Reading Michael Sandel and Ready to Move On

My Couch.

For reasons and milestones I won’t reveal here — or dwell on any further — I’ve decided it is now or never.  Time to uncork the bottle, so to speak, and put a little panicked energy into things.

I have been engrossed with these thoughts for much of the day.  Obsessed to the point that I walked invisibly through a crowded neighborhood fair early and now almost day dreamed through a thunderstorm.  I even had trouble hitting a golf ball.

Clearly now is the time to act on decisions.   Now or never.

I titled this post with Michael Sandel and I cannot imagine why.  Perhaps he is in some way caught up in the malaise.  He strikes me as a rather dry, somber sort of guy.  Is he?  I don’t know.  I hear much about him and have read little things here and there.  I don’t know Michael Sandel.

For a little light reading, I am reading his recent book, What Money Can’t Buy, that’s all I know.  And so far I am only moderately impressed.  For something from a man of Sandel’s reputation, I find this book underwhelming so far.

I’m two-thirds through the book and it reads like a very basic essay on ethics with a dose of understated modal logic to brain it up a little.  And it feels presumptive, almost lazy.  Not deep and intense.

Among the things money can’t buy, for example, is a love of reading, Sandel argues…or seems to argue.  (That’s the nagging undertone of modality I sense.  His arguments come across a bit qualified, cautious, temporal.)

Sandel discusses programs that reward kids with money for finishing assignments, attending class, reading books and so and points out that this might teach responsibility to work (a job ethic, perhaps?) rather than a genuine love of learning.

But in the reading-for-money example, I think his criticism — if that’s what it is — were more focused on the benefits of learning to read for the sake of reading, his argument would be more persuasive and meaningful.

For example, isn’t it the case that someone who reads early and reads often evolves organically develops better reading and language skills generally?  The ability to interpret words and meaning skillfully is complex.  A mind trained to read for an external reward like money isn’t necessarily (that modal crap again) learning to read richly.  The creativity of reading and language matters beyond the written page, I think.  Where is a bright thinking like Michael J. Sandel on this line of thought and criticism?

Michael J. Sandel

It is a thought-provoking book and I think Sandel is right on the money — sorry — when he warns us that the tools of a market society have melded into a market society.  However, I hoped the book would dig deeper into the way society has changed, as he points out, from one that uses a market economy as a tool to one that lives as market society, where everything has a price and is assessed in commodity terms.

What does this change say about how our society functions politically today, for example?  That seems immensely prominent, but so far it isn’t discussed in any meaningful way in the book.  We’re given examples of the effects caused by market society, but no real discussion as to how it is changing us as a society and why it should matter.

Why, for example, are economic models for allocating human organs a bad thing?  How so in the way we organize ourselves as a society as a whole?  I wanted more discussion about this sort of thing…all the risks and benefits and why one choice should matter more than another.  Something with some meat.  Instead he argues points about fairness — as in paying to jump ahead in queues — and I think we can follow the argument of how this is unfair to those who cannot pay, but it doesn’t really get to how we got to this point as a society — where everything is for sale — and what the overall effect is of this market society behavior on our social structure as a whole.

But I’m not finished with the book.  I’ll probably end up writing a complete retraction.  But that’s ok.  I’m not finished with a few other things, too.  Time to get rocking.  The contemplative life is fantastic and not at all inconsistent with results in action.  Who’s got a bottle to uncork?  Come hither.  Help me write my strange little posts.  There’s a fresh storm brewing outside and I’m not missing this one.

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Should Kids Get Allowances? WCCO and a Good Question.

Recently WCCO broadcast a story in their Good Question series about whether kids should get an allowance.  Good topic, poorly executed however.

I haven’t children so you might think I am not the person the criticize the story, but keep an open mind.  I don’t think this is that complicated.

Reporter Heather Brown relied a Nicole Middendorf, a financial adviser, as her expert resource.  A financial adviser might not be the last person I would choose to answer a question about kids and allowances, but I don’t think she would be the first either.

