with it's 16 years of age.

After the salesman came back with the temp plates, we fired up the engine to hear that distinct motor sound that only an old VW can make. A cross between a lawnmower and an old coffee can with rocks in it. I was in the driver's seat since this was to be my vehicle. I had never driven anything foreign before so I had to orient myself with how the stick shift worked. The year prior was spent with my grandfather, brother and I crammed into the front bench seat of a 1983 underpowered Ford Ranger on the back roads of McCall, ID learning how to run a stick shift. I had done well to learn (and not kill the three of us in the process) and had practiced with my dad post summer driving school, but there I was staring at the "H" pattern on the German auto.

I couldn't find the reverse. The pattern graphic had 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 in the typical design with the "R" up and left of the #1. After several futile attempts of trying to shove it into gear, my dad realized what I was doing and calmly showed me that you have to push down on the knob to engage the reverse. Oh (I thought the Germans were good at engineering)...

I pulled the car forward slowly out into the side road and up the first stop sign a couple hundred feet away and stepped on the brakes.

Nothing happened.

At all.

I coasted through the intersection as I searched frantically for the emergency brake that was tucked and hidden underneath the cheap faux fir seat covers between the two front bucket seats. I found it and got us to stop.

I looked at my dad like he was crazy for even considering this car. It was totally uncool for any self respecting teenage boy. I had friends whose father's rebuilt classic cars (notably my friend Jeff's red 1967 Mustang) or who were lucky enough to get a new one. This car was lame and ugly - bad combination. I should be getting something at least with some potential cool like a truck or something - not the vehicular equivalent to a date with the marching band.

I limped the brakeless bug back to the dealership and fully expected to say a polite "thank you for your time" and go far away. My dad had other ideas. Then he dropped this bomb on a 16 year old outside the sales office:

"You can either get this now or wait another year"

What kind of ultimatum is that?!? To dangle the freedom of my own vehicular transportation - to go wherever I deemed necessary to go when I wanted to in front of me with the sudden damnation of broken VW bug or it's almost diabolical equivalent of exile from said desired freedom. With a scowl I took the car. I couldn't imagine being the only high school senior without a ride.

My dad paid for the car and we got the laundry list of issues fixed - or at least mask them so they weren't so apparent. My dad did concede to outfitting the car with new wheels and tires and a cheap tape deck for tunes. The new wheels were too wide and since the rear suspension wasn't fixed, the rear fenders would rub against the tires when I had more than two people in the car leaving a nice groove in the tread along with the rancid smell of burnt rubber lingering in the car.

I hated the car.

I hated the smug little face of the front end of the car with its cheery headlights and curvaceous fenders. I hated its chrome bumper that seemed to just smile at you reminding you of your own tampered image. I hated the goofy turn signal and the wheel for a gas pedal...

Then, after a few months, it grew on me and I actually found myself not feeling contempt but some minor affection. It was my car. The long warm ups that never really warmed up the car really weren't all that bad - even when we covered the windshield with a big pink blanket to help combat the frost. The curvaceous body actually had personality and even its smiling face was kind of interesting to look at.

But the deal that finally sold me was another dramatic reveal of the car's flaws. One early spring day I was headed out of town to visit a buddy of mine who lived out in the farm country west of town. I had zipped through town and pulled onto the freeway on ramp to drive the 10 or so miles to his house.

I was gaining speed, which if you've ever driven a VW bug at freeway speeds then you're a liar because the car can't do freeway speeds. A slow gallop is closer to the pace and I'm pretty sure that 0-60 could be clocked with a calendar and top speeds claimed by the manufacturer were only obtained with a strong tailwind. Anyway, I was flooring the wheel-for-a-gas-pedal to the floorboard and was fiddling with the crappy stereo to find a radio station of choice. I had taken my eye off the road and was concentrating on getting the analog radio dial in the right place when

BLAM

I looked up and all I could see was a Kelly green wall of the bug's front hood and a freshly cracked front windshield. I sat up immediately and fiddled for a second or two trying to think of what to do next. I couldn't see anything.

I was on the freeway travelling as fast as the engine would give me with the curved front hood now acting like a giant scoop. Amazingly, I calmly kept going straight and rolled down the window and looked out around it - just as we were taught in driver's training and slowed the car down to the side of the road.

Looking around the left front fender I could see the pink blanket that I used to cover the windshield that previous winter half hanging out which made the moving car with it's hood up in the air like a giant mouth with it's fuzzy pink tongue hanging out in the wind.

I glanced over to the oncoming traffic across the median to see drivers staring at the spectacle of the gaping mouth in their own disbelief as I worked to stop the car. I'm sure they weren't expecting to see that on their journey.

I secured the hood with some rope and continued my journey. Although the car had failed me (again) mechanically - this time with the potential of killing me in some tragic fashion - I actually found it endearing. Kind of like your best friend who just can't seem to catch a break but ends up being the butt of jokes from all of the ineptitude from his misadventures.

We sold the bug when I went to college that following fall. For a few years afterwards I would see the car sitting at a new lot in town trying to be sold to some other unsuspecting owner then finally one summer it was gone. Every time I see an old bug on the road that is the same shade of Kelly green I wonder if it could be my old car.

I don't think that anyone ever forgets their first car - how they felt to have it and the open doors of freedom it brought at that critical juncture in their adolescent lives. But for me, it was an experience to grow to enjoy something that I initially wanted nothing to do with only to have to live out that relationship through necessity.

And who knows when that next Kelly green bug will show up in my life?

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Forts

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When I was a kid, I would build elaborate forts in our back yard. They were a hodgepodge of folding card tables, scraps of cardboard or wood my dad might have had in the garage, sheets, sleeping bags - pretty much anything I could find that could compose of a wall or a roof.

They were sprawling since they were built not with a single end vision in mind as an architect may compose a new building, but thrown together in the moment. Where each "room" was added onto the next and as the space went together, the space found it's own shape and form. I would duck back inside and crawl around - constantly checking and rechecking how everything looked and how I felt being in my creation.

When some of the sheet-walls didn't touch the ground in a way that I liked, I readjusted them which invariably left a new problem on the opposite side of the fort since I took material from that purpose to make this one area look better so I would have to either find a larger sheet or add onto the other side in order to fill that newly formed hole.

