The morning was cool and foggy. I was with a small group of 3 other runners from the Early Air Running Club. We were keeping a decent pace, a little behind the lead group but managing to keep ahead of some stragglers. As we made our way along Main Street, the club's elder statesman and resident Economist (Bong) and I were chatting (well maybe it was more like he was chatting and I was trying to keep up). In a kindhearted effort to distract me from my struggle, Bong challenged me to admire the foggy road we are running along and write a description of it in my blog. I accepted the challenge and below is the result of my valiant effort. I, of course, took a few liberties with the accuracy of the account, mostly due to simple forgetfulness but occasionally in hommage to the Early Air Running Club tradition of embellishment for its own sake.
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It takes a concerted effort for me to pay attention to the surroundings when I'm running, particularly when I'm about halfway through the Saturday morning long run, today measuring about 12 miles. I am much more inclined to pay attention to the dull ache in my quads and shoulders (I know my running form needs some work) or consider whether the tightness in my chest is the first sign of a heart attack or the just the remnants of a hard upper body workout the previous morning. Sometimes I attempt to calculate my projected finish time given my current pace and remaining distance, but math and running are a hard combination. This morning, however, Bong provided a more interesting distraction. He turned toward me and gestured in front of us.
"Tim," he began, in his Korean accented professorial tone, "Look at the foggy road ahead of us. Look a the street lights and how they glow in the fog. It is beautiful this morning. You should write about this."
To develop the picture just a bit more, I'll mention that Bong is a 72-year-old South Korean man who might weight 110 pounds soaking wet. He is gliding along next to me, exerting as little effort as if he was strolling in a park. If recollection serves, he was either running easy because he was nursing a calf injury or because he liked running with the ladies in our little group... might have been both. Bong is capable outrunning almost any of us on most days and he's generally well ahead of me at this point in any run.
I look over at Bong and, in my somewhat cardio stressed and mildly oxygen-deprived state, reply: "Is that..." [breath, breath] "... a challenge..." [breath] "...Bong?". In the spirit of full disclosure, while I was responding to Bong I was simultaneously considering which excuse I could best use to convince the two women who were setting the pace for our little foursome to slow down without losing too much of my masculine dignity in the process...
Bong continued to reassure me "You are a good writer Tim. You should describe it in your blog". I looked at Bong, running a half step ahead of me on my right and I asked myself how it can be that Bong didn't even seem to be sweating. Thoughts do not always follow straight lines during the long runs...
I considered Bong's proposal. At that point in the run, I was pretty sure that if I mentioned both "chest" and "pain" in the same sentence I would earn a walk break of a block or two, but I also knew that a comment like that could also open another discussion I was looking to avoid. So I opted to just distract myself from the physical exertion by embracing Bong's challenge. I shook my head free of (some of the) cobwebs and looked around, and started paying attention to my surroundings so I could write about them later.
The road is typical of the main street in many small towns. The wide black macadam surface rises slightly and falls mirroring the contour of the gentle hills common in this area. The road is marked to allow two driving lanes in each direction with a center left-turn lane bordered by the requisite, recently painted yellow stripes. Both sides of the road have a sidewalk running in front of the line of small shops, gas stations, a few small professional offices. Every few blocks there may be a 1940's style, square, multi-story apartment building that had seen perhaps some better days but some of which are undergoing some significant renovation.
We are, as prudence would dictate, running in the road against the direction of traffic. There is little traffic at this hour of the morning, but the drivers that are on the road always seem to be in a hurry and distracted. As a runner, paying attention to these drivers is important. We could run on the sidewalk, and occasionally do, but that requires a runner to be more cognizant of foot lift and placement. It's common for a grey slab of cement to have settled into at a random angle as compared to its neighboring slabs or for a portion of the sidewalk to have disintegrated into a crumble of stone and cement dust. Either could ruin your day if you failed to see and adjust for it. The footing in the road is generally more predictable.