What’s happening here is simple confusion that happens all the time.  We mistakenly treat kids as little adults, which they are not.  Nicole Middendorf, I presume, advises adults and as a professional financial adviser, she likely advises adults who already possess some degree of financial sophistication and experience.

Kids, on the other hand, are different.  They are kids.

Will giving this kid a quarter a day help?

There is no shortage of advice about kids, money, and allowances, most promote the positive benefits of teaching kids about money, but I sense that it is too easy to think that passing the buck — literally and figuratively — to kids will teach them more.

Lewis Mandell, for example, has researched the issue and found no simple correlation between allowances and financial literacy.  It is worth a look.

But back to WCCO.  Middendorf’s advice struck me as subjective and somewhat arbitrary.  Why should kids divide their allowance into thirds for spending, saving, and charity?  And starting with an allowance when a kid is in pre-school?  She talks about teaching kids the difference between “wants” and “needs”, if we start giving pre-schoolers cash are we introducing them to questions of want and need a bit prematurely?

Middendorf wasn’t alone in offering questionable advice.  Is it smart, for example, to give kids money you would spend on them anyway — presumably for things like clothes — and let them decide how to spend it?  What, exactly does that teach children?  And maybe more importantly, what does that approach teach kids about being a parent?

Kids are not adults, not even little adults, and the relationship between parents and their children should not be like a relationship between an employer and an employee.   There is a lot to consider about money, kids, and allowances, but I think this Good Question topic raised more questions than answered them.

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Late November

John Atkinson Grimshaw, A November Night, 1874

Late November and I couldn’t be happier.  I am in bed wearing an old pair of flannel pajamas and an alpaca stocking cap; my windows are open and outside the dark cold wind blows briskly in strong gusts, fluttering my old, torn curtains.  I love it.

And this is the time of year that usually marks beginnings and reconciliations.  I have written about this previously.  I’ll have to look.

This year I am especially eager for both things that are good and new and reconciliation with things that were good and now lost.  I feel optimistic.  Or maybe I am just naive.  Either way, I feel good.

Outside, however, police sirens are coming into the neighborhood and stopping at an address nearby.  It seems to happen often.  This is a good neighborhood and so I wonder…I wonder who might be having trouble on such a wonderful night.  Seems unbalanced and out of place somehow.  Certainly sad.

People are like that, too, turning away from good things standing before them, unable to see the promise.  I am grateful that I see beauty where others might not, like the beauty of a raw windswept night.  It isn’t cold and unforgiving, it is full of energy and comforting.

I like that.

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I Know the Day, But I Am Unsure of the Season

Crows in November

I am awake with the birds early this morning.  In fact a guy might think he were again young in springtime, but I know it isn’t spring.  Or do I?

Outside sounds like spring.  The birds there sing and tweet as if it were an early May morning and a season of worm-hunting and fly-catching were about to commence.  Just now, one giddy bird — and I mean just now — hit my bedroom window.  Birds like my bedroom, apparently…and I think they do.

For my part, fall has always been my spring season.  I am a little birdy, as in bird-like.  Good things start in the fall.  Always have, ever since my memories begin.

Jobs, luck, friendships, romance, school, new cars…all of these things almost exclusively begin in the fall for me; I cannot recall an exception.  In fact I get slightly nervous in the fall.  I know my life is safe in winter, spring, or summer, but if we are talking about the ultimate new beginning, I suppose dying would be it.

Imagine the irony if I catch myself on the other side one day blogging:  I always seem to slip into paradise in the fall.  Or maybe better, I always slip into paradise after the fall.

Well, let’s not find out quite yet.  I have a lot of unfinished work here.  First off, I could use a little of that autumnal luck that once upon a time seemed to come my way as readily as a November storm.  Let’s call out for it:  ”Here, Lucky, Lucky, Lucky…here boy.”

And work?  Let’s just see what luck has to say about that.  As I slip into the Willy Loman days, perhaps it is time to find a job.  Something exciting.  I’d like to raise chickens and be passionate about mushrooms.

