24 June 2008

Why Good Men Don't Run

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A few weeks ago, a friend of mine pointed out that I am old enough to have run for the 3rd NV Congressional District, but by that time the date had passed by which to declare a candidacy. Now, people who know me are excited at the prospect of maybe being able to vote FOR someone once in their lives, instead of voting AGAINST the lesser of two evils. Brief study of the current presidential debacle throws into sharp focus the propensity that precludes scores of young and qualified men from seeking political office for a myriad of reasons.

First and foremost, and the object of my critique, comes the Party influence. I have never been a fan of parties. I never attended any in college, and I do not intend to cowtow to them now. That, however, is precisely my largest problem in gaining a nomination and ultimately a seat. Politics, like so much else in society, seems to be the stuff of popularity, where people advance less dependent on what they know than on whom they know. When a person gains support of a party, he ascribes his allegiance to the party's principles, irrespective of his own personal convictions in order to stay in office. If you sway from the party line, like John Ensign (R-NV) did under Newt Gingrich's House leadership, the party itself will drive you out.


No less oblige on the matter, the types of persons who ascend to office are typically more of the same, and I am not among that cartel. Most politicians, schooled in the ways of lawyers and the artifice of law, come from the legal profession, which accurately enough prepares them to word arguments and understand statutes as presently constituted but QUALIFIES THEM FOR LITTLE ELSE. Notwithstanding, to hear our legislators speak, they claim expertise on every aspect of society, even though they largely lack credentials to speak on any of the matters they take up as a matter of discussion, claiming themselves able to run every aspect of our lives with zero experience better than men who have spent 20-30 years at the helm of such industries. John Adams wrote during his time in the Continental Congress: “I fear that in every assembly, members will obtain an influence by noise not sense. By meanness, not greatness. By ignorance, not learning. By contracted hearts, not large souls”. Blathering blather scythes, who have no greater credentials than a long history in Congress, outshout all contenders, badger them into the ground. Remember the plight of Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, how his own colleague by tirade almost beat down a good man.


The other problem with ensconced traditions of expertise comes in the form of a litmus test. If you don't have years of experience in lower levels of government or in law, you're immediately unqualified for a Senate seat, other experience notwithstanding. Last year I applied for a job with the NV highway patrol and made it through all the hoops up to and including the interview, which, although I ostensibly passed, did not recommend me as a strong candidate. The sergeant who made most of the argument in the negative made much ado about the fact that, although I hold an advanced degree in Biochemistry (an arguably difficult and arduous field of study), I had never taken a course in Criminal Justice. In his mind, the title of the degree, regardless of my character, experience and potential, meant everything, as if having a CJ degree makes one more likely to succeed and of greater utility than any other qualification. My father could not understand his prejudice, my father having been a combat veteran of the USAF who flew with pilots who held college degrees in things skew to the Air Force's mission like Forestry, Communications, and Art History. In our congress since I started voting, we have had a gynecologist (Ron Paul), a retired astronaut (John Glenn), a veterinarian (John Ensign), a hollywood actor (Fred Thompson) and others. Who says you have to be a lawyer to be a good legislator? Besides, those who are lawyers and served at lower levels of government have spent their lives interfering in our lives and never produced anything of value to us.

Lest we forget, generally and genuinely good men refuse to run for office for fear of having any skeletons, regardless of their size or age, exposed to the public. Bill Frist, Trent Lott, George Allen, and others fell under the "scandal" axe, notwithstanding greater scandals in the other party like William Jefferson, William Clinton, Christopher Dodd, Harry Reid, and others, still under investigation though not basted by the media. Everyone has done things they regret, and good men fear that their opposition will make mountains out of molehills and shoot their butterflies with rifles. So how do I choose to deal with it? I turn to Shakespeare in answer:

It is a tale, told by an idiot, full of sound and fury signifying nothing.
A friend of mine said, when I visited him a few weeks ago, that if my exertions to live by my moral code do not warrant mercy, nobody does.


