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Thursday, October 30, 2014

Brittany

Type that name – just that name – into your Google search criterion window at 6:57am Pacific Daylight Time on 30 October 2014, and the first three items that come up are articles by NBC News, USA Today and CNN.com about the young woman who has famously decided to take control of her own passing. The media’s approach to this story has been breathless, panting almost. Like a dog watching you grill a thick steak. Except that the dog’s attentions aren’t inappropriate.

But this isn’t a rant about irresponsible sensationalism in news reportage. Another time, perhaps. This one is about choice.
When Oregon passed its assisted suicide law, many opponents predicted a mass exodus of the depressed to Oregon, visualized (figurative) blood running in the streets. It hasn’t happened. In 2013, according to the information I found on Oregon’s own public health site, 71 people died in that state by legally assisted suicide. With the population of Oregon at about 3.9 million, that’s one assisted suicide for every 55,000 inhabitants. It’s one for every 478 of the 33,931 Oregonians or visitors who died from all causes that year. Since the law was passed in 1997, 1,173 prescriptions have been written and 752 people used those prescriptions to make their exits.

Not exactly an epidemic, I shouldn’t think. In Oregon in 2013, more folks died by homicide (90), unintended injury (1,739), other methods of suicide (626, after subtracting our 71). Most people (33,931) died of natural causes.
I could go on and on dissecting the cack stats for the State of Oregon but you get the picture. Currently, three states allow physicians to assist folks in arranging a relatively non-violent way to end their own lives – Oregon, Washington and Vermont. And opponents, mostly religious groups, are intent on preventing any more states enacting similar laws.

I wonder how many of those opponents can still feel comfortable manning the barricades after they watch Brittany describe her life, her decision and her process of dying. Because make no mistake, the girl is dying.  This is not about whether she dies but rather, about when and how. And for Brittany, how is the controlling consideration.
It amazes me that in a nation in which supposedly eminent ethicists can argue in favor of euthanizing non-perfect babies (Singer at Cornell, et al), we cannot respect and honor – even if we personally can’t embrace – the decision by an intelligent, life-loving young woman to choose a deliberate and gentle end, shared with her most special loved ones.

Message to the debaters: This is not about your religion or your fear of slippery slopes, it’s not about Kevorkian or your favorite TV pastor or any of the others who gain notoriety through the debate. This is about a young person who has chosen dignity at the end but also has chosen to give up some measure of that dignity and a whole lot of her privacy in order to show the rest of us that the horror is in her disease, not in her choice to leave us with love.
I truly wish her disease would somehow go away and that she would live a long and fruitful life. But failing that outcome, I wish we would just respect her decision and when the time comes, leave her family and friends alone.

Saturday, October 25, 2014

Comfort weather

I’ve previously shared my love affair with weather.

Not all weather, mind you.  I’m not a fan of hot weather (anything above about 70 degrees for more than a few minutes) but I’m happy to experience it as a break every now and then. For example, during the Ball of Twine Tour around the country years ago, we drove through some of the hottest parts of the country at the hottest time of the year. While the experience did not inspire me to move there, it was an okay, even quite enjoyable experience. One time only.
I love snow and cold weather as an experience but not as an environment. I look forward to the times when I’m called to work in Fairbanks or North Dakota during the winter but of course, I dress for the experience. Living somewhere that has a seven-month, hard winter would drive me crazy (I’ve had the experience and look how I turned out), if only for the constant added work of being prepared to be caught outside. And of course, at my age – and never having been the most graceful person in almost any gathering – there is the requirement to be ever on the lookout for frozen patches that might provide me with an unfortunate foray into (ballet? hip hop?). I recall with a shiver an episode forty years ago that resulted in a dislocated elbow…

I am perhaps at my most content, with feelings of absolute peace sitting in bed with the covers up to my chest, my morning cup of coffee on the nightstand, a good book in my hands and the sound of rain outside the window. And I dearly love an afternoon spent writing in the basement office, toasty warm while watching a truly impressive rainstorm through the window in front of me. (A snoozing dog at my feet doesn’t hurt the ambience.)
For being out and about, I’ll take a nice blustery day, cool but not cold and hold-your-hat gusty. Pink cheeks but without the frostbite, thank you very much!