Romance?  It’s fall.  My pheremones kick in.  I start tying a cloves of garlic around my throat as a preventive measure.  If I could only find someone who…well…could enjoy the birds, see the future, and trusted in good things, like luck and chilly autumn days.

School?  Perhaps a degree in architecture this time.

Friendships?  Who needs friends.  That’s what books and bars are for.  Right?

New car?  No, I like my old Ford Explorer.  It is the closest thing I have to an old boat and I like boats.  I am proud of it, in an awkward way.  She’s kind of like and old mule.   Works hard, steady, never complains — but requires attention and some maintenance — you can see what a guy might fall in love with his car, can’t you?  I think I’ll finally name the old Explorer.  Rocinante seems right.

I might be unsure where I fall in the seasons, but let’s hope it is fall.  I am in the mood for a new beginning.  Even the crows are circling now offering some encouragement.  A good omen.

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Preparing to Live In Post-Democratic America

I have offered a few tips here on A Little Tour in Yellow — mostly dealing with food and this one is more of the same – about how to live in a post-democratic America.  And I don’t mean to sound nihilistic,  but should Romney win and also get a Congress dominated by conservatives…well, think things are bad now?  We’re toast.

Among the biggest concerns that no one talks about is the courts.  We have it bad now with the Devil’s lazy henchmen currently serving in the Federal courts  – yes, I am talking about you Scalia, Thomas, et al – but a rookie like Romney might nominate a loon like Michele Bachmann to a federal court!  Or maybe Mary Pawlenty, wife of poor little Tim.  In fact you can count on Mary Pawlenty being appointed.  Bet the farm.

Yes, things look bad now, but they would be much, much worse.

Of course we would lose more than our rights and our government, we would lose the economic battle as well.  Conservatives, like liberals, might — and I mean might — know a little something about business — maybe we can give them that — but they don’t understand economics, especially macroeconomics, and business and economics are two different things.

The economic winners in places like China will demand more and more of the world’s resources and with us getting less and less it will become necessary to learn to live with less.  So I am preparing now.

Today I stopped at a grocery store and shopped as if I were in the post-democratic future.  First I limited my shopping to $10 and tried to get enough for a couple days.  My basked was half-filled with off-brand products of things like potato flakes, canned vegetables, and some macaroni and cheese.  There were some tempting “meat products”, but I was a long way from home and didn’t want the soy and wheat to sprout before I got to a freezer.

Tonight I enjoyed a mix of potato flakes and corn.  You know…it wasn’t bad.  I splurged with some butter, however, which might be cheating and not fully living the post-democratic American dream.  In any case, it is a good idea to start eating this way, because … well, you never know.  And don’t think it can’t happen.  Ask millions who already know.

And of course I sound like an ass.  I hope I do.  This isn’t supposed to be funny.  Many millions of people in the United States are grateful for even my paltry make-believe pantry.  For them it is not make believe.  Keep in mind that the poverty rate in the United States is going up, not down.  The yuppies of the past are being replaced by older Americans – and not so old for those who won’t even get a chance — who are learning to do more with less.

Is it government’s job to fix this?  You know, to some extent, the answer is yes.

We don’t have to keep punching holes in a sinking ship.  Government has policy tools it can use to stimulate economic growth.  The United States has the Federal Reserve, assigned to manage these things from a monetary angle.  Today they did what they need to do — they did the right thing — and pushed some money into the system.

Overall government can and should support programs and infrastructure that put a foundation beneath its citizens (i.e., workers) and business (i.e., job creators).  Government can also hire talented people to administer these programs, build the infrastructure, and maintain the business of government.  Public jobs should not be a disgrace.  In these key ways, government has a positive role serving the economic interests of the country.

In my (perhaps cynical) post-Democratic America (I should be more fair), do we expect further investment in the common good?  Come on!  Fat chance.  Even in this country’s relatively strong years (cf. the Clinton years) we cut and didn’t reinvest our good fortune.  In good times and in bad we have been dismantling our shared, public investments in our common assets.