The section of Main Street we are running along is straight for several miles. We are running west and the sun is just beginning to overcome the darkness as it crests the hills in the east. The black macadam of the recently paved road rises slightly in front of us presenting an entrance into a tableau of hazy white fog, colored traffic lights, and the deep black road surface. I begin to see why this had captured Bong's attention. I don't recall ever noticing so many traffic lights before, their red, green and yellow lights layer into the distance, visible through the light fog like lighthouse beacons in the early morning twilight. We can only see a few blocks ahead before the fog thickened slightly into an eerie translucent curtain that seemed to retreat as quickly as we approached. There are runners from our group ahead of us, but they are on the other side of the curtain and unseeable through the morning mist.
On either side of the road, the fog is like a white and grey canvas behind the buildings that stand as the focal point of a painting. The heightened attention to the tableau brings details of the building architecture to my eye in ways I had never noticed before. Many buildings have simple orthogonal corners and utilitarian plate glass windows in front but I also notice an old church to my left with it tall brown, majestic steeple topped with a cross and then, next to it, an old house-turned museum with a black iron fence separating it from the sidewalk. Its large stone front porch, rounded tower corner, and slate walkway give it the look of a small castle fortress.
As we run past some more traditional office buildings and a derelict house, I noticed that the air is damp and nicely cool. My long sleeve running shirt was wet with sweat and this works cooperatively with the slight breeze, just perceptible, drifting across my arms and chest, carrying away the heat being generated by the exertion into the morning dew. I'm neither too warm nor chilled, just comfortable.
We pass along in front of Danny's Diner on the left. I've never eaten there. I'm told it's a nice oldfashioned diner. It is certainly a unique structure, clearly a diner. I think Danny is making preparations for the breakfast crowd as we pass. I can smell the distinct aroma of fried bacon and, though my mind may have added it all on its own, I just knew rich black coffee was ready to be served. All of a sudden I was very hungry and a swig of Gatorade from my hip flask just didn't seem to quite hit the spot. I promise myself that I earned bacon this morning and was going to make sure I received my reward.
After a half of a mile, my ability to maintain attention on anything was depleted. I knew there was only a mile and a half left in the run and I turned my mind to a fantasy of the bacon and eggs I would enjoy after a long hot shower.
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Well, there you go, Bong. How did I do? It probably still needs some editing, which it will get over time. None of my writing is ever really done. Now it's your turn.
Sunday, November 17, 2019
Sunday, June 23, 2019
Who "wins" an election?
In another of what I hope are rare politically oriented essays, I feel the need to talk about the language we use when we talk about our process of electing our political leaders. I am not advocating any particular political point of view (though I have strong opinions). My goal here is to consider the problem of terminology that seems to be rampant as we discuss our options for political leadership.
Far too many people have abdicated their responsibility to take an active role in selecting people to run our government. They prefer to understand our Democratic process as a spectator sport where citizens sit idly in the stadium and root for someone to win; cheering or jeering as their team strikes a blow or is set back by their opponent's actions or comments. People refuse to see that there are no opponents! There are only other choices for selection, each with their own points of view, strategies, and experiences.
This sports analogy of the election process is damaging. This perspective of the process as a tournament is, however, actively reinforced by the narcissistic candidates it attracts. These people believe the job is their prize to win. It is further bolstered by the media who, as a class of theoretically trained professionals, should know better but seem too lazy to actually consider the appropriate language and terminology to describe the process (presuming they understand the process for what it actually is). I'll set aside how the system of rewards in the news industry further contributes to the problem.
Far too many people have abdicated their responsibility to take an active role in selecting people to run our government. They prefer to understand our Democratic process as a spectator sport where citizens sit idly in the stadium and root for someone to win; cheering or jeering as their team strikes a blow or is set back by their opponent's actions or comments. People refuse to see that there are no opponents! There are only other choices for selection, each with their own points of view, strategies, and experiences.