Gotta cut this one short and head out to the vet with Odin the Large and Lazy, who seems to be shaking his ears a lot the last week or so. But I had one of those rain from bed mornings and just felt like sharing it with you.
Hope this finds you all warm and comfy.

Thursday, October 23, 2014

Some favorite punch lines (you supply the inappropriate joke to match)


1)      Good, though!

2)      You might turn your wrist just a bit counter-clockwise…

3)      Twang! Slu-u-u-u-r-r-r-rp!

4)      I thought you meant today!

5)      So, I says to the archbishop…

6)      Hit the ball, drag Harry.

7)      Rectum?!? Hell, I kilt the sumbitch!

8)      One of his legs are both the same.

9)      Yeah, but it’s gotta be a mile wide!

10)   Who cares?

And before you start assuming you know the jokes and you want to judge me, here’s a special shout out to Sindy:

You’re thore?!?!? I’m tho thore, I can hardly walk!

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

The blooming

The umbrella crop was in full bloom today. I love rainy days!
Don’t hate me.

Sunday, October 19, 2014

Day trip

Mary and I went for a little – okay, eleven hours – drive yesterday and it was absolutely perfect. We went from rain to rain shadow, from sea level to the tree line, across salt water and up the shoulder of a mountain. We saw some of the coolest little seaside towns and farms galore.  Oh, and had a fantastic breakfast at a local place in Sequim.

The main purpose of the trip was really just to get out for the day but my ulterior motive was to visualize locales for some writing I’m doing. Although the work is fiction and everything in it made of whole cloth, it helps to have a picture in mind and so I spent much of the day mentally and digitally recording the sights.
I found the perfect view from Max’s workshop that plays such a central visual role and the switchback road Julia will drive in Chapter Two. The view of the islands in the straits beyond the foothills from the house is now fixed in my mind, as is the view looking back from the ferry as it departs Edmonds.

Mary didn’t find it odd to share a date while my mind was frequently elsewhere; she’s used to me thinking about writing. She even took pics of the places I needed to capture precisely. So you could say she’s my partner in crime (that is, if you don’t like the book, assuming anyone ever reads it) and my fellow researcher if you do like it. I even found Georgia’s house which I hadn’t intended to describe but now think will provide the setting for a key scene. So IF I finish this hog and IF it gets published or I print off enough copies and IF you read it, you may spot echoes of yesterday’s little ramble.
One scene wasn’t part of the book research at all but did provide a moment of poignancy I want to share with you. About halfway between Edmonds and Kingston, the ferry slowed to a stop and the captain blew the ship’s whistle three times. Mary and I happened to be standing just by the pilot house when she hit the horn and if you’ve ever heard a ship’s whistle from close by, you will understand my saying that I nearly colored my culottes when that thing first went off.

The captain, seemingly unconcerned at having provided me with an embarrassing senior moment, explained herself by announcing a memorial service so we went to the stern to see how they did it. From our vantage on the promenade deck, we were above and behind the four people who had just ‘committed their loved one to the deep.’ They do these things by putting the ashes in a ceremonial container that’s designed to float for a few minutes before becoming sufficiently waterlogged that it sinks and of course, eventually biodegrades and releases the remains on the ocean floor.
For most folks on the M/V Walla Walla – perhaps four hundred people on this off-peak crossing – the slight delay was just a mildly interesting interlude, of no more import than the sighting of an Orca or watching a coastal steamer cross close aboard.  But for the two men and two women standing on the stern ramp of the main vehicle deck, this was a profound event in their lives.

They stood stock still as long as the container remained in view and when it finally sank as the stern began to vibrate and the prop wash began to stretch a broad swath behind us, they still stared. Not a word, not a movement among them until finally they peeled off one by one to head back to their car. The older blond woman in the red car coat blew a kiss before turning away, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.
It was their moment and the two crew members assigned to help them get the container overboard without following it stood protectively and silently off to port and starboard. Once they reset the safety chain, one of them glanced behind before they headed off to do whatever deck hands do mid-crossing.