The race to the bottom will end somewhere and I’m not sure why we should look forward to where that ends up to be.  If we continue to disinvest in our common assets, don’t expect the same standard of living that raised today’s conservatives.  No, the good schools, functioning infrastructure, sound regulation, and so forth required a public investment that people today seem unable and unwilling to understand.  And the private sector won’t pick up the slack.  These investments are called public goods for a reason.

So as our rights dwindle, our economy tanks, and our treasure flows increasingly overseas, I simply think it is a good idea to look at a bleak future with eyes wide open.  Practice, prepare, and practice some more.  Maybe less will feel like more and we can celebrate with a swig of victory gin.

Potato flakes and corn.  Or…how about this?…we could stop voting against our best interests!

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Simple Work Made Complicated

FAX (Photo credit: Independent Curators International)

Someone is going to get hurt.  And it isn’t going to be me.

I know we are all special in our special way.  We are all God’s children, even Republicans.  But I don’t think there is a gentle explanation for the frustration caused by people who can unnecessarily complicated even the simplest task.

Consider the fax machine.

What is so difficult about sending paperwork from Point A to Point B for approval and then asking for that fax to be returned from Point B back to Point A?  We’re on not our second attempt here and not on our third, but we are now attempting to send a fax from Point A to Point B and get it returned for the FOURTH GODDAMN TIME!

Look, this is something your 5 year-old kid could do…and probably does do.  (Did you really order that Let’s Rock Elmo song book?)  Apparently faxing is…I don’t know…passe?  We are losing our competitive edge, people.

I had the fax sent with careful instructions, which included the line “Return all four pages of the agreement to me at …”   Guess what I got.  I got one page and it wasn’t even one of the pages of the agreement!

So I had the fax sent again with big Xs and “Sign Here” marked boldly on the agreement.  Guess what I got.  One page.  They lost pages 3 through 4.

Sent again.  This is attempt three.  I had our assistant call when we faxed.  Do you have the fax?  Yes.  Good.  Can you sign the fax now and send it back?  Yes.  Good.

Guess what happened.   Ten minutes pass.  Fifteen.  Half an hour.  So I ask the assistant to call again.  ”Oh, we’re sorry.  Got distracted.  Just a minute.  I’ll send it now.”  Ten minutes pass.  Fifteen.  Half an hour.

Ok, what is complicated about this?  Right now — with you patiently waiting – I will go through the motions of signing a simple contract, dial a number on a fax machine, place the document in the fax machine, and hit send.  I am going to time it.  I am even going to sip coffee between each step to more accurately reflect real life.  Ready?  Here I go.

La de da de da…La de da de da…La de da de da…La de da de da…La de da de da…La de da de da…

Done!

I took my time and I still completed the task in 34 seconds.

Hours have passed since this all began and I’m twitching just a bit.  I am not thinking good thoughts.  The whole point of this was saving time.  I could have crawled to this office and had better results.  So I asked my office to send the paper work ONE MORE TIME and I this time I got on the phone.  Do you have the fax?  Yes.  Good.  Can you sign each page now?  Yes.  Can you send the fax now?  Yes.  Thank you.

Guess who just called…Literally, called just now…it was my office.  Guess what they just received.  ONE FUCKING PAGE OF THE GODDAMN AGREEMENT!

Honestly, I am going to quit.

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I Want His Job!

Tucker Tracking a Scent

Don’t think there isn’t something for everyone.  Look at this guy!  His name is Tucker.  (Perfect.)  Look at his enthusiasm!  An expert at his craft — in fact, likely the only one on the entire planet doing what he is doing — he has plenty to be happy about.  I want his job.

Tucker’s credentials are unknown.  He comes from a “mysterious past” wandering the streets of Seattle to “become an unexpected star in the realm of canine-assisted science.”  Who wouldn’t like a mysterious past to be overlooked, even just once.  Instead I am asked for my past in triplicate if I should try to become an unexpected star of even the dimmest sort.  Tucker, on the other hand, bounds onto the stage with no questions asked.