I would look at how the light would filter into the little rooms under neath the structure of the folding tables and propped up chairs - how some spaces were darker than others. If it was too dark, I would find something else out of the materials that I had and if what I was looking for wasn't readily found, I would sometimes go into the house and bug my mother for any old sheets she didn't mind me playing with out in the yard.

As I would sit inside, my mind would be whirling of better arrangements, better use of the stuff I had so that every piece that I procured for this project was used in some way and that each material found it's rightful place within this temporary retreat.

I never really considered a master plan before embarking on these endeavors. The forts just grew out of my imagination. And they provided to me a place of my own - as temporary as it might have been. I would crawl inside and peer out into the yard and at the back of the house through the little windows I would leave in the gaps between the sheets and the sleeping bags. And if I was really lucky I would have large scraps of cardboard that I could cut in windows with flaps so I could open and close them at my leisure.

My most favorite times to build these were during storms where in the warm summers of Eastern Oregon spawned the occasional short-lived afternoon thunderstorm and the winds of these storms would blow the farmer's dust into the atmosphere which gave the air a particular smell and look when mixed with a little bit of rain. The billowing clouds above whose undersides looked like a field of gray cotton balls. I would hide inside my fort and watch the unfolding of the storm outside sometimes scampering out to repair a portion of my protection that might have been molested by the wind.

For the inside was my place to experience the changing dynamics of the weather within the safe confines of a structure built by my own hands whose integrity was known only to me.

And I loved it.

The forts of my youth were never to be experienced from the outside. To a casual observer of my activities the forts were ugly, unruly and unregulated. No presence of thought was given to anyone else who would have to deal with looking at my unsightly temporary lump in the yard. They were wholly constructed so that they were interesting from the inside. And for that you needed to be invited.

It follows me into my adulthood where I still retreat to solitary activities in public places where now I set up my electronic fort - comprised of my texting cell phone, iPod and sometimes laptop computer - and review the world and the people around me. To watch their lives intersect in one coffee shop or airport terminal and how so many people can be together at once and only partially interact.

How I enjoy the safety and comfort of a "fort" that I've constructed so that I may interact with a world that is storming outside. Of which interests me greatly but I lack the desire to just stand out in the yard fully exposed to the elements around me.

And that I am not shamed by this - I realize that I am not interested in experiencing life around me in that fashion. It's just not comfortable to me. Although I know that I am intrigued enough to be the person at the window who is willing to readily share what he's observed from his post provided by the gap in the sheet and the sleeping bag held up by the card table. Always quick to repair what the wind may have pulled apart.

I can still recognize the distinct smell the air and the dust.

I can still feel the diffused wind penetrate the fabric walls and how it whipped the small field of grass blades in the yard.

I can still see the dark underbelly of the low-hung storm clouds.

And it still fills me with a sense of awe for it is truly life in its rawest of forms to only be buffeted by the flimsiest of man made structures of which we place the full faith of our talents and abilities as our only defense.

It is an impossible battle.

It is who I am. Read more! Read more!

Winter Discoveries

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The windshield wipers made a funny squeaking sound as they glided over the smooth glass of the windshield. There was just enough water flowing down in a thin stream to bug him so he kept the wipers moving at the slowest possible speed. And even that was sometimes too often so he would waffle between leaving the squeaking intermittent sequence on or manually flipping the switch. Both of which weren't good solutions.

It had started to snow and as he pulled into the small parking lot of the even smaller public park where he commenced to find a secluded spot to leisurely enjoy his take-out lunch. One of which consisted of a burger and two tacos to be flushed with a Diet Pepsi. All of which didn't make him very proud for spontaneously purchasing. He just hoped that his wife wouldn't ask him about what he had later and had already started to think of artful topic changing subjects just in case it did.

The weather had been cold all week. Out of the south, coastal rain had matriculated up the region to bring snow and the accompanying slick roads and engagements of four wheel drives. He had contemplated going out in the marginal weather and his common sense told him that he should have stayed relatively close to the office and not tempt fate. But after zipping across the frigid parking lot and firing up the vehicle, getting away from the office was precisely the point and sooner than he realized he was well across town.

The parking lot was empty save for the one abandoned white car near the front entry. This actually made him happy since he didn't like to share his quiet spots with anyone else and he could feel free to sit in his parked car, happily listening to the radio or stretching out to take a quick nap in solitude without fear of thinking of what other possible onlookers may or may not think.

He positioned his car as far away from the abandoned vehicle so that he could look out onto the small grassy field. On the ground around him he could see the remnants of past visitors who left their shoe prints in the old snow that blanketed the parking lot, sidewalks and grass. A squirrel was operating not too far away and was busily bounding across the snow from his choice of trees that strangely still retained their leaves this late in the season. He could see the squirrel shake the tree and the leaves as it scurried up to the very top of the mid-height trees to pluck the remaining berries still attached.

Across from him was the small building that had posted a small sign:

"CLOSED FOR WINTER"

The sign was threatened by the overhanging snow/ice that was desperately grasping to the slick green metal roof.

The snow was fascinating to watch. It reminded him of the way a camp fire's flame can be hypnotizing where the generally uniform falling flakes would be manipulated by the wind currents circling around the trees in the park giving the field of view a visual tapestry of being alive.

He wanted to get out and walk in the snow. To hearken back to his childhood where he would stand under the streetlight and try to catch the snowflakes on his tongue as the made their way to the ground. How endless the snow had looked and felt back then when the current affairs weren't as dominating nor packing as much influence as they do today.

He decided against going out. He alternated between the excuses of wearing the wrong shoes to not having a hat both of which he knew were poor excuses. The lame arguments won out and he would have to settle for watching through the glass and postponing any silly childhood memories.

Staring out at the snow multiple thoughts filled his head:

His kids playing in the snow...

Work that should be getting done...

Meeting tomorrow with the University...

Driving up north for the weekend in this weather...

These topics just seemed to quickly interchange in his mind - like a flashcard reader on crack.

It was cold and he had to turn the motor back on to get some heat back into the cab. The glass had started to fog up as well.

