Wednesday, January 25, 2012

SOB’s Guide to Good Parenting

Clueless, lazy, inept, careless, ineffectual parents seem to be the “in” thing today. To confirm that observation all you have to do is watch kids acting like feral dogs in malls, restaurants, movie theaters, playgrounds, and supermarkets or trash talking to their parents anywhere and everywhere. In a recent movie (Carnage starring Kate Winslet, Jodie Foster, Christoph Waltz, and John C. Reilly) one parent freely admits that his son is a “maniac” and rules like “the god of carnage” so we’re not talking about an obscure trend.

So, what does it take to be a good parent? In a nutshell, it means raising children who are safe, secure, loved, and socialized (that translates to behaving appropriately in a wide variety of social situations). Some children feel safe, secure, and loved but act like horrible little shits in public and private. As a parent, achieving three out of four of those critical goals simply doesn’t cut it. Being a good parent means you accomplish all four. Period. Shrugging off the responsibility of socializing your precious little monster does not result in a good parent or a well-adjusted child.

Becoming the kind of parent who raises her kids right takes time, effort, and selfless dedication. It also takes more than a little common sense, a commodity seemingly in very short supply with today’s parents. Here are several real world examples. First are the countless parents who want to be their children’s friends or to treat them as equals. Parent-child relationship? What’s that? Second is the young mother complaining that her thirteen-year-old daughter goes out of the house dressed like a hooker-wanna-be but can’t figure out that she buys the daughter’s clothes. Hello? Third is the frazzled parent arguing with a child about doing dishes or cleaning her room and not doing anything when the child flat-out refuses. Sort of takes my breath away. Then we all know of non-functional, idiot parents who put a computer with an internet connection in their child’s bedroom where they are easy prey to pederasts. Or parents who allow their child to play video games where the sole purpose is to slaughter as many enemies as possible in X number of moves so they can advance to the next level of assassination master.

It wasn’t always this way. Until the late 19th Century child labor for the average family was generally deemed a fundamental necessity in sustaining a family-based economy that was largely but not entirely agrarian. Most parents, the wealthy are obvious exceptions to this generalization, typically viewed their children as essential economic assets especially on the farm, where little hands did all sorts of chores that today would be regarded as onerous and verging on abusive and exploitative. With the new age of industrialization that dawned in the late 18th Century, thanks to the greedy and conscienceless early capitalists, children continued their monetary contributions to the family by toiling at factory jobs up to ten hours a day, six days a week in conditions that were far from safe.

That situation changed with the rise of labor unions and a growing social awareness of the brutal immorality of forcing children to work in jobs where the loss of digits or limbs was a daily hazard. Since the early 20th Century childhood has come to be viewed as a protected, privileged, and almost magical time of ceaseless nurturing on the part of parents. Until we have reached the point of “children” living in their parents’ homes well into their thirties. It took Princeton sociologist Viviana Zelizer five brutally honest words to describe that evolution of a child’s value: “Economically worthless but emotionally priceless” (interested readers should check out her fascinating book: Pricing the Priceless Child: The Changing Social Value of Children). Today, so many children are treated like little princes and princesses by their parents that they feel entitled to act any way they damn well please. And their idiot parents let them do exactly that.

Truism for the day: behind every jerky, bratty, mouthy kid is a lousy parent. In a 2011 poll, nearly 65 percent of adult Americans favored “kid free zones” in restaurants, theaters, and planes. I wonder why? Could it be that customers are absolutely fed up with ill-mannered, out of control brats whose parents have absolutely no clue? Gee, who out there thinks that that’s the kids’ fault? Hello. But what could anyone possibly expect when two-thirds of American parents admit that their own kids are spoiled?

Believe it or not it’s not just me. Hundreds of businesses are getting fed up with unruly, ill-mannered brats. As an example, one sign posted in an unidentified restaurant reads: “Unattended Children Will Be Given a Free Espresso and a Kitten.”

Raising children to be responsible and courteous is a job some people are simply not ready for, even though they already have kids. Let me tell you two very different stories based on real life situations, though several particulars have been changed to protect the parties.

The first story is about a married friend of our youngest daughter, who lives in Tucson. Every Friday at lunch her friend and her six- or seven-year old would go with another friend, who also had a child the same age, to a popular pizza restaurant. After eating, the mothers would sit at their table and chat for well over an hour while the two kids ran around, often watching the kitchen staff making pizza through a large plate glass window provided for that express purpose. After several months of eating lunch at the same restaurant, the two mothers were approached by the general manager and were told that they would not be allowed to return because their children were so wild they were upsetting other patrons. The mothers were very angry and simply couldn’t believe the manager would turn them away since they were spending a fair amount of money there each and every week. When I spoke to the mother several weeks later she was still indignant So, I asked her if maybe the kids had been unruly and she confidently assured me her child would never act like that. Never.

In the second vignette, a close friend who was a prominent business executive was having trouble with his 19-year-old son that involved drug use. After numerous confrontations the young man was told to change his behavior or leave the house; sadly, for the parents at least, he chose to find an apartment on his own. About a year later the young man returned home to have dinner with his family. Though the meal was strained everything went well. Sometime later, my friend, the young man’s father, went to the supermarket to get something that was needed for the next morning’s breakfast. To his surprise, his son offered to accompany him. While standing in line at the store they couldn’t help but notice a three- or four-year-old boy sitting in a grocery cart immediately in front of them. He saw a candy bar near the check-out and grabbed it. His mother calmly took it away, put it back on the shelf, and told him they had candy and cookies at home and he didn’t need a candy bar. He proceeded to throw the proverbial fit, screaming loudly, “I want it, I want it. I hate you, I hate you.” And then started throwing grocery items out of the cart. His mother, a young woman who looked to be in her early thirties, grabbed her son’s hands to prevent him from firing more cans onto the floor, looked up at us, and said with in an embarrassed tone, “The terrible threes. What are you going to do?” The young man stared at her and, before his father could utter a word, said, “Beat the kid, lady.” Later, the father told me that his son simply meant for the mother to give the kid a swat on the butt to let him know who was boss. With tears in his eyes my friend then told me that that was the moment he knew his son would eventually be okay (which he was).

Many (most?) times house rules for kids include sensible restrictions like no throwing, no hitting, no biting, no name-calling, no bullying, etc. But today when a child picks up a handy object and fires it at a parent or another child, the result is highly likely to be a “time-out” in the kid’s room or a minute on the “naughty” step. Corporal punishment (a quick spank on the butt) is not an option for far too many modern American parents. But what so many parents seem to have never learned is that the human ass contains no vital organs, not even deep-seated psychological ones if spanking is neither habitual nor administered as a form of physical abuse.