Tucker calls the shots.  His boss says he leans to the left, leans to the right, twitches his ears, and sometimes just plops back down on his green mat with his head between his paws.  Tucker is “very subtle,” we’re told, and for that he gets a treat and toy.  When I am “very subtle” at work it usually means a coworker took my double entendre a little too personally, if you know what I mean.

Tucker is boss and boss!  Try to tell me you have it that good.  Try.

Look at him, straining at the leash, eager to fall face first into his work.  Tell me the last time someone had to tether a nylon leash to your neck to control your enthusiasm.  At work, I mean.  (Your mysterious social engagements don’t matter here.  We’re in Tucker’s world for the moment!  Lead the way, Tucker!)

And Tucker’s enthusiasm is contagious.  How many exclamation points can I cram into one post?  Wow!!

Alas, Tucker appears to have cornered the whale scat sniffing market.  But don’t despair.  We each and all have our unique strengths.  Tomorrow is Labor Day.  Perhaps the day off should be spent seeking the inner Tucker.  After all, why shouldn’t we all work with exuberant, wild abandon…Like Tucker?

Go Tucker!

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I Did The Right Thing

I find myself staying awake so I can fall asleep.  I am doing that more and more.  I’d say it is a mode of existence, but that sounds like a cliché, and the last thing you want to be is cliché, especially right out of the chute.  Best to keep a level coolness, if not aloofness, about it all.

But sleep is a cherished escape, and seeking it can be gained by denying it, like so many things we seek and cherish.

No matter…irrelevant.

I did do the right thing today, though.  I left the windows open, all of them, while the sun still shined too brightly.  And I walked away.

Tonight then, when I returned to my rooms, wide swaths of moonlight – like ghostly sunshine – glowed brightly against the otherwise blue-black darkness of everything.  Crickets rang out from everywhere, from all corners of my rooms, and loudly enough to shut out any lingering distraction.  And as if on a cue, a puff of wind billowed a curtain hanging in a window, marking measures of the ethereal that flowed around me.  And right there I could have been anywhere…

So one has to wonder then, why seek any escape?

Brideshead Revisited or The Rum Diary?

I thought I might write about tonight’s walk through the neighborhood and the woods.  I have been walking a great deal, so much, in fact, that my feet are painful with blisters and bruises.  I seem to have much on my mind…and so I walk.  And such nice walks, too.

This evening’s highlights include a beautifully calm lake reflecting a late evening blue sky and a family of deer.

Doe and fawn ate quietly, perfectly in the manner of Bambi, an early scene at least, while the buck, about 40 yards distant down the trail, pretended not to care.  Not about the two other deer, not about me, not about anything.

No pictures of the deer.  I need a better camera.

I also thought I might write about the Affordable Care Act, but I would only be repeating endless chatter about that…and be lost.  So I thought I might write about that shameful dingbat, Michele Bachmann, Minnesota’s disgrace, but picking at her stupidity has lost its appeal; there’s no sport in it.  She opens her mouth and it is plain stupid, not even remotely funny any longer.

Bachmann “CRAZE” (Photo credit: Mr_CRO)

Bachmann promised today that repealing “Obamacare” would ensure that the economy would create millions of well-paying jobs.  Really, Michele?  We don’t have Obamacare now, where the hell are the jobs?  Republicans and their endless excuses.  We all grew up with bratty children like this, didn’t we?  Why the hell do we elect them to important public office…or any office, for that matter?  The world needs ditch diggers, after all.

Overall I feel like I am at a crossroads of some sort.  I might be a shade beyond my 39th year, but not dramatically so, and so I thought I might revisit Brideshead Revisited, where our protagonist deals with such a crossroads.  And it is a good read.

Then I thought…what about The Rum Diary, Hunter S. Thompson‘s tale o a man who, as an adult, finds himself with uncertainty.  It is full of drama and a late escape, if I remember correctly.