The snow had started to let up and across the field he could see the brightly colored playground equipment which looked to him rather sad and lonely being gently covered in the whiteness of the snow and the severe lack of children that should have been enjoying their offerings of fun and amusement.

Above the equipment and further off into the distance the tall, old trees stood leafless exposing their pockets of abandoned nests that lay bare in the crooks of the branches high above the ground. Their previous inhabitants having long fled for warmer places and fellowship.

He thought of leaving to warming places, too. Of travelling far to be with warm people and cooler drinks. To be in places where winter doesn't reside and spring is a perpetual glorious land to be exploited by fun.

Greener pastures weren't to be explored today and they would have to reside in dreams kept. He pulled out of his glove box a small notebook and scribbled that down.

It was there and then that he wanted to become a teller of stories.

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Systemic Change

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As we see news post after news post of failures in our banking system to the credit crunch to the loss of jobs, after a while it becomes just numbing to think about. I admit that I don't even like listening to the news at night since it just spews the same story - just rehashed. About how the recession is affecting this or the job losses are affecting that. Its almost easier to just put your head in the sand and hope it will all pass without mangling your life up too much.

I believe that it's in our cultural nature to try to assign blame to what went so wrong to get us to this uncomfortable economical spot. Who was the mastermind behind the mortgage meltdown, the subsequent credit crisis, fuel speculation that drove the cost of oil to over $140/barrel this summer - who was to blame behind the reason why GM and Chrysler need bridge loans. The fallout is what is painful - so far in my circle, it's only hit some peripheral friends - those that worked in economic low hanging fruit of speculative real estate that have been laid off. For the most part, it just doesn't seem to be hitting many people I know.

But as this spreads and if it ever gets to be an actual Depression, then maybe people will be more massively affected. But who knows. I'm sure that there will be plenty of conspiracy theories that will develop that some elite group of billionaires got together in some secret room to arrange this economic time just so they could become even more wealthy when the economy recovers - probably headed by George Soros.

When I think of this, I believe the way out of this mess is to look further than the one-off explanation and just collectively realize that the system failed and a revised and/or new system needs to be put into place to ensure future economic growth. Here are my top systems that need to be retooled:

1. Energy: We have all heard the rhetoric about foreign oil and how it's bad. Well, it's worse than you probably think (see my posting on Petro-dictatorships). This not only highly affects our foreign policy as a nation, but it has severe limitations to future growth and maintenance of our resources. Nations that manage their natural resources and means for energy will come out on top - no matter what the economic issues happening globally. This is a huge area for growth, but we need to make some tough choices - such as placing a floor on the cost of oil so that investors in renewable energy sources aren't clobbered with shrinking global oil demand. This industry could be completely reinvigorated with our engineering expertise and technical labor to retool the nation. This could create and maintain "green" jobs for the next several decades and spur all sorts of new innovation. If you'd like to read more about this - pick up "Hot, Flat & Crowded" by Thomas Friedman - he makes a compelling argument to achieve this.

2. Credit: Most of us have heard the saying: moving money makes money. With a credit freeze - money isn't moving so money isn't being "made". Credit is the actual foundation of our economy - banks lend short term loans to businesses so they can make the monthly expenses (so you can get paid) and then business can grow through capital investors and loans. We need it. The thing is that we need to have sufficient capital behind the credit to ensure confidence (thus why our current problem is so big - no one knows the value of backing capital so it kills the overall system). The credit that was "borrowed" against individual households by extending housing credit to those that could not afford them through exotic lending tools (like ARM's and interest-only) has created most of this mess. Credit should be extended, but only with individual businesses and households putting up their own risk - 20% should be the rule for all long term credit lines - no exceptions. This would stabilize the housing market and we would see incremental growth in home prices. Plus the rate of foreclosure would be near zero - protecting all of our home values.

3. Stock Options: Why stock options you may ask? I get them at work and it can be pretty sweet (unless you're trying to cash out options issued at $14/share for a stock that's trading at $2 - not that I know anything about that...). Stock options for non company executives is reasonable. It can be nice reward system for the hard working regular Joe - the thing that I have a problem with is how it is abused as an executive compensation packaging tool. CEO's who are issued stock options as a large percentage of their compensation can be unduly influenced to artificially inflate the value of the trading stock for their own personal benefit. It seems reasonable that the CEO's job is to make the stock as valuable as possible for the shareholders, the thing is that it is done for short term quarterly wins only to find the stock tanking when the true economic factors are placed on the table. CEO's work hard and deserve to be compensated for the commensurate work and value they provide - but enough is enough - 40-50 times average worker is plenty for anyone living in America - anything above that is just plain greedy. Make most of their compensation packages based upon annual performance - just like everyone else. Guaranteed bonuses written into contracts aren't really bonuses for good work are they?

Each one of these categories would require an entire systemic change to make it happen. All of which would create jobs (and take them away in certain circumstances), but in the long run, we would find a much more stable environment for tackling our future issues and strength comes from stability.

Think of all of the jobs created by widespread innovation for energy - new storage mediums, transmissions, applications - it would affect every single industry everywhere in America. Plus it would shut down oil producing nations who don't like us very much. Not to mention the environmental impacts for future generations (if you want to get a good look at how societies have historically managed their resources - to either their benefit/survivability or to their demise - read Jared Diamond's "Collapse" - very much an eye opener).

Correcting the credit policies would help everyone - mainly by creating the base floor for entry into certain higher stake purchases. Our savings rates would increase - which would we could take those gross savings and put them to work as capital for banks to re lend (just as the system works now). It would be a responsible approach and keep bubbles and busts happening in core survivability areas like shelter.

Regulating Stock Options would allow for a stronger moral compass for companies and their leadership. If they bring true value to the company, then they'll receive the bonuses not unlike a highly skilled worker would. Let the owners of the company (the stockholders) give out bonuses when they're of merit and let's move away from the rock star CEO who runs the company into the ground for his own personal benefit. And let the government give it's best incentives to those companies who create jobs and make every effort to hold them when times are rough. We should hold up integrity as much as how profitable a CEO can make a company. It would pay off for the stockholders over the long run (read the book: "Good to Great" - excellent for how a business could create the foundations for long term success).