I had this great day driving the Olympic peninsula with Mary and checking sites for the book. And I’d like to think these four people had a good day as well, completing their final duty to someone for whom they’d clearly cared.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Toni's response

Toni's comment on my former post is important so I wanted to make sure you all see it, since I know a lot of people don't read comments. (And yes, I despise flash mobs.)

Toni says:

Well said.
Not liking to label myself, I never know whether to call myself a feminist, a humanist or just a woman who is fed up and pissed off!
During Presidential debates, the media focuses on the statements made by the male candidates and who the designer is of the pant suit the female candidate is wearing.
Almost every cop movie has a stripper pole scene in it. Most of our commercials objectify women.
Photos of women are still photo-shopped to the hilt so that even models and celebrities who make-believe in front of cameras don't look like themselves.
California just passed a law that defines that yes means yes and no means no and not hearing a "yes" means no too.
It pisses me off that we stop touching our boys in America by the time they are 5 years old even though it is proven that the average human being needs to be touched at least 12 times a day to thrive.
I know many men who are fed up with the neanderthal thinking but activism needs to start somewhere, and sometimes, without an invitation, apathy rules.
You have the biggest, kindest heart I know (except when flash mobs are involved) and teeny-bopper actresses tend to exist on the south side of wisdom but perfection doesn't exist. Dialogue needs a place to begin and maybe it starts with offending invitations!

Sunday, October 12, 2014

Gender politics

I decided on a bluntly obvious title for this one – and on this sentence - in order to allow those of you who are understandably weary of political diatribes and gender warfare to opt out of reading it before you come across anything that aggravates you. That said, should you desire to stop reading here, I send you off with my best wishes and hopes that you’ll join me again in future.

I want to thank friend Angela for bringing this topic to the front of my mind and Daughter One for understanding that my lens is not hers and to grant me the respect for my unique and undeniably parallax view. This is neither the beginning nor the end of my consideration of this topic or, I’m sure, our discussion of it but perhaps a good time to offer some thoughts.
There have been numerous posts on my social networking feed of late that seek to define feminism and more than that, the proper role that males can and should assume in promoting gender parity. I have to admit to being biased regarding this entire subject and unevenly so. I react as an outraged individual when I feel unfairly lumped in with the Neanderthals among us, as the father of brilliant and self-directed, lovely daughters when confronted with an example of gender bias and (I hope and believe) as a thoughtful citizen when considering how society should deal with this or other issues of equality.

I used the word ‘lovely’ as an adjective in mentioning my daughters above. I did so intentionally so I could ask you to self-reflect for a moment. Kindly consider:

1.       Is my use of ‘lovely’ above in any way pejorative? Demeaning or dismissive? And if so, why?

2.       If ‘yes’ to any of the preceding questions, then please tell me if you’d have been equally alarmed had I referred to “brilliant and self-directed, handsome sons.”
I believe I know how many if not most feminists would answer those questions but I could be wrong. I would love to be proven wrong. The thing is, of late - and by ‘of late,’ I mean in the last decade or so – the message of feminism has morphed from “we demand our rightful place as humans and citizens” to one of disdain for all things ‘masculine,’ as in “men are evil and women are victims.”

  The legislators who voted to grant women the vote were 100% men. While some of them probably did so grudgingly as a political expedient, it is also probable that some were just decent, fair-minded individuals and some (viewing with distaste the regressive tendencies of some or even many of their male peers) were most likely crusaders for full participation. Some may even have grown weary of the burden of decision and welcomed more hands on the plow. Yes, it is true that then as now, many women were passive or even subjugated, but it is also true that women’s suffrage would never have become a reality absent the determined efforts of strong, wise, committed women. Women who might be horrified to find themselves considered passive victims.
If I am to be branded and browbeaten as a representative of the past, I can’t complain too loudly. I recognize that suffering written slings and arrows is less damaging to body and soul than being considered a second-class citizen, being denied a voice in governance of my community or country. I’ve no call to consider myself a victim and I acknowledge the advantages I enjoy as a male, white, educated, caringly raised and nurtured citizen of this country in this century. We could fill volumes, and wiser minds than mine have, enumerating the wrongs inflicted on various demographics by the folks then in power with whom I share certain social or gender attributes.

