JanerBlog

Good Day, eh?

Today was a Good Day.

Brother Tom put an offer on the house he wanted, and it got accepted. Looks like he's going to get it! Happy, happy, happy. All around happy. He deserves this house in more ways than I can tell about. I was literally bouncing with glee all over the livingroom. Paul saw.

The second good thing that happened was that B invited me to have coffee with one of her students. She'd had me come in and speak to her class about comic books this last Monday, and she felt that one student in particular really got what I was saying and would benefit from speaking more closely with me. He's also part of her Poetry Slam class on Saturdays, so we met after the class and went out to Rocket Star.

The student, whom I'll call J, was an absolute privledge to speak with. Have you ever spoken with someone who gives you their complete attention? J did. You could tell that he was listening to every word that Becky and I were saying, processing it, putting it into his mind for safekeeping. He fixes you with his big deep eyes, and listens -- doesn't stare at his hands, doesn't look out the window -- he gives you every bit of his consciousness. I say this with a note of awe, not sarcasm, because it's a very rare thing to see a person -- of any age, let alone someone J's age -- really listen to you that deeply. It's deep on a lot of levels -- and it keeps you humble and honest because you know he's hearing every word you say, and he's gonna smell BS the instant he hears it. You speak your deep heart with a person like that, because you knows he'll take it seriously.

It was sheer joy talking to J, and my heart is still floating now, hours afterwards. It's so rare that you see someone who's just ... got it. J is so full of potential, so full of powerful emotions and thoughts and opinions, that he needs a constructive outlet lest he self-destruct. (boy, do I know that feeling.) Becky's helping him channel some of it through the Poetry Slam, but I think J's bound for greatness if he can just find the proper focal point for his considerable intellect. Right now he's a firehose, blasting out in all directions. If he can focus that blast into a water-laser, he could cut plate steel.

We talked at length about his situation, his poetry, his friends, and how he's having trouble fitting in to his culture. In music, in the media, in the public eye, he's seeing representations of young men like him that he doesn't like. B and I told him over and over that that's why he's so important, why his voice is so necessary, so needed. Very few people are saying the things that he needs to hear, the things that he's feeling. He hears a silence, feels an absence. We tell him that others hear it too, and that he can speak his voice and fill that silence. Some may not even be aware of that absence until they hear someone speak to it. J can be that voice, I'm sure of it. I don't know the specifics, or in what format, but I truly hope that he can find his own way to speak out.

The thing that gets me about J is that I get the feeling that he's listening and speaking to B and me as though we were possibly the only people who'd ever stopped to talk to him on this level. And that makes me very sad. Anyone who listens to J for more than five minutes can tell you what an incredibly intelligent and empathic young man he is -- and the thought that others have looked past him makes me crazy. I can also now see more and more why Becky does the job that she does, why she puts up with all the students who give her grief. If you only had one student like J in a semester, it'd all be worth it. (This is not to say that there were not plenty of other fantastic students in B's class, quite the opposite. When I was there on Monday, I was blown away by all the students who were really grokking where I was coming from. All these highly-receptive antennae, pointed right at me. It was like Radio Free Jane.)

One of the things I gave J was a quote that I keep framed and on my desk in my studio. It must be a fairly obscure quote, because just now, googling, I could not find the quote in its entirety anywhere. I keep the quote within eyesight of my workspace because from the moment that I read it, some twelve years ago, I said "That's what I want my books to be." It's from British poet Denise Levertov:

"I do not believe that a violent imitation of the horrors of our times is the concern of poetry. Horrors are taken for granted. Disorder is ordinary. People in general take more and more 'in their stride' -- hides grow thicker. I long for poems of an inner harmony in utter contrast to the chaos in which they exist. Insofar as Poetry has a social function it is to awaken sleepers by other means than shock."

Awaken, sleepers. Talk to each other. Listen to each other. Give each other your full attention. Talking to J today was as good for me as I hope it was good for him. These are the things that keep my candle lit, and keep me from cursing the darkness.

(Special bonus thanks to Prof. Jeff Duncan of EMU for giving me that quote.)

Happy Dance.