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The Christmas Gift...

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So Christmas is again upon us - less than two weeks away and for some reason it's just a little different this year. This is the second Christmas for us in this house - we've moved so much in our 5 years of marriage that inconsistency is the only consistent thing we've experienced. But the same tree has managed to stay mostly intact (and mostly lights up) and the ornaments get rearranged often due to the short people in our house and their own sense of decorating the tree (complete with broken, half-chewed candy canes from the Clinton Administration).

And every year I/we joke that Christmas seems to be celebrated just a little bit earlier. When displays are assembled and stocked at the retail stores in September, I can't help but to start to think of Halloween as salad course and Thanksgiving the appetizer prior to the gluttony of Christmas/New Years combo meal deal and drink special.

And there is a part of me that is somewhat thankful for the Recession this Christmas holiday season - mainly in the form of turning (slightly) away from the over commericalization of Christmas. Along with the ridiculousness of the politically correct season. One of my new favorite blogs - Stuff White People Like - posted his entry #118 on what politically correct Christmas Parties white people can attend without repercussions of admission of faith or ethnic background. I find it pretty funny - in that we now have "Holiday Parties" instead of Christmas Parties. Just to cater to the minority in the group. Doesn't good will and charity transcend any religious affiliation anyway?

Christmas this year has seemed to just been like a cloud that determines our activities directly from Thanksgiving until New Year's Day. With coordinating social engagements, family gatherings, church socials/specials, TV shows, office parties, decorating and shopping. All to culminate in a rather sedate experience on Christmas itself. And come January I'm finding myself begging for Spring.

Now, I'm not going down a Bah-Humbug Scroogefest here, it just seems to me with all of the delusion from the above factors that when the actual day arrives, the uniqueness and history are somehow lost in the translation and our traditions loose their luster. Or are lost altogether.

Maybe it's because too many families have suffered divorce and are fractured (some for several generations now) or the rampant commericalization that removes the purpose of the gift giving (and the gratitude that should accompany it) to the general expectations of giving to receive.

Like Christmas Card lists that are trimmed each year from those who we knew in our past but haven't returned the card from the previous Christmas. Isn't it the point of sending out cards to those who you don't see very often or to maintain some sort of connection even if years and distance proves to be a rather large barrier to cross? As a side note for these people out there who we only correspond with annual with Christmas Cards: don't just send pics of the kids - I don't know them - make sure you're in the photo!

Or the ever expanding list of trinkets that "should" be purchased for extended family and dear friends children (mainly to maintain favor with the parents in some sort of socio-political posturing). Even though we all know that the 5 year old won't care and won't play with it anyway - especially when it's one of a couple dozen things they'll receive this year.

I even look at the gifts we've purchased for our own kids - they'll get 3x the amount of stuff that would even be interesting to them for more than a few moments and out of all if the gifts - maybe one (or none) will actually hold their attention for a few months. They just find themselves stashed in the cubby in the play room/box.

This Christmas I would like to slow down long enough to appreciate the gifts that we do have: Good health, a roof over our heads, a job, reliable transportation. Not to mention the family and friends who have given the greatest gift that they can - the unconditional love and support of your own family. Hopefully our own family has been able to return this amazing gift throughout this past year.

And as New Year's Resolutions start to be formatted and contrived, that our primary goal for 2009 is to expand that group of dear friends even further and find new and more exciting ways to share of ourselves. My wife and I kick ourselves because we let too many months go by without having someone over for dinner for no reason. We enjoy it and it's not that hard to do! Those experiences weigh far more than any shopping spree at the mall could ever deliver.

Maybe a little step back from our lives just to look at the purpose of the tasks we serve that we might find more comfort and joy of the holiday season from the gifts we can readily give that we just can't purchase from a store. Bake some cookies for the retirement center guests, volunteer at a Chamber of Commerce holiday parade, give your spare change jars to the Salvation Army Bell Ringers, sing in your church choir Christmas special, watch your neighbor's kids so a working mother can get out of the house.

Think of the impact if the majority of us did just one of these things. It's how change happens and joy is experienced and how the solid traditions of giving that we should be passing on to our children so that they may learn of the true value of a life shared.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all of you and may you find blessings in this season and in 2009!

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The Great Shot...

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My brother and I knew exactly where the BB gun was kept. Out in the detached garage away from my grandparents house tucked away in the garage. After begging for permission, we would sprint out the back screened door, run along the winding brick path to the door of that garage and seek out the rifle.

The BB gun was fun. Fun in a way that only little boys crave. The smell of the oil, the rattle of the BB's in the muzzle clip and the feel of the hardwood that felt so stiff against a young boy's frame. It was a beautiful bronze with the name DAISY imprinted just above the trigger pull. The single action, one-cock was firm but easily negotiated by a determined boy. Especially when two determined boys were working on it.

Several years before my grandpa had purchased the air rifle to pick off the unsuspecting vermin who inhabited the woods across the alley and behind their house. For the occasional squirrel who either didn't get the head's up from his fellow rodents or just plain temped fate, my grandpa would pump the single action Daisy once and the epitaph would be said.

As my grandpa got older, his lame arm and health made it difficult to try to hold the rifle in the proper position, so with the help of my grandma, they would sit on their covered swing, in their tranquil back yard that overlooked their flowers and bird bath and look towards the woods for targets. With my grandfather's excellent eyesight scanning for prey and my grandmother's somewhat steadier hands holding the rifle. Most of these attempted team efforts typically ended up in both of them laughing so hard that nothing would be accomplished - much to the pleasure of the onlooking woodland creatures.

The woods across the alley were both fascinating and terrifying at the same time to a young boy and I would spend tremendous amounts of time playing in the back yard of my grandparent's little yellow house in the shadow of the woods. They were dark and dense - typical of upper Midwestern natural forests, but this one was in the middle of town. Wholly undeveloped land that had survived the woodsman's axe and the bulldozers of progress.

This was probably very fitting for the house my grandparents lived in. Very small - maybe 800 SF with a small kitchen and bathroom at the rear and a living space and the "master" bedroom on the main floor. You had to walk through my grandparents room to get to the steep staircase that led to the second floor that was only large enough to be carved out of the rafters and hold two small beds and a couple of dressers.