One final hurdle of which to make mention is as CS Lewis calls it, the trend to make men without chests. By making a mockery of traditional patriotism and chivalry, those who are themselves evil and cowardly and selfish draw attention from the beam in their eye to the mote that may be in mine. Wrote James Warren to John Adams, the "love of country supplanted by a love of luxury"…the current “avidity for pleasure” and money…was all that mattered anymore. “Patriotism is ridiculed. Integrity and ability are of little consequence”. What matters is money and a good name, a historical legacy, that if you are not among the MyFaves of Congress, you cannot on merit win a seat in a fair fight.


The good old boy network at work in Congress dissuades men from running for office. Instead, many of them look for other ways to make a real difference, and for that I am glad. For all of you who opt instead to serve in arms, I salute you. Many good Americans envy you the opportunity you have to serve in the military. There is nothing we can do to fully repay you, and that is indeed unfortunate.


23 June 2008

Right Things for the Right Reasons

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Having lately considered the topic of judgment, I feel inspired to address another aspect thereof. Of late, many of the people I know have told me of noble pursuits to which they devoted themselves for a period of years in lieu of other equally noble options that leave me wondering why. I suppose the true issue to which I ought pay attention is that they chose a noble path.

All of the individuals of which I can currently think chose noble paths. One enters USMC boot camp today. Another will depart in a few weeks to serve as a missionary in a foreign land. One chose to limit herself to a 500 calorie/day diet as a means to combat years of wanton weight gain. Serving God, country, and health are all noble goals. I do not think in their circumstances I would have made those choices, but I know I am not in their circumstances, so honestly I cannot say what I can do. All I can say is why I would not do that thing at this time.

On the other hand, I know people who chose to do those exact same things for the wrong reasons- mostly as a means to run away from reality or from the person/situation in which they find themselves. When the choice is between bad and good, it’s clearly obvious that one ought choose the good, but when the choice is between good, better, and best, what do we miss out on?

Scriptures tell us that a man giving a gift grudgingly is treated by God as if he retained the gift. I know that when I served as a missionary that these particular devotees bothered me the most, because I felt they “got in the way” of those of us who really cared. Ironically, they are all doing better than I am in most aspects of life, especially in those most easily quantified, and so it would seem that mine is the faulty logic. I am he who is bereft of wife and children, only just last year in a job that wasn’t dead end, and he who is least happy among his peers.

I made the choices I made in life in order to be square with God. For the most part, I made many choices a matter of prayer and fasting while I weighed out options and measured the expected outcomes. I defer on the side of obedience to the law, even when I prefer to do otherwise, and I trust in God to save me both from myself and from things that will be to my detriment. Not everything has turned out like I expected it to, and it would seem in many instances that justice has been denied me, but I trust as always that “what should be will be when the time is right” for my having done the best I can to do right things for the right reasons.

For everyone else, as I mentioned yesterday, it’s neither mine to discern nor in my power to grant them according to the purity of their motives. As CS Lewis says, you cannot long endure the practice of right without gradually becoming the way you pretend to be. So, while I begrudge the choices of others that put upon me inconveniences in the moment they chose to do something good against their will, things generally worked out for the best for everyone. Eventually, practice of righteous principles really does make perfect even if you didn’t start out that way.

22 June 2008

Reply to Criticism

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A friend of mine and reader of this blog remarked to me that this blog seems “devoted to severe criticism of your fellow men”. To this friend, I say as Cervantes’ Don Quixote, “My eyes did not create the world. They merely see it”.

People who know me well know I am extremely critical. This extends primarily to myself in the first instance, as I regularly denigrate my value or contribution. When I left my friend in PA last week, he reported to me that he considered me a great friend and cried when I left. Although I don’t consider myself that good of a friend, I know very few people who are trying to always be on their best behavior as I am.

Choosing to become a Man of La Mancha has been one of the most pivotal and important choices of my life. However, it also seems to be my greatest bane even as I feel it to be a boon. A quest for the impossible dream is doomed to disappointment. I will find no castles, only inns, no golden helms, only shaving basins. Sometimes I wish upon myself the type of insanity necessary to only see the world as Don Quixote, even as I am berated for my insane notions to make the world a better place. Said he, “Sanity may be madness but the maddest of all is to see life as it is and not as it should be.”

I see people as they are and bewail what they ought to be. Now, perhaps that is an unfair position, but it has never been my philosophy to allow people to descend to the lowest common denominator. I know from personal experience that they can be anything they want if they want to. I ask no man to live my mantra and make chivalry his creed; I merely ask them to be the best they can, and more often than not they do not seem to even try.