While Becky and J and I were talking, a complete stranger came up and told us that he couldn't help but overhear our collective conversation and that we sounded just like he did twenty years ago. "This isn't the part where you tell us how you got your soul crushed, is it?" I asked. "No, just the opposite," he said, and handed me a note written -- ironically -- on the back of a Moped Army Comic Flyer: Operating Manual for Spaceship Earth by Bucky Fuller. "This book will make you happy and make you dance," he said.

A Social Justice Quiz: Twenty Questions

- by Bill Quigley

1. In 1968 the minimum wage was $1.60 per hour. How much would the minimum
wage be today if it had kept pace with inflation?

2. In 1965, CEOs in major companies made 24 times more than the average
worker. In 2003, CEOs earned how many times more than the average worker?

3. The US is composed of 3,066 counties. In how many of the nation's 3,066
counties can someone who works full-time and earns the federal minimum wage
afford to pay rent and utilities on a one-bedroom apartment?

4. How much must the typical US worker must earn per hour hour if they
dedicate 30% of their income to housing costs.

5. How many million workers in the US earn poverty-level wages of less than
$8.20 an hour?

6. What are Alabama, Arkansas, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Maine, Minnesota,
Mississippi, Nebraska, North Dakota, Oregon, South Dakota and Tennessee?

7. What are Delaware, Hawaii, Montana, New Hampshire, New Mexico, Rhode
Island, Vermont, and West Virginia?

8. In 2001, the average financial wealth for black householders was about
what % of the average for white households?

9. The median financial wealth for blacks is how much of the corresponding
figure for whites?

10. Over the entire 28 year history of the Berlin Wall, 287 people perished
trying to cross it. In the ten years since the Clinton administration
implemented the current U.S. border strategy with Mexico, how many people
have died trying to cross?

11. Where does the US rank worldwide in the imprisonment of its citizens?

12. In 2004, the direct reported US military budget was how much for each
second of the year?

13. In 2003, the US military budget was how many times larger than the
Chinese budget, the second largest spender?

14. In 2003, the US military budget was how many times as large as the
combined spending of the seven so-called "rogue" states (Cuba, Iran, Iraq,
Libya, North Korea, Sudan and Syria)?

15. The difference in income per head between the richest nation and the
poorest nation in 1750 was about 5 to 1. Today the difference between the
richest nation and the poorest nation is what?

16. Of the 6.2 billion people in the world today, how many live on less than
$1 per day, and how many live on less than $2 per day?

17. The richest 1% in the world receive as much income as what percentage of
the poorest?

18. The Congress under President Bush has been more generous in helping poor
countries than under President Clinton. In 2003, the US increased official
development assistance to poor countries by one-fifth. Where does the US
contribution rank in the top 22 countries in proportion to our economy?

19. Americans give how much per day in government assistance to poor
countries?

20. Americans spend how much on soft drinks each day?

ANSWERS

1. The minimum wage would be $8.70 today if it had kept pace with inflation.
Brennan Center, NYU Law School, November 3, 2004.

2. In 1965, CEOs in major companies made 24 times more than the average
worker. In 2003, CEOs earned 185 times more than the average worker. "Wages"
in State of Working America 2004-2005, Economic Policy Institute,
www.epinet.org

3. In four of the nation's 3,066 counties can someone who works full-time
and earns the federal minimum wage afford to pay rent and utilities on a
one-bedroom apartment. New York Times, "Study Finds Gap in Wages and Housing
Costs," December 25, 2004.

4. In fact, the typical US worker must earn $15.37 an hour if they dedicate
30% of their income to housing costs. New York Times, "Study Finds Gap in
Wages and Housing Costs," December 24, 2004.

5. How many people in the US earn poverty-level wages of less than $8.20 an
hour? More than 30 million workers. William Quigley, ENDING POVERTY AS WE
KNOW IT: Guaranteeing A Right to A Job at a Living Wage, 24 (Temple 2003).

6. What are Alabama, Arkansas, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Maine, Minnesota,
Mississippi, Nebraska, North Dakota, Oregon, South Dakota and Tennessee? The
total population of these states represents the number of people in the US
living below the official poverty line. William Quigley, ENDING POVERTY AS
WE KNOW IT: Guaranteeing A Right to A Job at a Living Wage, 23-24 (Temple
2003).