My father grew up here with his five older and one younger sister. The eldest three were on their way out of the house to be married young that was typical of the day and my dad's middle sister who was entering junior high school by the time that he was born. For a time, four children lived in that little upstairs.

My father left Minnesota after a couple of years in junior college to attend a private school out west where he met my mother and then settled. Annually we would load up as a family and dive the 1,500 miles to spend a month with my grandparents and my aunts, uncles and cousins that still lived in the area. Two-and-a-half days in a fully packed full-sized station wagon that I can only imagine now what craziness it took for my parents to lug my brother, sister and I on that cross-country journey only to repeat it to come home a few weeks later.

My brother and I would start to salivate at the sweet reunion of our little monkey hands and that air rifle and we would start to daydream about what big game we would stalk in the big, dark woods across the alley and who would get to go first to test their marksmanship skills. Our eyes would start to glisten as we crossed the Minnesota state line and as we finally pulled into the alley to park the car upon our arrival, we could barely contain ourselves.

On one particular visit we had received the go ahead from my grandpa and my dad to set up a paper plate target across the alley and for my brother and I to take turns peppering the cellulose disk with the little brass BB's until dinner time. My brother, who is two years younger was six at the time and he had drawn the first straw at target practice.

My grandparents house was close to the corner, but not on it and to the north side of their home was an empty lot that had been cleared some time in its past that was now the habitat of wild grasses that were nearly as tall as we were. The alley was the divider between the dark woods to the east and the vacant lot to the west. A service street was on the north side of the block and across from it was one of the 10,000 lakes that Minnesota was famous for.

My brother had already popped off several direct hits and a few misses at the helpless paper target. I had walked across the alley to look at his progress when out of the corner of my eye I spied a figure out moving on the service street, their shape partially obscured by the forest was now in plain sight at the end of the alley and then quickly moving into the area north of the grassy lot.

It was a woman jogging on the street.

I casually dared my brother to shoot her. Not really thinking at all of any consequences of if he actually hit her. I honestly didn't think he would and she would just keep on going. But the events were unfolding quickly and I didn't spend much time pondering any possible outcomes with any associated consequences.

Without blinking he turned to her, drew a bead on the long barrel of the airgun and fired.

The BB zipped through the air with that familiar hiss, skimming across the top of the tall grass in the vacant lot to accurately smack the unsuspecting jogger in her upper left shoulder. She let out a loud yelp and immediately stopped.

We froze. Time and space ground to a standstill as we slowly grasped the realization of the amazing shot. My six-year-old brother had just nailed a moving target over tall grass. It was truly remarkable and incredible. We stood motionless in the hallows of the alley, across from the drive to the garage and the shadow of the forest beyond.

The jogger looked back our way searching for the violator who had stung her. She must have realized that it wasn't a bug that bit her or any other than someone who had deliberately tried to hurt her. Our eyes met and she yelled at us and started to move our way.

For a brief second we stood in our motionless stance then the reality (and the gravity) of what we had just done flooded our conscienceness and we both fled. As all little boys do, it's at least worth a shot a fleeing than it is to take whatever wrath that was broiling our way.

Now an experienced perpetrator would have run away from any "home base" as to not alert the "authorities" to any possible wrong doing. In retrospect, we had a dense forest we could have ducted into or ran up the alley and across the train tracks. But our youth and strong desire to run to something familiar directed us both to my grandparents property with my brother trucking inside and me, being slightly more aware of avoiding my parents running to the front yard.

The woman followed, pounded on the door and confronted my dad with the awful truth of our deed.

Now, I wasn't there to know what actually transpired, and maybe the human instinct for self preservation has blocked out the series of events that occurred and maybe it's best that it stays that way. In any case, after the woman had left and my father's temper had been properly elevated, my brother took the brunt of the punishment since he was the trigger man. I, of course, was the older responsible brother who should have known better took a slightly less severe, although still memorable quality time with my father's belt.

The BB gun was moved into protective custody and my brother and I were banned from any future contact for an indefinite period of time. We were fortunate that the woman didn't press any charges and that my dad didn't actually impose the death penalty for such a ridiculous absence of judgement by his two sons. The remainder of the vacation was tense and crowded since we weren't allowed to spend much time out doors without supervision.

Many years have passed since the Great Shot so skillfully executed by my little brother. And there isn't a time when I hold a BB gun that I don't think of that episode. How the innocence of thought can lead young boys to do such awful things and that remorse for such actions can only come to a boy after the transgression has been documented and the penalties assessed. For it is then that the connection is made between action and consequences for that action.

But that with learning comes experience and that sometimes that experience isn't positive. All of which is woven into the tapestry of youth and finds it's home in the foundations of a man.

But even to this day it doesn't stop me from quietly thinking: that was an DAMN AWESOME shot!

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Adventures in Babysitting...

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This past weekend was interesting: My wife and I had agreed to babysit another couple's two children while they were out of town on family business and since their immediate family lived out of state, we volunteered to help. So last Thursday night, the two children were dropped off at our house and we started the temporary integration with our own two children.

Now, to put this in perspective, my wife and I have unofficially capped our brood to two children. Our daughter who is three and our son who is 15 months are enough for us to deal with on an ongoing basis. I can't tell you why that is other than every couple/parents have their limits and ours came with the addition of our son - who suffers from some sort of head trauma every other day from the adaptation of his new legs. Usually resulting in some sort of temporary facial disfigurement just in time for important photos.

Our daughter is past that point other than she is fully engrossed in her threes. Now I had heard that the "terrible twos" were difficult and was warned that the threes aren't a walk in the park. I would have to say that my daughter is a factor of 3 over her "terrible twos" making last year feel like taking a nap in a library.

This four day weekend of babysitting ballooned our small crew into double our size with children ages 6, 3, 2 1/2 and 15 months and we got a full indoctrination into managing a family of six and it caught us by surprise. Bath times, meals, night-time needs, transportation, events - all of it - was a re engineered effort to get the kids to where they needed to be at the right times.