This sports analogy of the election process is damaging. This perspective of the process as a tournament is, however, actively reinforced by the narcissistic candidates it attracts. These people believe the job is their prize to win. It is further bolstered by the media who, as a class of theoretically trained professionals, should know better but seem too lazy to actually consider the appropriate language and terminology to describe the process (presuming they understand the process for what it actually is). I'll set aside how the system of rewards in the news industry further contributes to the problem.
My question is simple, why do we continue to speak about an election as a competition rather than a selection? Even the Academy Awards changed their language years ago from "...the winner is..." to "...the Oscar goes to...". The candidates for elected office and the American media need to take a lesson. They need to come to the realization that treating our selection process like a sporting event is hurting our ability to obtain qualified candidates and leaders.
When the media reports election results by saying "...the Democrats have won the state of New York..." they don't get it. The media should use appropriate, precise language like "the citizens of New York have selected the candidate put forth by the Democratic party". The important difference in those statements should be more than evident to any trained, professional, political reporter. Unfortunately, professional reporters are no longer the norm. We are left with rumor-mongering gossip columnists who have little inclination for accuracy in fact or precision in language.
I don't want to hear about Republicans beating Democrats or how a candidate is going to win a state. That is simply not how this works. It's like talking about how the steak sandwich won my appetite over the chicken sandwich. The steak sandwich did nothing to entitle itself to the claim of a victory. It was simply selected from a set of alternatives because of its preferential attributes and seemed to me to be most inclined to do what I needed a sandwich to do with the minimum of downsides.
I don't want to hear about Republicans beating Democrats or how a candidate is going to win a state. That is simply not how this works. It's like talking about how the steak sandwich won my appetite over the chicken sandwich. The steak sandwich did nothing to entitle itself to the claim of a victory. It was simply selected from a set of alternatives because of its preferential attributes and seemed to me to be most inclined to do what I needed a sandwich to do with the minimum of downsides.
Let's be clear. The Constitution of the United States says "The House of Representatives shall be composed of Members chosen every second Year by the People of the several States...". Amendment 17 of the Constitution says "The Senate of the United States shall be composed of two Senators from each State, elected by the people thereof...". With respect to the president the Constitution says "The Person having the greatest Number of Votes shall be the President.." and goes on to describe how Congress will "chuse [sic]" the President in the event of a tie. As far as I am aware nowhere in the Constitution includes the phrase "the winner is the person who...". Our government is to be selected, not claimed as a prize.
A candidate for public office does not "win" anything. They are selected by the people to perform a service for the people. A college football player does not "win" a place on an NFL team. Sure, they make have worked hard to prepare, to be the best in their class, but in the end, they are selected or not selected. Likewise, a politician is a passive recipient of an honor that comes with a serious responsibility. To claim otherwise is at best a lazy use of language and at worst a demonstration of dangerous ignorance. Perhaps, if we clean up the way to talk about the process, it can become what was intended.
We, the citizens of the United States of America, select our leaders. Our candidates do not battle one another to determine a winner. Maybe addressing the way we refer to the process could be a first, small step toward re-engaging the electorate and restoring some dignity to our election process.
Sunday Morning on the Back Porch
Since we had the back deck rebuilt last summer, this is really the first opportunity I've had to sit here and relax on a Sunday morning. The back deck seems to be in a different world from the front porch. It seems that there is so much more activity here. This morning I'll just enjoy the scene. No deep thoughts for today.
I'm sitting in my favorite Adirondack chair which has been moved to the deck to accommodate the new porch swing. I can see almost the entire backyard from my seat. A family of deer saunter through the yard, occasionally stopping to sniff at the wet, soggy ground or munch on a low hanging branch.