So, why this missive and at this moment?
You never know which straw is going to break the camel’s back and the one for me in this case caught me by surprise. It came as I viewed – at the invitation of one of my daughters through a shared social media site – the recent invocation by a young actress speaking in her role as “Women’s Goodwill Ambassador” for the United Nations. This young woman spoke out in support of feminism. That is, feminism as she defined it: “ the belief that men and women should have equal rights and opportunities.” Hmmm, okay. Seems to me that this definition more rightly applies to terms like humanism or gender equity. Because the feminism she promotes involves men being invited by women to become their better selves, as displayed in their views and actions concerning gender equity. I found myself wanting to answer: why should belief in fair play be seen as particularly a feminine trait? And isn’t this point of view sexist in itself?

This actress, who I won’t name here so as to avoid providing a metadata hook for the crazies, gets points for her courage, as well as a nod to her youthful exuberance. But let’s be honest here - she is not where she is because of the depth and breadth of her life experience, or for her revealed wisdom or for any deserved recognition as a great thinker. She may well prove to be a profound thinker, but that is not what brought her to the world’s attention. She was placed on that bully pulpit based solely on her fame as a person who is accomplished at playing make-believe before cameras. She is an ‘ambassador’ because of a calculation of the social currency of her celebrity. I get that. But please, can we agree that movie celebrity is not a qualification for leadership?
I know there are countries, cultures and religions (DON’T get me started on the evils of organized religion!) whose denigration of women goes much wider and deeper that what you find in most of America. But in this epistle, my intent has been to stick to what I know and at least partially, understand. So as indicated above, I can’t help but speak through the lens of a middle-aged male, mostly white, generally conservative but with alarming leans to the left, well-but-not-superbly educated American in the early twenty-first century who spends loads of time reading, observing, considering and who is frequently full of beans. But I am not anti-women or dismissive of women’s voices and I do not welcome re-education by a speaker who is clearly well-intended but sadly ill-assigned.

A congressional candidate in (the U.S. State of) Georgia was recently quoted as saying a woman is welcome to run for office granted that she is “within the authority of her husband.”  Certainly, I can understand women being disgusted with this statement by a man who has the support of a significant constituency for national public office. What I can’t understand is why it should be solely a women’s issue to ensure this dunderhead is kept a country mile away from the reins of power.
Why would folks oppose this guy (and PLE-E-E-ASE do tell me you would oppose him!) solely under the mantle of feminism? Why not humanism? Why not simple fair play or courtesy or – dare I say it – reason?

For me, this is not a women’s issue any more than the lynching of Chaney, Goodman and Schwerner was a Negro issue. It is an issue for all of us, an issue that speaks to our collective need as a democracy to benefit from the wisdom of all voices. Any man who does not understand his own vested interest in inclusion of women’s voices is a fool and any woman who doesn’t understand that many men stand with her is simply not paying attention.
Men who are worthy of the description are disgusted at the thought that this idiot in Georgia would be seen by anyone as in any way representing our collective interests or points of view. But beyond any pique that men might feel at being lumped together with the worst examples of our gender, there lies the supremely important fact that gender bias is bad for society, not just for women and that it injures all of us.