When you poll adults for their opinion about children, the majority chose the following descriptors: “rude,” “irresponsible,” and “lacking in discipline.” The truth is bratty behavior is learned from parents. But the salvation is that it also can be unlearned.

One of the things I advise young parents to do is to watch TV documentaries that show wild animals interacting with their offspring; I’m referring to “social” animals such as wolves and lions, or chimps and gorillas. If they watch those programs they would see adult animals disciplining wayward and unruly behavior on the part of the young, even if that particular young animal is theirs or not. Obviously, spanking is not part of that picture, but physical discipline definitely is. Although the young animals are not injured in that process, they immediately stop whatever untoward behavior they were engaged in. What the adult animals are doing is supervising and disciplining their young. Intelligent and perspicacious human parents would do well to learn from that animal behavior.

Although some parenting experts believe that spanking or other corporal punishment (e.g. a slap on the hand) is a terrible way to discipline children, I think it is a very useful tool if applied judiciously and relatively infrequently. If the goal of discipline is to teach children self-control, spanking accomplishes that. However, too frequent or too severe corporal punishment may teach children to stop doing something simply out of fear or to become afraid of the disciplining parent. It is key to know that being a fairly strict disciplinarian with high expectations of behavior does not preclude also being a warm and sensitive parent.

Okay, after wading through all that parenting stuff let’s get down to the basic issue: What elements are essential to being a “good” parent?

1. Provide unconditional love and affection that are expressed both physically and emotionally on a regular basis, preferably daily.

2. Exactly what is wrong with being strict? Here I mean “strict” as in the sense of giving children boundaries and routine security and insisting on maintaining those strictures. Kids desperately need rules and boundaries just like they need to be socialized.

             Enforce order, rules, and boundaries firmly and consistently.

             Set rules and boundaries that are appropriate to the child’s age.

             Never negotiate with children over primary rules and boundaries.

             Too many rules are worse than too few.

3. Exercise discipline that may be strict but is moderated with judicious flexibility rather than mindless rigidity.

            Unruly, inappropriate behavior should be corrected immediately and firmly.

A set enforcement system should be in place; for example, one warning, followed by consequences such as loss of privileges, loss of a special treat, standing with her nose in the corner, banishment to a Siberian gulag, etc.

Parents MUST consistently follow through with appropriate consequences when children behave unacceptably.

Children should never be allowed to run around like wild animals in a place where decorum is the norm. But they must be allowed to express themselves in ways that are appropriate to the environmental context. In other words, rolling in the grass in a public park is great but rolling on the floor of a busy restaurant should NEVER be permitted under any circumstance for reasons that should be obvious to all except the most clueless parents. And remember, no child has the right to rude or otherwise unacceptable public behavior.

4. Don't give in to a whinny, demanding, and manipulative child. Part of their modus operandi is to whine and argue and demand until even the most grounded adult feels like reaching for a hammer or a gun but then folds the tent and capitulates. You can be understanding and sympathetic but always be consistently firm and never give in. No means no. Period. No exceptions, not even for the whiniest brat out there. If you do give in, the child has succeeded in training you and will immediately increase that behavior until all you are is an ineffectual “Yes” parent. Discipline is meaningless if it isn’t administered with a consistent, even hand.

Many parents don’t bother setting clear rules and expectations. And if they do, many times they fail to act appropriately when their children violate them. For a parent, consistency is a requirement.

Discipline is very important for all children, though for many positive reinforcement may work well as a companion tool.

I’ve meet one three-year-old who delights in using “dirty” words, hitting playmates, screaming at her mother, and simply refusing to listen. But I also watched when the mother "disciplined" her child and it basically involved telling her “no” and then laughing and shrugging helplessly when the child ignored her and continued the bad behavior.

It’s not a bad thing to let your child know you’re angry with her. And if she cries and pleads piteously don’t for a second relent and give in and act like you were wrong for being upset or for enforcing rules.

5. Set high but realistic expectations; keep in mind that not every young musician will be the next Yo Yo Ma nor every young athlete the next Michele Wie and you can’t make that happen through harsh discipline and incessant demands of more practice.

6. Be honest when you praise your child; almost no child is the perfect student, athlete, artist, or anything so don’t tell them they are when the reality is different; never confuse building self-esteem with lying, no matter how harmless or even essential you think it may be. Today, every kid playing sports gets praised by parents no matter how miserably she performs. In many cases every team and every child gets a trophy at the end of the session no matter how well they played to prevent their “feelings” from getting hurt. The result is the kid has great self-esteem but no fucking idea her athletic skills are borderline at best. Thus, kids grow up thinking everything is easy since they put minimal effort into activities but reap unstinting praise from doting parents.

7. Be attentive to the changing needs of the child through various stages of maturation.

8. Be a parent, not a friend or an equal; families are not democracies where everyone gets an equal vote and parents can be outvoted by children. Remember, friends don’t set rules and limits on behavior or penalize inappropriate actions; that’s part of what parents do. When your child has children of her own (or hits the age of 30) then it’s okay to be her friend. But not before then.

9. Criticize inappropriate behavior, not the child.

Never belittle or compare a child unfavorably with another.

Never use loaded comments or use words as weapons, like “That was a dumb thing to do” or “Stop acting like a baby.”

10. Spend high quality time with your kid each day, such as reading a book at bedtime, listening to what happened that day in school, letting them help make cookies, giving the little ones baths, etc.

11. Always keep lines of communication open; that means to really listen to your child’s verbal and non-verbal behavior.

12. Be a good role model because kids are the world’s best hypocrisy-bullshit detectors.

13. Know your own needs and limitations because no parent is perfect and never lie about that to your kids.

14. Stop trying to reason with children under the age of five; it’s wasted on their little brains and makes you look like one of those idiots who talk to their dogs and think they understand English (or Spanish or whatever).

Monday, January 23, 2012

English Is Very Weird

HOMONYMS are two or more words that sound alike but have different meanings or origins. Homophones are a type of homonym that also sound alike and have different meanings, but have different spellings.


HOMOGRAPHS are two or more words that are spelled the same but have different meanings and origins. Heteronyms are a type of homograph that are also spelled the same and have different meanings, but sound different.

To make it even more complicated, words that sound the same and are spelled the same are both homonyms (same sound) and homographs (same spelling).