The noise is amazing. I can count 4 or five different bird calls and even variations among them. It sounds a little like our dinner table when my wife and my daughters are carrying multiple simultaneous conversations. The birds are flying from tree to tree in a seemingly random sequence. They move too fast for my eye to catch their color. I think about how wonderful it would be to fly like that. Would it be scary until my skills developed? What would it look like approaching a tree, looking for the right branch to alight upon? I wonder if it's a complicated decision for a bird or if any old branch will do, like selecting a park bench to sit and rest for a few moments during a walk.
The temperature is a little chilly this morning, but it is seasonable. It's about 50 degrees, warm enough to sit comfortably, but cool enough to feel my fingers tingle ever so slightly if I don't warp them around a warm cup of coffee frequently enough to keep the chill at bay.
Now there is a sound, perhaps a squirrel arguing with a bird of some sort. No, the sounds are too synchronized. Maybe it's two squirrels doing their thing. The sound is a staccato, almost morris code cadence. One tone is low pitch and the other is much higher. It almost seems like a fast-paced, call/response communication. I cannot, of course, see any of it because the sound seems to be coming from deep within a small cluster of pine trees in the corner of the yard.
In the SouthWest corner of the yard, I see a patch of wonderful colors. Among the green bushes there are a few purple lilacs, some white lilacs, a bush with deep red leaves or berries (I cannot tell from here) and behind a large crabapple tree towers over the montage with its pink flowers. It is quite stunning.
The sun is just now high enough to cast its light over the trees to in the east. Long shadows appear on the lawn which now reflects multiple shades of green. It may be a very nice day today.
But, alas, my eye is also drawn to the work that is needed around the yard and I am realizing the time is near when I have to start to get showered and ready to go to church. I have enjoyed this morning and now I must move on with my day.
I'm sitting in my favorite Adirondack chair which has been moved to the deck to accommodate the new porch swing. I can see almost the entire backyard from my seat. A family of deer saunter through the yard, occasionally stopping to sniff at the wet, soggy ground or munch on a low hanging branch.
The noise is amazing. I can count 4 or five different bird calls and even variations among them. It sounds a little like our dinner table when my wife and my daughters are carrying multiple simultaneous conversations. The birds are flying from tree to tree in a seemingly random sequence. They move too fast for my eye to catch their color. I think about how wonderful it would be to fly like that. Would it be scary until my skills developed? What would it look like approaching a tree, looking for the right branch to alight upon? I wonder if it's a complicated decision for a bird or if any old branch will do, like selecting a park bench to sit and rest for a few moments during a walk.
The temperature is a little chilly this morning, but it is seasonable. It's about 50 degrees, warm enough to sit comfortably, but cool enough to feel my fingers tingle ever so slightly if I don't warp them around a warm cup of coffee frequently enough to keep the chill at bay.
Now there is a sound, perhaps a squirrel arguing with a bird of some sort. No, the sounds are too synchronized. Maybe it's two squirrels doing their thing. The sound is a staccato, almost morris code cadence. One tone is low pitch and the other is much higher. It almost seems like a fast-paced, call/response communication. I cannot, of course, see any of it because the sound seems to be coming from deep within a small cluster of pine trees in the corner of the yard.
In the SouthWest corner of the yard, I see a patch of wonderful colors. Among the green bushes there are a few purple lilacs, some white lilacs, a bush with deep red leaves or berries (I cannot tell from here) and behind a large crabapple tree towers over the montage with its pink flowers. It is quite stunning.
The sun is just now high enough to cast its light over the trees to in the east. Long shadows appear on the lawn which now reflects multiple shades of green. It may be a very nice day today.
But, alas, my eye is also drawn to the work that is needed around the yard and I am realizing the time is near when I have to start to get showered and ready to go to church. I have enjoyed this morning and now I must move on with my day.
Sunday, February 17, 2019
Free Government Programs
I don't normally gripe about politics online. I don't find it useful to scream my views of perceived injustice into the virtual ocean of the techno-sphere. When it comes to language and the way it influences our thinking, I find that I have to take a position. This blog is, after all, an exploration into writing, and I suppose more generally communicating.