7. What are Delaware, Hawaii, Montana, New Hampshire, New Mexico, Rhode
Island, Vermont, and West Virginia? The total populations of these state
populations must be added to the states above if you count all the people
below 125% of the official poverty line, a total of 22 states. William
Quigley, ENDING POVERTY AS WE KNOW IT: Guaranteeing A Right to A Job at a
Living Wage, 23-24 (Temple 2003).

8. In 2001, the average financial wealth for black householders was about
12% of the average for white households. "Minorities," in State of Working
America 2004-2005, Economic Policy Institute, www.epinet.org

9. The median financial wealth for blacks was $1,100, less than 3% of the
corresponding figure for whites. "Minorities," in State of Working America
2004-2005, Economic Policy Institute, www.epinet.org

10. Over the entire 28 year history of the Berlin Wall, 287 people perished
trying to cross it. In the ten years since the Clinton administration
implemented the current U.S. border strategy with Mexico, more than 2,500
people have died trying to cross. Wayne Cornelius, director of the Center
for Comparative Immigration Studies at UC San Diego. Marc Cooper, "On the
Border of Hypocrisy," December 5, 2003, LA Weekly.

11. Where does the US rank worldwide in the imprisonment of its citizens?
First. The US imprisons over 700 persons per 100,000. Russia is second with
584. Sentencing Project, Facts About Prisons and Prisoners.
www.sentencingproject.org

12. In 2004, the direct reported US military budget was over $399 billion,
$12,000 a second. www.globalissues.org

13. In 2003, the US military budget was more than 8 times larger than the
Chinese budget, the second largest spender. www.globalissues.org

14. The US military budget was more than 29 times as large as the combined
spending of the seven "rogue" states (Cuba, Iran, Iraq, Libya, North Korea,
Sudan and Syria). Even if you add China and Russiaís military spending to
that of the seven potential enemies, all nine nations together spent $116.2
billion, 27% of the U.S. military budget. The US military budget is more
than the combined spending of the next twenty three nations.
www.globalissues.org

15. The difference in income per head between the richest nation and the
poorest nation in 1750 was about 5 to 1. Today the difference between the
richest nation, Switzerland, and the poorest nation, Mozambique, is about
400 to 1. (David S. Landes, THE WEALTH AND POVERTY OF NATIONS, xx, W.W.
Norton 1998).

16. Of the 6.2 billion people in the world today, 1.2 billion live on less
than $1 per day, 2.8 billion live on less than $2 per day. 2002 UN Human
Development Report.

17. The richest 1% in the world receive as much income as the poorest 57%.
2002 UN Human Development Report.

18. The Congress under President Bush has been more generous in helping poor
countries than under President Clinton. In 2003, the US increased official
development assistance to poor countries by one-fifth. Where does the US
contribution rank in the top 22 countries in proportion to our economy?
Last. Nicholas D. Kristof, "Land of Penny Pinchers," New York Times, January
5, 2005.

19. Americans on average give how much per day in government assistance to
poor countries? 15 cents. Nicholas D. Kristof, "Land of Penny Pinchers," New
York Times, January 5, 2005.

20. Americans spend how much on soft drinks each day? 60 cents. Nicholas D.
Kristof, "Land of Penny Pinchers," New York Times, January 5, 2005.

"I am convinced that if we are to get on the right side of the world
revolution, we as a nation must undergo a radical revolution of values. We
must rapidly begin the shift from a "thing" oriented society to a
"person-oriented" society. When machines and computers, profit motives and
property rights are considered more important than people, the giant
triplets of racism, materialism, and militarism are incapable of being
conquered. A true revolution of values will soon cause us to question the
fairness and justice of many of our past and present policies." Martin
Luther King, Jr., "A Time to Break Silence," April 4, 1967.

Make Something Up.

So my mom and I were talking about D's not-so-recent colonectomy.

Mom: You know, I asked my friend the nurse about that once -- when they do abdominal surgery, do they have a special way of putting your intestines back in after they're done?