Common and Confusing Homonyms and Homographs

all                                      awl (pointed tool)
all together (everyone)        altogether (entirely)
allot (distribute)                  a lot (a large amount)
allowed                              aloud
altar                                   alter
always (at all times)            all ways (all methods)
ante- (before)                     anti- (against)
arc                                     ark
ascent (climb)                     assent (agree)
ate                                     eight
aye (agreement)                  eye                                          I
bass (fish)                           bass (low note)
bale                                    bail
bare                                   bear
bazaar (market)                  bizarre (weird)
be                                      bee
beat                                   beet
billed                                  build
birth (childbearing)              berth (place of rest)
blew                                   blue
bloc                                    block
board (plank)                      bored (uninterested)
bolder                                 boulder
born (given birth to)             borne (carried)
brake (stopping device)       break (smash)
bough                                  bow (violin)                              bow (gesture)
boy                                      bouy
brake                                   break
bread                                   bred
bridal                                   bridle
broach                                 brooch
bouillon                                bullion
buy (purchase)                     bye (team w/o opponent))    by (preposition)
cache                                   cash
callous                                 callus
canvas (fabric)                     canvass (examine)
capital (city, money)             capitol (building)
carat (unit of weight)            carrot (edible root)              karat (one 24th part of pure gold)
cede                                    seed
ceiling                                  sealing
cell                                      sell
cellar                                   seller
censer (incense dish)            censor (prohibit)                    sensor (measuring device)
cereal                                  serial
cession                                session
chews                                 choose
chord                                  cord
chute                                   shoot
cite (to refer to)                   sight (vision)                          site (location)
coarse (rough)                     course (way, path)
colonel (officer)                   kernel (seed)
compliment (praise)             complement (complete)
council (committee)             counsel (advice, advisor)
creak                                  creek
curser (swearer)                  cursor (computer)
desert (leave a post)            desert (arid land)
dissent (disagreement)         descent (move down)
dual (two parts)                   duel (fight)
dye (color)                          die (expire)
ensure (make certain)           insure (indemnify)
everyday (ordinary)              every day (each day)
ewe (sheep)                         you                                        yew (bush)
exercise (activity)                 exorcise (drive out)
fair (just)                              fare (food, fee)
faze (disturb)                        phase (stage)
flew                                     flu
for                                       fore                                         four
forth (forward)                     fourth (4th)
gorilla (ape)                         guerilla (fighter)
hear (listen)                         here (place)
heard                                  herd
heroin (drug)                       heroine (lead character)
hi                                        high
hole (opening)                     whole (entire)
holy (sacred)                       wholly (entirely)
hour                                    our
its (possessive of it)              it’s (contraction of it is)
knight                                  night
knot                                    not
know                                  no
knows                                nose
lead                                    led
lesson (instruction)              lessen (reduce)
lichen (simple fungus)          liken (compare)
lie (prone)                           lie (falsehood)
lightning (storm)                  lightening (reduce)
load (cargo)                       lode (mineral vein)
loch (lake)                          lock (security device)              lock (strand of hair))
loot (ill-gotten gains)           lute (stringed instrument)
made                                 maid
marshal (bring together)      martial (related to war)
maybe (perhaps)                may be (could be)
meat (food)                        meet (encounter)
metal (ductile element)        mettle (character)
miner (excavator)               minor (under age)
missal (prayer book)          missile (projectile)
missed                               mist
mode (condition)                mowed (cut lawn)
moral (right conduct)          morel (mushroom)
morning (AM)                    mourning (grieving)
mustard (spice)                   mustered (assembled/summoned)
nay (no)                              neigh (horse sound)
oar (rowing device)             or (choice)                              ore (mineraliferous rock)
ode                                     owed
one                                     won
pair (two)                            pear (fruit)                              pare (peel, reduce)
palate (taste)                        pallet (wood platform)            palette (many colors)
passed (went by)                 past (earlier time)
peace (absence of war)        piece (part of)
peak (mountain top)             peek (quick glance)              pique (injured pride)
peal (ringing)                         peel (fruit wrap)
pealed (rang with sound)       peeled (removed fruit skin)
peer (look, equal)                 pier (pillar)
per (for each)                       purr (cat noise)
pi (math: 3.1416)                 pie (dessert)
plain (simple, flat land)         plane (flying)
plait (braid)                         plate (dish)
plum (fruit)                          plumb (straight up/down)
pole (from Poland)              pole (solid cylinder)               poll (election)
poor (no money)                 pore (micro opening)             pour (flow freely)
praise (compliment)             prays (worships)                    preys (hunts)
pray (ask)                           prey (hunt)
presence (being present)      presents (gifts)
prince (King’s son)              prints (impressions)
principle (rule)                     principal (leader, money)
quarts (measurement)          quartz (crystal)
rabbet (groove in a board)   rabbit (small mammal)
racket (illegal scheme)          racquet (tennis)
rain (precipitation)                reign (rule)                              rein (animal)
raise (lift)                              rays (light/energy beams)        raze (tear down)
rap (sharp knock/music)       wrap (encase)
read                                     reed
real (genuine)                        reel (device for winding)         reel (dance)
review                                  revue
road (path)                           rode (past tense of ride)
sea (ocean)                          see (vision)
scene (setting)                      seen (perceived)
scent                                    sent                                          cent
sew (with thread)                  so                                            sow (seeds)
shone (past tense shine)         shown (displayed)
stationary (still)                      stationery (paper)
straight (not curved)              strait (narrow place)
tail                                        tale
taut (tight)                             taught (past tense teach)
tear (eye)                              tear (rip)                                 tare (weight)
there                                     their                                        they're
threw                                    through
to (preposition)                     too (also)                                 two
toe                                        tow
told                                       tolled
vain                                       vein
waist                                     waste
waist                                     waste
wait                                       weight
way                                       weigh
weak (feeble)                         week (seven days)
weather (atmospheric)            whether (if, in case)
wear (on body)                      where (place)
which (that one)                     witch (sorceress)
whose (possessive)                who’s (who is)
write (pen)                             wright (as in ship wright)       right (correct)


For additional examples, see:
http://www.cooper.com/alan/homonym_list.html

Friday, January 20, 2012

The Most Important Word in the English Language


What’s the most important word in the English language? Well, to my simple way of thinking, shit may fit that role because of its tremendous range and versatility. Shit can function as a noun, verb, adverb, and adjective in a wide variety of challenging and interesting situations. Read on.

You can be shit faced, shit out of luck, full of shit or have shit for brains. With a little effort, you can get your shit together, find a place for your shit or decide to shit or get off the pot. You can smoke shit, buy shit, sell shit, lose shit, find shit, fall into a shit pot full money, forget that shit, don’t give a shit, and tell people who you don’t like to eat shit and die. Or if you’re super mad you can tell whatever asshole you’re going to, “Rip his head off and shit down his throat.” And that’s no shit.