So today I will make a request of the universe. It is simply that we all please stop using the word "free" when referring to anything related to any government program of any kind (e.g. the "Tuition-Free NY Excelsior Scholarship", "Free health care for the needy", "Free school lunches"). What does "Free" mean?
In most (maybe all) cases it would be most appropriate to replace the word "free" (which is used much too freely) with the words "taxpayer-funded". So instead of it being "tuition-free", we would say "taxpayer-funded tuition". "Free healthcare" becomes "taxpayer-funded healthcare". "Free School lunch programs" become "Taxpayer-funded school lunch programs".
Please understand (if you've bothered to get this far) that I am neither discouraging nor advocating the practice of taxpayer-funded programs here. That has to be done on an individual, program by program basis. Many tax-payer funded programs are critically important, helpful, appropriate and necessary. Some are wasteful, ineffective or maybe even counterproductive. In all cases though, the word "free" is, at least, misleading. It never, so far as I am aware, applies to government programs. "Free" relieves everyone of any responsibility for the cost and makes having a rational conversation about the cost and benefits of a program nearly impossible.
Of course, I completely understand why the word "free" is used if it is used intentionally. The marketing impact of this word has been studied for decades. It's used to predispose the listener to a particular point of view before a discussion starts. In today's vernacular, I suppose it would be called a program naming "hack". It's a way to cheat an inattentive listener (which it seems most people are these days) into a positive mindset. Everyone wants "free" things and sees no issue with others getting "free" things as long as the "free" things are available to everyone or, if not everyone at least me. In my way of thinking, that dubious use of language is not right. It is past time to return truth, accuracy, and precision to our discussions. This begins with paying attention to and correcting our use of terminology.
"If thought corrupts language, then language can also corrupt thought" - George Orwell
So today I will make a request of the universe. It is simply that we all please stop using the word "free" when referring to anything related to any government program of any kind (e.g. the "Tuition-Free NY Excelsior Scholarship", "Free health care for the needy", "Free school lunches"). What does "Free" mean?
In most (maybe all) cases it would be most appropriate to replace the word "free" (which is used much too freely) with the words "taxpayer-funded". So instead of it being "tuition-free", we would say "taxpayer-funded tuition". "Free healthcare" becomes "taxpayer-funded healthcare". "Free School lunch programs" become "Taxpayer-funded school lunch programs".
Please understand (if you've bothered to get this far) that I am neither discouraging nor advocating the practice of taxpayer-funded programs here. That has to be done on an individual, program by program basis. Many tax-payer funded programs are critically important, helpful, appropriate and necessary. Some are wasteful, ineffective or maybe even counterproductive. In all cases though, the word "free" is, at least, misleading. It never, so far as I am aware, applies to government programs. "Free" relieves everyone of any responsibility for the cost and makes having a rational conversation about the cost and benefits of a program nearly impossible.
Of course, I completely understand why the word "free" is used if it is used intentionally. The marketing impact of this word has been studied for decades. It's used to predispose the listener to a particular point of view before a discussion starts. In today's vernacular, I suppose it would be called a program naming "hack". It's a way to cheat an inattentive listener (which it seems most people are these days) into a positive mindset. Everyone wants "free" things and sees no issue with others getting "free" things as long as the "free" things are available to everyone or, if not everyone at least me. In my way of thinking, that dubious use of language is not right. It is past time to return truth, accuracy, and precision to our discussions. This begins with paying attention to and correcting our use of terminology.