Me: Yeah, I always wondered that too. Do they have a map or something?

Mom: No, she says they just stuff them back in there and hope for the best.

Me: WHAT?! Oh, God, don't tell me that! Make something up. Tell me the doctor uses the diagram in Gray's Anatomy or something.

Mom: That's exactly what I said. What happens, the doctors just think your guts will eventually figure out how they need to be?

Me: I'd even feel more comfortable if they told me the surgeon read your fortune on them before putting them back in. Jeez! "Stuff" is not a viable medical procedure.

Kindred Spirits

Had an extra-good phone conversation with Layla last night. Afterward, I tried to explain to Paul why we enjoy each other's input so much. I think it's because we really grok each other on a level that most people can't get to. Our circumstances growing up were radically different and yet creepily similar at the same time. We both have roughly similar morals and worldviews, and our imaginations spin in the same circles. We sometimes wonder how the other one knows our brains.

I mean, how many women grow up almost entirely self-sufficient in an isolated rural setting complete with farm animals, with similar family structure issues, hyperactive storytelling imaginations, and have read all the same fantasy and science fiction books?

Two peas in a four-thousand-mile-long pod, I tell ya. Layla, you're a treasure, and I'm so glad we can yammer at each other.

WAHOO!

Biodiesel comes to Ypsi/Ann Arbor!

You can now buy B20 at the Meijer's gas station at the corner of Carpenter and Ellsworth. Yay! Now I have two places to easily fill up SilverBean when I'm in Ann Arbor.

What TC Boyle did to my head, part the first.

Ever read a book that completely shoots a hole through the way you look at things? I just finished one, albeit on audiobook: The Tortilla Curtain by T. Coraghessan Boyle. Since this is going to be a long enough entry as it is, I will leave the summary and review of the book to the professionals; what I want to do here is talk about what it did to my headspace. Let me preface this essay/ramble/whatever by saying to all my friends: I'm fine, just fine. I'm not dissolving into angst or worry; someone's just violently shaken my Personal Philosophy Snowglobe. All the glittery bits are still floating around, and I want to observe what popped out from behind the little plastic house before it goes into hiding again.

The formula of the book is very similar to another book of Boyle's that I just finished, Drop City: Take two groups from opposite ends of a sociopolitical spectrum and set their lives in tight orbit around one another to illustrate their likenesses and differences. Some have argued that Boyle's books suffer from unrealistic, too-coincidental plots: I would argue that his novels occupy a genre I like to refer to as "The Modern Fable". The example that immediately springs to mind when I use that phrase is The Shawshank Redemption by Stephen King: the plot is just unrealistic enough to be utterly improbable, but the plot isn't the point; the point of the story is the characters' progression and response to the tragedies and successes they experience. Vonnegut's books are extreme versions of The Modern Fable, and in some ways, Cider House Rules qualifies as well. The stories are just "truther than strange" enough to grab your attention and not let go -- and while the author has your full attention, he can slip important philosophies and ideas in under your radar.

Tortilla Curtain appears, on its surface, to be a modern rephrasing of The Grapes of Wrath, which I also read earlier this year. I think that's what initially started to rattle me: the scary thing is, for the first time in my life, I found myself identifying more with the Haves than with the Have Nots. When I listened to Grapes, I was riveted, my stomach churning as the Joads' lives went from bad to worse. With Tortilla Curtain, I found enough commonality with the Yuppie couple that I wasn't able to completely brand Delaney as the bad guy. I know; it's terrifying. Perhaps it is as Virus says, "As soon as you buy a house, you become a Republican."