Some people always know their shit while others don't know shit from shinola and can also have a shitty attitude. There are lucky shits, dumb shits, ugly shits, crazy shits, bat shits, dip shits, and just plain old shit heads. And when you’re in a hurry you tell your friends to just, “Leave that shit where it is.”

Then the animals weigh in with bullshit, cow shit, horseshit, chicken shit, dog shit, bird shit, pig shit, and people you don’t like can be lower than whale shit. And you can always ask the philosophical question, “Do wild bears shit in the woods?” You can throw shit, toss shit, hand shit, sling shit, catch shit, be in the middle of a shit storm, have a shit fit, and try to leave the room right before the shit hits the fan or be blameless when the shit comes down. You can take a shit, give a shit, get shit canned, get shit-faced, or eat shit on a shingle. You can also take another bite out of the shit sandwich of life. Your parents can get all over you like flies on shit. When you’re in trouble you’re in deep shit. You can be as happy as a pig rolling in shit. Or you can be frustrated and can’t do shit about what ever it is.

The weather can be colder than shit or hotter than shit. And when it’s cold and rainy or things aren’t going your way the day is just plain shitty. Some days everything you do turns to shit and other times you can swim in shit and come up smelling like a rose. Certain music sounds like shit (about now I’m thinking rap), people can look like shit, food can taste like shit and there are times when everyone feels like shit. When you’re sick you can have the drizzle shits or suffer from an attack of corn shit.

You can carry shit, have a mountain of shit dumped on you, be shit on by your girlfriend, be covered in shit, or find yourself up shit’s creek without a paddle. You can have too much shit, not enough shit, the right shit, bad shit, the wrong shit or experience a lot of weird shit.

When you stop to consider all the facts, shit has to be one of the basic building blocks of the English language. I really don’t know how anyone could function daily without using the word shit. Just remember, once you know your shit, nothing else matters.

Monday, January 16, 2012

The Rise of Authoritarianism


          One great mystery Americans almost universally fail to comprehend is how ordinary Germans could have welcomed a monster like Adolf Hitler with open arms. Looking back through the uncompromising lens of history it seems impossible to mistake the nascent evil in the young Hitler, his eyes frighteningly intense pools of virulent anti-Semitism and even deeper psychosis. That mystery is especially hard to understand when Hitler’s autobiography, Mein Kampf, laid out his plans for transforming German society into one based on “race” by means of genocide. But how, we ask, how could the average German have possibly missed that message and failed to recognize the danger they were in. Let’s take a closer look at exactly how that happened.
          If we examine several of Hitler’s most important actions we can see how he relied on the complacency and indifference of the German public while using fears over national security to consolidate what quickly became an increasingly authoritarian regime. Hitler claimed the power to decide whether a person would receive a trial in German federal court or in a military tribunal. Hitler claimed the extrajudicial right to order the killing of any German citizen considered a terrorist or an abettor of terrorism against the German state. Hitler used legislation approved by the German parliament to order warrantless surveillance, including a capability to force companies and organizations to turn over information on German citizens’ finances, communications, and associations, including a wide range of data from business transactions to library records, even though those citizens were not formally accused of crimes.
          Hitler’s government routinely used secret evidence to detain individuals and employed secret testimony in German federal and military courts, allowing the government to claim secret legal arguments to support secret proceedings using secret evidence in front of secret courts. Hitler’s government also claimed the right to transfer both German citizens and noncitizens to other countries for information-gathering purposes under a system that today is known as extraordinary rendition. When Hitler’s administration was inundated by petitions from other governments to prosecute the German intelligence agency operatives responsible for torturing enemy suspects, Hitler refused to allow those agents to be prosecuted or even investigated for illegal actions. Hitler’s administration used surveillance devices to secretly monitor the movements of targeted German citizens without court order or review or without the citizens being charged with an offense, being suspected was sufficient justification. Hitler also encouraged and signed into law legislation that allowed the indefinite detention of German citizens without trial if they were suspected of involvement in terrorist activities.
          Now, take a brief moment to re-read the above two paragraphs. But, as you do, I want you to substitute the words President Obama and American for Hitler and German because every single point made in those paragraphs is about actions taken by President Barack Obama, his Administration, and Congress.