"If thought corrupts language, then language can also corrupt thought" - George Orwell
A New Day Dawns
There is something special about sunrise. I sit here almost every Sunday morning in the winter, in my family room. When I sit down with my cup of steaming coffee and the modern equivalent of a newspaper (my Chromebook), it is dark and cold. I turn up the thermostat as I pass by and the furnace churns to life, pushing warm air along the floorboards and slowly driving out the chill that is left from the cold dark night. The process is slow and I imagine a magnificent struggle between the morning warmth and the evening chill. I have left my fortress of bed and blanket that protected me as I slept and I am in the middle of the fray. The rear guard of the morning chill lingers on my hands and face while the cavalry of warmth surrounds the enemy and takes away the prisoners.All the while, I sip my coffee and watch out the large windows into the yard. I watch this corner of my world go through a metamorphosis from the night's blanket of darkness and solitude to the hope and light of morning. It is a slow process that happens in an instant. There is the first hint of change in light, nearly imperceptible, and then, almost between breaths, the morning dawns and like water bursting through a dam, the light of the new day pours into the yard. I'm struggling to capture the wonder of this moment in words. There are others I'm sure who understand what I cannot describe adequately. I think it is known to a new mother, nursing her hungry newborn as she looks out the window through tired eyes and senses the hopefulness in the new day and is thankful for the tiny life that is now part of her's. The blessing of this transition from night to dawn is understood by the lonely person struggling to get through the night and, realizing the hardest moments are over, allows the light of the new day to lift his spirit and consider some hopeful possibilities ahead. This feeling I am failing to put into words is probably recognized by someone who was not well through the night and for whom the new day brings hope for rest, health and peace. It is the feeling granted to the young lovers, having spent the night discovering each other and are now reveling in this promise of a new day to share.
The first rays of sunlight on a new day will always inspire me, humble me, and remind me to be thankful for the darkness, without which there can be no dawn.
Tuesday, January 1, 2019
Goodbye 2018
Well, 2018, I see that it is almost time to say goodbye. It was a wonderful visit. I’m so glad you came to spend the time with us. I am sad to see you go. Your visit seemed to go by so quickly. All these visits seem to go quickly anymore. Even so, we managed to get a lot accomplished while you were here. Together we witnessed my daughter’s graduation day and the start of her career. This was also the summer of the family room renovation. You should feel privileged to have been around for the completion of that long-awaited project.
Yes, yes, I know that I should not measure the value of our time together simply by what we accomplished. I haven’t forgotten about all the fun we’ve had. I will cherish the time we spent sitting quietly, before the sunrise, just thinking about how the little girls in this house are growing into delightful young women, even in the short time you’ve been here. I haven’t forgotten grieving together as you wrapped your arms around some of my friends and mentors as they were called home. This has been a time of both great professional success while, at the same time, a struggle to maintain balance. Is this something I’ll ever learn to manage?
I see that there is another visitor on her way, perhaps a relative of yours? I hope she is as excited to be here as we are to have her. I imagine she'll bring more gifts to my family just as you did. The celebration of her arrival is planned for tonight. It won't be huge, those days seem to be behind me, but it will be just as hopeful as it was upon your arrival. I hope you will stay until then. That’s wonderful, I am so glad you are in no rush. We can sit and reminisce while we wait. Let me get a couple of beers and let’s sit back and enjoy these last hours together and cherish the visit we shared.
Yes, yes, I know that I should not measure the value of our time together simply by what we accomplished. I haven’t forgotten about all the fun we’ve had. I will cherish the time we spent sitting quietly, before the sunrise, just thinking about how the little girls in this house are growing into delightful young women, even in the short time you’ve been here. I haven’t forgotten grieving together as you wrapped your arms around some of my friends and mentors as they were called home. This has been a time of both great professional success while, at the same time, a struggle to maintain balance. Is this something I’ll ever learn to manage?
I see that there is another visitor on her way, perhaps a relative of yours? I hope she is as excited to be here as we are to have her. I imagine she'll bring more gifts to my family just as you did. The celebration of her arrival is planned for tonight. It won't be huge, those days seem to be behind me, but it will be just as hopeful as it was upon your arrival. I hope you will stay until then. That’s wonderful, I am so glad you are in no rush. We can sit and reminisce while we wait. Let me get a couple of beers and let’s sit back and enjoy these last hours together and cherish the visit we shared.
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