That being said, I will admit I know nothing of their circumstances by and large. Perhaps the man who cuts me off in traffic has a major wound he needs care for at the hospital. Perhaps the man who wired money to the Baltic really needs it more than I to survive. Perhaps the people I meet were abused by their parents, ignored by their peers, and denigrated by their children. I do not know the weight of their trials. Although I believe God allows nothing to befall people that they cannot bear, I do not know the scope or duration of their trials and cannot therefore say I could do any better in their unique situation.

I swore an oath many years ago: “On my honor, I will do my best”. That I promise, and I will try to be less judgmental of those who, for them, do likewise.

20 June 2008

Leave Me Breathless

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While on vacation in PA, I caught wind of the naked bike riders protesting oil dependency. One of the participants, ostensibly the spokesnude, said they were doing it to reduce greenhouse emissions since biking reduces CO2 emissions. I sat back in my chair, pondering. Then I realized this man doesn’t have a clue.

When you exercise, your basal metabolic rate rises, meaning that a person riding a bike produces more CO2 than someone who walks the same distance. If they were truly about fixing things, they’d do better research and come prepared. Never go in against a scientist when respiration is on the line!

Codicil

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One of the bad habits I have I'm working on is the use of codicil qualifiers in my speech. Much as I feel loath to admit it, I owe my last relationship a debt of gratitude for pointing it out. Of course, now it really bothers me when other people do it, to the point where I grind my teeth when I hear that word, "but".

First let me illustrate how this word works against both speaker and hearer.

We'll turn to neutral ground for the example. About a year ago when my car broke down outside Virginia City, this tow truck driver showed up obviously put out that the call was going to make him late for dinner. My car was in a place that admittedly made it difficult for him to get to me, and I really think he wanted to write me off as immoveable. So, when he arrived, he said something along these lines, "I'd like to get you out, but..." That qualifier carries all the weight of the sentence.

Using the codicil qualifier negates the phrase immediately preceding it. It means he has no intention or desire to help me. Now, there are people who use this word without it meaning that, but in far too many communiques I find this trend proves true. Notable exceptions might include things like when my mom says, "I love you Doug, but you need to be more responsible." When girls I try to date however use that phrase it usually doesn't. "You're a nice guy Doug, but..." Gah, it drives me bonkers.

In our speech, I suggest for the happiness of all that we unlearn this phraseology. It carries a connotation that sets people against one another. There are better ways to phrase things. Here's an example I worked on yesterday in my head:

Wrong:
You're a nice guy Doug, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now.

Better:
Recognizing that you have many good qualities Doug, you're not someone with whom I can see myself in a relationship.

Both may seem equally harsh. The second is honest and clear. The former is an insult in the garb of a compliment. Don't try not to hurt my feelings. Tell me what's on your mind. Like Han Solo told Luke in the Death Star, "I prefer a straight fight to all this sneaking around." Pussyfooting around the subject doesn't help anyone. For my own part, I prefer to know where I stand.

19 June 2008

Season of Gratitude

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In the past week, I've had two occasions to be very grateful for the disposition of providence in my regard. Now, this may strike people who know me as odd, because I'm often critical and sour about certain events in my life that I believe ought to have resolved themselves with a greater degree of grace. However bleak my situation may seem to me and how I may not come into my own as I like, I realized this week that I ought be more grateful for things as yet not forced upon me. Back in 1991 when my father went to war in Iraq, I remember Secretary of Defense Richard "Dick" Cheney saying "It is easy to take your liberty for granted when it has never been taken from you". From time to time, I need these reminders of how blessed I really am.

Earlier this week, my best friend from high school notified me that his father, 54 years old, had passed away suddenly. Now, I didn't know them as well as many others, being that I grew up military and quickly ended up somewhere else, but my father is 53, and I considered the ramifications of losing my own father, now or at any other time in my life. During the war in 1991, I remember being terrified at the prospect. My current best friend lost his father when he was nine years old, and although Thom has overcome that eventuality with panash, he truly was robbed of some fundamentally useful eventualities with which providence found fit to grant me. Life would be profoundly different if I lost my father.