And it's not like we stayed at home - Friday night we attended Sesame Street Live, Saturday we went to the city parade, Sunday night we met my folks for dinner at a restaurant and now today is our last day with all of us.

Now I need to clarify - our "adopted" children were great. They played well, followed directions, were polite and did well overall. Only one episode late last night with the 6 year old who missed his mom, but overall great. Our kids did OK - mainly in the sharing of toys department from my 3 year old. My son just liked sitting in the middle of the older kids play time. By Saturday morning, the novelty of having her friends over had evaporated for my daughter. But no 3-year-old likes to share their monopoly.

Reflecting back on the weekend, the most stressful part was just not really knowing what to expect. It seems simple enough to watch someone else's kids for a short period of time, what ends up being the difficult part for the adults is the inexperience. Having to temporarily retool how you approach everything in your day which, by bed time the best you can do is go to bed yourself (knowing that you'll be up several times anyway).

Maybe if you knew that it were to be a long term or even permanent change in your lifestyle, then the mental adjustment is actually easier. Mainly in the form of making that shift and doing it effectively. But when it's temporary, you're not willing to scrap your old methods and it ends up being a grand compromise in everyone's expectations with no winners.

In the end you just survive - try enjoy it for what it's worth - and deal with the rest and hopefully your marriage survives the influx!

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Finishing What I've Started...

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I guess this is what happens when I would much rather write than work today. But at least it's making me happy and my boss is out of the office so I can shut my door and type away. I haven't devoted much time to reading lately. I've got at least three books that I'm trying to finish so I can feel (somewhat) free to start a new book. I tend to get started on non-fiction nerdy books then get tired of the brain damaged around the 2/3rd's mark so I start another one. The thing is that I just can't leave the book and am compelled to finish it. Even if it's a struggle to stay focused.

These are the books that I'm currently digging through:

Collapse by Jared Diamond. I absolutely loved his book, Guns, Germs & Steel and plowed right through it (it did help that I was travelling a lot for work and had time on the flights to just sit and read). This book highlights several civilizations that have either been successful in sustainability or who have failed miserably. Failures such as the Norse Greenlanders or the Easter Islanders who systematically dismantled their environments or, due to cultural taboos, chose not to adapt to alternate means of survival by learning from the aboriginal population. It doesn't take much to extrapolate that to how the "civilized" nations are currently burning through our natural resources in the name of progress without any hint of conservation for the future. Reminds me a lot of the attitudes that have sucked us into this current financial crisis where the words: "eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we die" have never rang more true. I hope to finish this one since I'm down to my last 100 pages.

The Age of Turbulence by Alan Greenspan. This was fascinating all of the way up to the technospeak towards the end and I'm having a hard time staying awake for this section. Greenspan has an easy writing style but I'm just finding the details not all interesting. The first 2/3rd's were great - but that highly depends on if you A: like Alan Greenspan and the legacy that he's left (and/or currently dealing with) or B: you can deal with Economics as "fun" reading. I would imagine that most of you would pass.

Tesla by Margaret Cheney. This was given to me by a friend who I am working through so I can give it back to him. Nikola Tesla is absolutely amazing in that he invented so many precursors to what we take for granted today - all of this over 100 years ago. Everything from AC power to Radio, Radar, remote controlled devices, television - he was a man before his time and sadly no one really knew what to do with is pioneering work so he never found his fortune in his lifetime. I'm not a big fan of the author's writing style and she spends (to me) an inordinate amount of copy on minor relationships that don't seem to have shaped the man to much of a degree. I'm in the home stretch and hope to finish soon.

Hot, Flat & Crowded by Thomas Friedman. I just started this so I'm only 150 pages in and haven't read it in a while. I've written a couple of posts about some of the topics Friedman discusses in the first of his book. Especially around the use of oil as a trading commodity and how we continue to fuel (ha!) the Middle Eastern problems due to the price of oil (Petrodictators and You). I really enjoy his writing style and am very curious to see how he draws this together.

I do need to probably take a break from non-fiction and read something just for escapism. The last one I read of this was the Bear & the Dragon by Tom Clancy which wasn't nearly as good as his earlier work. I think the biggest downfall is that he's placed his main character of the series, Jack Ryan, into world changing leadership positions and is now subjugated to work the storyline around this larger landscape that seems too surreal to really grasp you. Where books like Cardinal of the Kremlin were snippets of a very probable situation and the characters were worldly important but not iconic as to distract from the possibility.

I do know that he next non-fiction that I would like to tackle is Doris Goodwin's Team of Rivals that illustrates how President Lincoln assembled his cabinet from his contemporary rivals. It's fitting since we've heard the same political-speak from President Elect Obama's methodology of selecting his own cabinet. And after that would be 1776 by David McCullough. McCullough's book John Adams was fantastic (once you get past his time in France) and I'm looking forward to reading this although I would entertain getting it on audio since his reading voice is awesome (as portrayed in Ken Burns Civil War series.

Do any of you have any suggestions of books you've enjoyed?

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The Quest to Enjoy Today...

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Sometimes interesting thoughts cross my path at very odd hours. Mainly since I don't get to sleep very well any more due to young children and the inheritance of two noisy AM cats so as I'm trying to fall back asleep my mind takes a while to unwind. Even if it's 4a.

This happened this morning and as I've been working to come to terms with my hopes and dreams against my immediate situation, my mind wandered back from my Utopian thoughts to a reality of what I'm doing right now and how I can enjoy this very moment. Sleep deprivation does wonderful things...

First of all - my job. It's no secret - I hate it - but it doesn't mean I can find value in what I'm being asked to do. There are some little opportunities to grow and learn, even if I ultimately feel that it's a dead end. One of the things that has troubled me the most was not feeling a sense of contribution or in that the things that I am being asked to contribute just aren't aligning with what I would like to do.

I was reminded of a quote from the movie Gladiator where Maximus' servant was asked if he likes what he does. He responded: "Sometimes I do what I want to. The rest of the time I do what I have to." It's true enough to make me rethink my position a little bit and just "do what I have to" for the time being.