As the story unfolded, some of Delaney's reactions, ridiculous as they were, sounded all too familiar to me. I think that's what got me -- I've heard some of these same thoughts in my own head, and seeing them come out of this self-absorbed misguided weenie really hit close to the bone. The scene that I'm specifically thinking of involves Delaney (a city-bred amateur naturalist and wildlife columnist for an outdoor magazine) hiking down into a canyon on his daily outing. There he finds the trashed-out encampment of our other two protagonists, the Mexican immigrant couple --granted, the couple didn't do most of the trashing; they were living behind a junked-out car and the refuse from countless others before them -- and is brought short by the devastation dealt to the former beauty of the canyon. The scene was meant to show how heartless and blind Delaney was, too self-absorbed with observing his scrub jays and horned lizards to take notice of the human plight -- but damn it, his point is not completely invalid. This exact scene has happened to me a couple of times: in Gallup Park there's a railroad trestle where a boyfriend and I made out once; nearby, there's a bit of shoreline where I used to walk to get away from the joggers and bikers on the trail. Now, both have been utterly trashed by homeless encampments. I hate feeling like a heartless bastard because I miss being able to go to those places with fear in my heart -- places that once seemed safe and secret now have an air of violation about them.

I understand the enormity of the situation: our system is so messed up that the majority of homeless have so few options that sleeping in the woods seems to be the most viable. The mentally ill are turned out into the streets, rents are so sky-high in Ann Arbor that two people working full-time jobs at minimum wage can hardly keep one tiny apartment between them. I also understand the way that fear has been bred into American Culture for the last several generations -- just look at Bowling For Columbine, or the constant orange-yellow-red-alert fear-tactic we've been put through in the last three years. We've all been taught to fear each other so much that no one ever thinks of getting along, just about defending themselves. But still. I miss the freedom of being able to walk around in a city park without wondering what kind of person -- stable? insane? harmless? mugger? -- I'm going to run into if I step off the groomed trail. I nearly fell over some poor guy in a sleeping bag in the Arb last year -- I foolishly climbed a hill in the woods to see what kind of tree or flower they were protecting with a tarp, and waded right in on a sleeper.

But I digress.

The point I'm coming back to here is that violation of personal space -- whether it's your home, your family, or your sex -- is scary stuff. In Tortilla Curtain, the Mossbacher family is faced with escalating crime in their neighborhood. These guys are secular humanists, people who share the same viewpoint as me, who give to the same charities, who uphold the same causes as me. And yet, even Delaney, with the best of intentions (Road to Hell's over there, sir...) reacted to the growing number of break-ins, thefts and threatening graffiti with fear, anger, and outrage -- and I couldn't fault him for much of it.

I'm currently living in a fairly safe neighborhood. However, this summer I walked up on a drug deal taking place fifteen feet away from my front door, a bike was stolen out of our backyard, and the last few months have seen a number of weird petty thefts between the houses on our block. I confess to not feeling very good about this, given the fact that the house I grew up in never even had locks on the doors until i was in high school. We used to get pissed at my dad for locking the house -- we saw it as a huge inconvenience, and started leaving the side door unlocked so we didn't have to bother with keys. I was raised to be loving and trustful, and grew up without a sense of suspicion and distrust, and the innate belief that everyone was good at heart and deserved the benefit of the doubt.

In the last year or so, I've been given occasion to doubt those beliefs, and to come to full understanding about what kind of privilege I experienced to be able to cultivate such idealistic naivete. Country Mouse versus City Mouse, perhaps: I grew up with three hundred acres to romp around on, with few neighbors and not a whole lot of social interaction. I was always dumbfounded when I found out people had lied to me. Still am. I always leave a situation like that feeling violated and unclean, and horribly foolish and stupid. I get angry, angry at my own goodheartedness, my own foolish belief that everyone else around me is of good intention.

Virus said another very wise thing recently: "The human race's biggest challenge on the path to civilization is overcoming our natural instincts." This whole "Can't we all just get along" thing has only been a popular idea for the last hundred years or so. Hell, we're only three generations separated from a day when Superman using the phrase "Slap a Jap" to sell War Bonds was considered culturally appropriate. Classism was the biggest issue for hundreds -- hell, thousands -- of years. Racism and fear of the auslander was so ingrained and rampant that it wasn't even seen as a bad thing... well, except for that Jesus guy, but look where he wound up. Then came America, where literally any penniless, languageless immigrant could claw his way up from Devil's Kitchen to penthouse riches. Financial separation of the classes became (at least in our American Cultural mindset) something that could be overcome just by hard work, and anyone who couldn't make it was a lazy bum. So our focus turned to racism. The problem's still around, despite what the anti-affirmative-action crowd would have you believe, but now Classism is back, and seems uglier than ever.