I doubt either would be a very appropriate model to follow, not in this era or at my stage in life, but it is good to think about.

And guess what I found as I thought about my choices!  A fantastic television series to fill the lack I endure now that I have completed all of the available Columbo episodes and have watched All Creatures Great and Small often enough to be thought strange.

So to hell with any important life decisions in the here and now, we have a wonderful television series to watch.  Advice to my many, many readers, however.  Read Waugh’s novel prior to watching the television series.  I simply think it is key to experience the original before turning to an interpretation.

Let me check back with you later.  I have to get to episode 2 yet tonight.  (There is a movie adaptation of The Rum Diary now, too, right?  Yes, there is…much to do.)

English: Madresfield Court Much of the picturesque moated Madresfield Court is Victorian with some of the Elizabethan building surviving, though the house is on a site of an early building. The house has never been bought or sold and has remained in the same family for twenty-eight generations, some 1,000 years. In the 1930s, the author, Evelyn Waugh was a regular visitor to Madresfield Court, thus providing the inspiration for his book, ‘Brideshead Revisited’. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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Silent Night, Owly Night, Part 1

A different sort of owly night tonight.

Down by the lake this evening an old couple sitting together on a bench stopped me in my tracks.  They were so simple and yet so present that they could not be missed.  And their presence resonated with me, my moods and thoughts, in particular.

It was a beautiful thing.  A cool wind blew steadily and strongly across the lake, and she sits bundled in a light coat and scarf.  She shields herself from the wind by leaning in against him and talks to him lightly, looking up into his face as he gently nods and watches the lake.  And I wonder it happens.  How, exactly, does that happen?  With all the people and activity breezing by them, they are perfectly and happily alone together, entirely content.  How does that happen?

I have seen young lovers at the lake many times, but never do I think I have seen a couple so easily at peace.  Such an owly couple, they are!  So calm and controlled, so self-assured.  And it made me think that love — your true love — comes with time and maturity, and maybe just a bit of effort.  How rare that seems to be.  How rare indeed.  It is something to chew on.

The couple soon stood and left, and when they left, they very much left together.  They walked across the street behind them, got into a sensible car, and I haven’t any doubt they are still together now and will always be together regardless of whether one or the other is near or far, there can be no doubt about this.  Even the end must seem sweet to them.

Yesterday I wrote about owly of another kind, the ornery kind that goes storming off in irritable disgust.  I focus on this because we all deal with the all-too-human owly.  Frankly I don’t believe unhappiness always begets more unhappiness anymore than I think a moment of happiness is a guarantee of unbroken bliss.

This old couple was a gift tonight, an answer to those thoughts.  Certainly it is a gift of time and experience, both good and bad, that gives them the comfort they share alone together.  It seems clear to me that owly — both in the calm sense and in the cantankerous — work together and form something of a gestalt, a wholeness that is more than its parts.

Very simply, the irritable owly can coexist with the calm owly and form something other than either one or the other.

My walk in the woods felt sobering and detached.  It fit the mood perfectly as a mix of sadness and optimism.  I like the woods.  A peaceful place to think.  Tonight my thoughts did not rest, however.  The old couple was a touchstone which let many pieces of thought and experience fall — not always comfortably — together.  It never hurts to see the possible and sometimes that is a matter of first giving up the impossible.

Above all else, however, one needs to be open to what is possible.  I cannot imagine the old couple being where they are today if one were naively optimistic and the other stubbornly unsure.  The two must mix and mingle and that comes with looking forward and accepting the possible.

The Sweet Pea

See how easy it is?

Well, ok…perhaps not easy…

Staying with the couple — I cannot help myself — if you are going to be both yourself and something more than yourself, you would need to accept the possible in the other, right?  I think it is the same with just about anything.  Easy in theory, complicated in practice, but straight-forward either way.

Part 2, by the way, is nothing but an easy walk in the woods and moments sitting in the sunshine staring at sailboats.  (Perhaps more on that later.)

Somehow it will form a whole, I’m sure it will.

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