Secondly - taming the scope of my "hopes and dreams". It's basically the result of letting my mind wander off too far on it's own which only widens the gap between the reality of the current situation and possibility of some future remedy. As that gap grows larger and larger due to dreams left unchecked, hopelessness creeps in and soon the pain from the motivation of changing any of the current situation just seems too daunting to tackle.

I am a big picture thinker and I enjoy swimming around all day long in conjuring up ways of how all things (should) work together. Kind of like my own quest of the "Theory of Everything" and that all things are related somehow. This ability has some positives and it's corresponding negatives (as I've discussed earlier in my postings), but all-in-all, it is my own talent that I am trying to find a home for.

There aren't any job postings (that I've ever seen) for "Resident Daydreamer" so that leaves the actual collective humankind "work" to be done by various technicians of some sort. We all have to find some sort of expertise to adopt and utilize to find employment. I had chosen architecture. The thing with being a technician is that no matter what you're doing, after a while, it's just confining. The joy of the chosen field seems to dissipate quickly as a person becomes more and more involved with the technicalities.

So then it comes back to the quote "Sometimes I do what I want to do. The rest of the time I do what I have to." The do what I want to do part becomes after work activities, hobbies, etc. and the do what I have to becomes just that - doing it for doing it sake. For some reason - and maybe I'm not alone in this - that I just don't like that thought.

I have a hard time imagining just "doing" something as a career for decades on end that didn't satisfy the joy that should be found in a career path. In that we shouldn't just exist in a working environment, but should be thriving.

A friend of mine over coffee this week had pointed out to me that I wasn't a "leaper" meaning I didn't just go do something on a whim or on faith. It's true - I'm not. I fear the consequences of a bad decision and to have "wasted" time pursuing something for ill gain. I wasn't naturally this way to begin with, but as I've been married with children who depend on me, that responsibility doesn't allow for just "leaping" after things that I might find interesting.

I get this feeling that I'm caught in a no-man's land where if I were a "leaper" I could just fire off on a new cause or if I were methodical, I would come up with a rational plan. It feels a lot like being stuck in the ether where there's a lot of floating and the strong desire to pass out.

So how to enjoy today? Maybe it's just taking it day-by-day and looking for the little victories that come from trying your best even if it doesn't completely jive with who you'd like to be. And start working on plans for moving myself to that next level that gets me at least a little closer to aligning expectations and realities.

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The Tree of Knowledge...

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I know that I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking and rethinking issues. Especially those that concern my "core" beliefs and values. I have this desire to want to make them as strong as possible by systematically picking them a part so I can discover any perceived weaknesses. I have recognized that this is a defense mechanism in my own self being/worth in that if I can discover the problem, properly note it and then deal with it then I've beat others to the punch.

Fallout of this particular methodology is that by dismantling issues and beliefs, there is a opposite reaction to keeping my mind "open" in which all things could be possible. For instance, if there aren't any black or white areas, then all must be gray, and with that means there will always be compelling arguments for either cause. To not ever pick a side is to remain "open-minded" wherein there will always be those who will differ from you in opinion.

I adopted a saying a while back - mainly to be cheeky/funny but it really has a strong element of truth to the sarcasm: "It's easy to be flexible when you don't have a spine." Nice play on an invertebrate joke, but I am finding that it's very true. Your mind can be open to all sorts of possibilities when there isn't any rigidity to your thoughts - but paradoxically, it has an equal and opposite reaction of never settling on a belief structure. It can be a dangerous time.

There is a country song by Aaron Tippin which has the verse: "You've got to stand for something or you'll fall for anything". I guess that has some merit in that without any belief structure, what value does the person have to begin with? Isn't critical relational dynamics of trust and bonding based upon this premise of shared convictions (of varying degrees)? Why else would we choose to congregate in religious circles, educational backgrounds, social causes and other like events? People band together because of those like beliefs.

But as I've dealt with my own beliefs and what I truly am looking for to "hang my hat on" per se, is that the more I've spend searching for core structures, the more questions that are actually created. Leaving an ever increasing gap between what is reasonable and what is possibly ultimately unobtainable.

Maybe that is the true purpose of religion in that it at least gives a prestructured belief system that a person can adopt to save themselves the brain damage of recreating the wheel for themselves. Or in that it can be adapted to fit almost any person's viewpoint so that general perspectives and previously learned social behaviors have a legitimate outlet. But I am finding that maybe my quest for answers has really left the foundations of some sort of safety net that in seeking knowledge, the answers may not be what I want to hear.

Kind of like the serpent and the tree in the Garden of Eden where God had commanded Adam and Eve to partake of any of the bounty from the land save for that particular tree. And as they were talked into sampling it's wares and the answers they innocently sought had the dire consequences of being forced out of their beloved garden, to live outside it's boundaries.

Now, with all biblical stories, there are gobs of larger metaphors to be drawn against - such as the loss of innocence could be a symbol for coming of age and that as a child grows older and seeks their own set of truths, the answers provided by that very tree of knowledge are the very same that drive them into their own version of the wilderness. And they spend the rest of their lives trying to recapture that intimacy that they had with God that was so taken for granted.

And maybe that's the very same primal fear we have as parents for our own children where situations that would steal their innocence hearken back to that time when the Children of God were sent out naked into the world and had to learn to fend for themselves.

With Moses wandering in the desert for 40 years only to be guaranteed that he would have a chance to physically see the Promised Land but would not be allowed to actually set foot in the land of his people, that for some of us, we are to lead a remarkable journey in spending most of our lives lost only to not partake in the joys of the reward.

I feel that way at times - in which my own perspectives and thoughts and constant churning of ideas is my own version of the wilderness and that as I take bigger and bigger bites of the Tree in the Garden that the knowledge that I obtain only leads to more questions and I end up being the guy at the bottom of the hourglass trying to catch all of the sand before my own time runs out.

There are times that I wish for simplicity - that I could find happiness in a smaller town with a smaller house and smaller responsibilities. To meet my friends in unelaborate celebrations and raise my children to grow in sheltered environs. I don't think that would change anything. For my perspective has forever been altered by "seeing" what life could be like outside of that small pond. To move back to that style of life would be an outsider looking in even though I am a product of that very same lifestyle.