Discounting the views and rights of women would negate the contributions of vital voices in our polity. Eleanor Roosevelt and Shirley Chisholm. Harriet Tubman, Sylvia Earle, Mary Fulton, Jane Anger and Ruth Bader Ginsburg.  Susan B. Anthony, Lucy Stone, Margaret Sanger, Catherine the Great (I didn’t say they were all nice people), Jane Austen, Indira Ghandi, Margaret Thatcher, Marie Curie, Amy Tan, Malala Yousafzai, Tsering Doltma Gyaltong (I apologize if misspelled – you see differing spellings in various writings by and about her), Margaret Behan, each of the Ee Girls, and yes, my Daughters One and also Two – all had or have experiences and knowledge and wisdom and a point of view to share. And we (WE!) should be listening.  You don’t have to be Betty Friesen to be an important woman. And you don’t have to be a famous actor – male or female - to deserve to be heard. The messages are as diverse and as equally important as the many voices, most of which will never be heard through social media.
Emma, thanks for your intent but I really don’t need you to invite me to the party. And I say this not because social equity isn’t an important issue for me but rather, because it is. It’s not your issue to invite me to take up. Rather, it is our issue, everyone’s issue and the twenty-something actor who deigns to ‘invite’ me is on a par with the young bicycle-riding ‘missionaries’ who offer to tell me how to order my life. It’s not that you’re wrong; you’re not wrong. But putting this message in your mouth and doing so on behalf of an international deliberative body inappropriately narrows the scope of the discussion and tragically misdirects the debate.  It trivializes one of the three or four key social issues of our time.

This is everyone’s fight, not just women’s.  Not just well-known actors'. Everyone’s. I hope you continue to contribute. But as one of us, not as the most famous of us.
(Side note: I hope and imagine Emma’s parents are just bursting with pride! Even though she is vastly experienced in appearing and speaking in front of audiences, she was clearly (or so I thought) nervous about this one. And she did a great job. She showed great courage. At an age when many of her peers famously go off track, she is engaging one of the great issues of her time. Goodonher!)

Saturday, October 4, 2014

Contemplation

I’ve been in a contemplative mood of late. Not that I ever stop thinking about what might be, what might have been, what should or shouldn’t be. But for the most part, my ruminations along these lines would fit easily into a category that one might consider wool gathering. Not so, my flights of late.

 There have been a lot of changes in my life and our family’s lives of late. Nothing earth shaking but nevertheless the sorts of things that cause you to reconsider your position in various areas of your life – a serious accident, a new job, impending graduation, reconsideration of career choice, planning for retirement. I won’t get into the specifics of who and how and when and why. If you don’t know, you don’t need to know. And anyway, it’s not my central point here.
 Part of the plan or not, when these and other personal events that I won’t mention converge at a single point in time, wool gathering quickly gives way to deeper reflection.

Mary and I have been getting ever more focused in our plans for the future; that is, our future as empty nesters and eventually, as retirees. We know we won’t spend our sunset years in our present house. Microsoft and Genentech have trailed  their comet tails of young, wealthy retirees whose primary contribution to our hometown has been to make it a bourgeois enclave in which our lifestyle has no place. (No bitterness, I promise – the Bellevue version of gentrification is simply what’s happened in hundreds of communities around this country, only with a somewhat younger, more tech-savvy and more sociologically clueless face.)
To be fair, the demographic shift hereabouts is not the sole reason for our decision to relocate. We want to be close to Daughters One and also Two but of course, who knows where they will end up. Prevailing weather patterns affect our creaky bones.   I’d like to be less suburban. We’d like a more open plan house and probably smaller.

As I said, lots of reasons and the bottom line is a move, probably in three to five years. But our eventual relocation is not the sole or even primary reason for my shift in thoughts. 
I’m in (The Force willing) my terminal job before retirement and loving what I do, I’m freed from the need to think about career moves. I’ve zero interest in ever again having direct reports so as to my job, it is what it is. And what it is, I love to do.

Mary and I have shifted back into high gear concerning the many deferred home improvement projects that will make living here easier for us and more attractive to eventual potential buyers. We’re probably going to complete the landscaping (Oh, my aching back!) this year and even be able to enjoy it ourselves for a few.
My writing is taking a new twist. Producing much less for this blog, as you may have noticed but more in other areas.

Having spent most of my life with strong opinions about politics, I find myself more focused these days on formation than application and more on first principles than on current issues. Which is not to say I won’t chime in here from time to time when something particularly egregious or especially important appears on my radar. But I find myself reading the “news” less and history / philosophy more.
I take great joy and comfort in having circled back to old friends, although my connection methods are modern and streamlined in concert with social media. There are folks in my life that I’ve loved and always will and I try to make sure they know who they are.

I can’t say where all this contemplation will lead. But it feels right, so if you’ll excuse me, I have some serious thinking to do.