And so, it was incredibly painful for me to watch the idealistic, willfully naive Delaney slide down into a miasma of hate and anger as his world fell apart. I wonder, if I were faced with the same kinds of crime that the options of bars on my windows, a gated community, or white flight would not appeal to me. I find these kinds of things to be abhorrent, as Delaney does at the beginning of the book -- but how would I feel if someone robbed us? There used to be two abandoned crack houses at the end of our block -- they were cleaned up a few years ago by the cops. How would I react if I were faced with a similar situation, and there were suddenly driveby shootings and heavy drug traffic on my street? Would I make the same decisions? Compromise my own ideals out of fear? I hope not. My friends tell me I am made of stronger stuff, and I figure I am, but still the plot line really hit close to home.

There's more to this, unfortunately. It's yet to be written, but it's coming. Promise.

Pharisee Nation

http://www.commondreams.org/views05/0215-21.htm

Excerpt:

We have become a culture of Pharisees. Instead of practicing an authentic spirituality of compassion, nonviolence, love and peace, we as a collective people have become self-righteous, arrogant, powerful, murderous hypocrites who dominate and kill others in the name of God. The Pharisees supported the brutal Roman rulers and soldiers, and lived off the comforts of the empire by running an elaborate banking system which charged an exorbitant fee for ordinary people just to worship God in the Temple. Since they taught that God was present only in the Temple, they were able to control the entire population. If anyone opposed their power or violated their law, the Pharisees could kill them on the spot, even in the holy sanctuary.

Most North American Christians are now becoming more and more like these hypocritical Pharisees. We side with the rulers, the bankers, and the corporate millionaires and billionaires. We run the Pentagon, bless the bombing raids, support executions, make nuclear weapons and seek global domination for America as if that was what the nonviolent Jesus wants. And we dismiss anyone who disagrees with us.

We have become a mean, vicious people, what the bible calls “stiff-necked people.” And we do it all with the mistaken belief that we have the blessing of God.

Go. Read. S'good.

Wireless Network

So last Sunday we were over at Paul's sister's house for February Sizer Birthday day; Paul's dad, his sister Karen, and his Brother-in-law Brian were all celebrating. Karen and Brian now have three daughters under the age of eight, and they decided to call it quits on having any more kids. Brian took the appropriate action, and now he's healed up enough that he can laugh about the situation:

Brian: Yeah, everything's different since Jimmy went wireless.
Karen: He still has roaming penalties, though.
Brian: Technically, it's a handheld wireless.
Nancy: How many minutes do you have in your package, Brian?
Karen: Actually, the plan that I signed up for has unlimited nights and weekends.

Fortunately, no one asked if it could take photos.

Wild Thing

John Scalzi, you make my heart sing.

Speak to me of good things.

So, at the end of the first big push of Odious Tasks Day, I decided to reward myself with a nice walk at sunset and a storebought coffee. It was a beautiful evening and I was sad at having spent the whole day inside. The sun was going down and coloring the snowy street in beautiful pinks, blues and golds. All was right with the world.

Then I rounded a corner a block from my house and saw some guy reaching inside a parked car, across the driver's seat, to pummel someone in the passenger seat. There was a third someone in the backseat. I don't know exactly what happened or why -- it happened so quickly, and literally right in front of my face.

I had no idea what to do. I had no cellphone, I was unarmed. The guy slammed the door as hard as he could and strode off into his house, yelling. The passenger -- I was unable to see gender -- slumped down into the seat. The backseat passenger and the frontseat passenger were talking animatedly, making hand motions to one another in conversation.

There was someone else there. Should I say something? Did the guy actually hit the person or just the headrest? I couldn't see. What was going on? Should I go ask them if they wanted me to call the cops? I didn't hear screaming, or crying --

The two passengers kept talking.

I ...

I walked on.

I didn't know what to do.

I got my coffee, feeling like one of the thirty-eight people watching Kitty Genovese die.