*     *     *

          Many people who reflect on the nature of politics realize that democratic governments often contain powerful elements of authoritarianism and may over time become even more authoritarian, blurring the distinction between liberal democracies and procedural democracies — which are countries that lack or limit the more democratic features that characterize liberal democracies, such as the freedoms of speech and press, habeas corpus, the rule of law, and an independent judiciary. When asked to identify authoritarian regimes, most Americans would not hesitate to point to countries like China, Myanmar, Syria, or Iran.
          The reality is that authoritarian nations can be defined not only by their use of repression to control their citizens but also by enacting legal mechanisms that permit the use of those powers. If a president has the legal right to deprive citizens of their freedom or their lives solely on his own authority without the requirement of judicial review, all rights become subject to the will of the executive branch because no greater right exists than that of life itself. And that situation is exactly what we have today in the U.S., though the far greater majority of Americans either do not know the details of their country’s authoritarianism or would likely deny the implications even if they did know. Remember the role complacency, indifference, and fear played in German acceptance of Hitler? Make no mistake, I’m not trying to argue that Barack Obama is anything like Adolf Hitler. I am, however, illustrating how authoritarianism slowly and subtly becomes part of a nation’s legal system in response to external and internal stress that is typically equated to national security issues.
          Of course, authoritarianism in the U.S. is not a new challenge. Several examples are provided to illustrate that reality. First, in 1861, at the beginning of the Civil War, President Abraham Lincoln suspended the writ of habeas corpus. Although the U.S. Circuit Court in Ex Parte Merryman ruled against Lincoln (the decision was led by Roger B. Taney, Chief Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court), the President ignored the ruling, citing national security as his reason. Second, the infamous Palmer Raids against political radicals were conducted in November 1919 and January 1920 by U.S. Attorney General Alexander Mitchell Palmer and J. Edgar Hoover for national security considerations. Those raids involved more than 10,000 arrests and seizures, a great many without valid search or arrest warrants and often involved illegal entrapment by agent provocateurs and unlawful incommunicado detention. Of the 10,000 people arrested in those raids, only slightly more than 500 foreign nationals were deported by the U.S. government, a success rate of five percent. Third, on February 19, 1942, President Franklin D. Roosevelt issued Executive Order 9066, authorizing the forcible relocation and internment more than 110,000 Japanese-American citizens for national security reasons without a single shred of evidence that those citizens were guilty of anything other than having Japanese heritage. And fourth, few Americans are unaware of how Senator Joseph McCarthy and the House Committee on Un-American Activities persecuted individuals for actions protected by the U.S. Constitution because of concerns that the nation’s security was in danger of being breached by American citizens who were political radicals.
          That America has moved to the anti-democratic right in institutionalizing a culture of surveillance and control that has resulted in the loss of individual freedom is undeniable, except by right-wing extremists or those blatantly ignorant of American history. The “war” of terror is almost always the excuse given for today’s excesses. For example, in April 2011, Senator Lindsey Graham (R-S.C.) told CBS's Bob Schieffer in an interview on Face the Nation that “Free speech is a great idea, but we’re in a war.” Of course, that’s a “war” without a country as an opponent, which means no entity exists to surrender and end this particular conflict. So, the legal measures enacted to fight the “war” that curtail the rights of American citizens have a better than decent chance of becoming part and parcel of the American system, in this case an increasingly authoritarian system that diminishes our democracy and our individual rights as citizens to be free from an increasingly predatory government. Thanks to a man who is a Constitutional scholar. And, no, I haven’t forgotten that George W. Bush initiated most of the excesses and that the U.S. Congress voted those bills into legislation.
          In reality, the typical citizen of nations that are liberal democracies, like that of the U.S., is more concerned with getting on with her or his life than in protesting what appear to be inconsequential and minor legal changes that are difficult to see as overt abuses of individual freedom. After all, those average citizens aren’t guilty of crimes so why should they oppose terrorists being aggressively identified, caught, and punished by the government? Most people view each individual authoritarian measure enacted in Washington as temporary and necessary. At the most, those repressive measures are regarded as slight inconveniences in which certain minor freedoms are temporarily exchanged for reassuring promises of national security. But, as the “war” progresses and fear and uncertainty continue and even increase, people are encouraged by heightened appeals to national security by their leaders to accept increasing losses of personal freedom without complaint or even notice.
          That’s exactly where we are today, living in a country whose government has intentionally curtailed the rights of citizens while actively limiting the avenues for legal recourse by those citizens. At the same time, the far greater majority of Americans are complaisant about and indifferent to their loss of freedom. They sit back and refuse to even consider the significance of what our government has done. If you look around, all you will see are the same good citizens who were convinced Adolf Hitler was Germany’s salvation.
          If you understand the roles complacency, indifference, and fear of being attacked play with the general public, you will understand how America has become an authoritarian, anti-democratic power. However, the road to modern authoritarianism has been paved not with brown-shirted thugs marching in the streets waving swastika flags and screaming despicable anti-Semitic slogans but with ordinary Americans waving the Stars and Stripes while piously reciting the Pledge of Allegiance with patriotic hands over hearts.
          George W. Bush, Barack Obama, and the Congress have systematically used the “war” on terror to reduce the freedom of every American and thus subvert democracy from within. To our shame, we have gone along with it without more than a whimper of protest. Bush and Obama used their presidential powers to build the increasingly authoritarian regime that is now in place and our gutless Congress went along willingly. Despite its friendly, familiar American face, the result is an authoritarian government grounded in the general public’s fear of being attacked.
          All Americans should be familiar with a chilling statement Reichsmarschall Herman Göring made in 1946 during the Nuremberg War Crimes trials to Gustave Gilbert, the U.S. Military’s Chief Psychologist.

The people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same way in any country.

          What Obama, Bush, and the Congress have done to the U.S., well-intentioned or not, is morally reprehensible and must be reversed. If we want this country to actually be a Land of the Free, it’s time for all Americans to wake up, recognize the dangers we face from within, and work hard to implement substantive change. Being free requires sustained effort, not complacency or indifference.
          In the past decade, dissent against authoritarian acts by the American government has been increasingly coupled by conservatives with a lack of patriotism and even treason. But being free requires sustained effort, not complacency or indifference. Being free requires us to speak out against the actions of our leaders and governments that we think are authoritarian and reduce our Constitutional freedoms. Dissenting is our duty as citizens.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Politics in 21st Century America


No one with a functioning brain believes that a dime's worth of difference separates the super PACs that support Barack Obama from those that support Mitt Romney or Newt Gingrich or any other Republican presidential candidate. Nor does anyone with a functioning brain believe that politicians do not lie unconscionably to anyone with ears and line their own pockets with filthy lucre every chance they get. Venality is not the question since it is a given in the human condition, would that it were different. I have no illusions about politicians on either side of the aisle. The American political system has guaranteed that all, or almost all, politicians are untrustworthy, corrupt bastards of the first rank. I added the qualifier “almost all” to the above sentence only because of the respect I have for the truly few and extraordinarily exceptional politicians like Gabby Giffords, a woman of astounding character and courage.

On the other side of the political coin are lazy and greedy voters/citizens who will scam the system at every opportunity, whether the “system” we’re talking about is unemployment, food stamps, Medicare, bundled mortgages, credit default swaps, or derivatives. The sad truth is thieves and charlatans can be found in every class, every income group, every race, every religion. Hello Bernie Madoff and countless pederast Catholic priests. The way I see it, one of the most important functions of government is to keep evil doers from dominating or controlling our society. How the public ensures that happens is what’s up for grabs today.

The critical questions that occupy me lately are what kind of country this is, what kind of country do we want it to be, and which party is more likely to lead us in that direction. For me, Republicans are fighting to push this country in the opposite direction I think it should take, no matter if we’re talking about political, socioeconomic, environmental, or international issues. Democrats, as weak and ineffectual and blindly stupid as they can be, are the only horse left in the race. So, it’s support them or drop out entirely and I’m not ready to do that, at least not yet.

Therefore, I support candidates and non-governmental organizations (like the Sierra Club and the NRDC) that are working to move the country in the “right” direction, which, in this case, is to the left. To my eternal sorrow, one of those candidates has proved to be the greatest disappointment of my life, and that is the silver-tongued Barack Obama. Yet, despite the anger, outrage, and contempt I feel for him and his inept leadership and disastrous politics, I will hold my nose to try to keep from vomiting and vote for him because the alternative, voting for a conservative shamelessly pandering to Tea Party supporters, is absolute, unthinkable madness.

Never before in my lifetime have the political choices at the national level been so laden with critical consequences. The coming national election is about much more than about Republican or Democrat, left or right. Make no mistake, the coming election is about the future of this nation and what is will become in our eyes and those of the world. I for one do not want the United States to be a country that cares not how it treats the disadvantaged or its minorities. Or to be a country of well-off citizens smugly proud of and shamelessly bragging about the quality of the healthcare they can afford while exhibiting brutal indifference to the needs of those who have sharply limited access to adequate medical treatment.