Last Friday I went to the Muetter Museum, located in the College of Surgeons in Philadelphia. This contains the most macabre and grotesque display of human deformity and malady I've ever seen, and I was glad I abstained from breakfast. I came away from the experience with three observations:
  1. I'm glad I didn't go to medical school
  2. I'm glad I've never had any of those problems
  3. I'm glad we live now with "advanced" medical techniques.
Had I chosen to attend medical school, the course curriculum would have required a lengthly expenditure of time studying these types of images to properly discern. Even now as I write, my stomach turns in remembrance. Modern sanitation and medical preventative treatment largely mitigate the marginal propensity of anyone catching any of these diseases, and while the examples on display are grossly exaggerated at times, I cannot imagine suffering some things people used to. I've never been more grateful for the chance to shower regularly.

Much as I denigrate the medical profession and the ne'er-do-wells who aspired thereto when I taught them as a graduate student, I'm glad we've moved beyond the medievalisms that permeated the medical profession in days of yore. The words of Dr. McCoy from Star Trek IV reverberated in my head as I viewed the Muetter displays, and I couldn't believe the implements and practices saved lives. Even when doctors don't really have a clue what we have, our standard of care, even in the worst hospitals on the planet are better today than the best hospitals in 1700 or even 1800 AD. I am profoundly grateful for the advances in scientific medicine, diagnosis and treatment.

In conclusion, I have my health, and it's very good, and I have my family, which by comparison is also stellar. This frees me to focus my exertions on exigent matters without abrogating my ability to affect my own chances for excellence- forging my own relationships, managing my finances, and pursuing vocational/recreational goals. One hundred years ago, my ancestors spent 99% of their time vested in eking out a subsistence, in survival, and now I'm free to pursue other venues of effort. I live a life of ignoble ease. I live in America.

18 June 2008

Quakers- More Than Oats

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One of the great privileges of my trip to Philadelphia, I took away much from the opportunity to attend a Friends Meeting, which is what the Quakers call their Sunday services. During the preceding days, many of the Quaker ideals struck me of particular interest, and I turned to my friend who lives there and remarked that of all the groups of which America is composed, I empathize with them the most.

When William Penn founded Pennsylvania as a colony, he took great pains to transpose upon it the ideals of the Quaker society to which he belonged. Aside from the obvious moral code of ethics, he made many practical improvements on society and law that make Pennsylvania today a bastion against the encroachments of civilization. Any man who walks through the streets mapped out by the planners passes from the hustle and bustle of the modern world into the tranquil shades of the past, under trees which once watched Quakers gather at the foot of their trunks.

Without a Quaker sensibility, America would be a different place. The Quakers lived a simplistic life without denying themselves of things that they wanted. A visit to Penn’s only home in the New World shows his concern for practicality and self-reliance but also a desire to make for himself and his family the life they deserved, despite being on the cusp of the wilderness. Quakers focused on things of true import- knowledge meant to elevate them and society, not simply for the sake of knowledge. They knew how to do a lot of things that seem largely lost to society yet built with surprising forethought about what might be. What Philadelphia lacks in convenience, it makes up for in charm. Penn’s Woods is truly a splendor.

From the Quakers we draw our moral strength. From their leaders we take many of our first laws. From their candor we become Friends, a land full of Freemen, Americans all, regardless of our origin or avarice. I appreciate their simplicity and morality.

Seize your opportunities.

17 June 2008

Revisionist History

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As part of my trip to Philadelphia this weekend, I made sure to visit Independence Hall. While I enjoyed the opportunity to see the building in which so much of our fundamental history took place, one thing left a bad taste in my mouth, and it wasn’t the cheese steak. It was the tour guide.

Being myself no stranger to American history and having recently read about the events in preparation for my visit, I stood aghast at inaccuracies in her presentation. Here’s the actual timeline of events:

2 July 1776: Congress votes to adopt the revision of Jefferson’s Declaration of Independence

4 July 1776: John Hancock and Charles Thompson affix their signatures to the document

2 August 1776: Most of the rest of the signatories sign the document

What did the tour guide say?