I walked past the same house on my way home. Two guys -- both dressed nearly identically, both fitting the description of the guy doing the slugging -- were milling around the same car. I stopped, watching, making sure no one else got hit. No one did. They noticed me watching; I tried to look like I was going somewhere. Someone got into the driver's seat. The car started, and someone stood there talking to the driver. I couldn't -- strike that -- didn't want to get close enough to check the car for passengers.

I walked on.

Should I have called the cops?

I don't know. I didn't have the presence of mind to get the license number, didn't think to get the house number.

I spend so much time mewed up in the house here that I rarely interact with my community. I work 9-10 hours inside at work, then usually head upstairs by 8pm to do another 4-5 hours work on the book or other freelance projects. I exist in a happy little bubble of my house, my friends, the pub, the library and the local shops.

I talked to my friend Becky about this. Becky is one of the finest people I know, and a shining beacon of humanity. "Think of your own safety first," said Becky. "Don't get involved directly-- if the guy was unstable enough to be hitting things and slamming doors, he might be unstable enough to hurt you, too. Call the cops on your cellphone. "

I don't have a cellphone.

I'm thinking of getting a cellphone.

Virus, stop clutching your chest.

In the last six months or so, I've had several instances to make me question the inherent decency of my fellow human beings. My friends are the kindest, most loving people in the world, and they're a thick insulating blanket around my heart. But moments like these...

... Compounded with all the scary, scary, scary stuff going on in the world right now, I'm feeling very weak and frightened right now.

Speak to me of good things. Help me get over this. Remind me, my good friends, why I am a person of love and compassion. Help me not let the bastards get me down.

Becky, lemme say it again publicly: You are one of the lights that I follow. Keep lighting candles. We see them. Help me light mine again; it's foundering right now. It'll be fine soon, I'm sure, but right now, the wind's got it.

Odious Tasks Day

I hate doing taxes. Earlier this year I spent a full Saturday and most of a week of evenings getting all my tax records together so that I wouldn't just hand the poor guy a boxful of receipts. So today we had an appointment to meet with our accountant, and knowing how much I was looking forward to it, I decided to take one of my floating holidays and take care of a lot of looming junk around the house, junk that I was Not Looking Forward To Doing. Stuff I had been putting off.

It went pretty well. I got done most of what I set out to do. Here's a partial list:

• Sanded and finished touch-painting library
• Hung Brenda's quilt in library
• Fixed lamp in library
• Set up extra bookshelves in library
• Hung bodhran and mando
• moved three extra bookcases to the dining room, living room and bedroom closet
• Added shelf to laundry room
• Unboxed new mixer and cleared a home for it
• Did dishes
• Washed and blocked a load of wool sweaters
• Finished XL sheets for the Accountant (extra stuff, lucky me)
• Started work on my promotional trifold and new business cards

So yeah, a full day. Here's a couple pix of the liberry to show how much got done:

Wavedance

I've been listening to Frank Muller read Stephen King's Drawing of the Three on audiobook, and I swear to God, I've never heard one person give such an incredible dramatization of any story, ever. He's amazing, filling each separate character with amazing life and individuality.

So I went and looked him up on line to see what other books he'd read (tons, actually) and found that in November 2001, Frank was caught in a horrific motorcycle accident that ended his career. He's wheelchair-bound, probably for the rest of his life, and needs constant help to meet his daily needs. If you're so inclined, the Wavedancer Foundation is a charitable foundation that helps Frank and other disabled actors and authors.

Shocking!

The house is very dry. The purple couch is very staticky. I'm wearing a nice wool-flannel shirt. Tonight, as I greeted Paul at the door, our kiss produced such a violent static shock that we both reeled back, clutching our lips in pain.

Liberry

We had a big Work On The House weekend this weekend. Paul and his dad rebuilt some CD shelves in Paul's studio, and he spent the weekend re-sorting his couple-thousand CD collection. I finally got the Library (mostly) put to rights, by building a set of six on-the-wall, built-from-scratch bookshelves, all by myself, with no plans other than old-fashioned figgerin'. I even used a handsaw by myself and have all ten fingers left. Paul helped immensely by holding the completed shelves against the wall while I hand-drove the screws in; I now have a loverly blister right smack in the middle of my palm to prove it.