To prevent that dreadful scenario, my intention is to vote Democratic across the board in 2012. No more split tickets for me, it’s a fight to protect everything I value in this country, including prohibiting torture like water boarding, acknowledging the equal rights of gay-lesbian-bisexual-transgender Americans, reforming U.S. immigration policies, strengthening Medicare and Social Security as required by fiscal prudence but preventing the privatization or gutting of those programs, and working toward a single-payer healthcare system among many, many others.

I hope all those who read this message will take it to heart and reflect on what kind of country they want America to be and on the steps we must take to get there.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Conservatives, Poverty, and the Disadvantaged


“In contemporary America, poverty is not so much a material condition as a spiritual one, often characterized by drug abuse, alcoholism, mental illness, and illegitimacy.” (Source: http://www.powerlineblog.com/archives/2011/07/poverty-american-style.php)

Or as Herman Cain famously put it in no uncertain terms: “. . . if you don’t have a job and you’re not rich, blame yourself.”

Liberals “. . . contend, polemically, that even though most poor families may have a house full of modern conveniences, the average poor family still suffers from substantial deprivation in basic needs, such as food and housing. In reality, this is just not true.” And “. . . the average poor person had sufficient funds to meet all essential needs and to obtain medical care for family members throughout the year whenever needed.” (Source: Heritage Foundation, 2011; see online:
http://www.heritage.org/research/reports/2011/09/understanding-poverty-in-the-united-states-surprising-facts-about-americas-poor)

From the above quotes, which represent a miniscule sample of hundreds of similar sentiments found on conservative web sites that are readily available on the internet, it should be evident conservatives would like all Americans to realize that poor people are either undeserving because of their reprehensible behavior (which is the essence of the sources of the first and second quotes) or nonexistent since they aren't really poor in comparison to genuinely poor people in developing countries (which is the essence of the source of the third quote).

In other words, for many if not most conservatives poverty is a behavioral, not an economic, issue. And since behavior is a result of individual, personal choices, the problem of poverty is a direct product of individual behavior. Therefore, people who live in poverty do so because of the poor personal choices they have freely made and are therefore responsible for their condition. It also follows from that line of reasoning that many people who are unemployed today are so simply because they do not want to work, that Native Americans are poor and suffer from the worst health conditions in the U.S. because of their piss-poor behavior and lousy individual choices, and that the majority of black Americans haven’t worked their way out of poverty not because of 200 years of the combined effects of slavery, de jure segregation, and systemic oppression by the white majority but because they are shiftless, slothful, and irresponsible drug addicts and drunks who would rather lie on their lazy asses than put in a hard day’s work. Most conservatives believe that if you pay people to not work, meaning by giving them food stamps and unemployment benefits, they will refuse to work simply because they are lazy and irresponsible.

Conservatives love to talk about removing the barriers to upward mobility and allowing people to advance as far as they can on a merit basis. Of course, when the middle, upper-middle, and upper income families send their kids to educationally superior, well-financed public schools or, if they choose, to even better private schools, while less-advantaged children receive educations that are far worse by every standard and every measure, you have to ask how that emphasis on merit actually works in the real world. Then you shouldn’t forget the elected conservative politicians in Washington who are working hard right now to cut or eliminate federal programs like Head Start, the Women’s, Infants, and Children Program — which provides healthcare and nutrition for low-income pregnant women, breastfeeding women, and infants and children under the age of five — and Pell Grants for low-income college students, as well as to end unemployment benefits they regard as part of the welfare state.

In the harsh light of reality progressives-liberals need to acknowledge the importance of all work in the alleviation of poverty instead of belittling jobs they classify as “dead end” or "low-wage" and therefore undesirable for anyone. Conservatives, for their part, need to consider the many barriers to moving from unemployment to the world of work. Those barriers can include lack of marketable skills, education, transportation, appropriate work habits, and even the risk of giving up medical benefits for dependents that taking a low-wage job can entail.

But in today’s poisoned atmosphere of entrenched politics that admit no compromise and insist on ideological purity, such open-mindedness and willingness to bend is impossible. So, the reality of the day is that if you vote for conservative candidates what you will get are more politicians in Washington who are determined to destroy programs that focus on helping the poor and disadvantaged in terms of upward mobility or even basic socioeconomic stability. The result will be a heartless country with no institutionalized safety net, no support for the truly disadvantaged or for the unemployed.

If that’s the kind of country you want America to become, I STRONGLY encourage you to vote for conservative candidates at every level of government.