She says they voted on July 4th to adopt the document but that nobody signed it until August. Has she ever heard of Google? Even the Wikipedia article does a better job at getting it right, and she was an official of the National Park Service.

What really irked me about it is that I applied for a vacancy here about a year ago but was turned down, ostensibly for my lack of knowledge. I’m sure they provide the guides with something to prepare them in guiding tours. Obviously this woman never bothered to read it, and all the people in our tour group (circa 50) went away befuddled as I or believing something inaccurate. For shame. Even I could do better than that.

Note: some of the congressional delegates never did sign the declaration. I wonder if they wish they had. The following image is proprietary:


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16 June 2008

Are Pennsylvania Women Cuter?

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After my foray through the streets of Philadelphia on Friday, my friend asked me how I liked the city. I told him that there seemed to be a greater number of cute women in PA than in NV. He, wisely, laughed.

Fact of the matter is that I’ve only been to Philadelphia once in my life, and I’ve only been to Pennsylvania twice since the age of 15. The girls here, like anytime you go some place you’ve never been before, are “new and exciting”. This phenomenon accounts for why women of foreign ancestry or mixed racial heritage seem so appealing- they are exotic.

Evidence for the matter came as I stood in line at security while waiting to leave. Right in front of me stood a series of 20-30 high school girls headed for Mexico with their Spanish club. As I listened to them speak, I realized that PA has more than its share of the silly superfluous sychophancy which frustrates me with the girls in that age range from which I have to select.

12 June 2008

Gates of Prayer

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While looking through a list of books someone recommends I read, I came across one that ostensibly deals with the concept of why bad things happen to good people. Having been through and still in a phase of life where I feel like that, I feel no pressing need to read someone else’s rendition of belief, but it made me think a little more about the Job Phase of Mortality.

For most people, when the going gets rough, they quit. To be quite honest, this morning I really really wanted to NOT run. However, having gained three pounds on my camping trip to the Tetons last week, I knew I had no choice but to countermand that trend by keeping to my standards. In the end, if I don’t get what I want, it will not be because I did not do my part.

So, when the going gets rough, what do I do? I pray a lot. Sometimes I shake my fist in the air and ask God like in Fiddler on the Roof to go bless someone else for a while. After a long train of difficulties, most people prefer a period of respite rather than simply a continuity of blessings in the form of trials. If you’re not sure where the current suffering is going, perhaps, you’ve entered the Job Phase.

After being beset by trials, Job turned to prayer. Noticeably absent, however, are answers to those prayers. Now, I do not presume to know why God may choose to shut the gates of prayer when one approaches, but I have a theory. There comes a point when you have to learn to stand on your own.

It took my father a long time to teach me the basic coming of age traditions of boyhood. In particular, I found it difficult to ride a bike, and I used training wheels far past the period of prudence, until I came to rely on them. My father rightfully knew how continuity of the status quo would make me fit scorn for my fellows and pushed to remove them, running alongside to help keep me up. At least until one day, when he, like CS Lewis writes God must, “withdraw all the supports and incentives [and] leave the creature to stand up on its own legs—to carry out from the will alone duties which have lost all relish.”

One of my favorite short films illustrates the force of will. A man takes a shortcut across the desert in unfamiliar territory. After his car breaks down, he treks across the dunes looking for anything and comes across a pump in a dilapidated ghost town. Despite his efforts, the pump doesn’t start, and he plops down frustrated. At that time, he notices a note in the cup swinging beneath the spigot and reads it. IN the note, it tells of a bottle of water hidden beneath a rock and how anyone just needs to prime the pump and it will give plenty of water. The man ignores the note, taking the water and treks back into the desert. As he collapses and drops the bottle, the camera shows a drop of water building at the faucet he left behind.

Putting down our will as subservient to the will of the father is the true test of mortality. At the time of greatest need, even the Savior found the Gates of Prayer shut to him, to make it possible for him to demonstrate that his will was swallowed up in that of the father. Of the importance of the Job Phase, CS Lewis continues:

It is during such trough periods, much more than during the peak periods, that it is growing into the sort of creature He [God] wants it to be…. Our cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending, to do our Enemy's [God's] will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys.

When the Gates of Prayer close to you, how will you respond? Your salvation depends on your answer.
PhotobucketThis image is proprietary.