I have taken my own bite of that apple and I have to not only recognize that I have eaten from the tree, but then accept the consequences of doing such. And that life is full of tremendous joys and it's counterpart of weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Or going back to Moses and being lost. Isn't "being lost" a matter of perspective? Even for the camper lost in the woods - doesn't he know where he is at that very moment according to the small scale (such as I am sitting on a rock next to some trees on a mountain), but as compared to the big picture, that person is known to be in a general area (such as those looking for him know that he is in "x" particular vicinity). Or being lost is a matter of degree - in that if you're lost in a town, you have resources readily available to tap if you ultimately require assistance. But if you're sitting on a mountain top then you don't have much other than what you've got with you.

So combating the ill effects of being lost is to just be prepared - which it to have resources of knowledge, goods or services when you need to employ them to help you get to where you're going. The funny thing is that when you're lost, you don't know where you're going other than you know where you want to be. That is the delta that brings the pain of the situation.

Or maybe the ultimate avoidance of being lost is to never go anywhere or experience anything. That abstinence would surely avoid any unwanted "lost" episodes in your life and would be easy to become an expert on the small details of your life and have the corresponding confidence. But then what is living without experience and you can't gain experience without trying something new - for good or bad?

My stab at it is that you have to learn to manage the knowledge and make decisions that seem reasonable to you. Even if the answer to the question isn't clear cut and could possibly be spun given the proper eloquence of the adversary. That decisions have to be made and just go with your gut on issues. If it seems reasonable then it probably is. And sometimes a proper defense is "I just don't know".

And that, just may be how it really needs to be. Read more! Read more!

Hyperinflation and the Fingers in the Dike...

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OK, I have to admit I didn't think through my topic of "32% Raise!" very well. One of my readers who posted their comment simply asked me about inflation rising from just giving the money away to the people instead of the banks. He/she brought up a very good point and now, in retrospect, is the driving factor in the madness of methodology that our SecTreas is imbibing in. The value of money.

When the US moved off of the gold standard in the early 20th century, we moved to the paper currency that we use today. This system of money is based on the fiat system wherein the gold standard is transacted money based upon actual gold reserves, the fiat system is money based upon the value backed by the issuing government. Moving away from the gold standard allowed for much more aggressive economic growth for governments/countries but with it came it's own set of issues.

The actual perceived value of the money is directly tied to the faith in the issuing government. Basically, if people believe in the value of the government's treasury then the value of the money issued by it's mints have a commensurate value. Now, I'm going to go out on a limb here because this seems reasonable to me (I am definitely not a currency exchange expert), but exchange rates between nations and the trading value of the US dollar against the Euro or the Pound or the Yen for example is based upon the world market of the faith in those traders in the issuing government. So having a weak US dollar (for example) is a reflection of the general consensus of the world traders that our government backed funds aren't up to snuff as other issuing nations (such as the European Union).

Inflation is a term used to describe the rise in the value of goods and services against the purchasing power the consumers. Inflation in the US has been relatively consistent at a rise of approximately 3% annually. It's a spiraling set of circumstances - if it costs more to make a product (like increased labor, health benefits, insurance, raw materials) then the product has to sell for more. But for the consumers to actually purchase it, they need to make more money to afford it and the vicious cycle continues.

Inflation can also occur due to scarcity of product/service. If you have 100 items and 1,000 people want it, the value can drive up (such as the Toyota Prius when it was a hot item - dealers were selling it above the MSRP sticker price due to demand in some areas).

Inflation can also happens if there is a devaluing of the trading currency. If people have lost faith in the value of the dollar, then it takes more to purchase that same product or service. So if people believe that the US dollar is only worth $0.10, then it will take $10.00 to buy what used to cost $1.00.

Hyperinflation is really bad. This is where there is a short term skyrocketing of goods and services due to either scarcity (like in the wake of a natural disaster) or a collapse in the value of the trading currency. This has happened around the world in nations that are typically under severe political unrest and are shifting regimes (Bosnia for example in the late 1990s). This occurs when the people using the currency have lost all faith in the value of money. In Germany post WWI, the money had better use as burning fuel than for trading purposes (which also made the nation ripe for a dictator like Hitler to rise to power because things were so economically bad in Germany post WWI).

What makes this so bad is that trading and bartering are now based on transient forms of "currency". If you have clean drinking water and there are a lot of people who need it, you can "sell" you water to them in exchange for products that you may want or need. Depending on the demand, you could "charge" extravagant prices to those who need what you have. Social unrest starts to occur and social and governmental collapse usually follows (this is a way for nations fall and new nations arise).

Where I went wrong in my post was that if the US government were to give every household their annual salary for a year plus a 32% raise, the actual value of the dollar would plummet and the currency would collapse. It wouldn't matter if they gave you $50,000 - it couldn't buy anything anyway since no one would actually have the intrinsic value of the trading currency. The money literally wouldn't be worth the paper it was printed on.

So our government attempts to "save" the banks in really their attempt to stabilize the value of the money being exchanged. Without that faith in our currency, then everything would fall apart. And I mean, everything.

This is actually rather sobering. In that how much of our economy is really based upon the perception and belief rather than hard empirical evidence and facts. It goes a long way to understand why economist, with their advanced mathematical formulas for predicting probability can get it so, so wrong. It would be like trying to create a mathematical model of exactly how the ocean's waves are going to behave. They can create probability, but not actuality, and that is a big, big chasm to bridge.

Perception and belief - our economy's foundation. This is where the media comes into play. Every day on the news, websites, newspapers, radio talk, etc, when the media pounds (to death) the state of our economy, I believe they actually compound the circumstances since it is our primary "sense" of how things are going. If the media is generally positive, then things are great - if they are generally negative, then it is bad. And since we fear the consequences of bad (versus the consequences of great), then it commands our collective attention. In bad times (like now) we are our own worst enemy.

So our economy follows our collective will. If we choose to be in a recession and/ord a depression, then we will be. If we choose to move to a period of growth, then we will be. But with all radical changes - it starts at the grass roots level and trickles out to everyone. Sooner or later the "buzz" shifts and our collective thinking actually believes what's going on around us.

We have our choice - it just depends on who wants to be the leader and convince the rest of us to follow.

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