Monday, January 9, 2012

Elevator Accident Part 3

Sunday was extremely hard on everyone, especially Greg’s parents. They had agonized over bringing their other children to see Greg but Penny wasn’t sure they could take the sight of his bruised and bloated body (from the fluid build-up). She wanted them to think of him as he had been, not as he was then. Besides, she said, they can come when he gets better. But Tom was not to be dissuaded. He called his younger brother and told him to put the children on a Monday morning flight.
Penny roamed the halls, pacing, pacing, pacing some more. Her hands were red from being twisted in knots. At one point I joined her, handing her a cup of coffee she didn’t need.
“Would you like to take a short stroll outside? Maybe get some air? The sun’s out in full force and it’s an unseasonal 65º.”
“No, thanks. I don’t want to go too far. I just needed to get out of that damned little room and away from those gloom and doom priests who take such pleasure in telling us how bad he is. And how much he needs our prayers. It’s such bullshit.”
The fierceness of her tone took me aback but I tried not to show it. “If they’re bothering you I can tell the nurse to keep them away.”“
She shook her head. “No, that’s all right. Tom enjoys talking to them. I’m overreacting but their damn officially sorrowful and pompous attitudes get on my nerves.” She clenched her fist so tightly it trembled. With a quick smile she took my hand in hers. “Before I forget, I want to thank you and all the people from Beacon Paper, for staying with us. Neither Tom nor I ever thought strangers could be so kind and supportive.”
I squeezed her hand. “It’s the very least we could do, Penny. We’re here because we all have lived away from home and have sat in Emergency Rooms waiting for one of our kids to be stitched up after an accident. We would never let you and Tom go through this alone. All of us really care about your son.”
We had stopped our pacing at a large window at the end of the hall. The drapes were fully drawn. We pretended to survey the scene four stories below as if it held something of vital interest.
“He’s a great kid, Penny. Every single person at Beacon has taken to him. He’s only been with us eight weeks but we all feel like it’s one of our own kids in there. And that’s really why we’re all here. Because we love him. He’s one of ours.” Sentimental, yes. But every word was heartfelt and true.
Wordlessly, we hugged each other, tears streaming openly down our cheeks. My throat was so tight I couldn’t swallow. All I could do was hold her and pat her back.
We stayed at the hospital until the late afternoon, leaving only when more Kennedy relatives arrived from Detroit. With the Byrnes they would be able to provide that ever so vital support only relatives and close friends can. It was support that the Kennedys needed desperately.
Monday at work was extremely grim. It was like a morgue. Everyone was very quiet and subdued. The news from the hospital was all negative. Greg was still unstable, with little kidney function. After several hours of doing nothing but pace around aimlessly, I returned to the hospital. Just being there was an offering I felt compelled to make. But there was no relief from the depressing reality. Greg was doing worse than had been anticipated. The neurosurgeons were worried about the increasing pressure on his brain. In addition, something in Greg’s body was producing toxins that the damaged kidneys were unable to remove. He was no longer alert nor did he recognize anyone, including his parents. Bad signs all around.
By noon the decision to operate on his brain to relieve the pressure was made. Tom and Penny had to sign more authorizations and were told in mind numbing detail how this or that procedure could kill Greg if this or that went wrong but if those procedures were not done their son would die anyway from all the grievous trauma his body had sustained in the accident. So, what choice did they have? Tom forced the pen into his stiff and unwilling fingers and signed the papers.
The crowded waiting room and hallway seemed to hold no hope, only pain and fear mixed with a grief so palatable it saturated our very existence. For God’s sake, how and why had this happened? We all wondered and whispered about it surreptitiously but no one had the courage to address it out loud. About the only thing we could do, other than pace around aimlessly, was to pray. And we all did plenty of that. Whether we believed or not.
At that terrible moment, with the Kennedy relatives and friends and all of us from Beacon standing a grim watch outside the Intensive Care Unit, Greg’s younger brother and sisters arrived from Detroit. It was a scene that floods my mind even now with such overwhelming poignancy and sadness that I have to force myself to stay at the computer. Those poor kids were so frightened they could barely walk or stand. They clung to their parents in absolute fear, crying and trembling in the corridor surrounded by adults who were unable to keep the bitter-salt tears from their eyes. They sought reassurances that could not be given by their devastated parents. Gregie’s going to get well, won’t he, Mommy? Their eyes cried. He’s going to get better, isn’t he? Tell us everything will be all right, Dad. It broke our hearts to watch the Kennedys suffer.
Tom F., Jorgee, and I had to leave. We could not take the release of all that raw emotion without breaking down. Even though we had not mentioned it amongst ourselves, we all felt responsible. Greg worked for us and had been injured at work. And that made us feel inexpressibly guilty even though we believed he had done something stupid that caused his injuries. But that didn’t matter. He was our responsibility. We told Duke B. that we would return around 4:00, when Greg was scheduled to be out of surgery and fled down the elevator to the comfort of the uncaring outside world.
I returned to the ICU at 3:30, just in time to see Greg being wheeled in from the elevator to his room. My God, his appearance devastated me. His body was grotesquely bloated as a result of swollen tissues from the accident and the fluid build-up caused by his malfunctioning kidney. The front right part of his head had been shaven and painted with bright orange-yellow-green antiseptic where the surgeon had drilled through his skull into his brain. Tubes where running everywhere, especially into his mouth and nose. Heart and blood pressure monitors beeped and flashed across miniature CRT displays. He was totally unrecognizable. The only way I knew it was Greg was the stricken expression on Tom Kennedy’s face as the heavily laden gurney rolled down the corridor. He and I were the only ones who had noticed the small harried procession. The rest of the group was still in the waiting room or had clustered at the opposite end of the hallway.
Shocked by Greg’s appearance, without thinking I whispered to his father, “Jesus, Tom. He looks terrible. Thank God Penny and the kids didn’t see him.”
He nodded, swallowing hard, and released the breath he had been holding since seeing Greg and sighed. “He needs a miracle. That’s the only thing we have left. A miracle.”
A half hour later Dr. Karpinski met with the Kennedys and gave them the latest word. The good news was Greg had sustained no brain damage. No stroke. No sign that blood clots from the chest cavity had traveled to the brain. No raised pressure on the brain. No necrotic tissue on his back. We all breathed a collective sigh of relief. But the bad news was enough to bring the Statue of Liberty to her knees. One kidney was dead and had to be removed. The other was functioning very erratically. The principal artery to the liver had been partially blocked by a large blood clot causing at least some damage. And his heart was not beating regularly. Although the next ten to twelve hours were critical he held out little room for optimism. Prepare yourselves for the worst, the good doctor said, as he pressed a weary hand across his face. Poor devil looked flat-out exhausted. I wondered how much sleep he had gotten over the past few days.
So, with no other options, we waited, too emotionally and physically exhausted to hope or to pray. The Kennedys sagged against each other or sat listlessly in the waiting room. Terrified that the next appearance of the doctor or the head ICU nurse meant that Greg had died. By 6:30 to everyone’s amazement the official word was that Greg’s condition had improved somewhat. Our spirits lifted considerably. That’s when all of us from Beacon Paper decided we were in the way and should go home, leaving the Kennedys and their friends to their vigil. It had to be awkward for them having us underfoot but they were extremely gracious in not mentioning it.
That night I lay abed for the customary eight hours without sleeping more than an hour or two. All I could do was to think about Greg. Having lunch at Italian restaurants on the Hill. Driving him through the exclusive neighborhoods in Ladue. Talking about abortion, civil disobedience, Reagan, Catholicism, his girlfriend in Miami. Showing him how to read a GATF color bar. Telling him about gas ghosting and how to get rid of the problem. Laughing together at the silly, vulgar, sexist jokes we loved.
When morning finally came even the sharp needles of the shower were not sufficient to jolt me from the trance that gripped me. But the telephone ringing at 7:05 did it. I knew that this was it. The call I expected but never wanted.
“Have you heard anything?” It was Tom F.
“Not a thing. Why? Have you?”
“Yeah. When I called the ICU a few minutes ago and asked about Greg’s condition the nurse told me all enquiries were being referred to the family.”
The breath shot out of my lungs. “Shit, shit, shit. That’s it, Tom. He’s dead.”
“I’m not sure. Maybe . . .” It was obvious that he wouldn’t let himself face it.
“Hang up. I’ll call Barb and Duke at their hotel. They’ll know.” Efficiency was my immediate reaction. Be organized and you won’t have to think.
“It’s awful early. Maybe you should . . .”
“It’s not that early. I’ll call you back as soon as I talk to them.”
“Okay. Bye.” Tom wanted someone else to do it. I didn’t care if it had to be me. I was desperate to know. One way or the other.
When I called the hotel the first two times their line was busy. Not a good sign. The third time Barbara B. answered.
“Barb, this is Bob Ernst from Beacon Paper. We called the hospital this morning and they wouldn’t tell us anything about Greg. Has anything . . .”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Bob, but he died early this morning.” Her voice was so sad, so exhausted.
“Oh my God. I’m so terribly sorry.” Tears ran down my face splashing almost perfect circles on San’s phone message pad on the night stand. I watched them hit as though they belonged to a stranger. My throat closed so tightly that it was difficult to breathe and almost impossible to talk.
“The ICU called Tom and Penny around 12:30 last night and told them it was the end. His heart was failing from all the toxins in his system. We rushed to the hospital. He was on some sort of heart-lung machine. I think he knew we were there but I’m not sure. He died just before 2:00 this morning with all his family and friends at his bedside.” Her pause indicated she expected me to say something but I couldn’t force my voice to work. “His kidney never came around and the liver turned out to more severely damaged than they thought. It was failing rapidly, poisoning his entire system. He actually died from cardiac arrest but it was caused by all the toxins in his body.”
“Barb,” I choked out, “Please tell Tom and Penny how terrible we feel. We all loved him.” It was impossible for me to say another word.
I can’t remember hanging up. San put her arms around me and let me cry my eyes out, like a helpless baby. It was many minutes before I was able to pull myself together and call Tom F. and then Bob J. They were as deeply affected by the horrible news as I was. Tom F. even more so. The guilt that was weighing heavily on his shoulders was so tangible I could almost touch it. I wanted to say so much to him but was unable to.
San wanted me to stay home but no way could I. Or would under any circumstance. That day was the graphics arts exhibition Greg and I worked so hard to get ready. I had to be there all day and half the night. This might sound callous but that exhibition was my salvation. My excuse not to think, not the remember, not to feel. It would keep me away from the office, from all those terrible memories. It would force me to stay busy, talking, meeting people, laughing at their dull jokes, mercifully occupying my mind with the inanities of life. My stupid, meaningless life.
The day passed quickly in a blur of frenetic activity. After the exhibition was over I went out with Tom F., Bob J., and about five or six clients and drank myself past the awareness of pain. Lucky for me, Tom F., who never drinks anything stronger than Coke, drove me home around 1:30. On the way home we didn’t say one word about Greg but just before getting out of his car I grabbed his hand and held it tightly for a minute. Neither of us said a word but he knew how I felt.
Once in the bedroom, all the grief I had striven so hard to control all day long caught up with me and exploded. The gut-wrenching tears came as I was standing in our walk-in closet hanging up my suit. Suddenly all the strength drained out of my body and I collapsed on the floor, on top of five or six pair of shoes, crying and sobbing uncontrollably, my hands covering my face. San must have heard me because she was kneeling beside me, trying to comfort me. I’m sure she thought the alcohol was behind the tears. It wasn’t.
After several minutes I calmed down enough to hear what she was saying.
“But it wasn’t your fault. You’re not responsible. You didn’t have anything to do with his death. It was just a terrible accident.”
“Yes I did,” I sobbed loudly, in a sudden panic that for the first time in my life I was unable to control the storm of emotions that held me in its grip. “I WAS responsible! Greg worked for me. I was training him. And I never warned him to stay away from that goddamned elevator. Why? Why didn’t I tell him? I never took it because I was afraid to. It even made me uncomfortable to ride in it with one of the paper handlers. But I never warned him. Why? Why? If I had he might be alive today.” I sobbed so hard my stomach and chest hurt. The hot tears of guilt cut groves in my cheeks.
“That’s ridiculous. Greg died because he made a stupid mistake. He took a terrible risk and what happened is a result. You yourself told me that. You said the elevator has been in use for almost seventy years and no one was ever injured on it until now. He’d be alive today if he didn’t jump on top of the cage.” She shook me hard to force me to listen. I knew from the look on her face that she was frightened by my outburst.
“Yes, but that doesn’t make me feel better. I still didn’t warn him no matter how it happened. Maybe I’m not directly responsible for his death but I should have told him to stay away from it. If I had, maybe . . .”
“It might not have made any difference. He still might have done whatever he did. You don’t know.”
“You’re right,” I said, trying to calm down. “I’ll never know. Never. And that’s what’s tearing me apart.”
And that’s what continues to rack me. That guilt and the awful conviction that the wrong person died. Greg was so full of life, so exuberant, so confident in his abilities. And me? Just the opposite. All I could think of was that he should be alive and I should be dead. Because that’s how I felt then. Dead. Empty. Drained of feeling. Waiting to be covered over by the damp earth.
Now, little more than two weeks after Greg’s death, clients still call asking to speak with him. The receptionist directs the call to me and I have to say, “Sorry, but he’s no longer with us.” The phrase’s awful meaning sticks in my throat. This morning, an extremely nice graphic designer I work with quite a lot and had introduced to Greg, who had accompanied me on one of my sales calls, asked if he still enjoyed learning about the graphic arts industry. When I told her Greg had died two weeks ago as a result of an accident in our freight elevator she became extremely upset and started crying. I couldn’t stop the tears from flooding my eyes or my throat from closing up. We both had to hang up because we were unable to talk.
Why has Greg’s death so devastated me? Why can I not set aside the grief and continue with my life? He was only at Beacon for eight weeks. It’s not as if he was a life-long friend. We just worked together, went out to lunch a couple times a week. That’s it. San and I never even had him out to our house for dinner. So, why am I consumed by sorrow and a deadening sense of loss and emptiness? Is it my own death I fear? Or the terrible suddenness and finality with which all his youth, enthusiasm, and hope for the future were snuffed out like a candle in the darkness? Or the now so apparent emptiness of lives here for such a brief moment and gone forever. A flash of magic powder, whispered incantations, a sleight of fate’s clutching hand and you are whisked away in the grip of the Ultimate Predator, DEATH, with no protest allowed, no gainsaying the ferocious reality. Life-Death. No recourse. To live is to die. Period.
Gregory, Gregory. I grieve for you as I have no other. Not even my father. [Author’s Note: This material was written prior to my mother’s and brother’s deaths.]
As a final note, Tom and Cathy F., Jorgee, and I travelled to Detroit for the wake and funeral. That trip is a blur of tears. I remember little of what happened, only that I drank myself to sleep both nights and cried like a baby at the funeral Mass and the cemetery.
Weeks later, the City’s Building Department and Beacon’s insurance carrier independently investigated the accident and interviewed all of us. Tom F. told me to tell them everything I knew and suspected, to hold nothing back. Both investigations determined that Greg had in great part caused the accident and his own death. Beacon Paper was not liable though the City ordered the old elevator to be shut down permanently.
That’s how it ended. A young man flush with promise dead. His family broken. An elevator shuttered.
Our lives, such as they were, went on.