I also hung a big curtain-rod that we're going to hang Brenda Haas' beautiful wedding-gift-quilt from, as decoration over the hideabed sofa. (The fact that the sofa's a hideabed technically makes the Liberry into a Guest Room.)

The shelves hold wayyyyy more than we thought; all our books with two whole empty shelves to spare. Now I'm kicking myself for purchasing a hundred-dollar bookcase that I just plain won't use-- bought it a couple months ago before I realized that built-in bookshelves would be the best way to go. Grr. Still, I can probably sell it.

Now we just need a big ol' area rug for the middle of the room, and a nice light-fixture. Yay! Pictures soon, after I get the spackled holes in the walls re-painted and the quilt hung.

Bill Moyers - Tomorrow Never Comes

Taken from startribune.com

Bill Moyers: There is no tomorrow
Published January 30, 2005

One of the biggest changes in politics in my lifetime is that the delusional is no longer marginal. It has come in from the fringe, to sit in the seat of power in the Oval Office and in Congress. For the first time in our history, ideology and theology hold a monopoly of power in Washington.

Theology asserts propositions that cannot be proven true; ideologues hold stoutly to a worldview despite being contradicted by what is generally accepted as reality. When ideology and theology couple, their offspring are not always bad but they are always blind. And there is the danger: voters and politicians alike, oblivious to the facts.

Remember James Watt, President Ronald Reagan's first secretary of the interior? My favorite online environmental journal, the ever-engaging Grist, reminded us recently of how James Watt told the U.S. Congress that protecting natural resources was unimportant in light of the imminent return of Jesus Christ. In public testimony he said, "after the last tree is felled, Christ will come back."

Beltway elites snickered. The press corps didn't know what he was talking about. But James Watt was serious. So were his compatriots out across the country. They are the people who believe the Bible is literally true -- one-third of the American electorate, if a recent Gallup poll is accurate. In this past election several million good and decent citizens went to the polls believing in the rapture index.

That's right -- the rapture index. Google it and you will find that the best-selling books in America today are the 12 volumes of the "Left Behind" series written by the Christian fundamentalist and religious-right warrior Timothy LaHaye. These true believers subscribe to a fantastical theology concocted in the 19th century by a couple of immigrant preachers who took disparate passages from the Bible and wove them into a narrative that has captivated the imagination of millions of Americans.

Its outline is rather simple, if bizarre (the British writer George Monbiot recently did a brilliant dissection of it and I am indebted to him for adding to my own understanding): Once Israel has occupied the rest of its "biblical lands," legions of the antichrist will attack it, triggering a final showdown in the valley of Armageddon.

As the Jews who have not been converted are burned, the messiah will return for the rapture. True believers will be lifted out of their clothes and transported to Heaven, where, seated next to the right hand of God, they will watch their political and religious opponents suffer plagues of boils, sores, locusts and frogs during the several years of tribulation that follow.

I'm not making this up. Like Monbiot, I've read the literature. I've reported on these people, following some of them from Texas to the West Bank. They are sincere, serious and polite as they tell you they feel called to help bring the rapture on as fulfillment of biblical prophecy. That's why they have declared solidarity with Israel and the Jewish settlements and backed up their support with money and volunteers. It's why the invasion of Iraq for them was a warm-up act, predicted in the Book of Revelations where four angels "which are bound in the great river Euphrates will be released to slay the third part of man." A war with Islam in the Middle East is not something to be feared but welcomed -- an essential conflagration on the road to redemption. The last time I Googled it, the rapture index stood at 144 -- just one point below the critical threshold when the whole thing will blow, the son of God will return, the righteous will enter Heaven and sinners will be condemned to eternal hellfire.

So what does this mean for public policy and the environment? Go to Grist to read a remarkable work of reporting by the journalist Glenn Scherer -- "The Road to Environmental Apocalypse." Read it and you will see how millions of Christian fundamentalists may believe that environmental destruction is not only to be disregarded but actually welcomed -- even hastened -- as a sign of the coming apocalypse.

As Grist makes clear, we're not talking about a handful of fringe lawmakers who hold or are beholden to these beliefs. Nearly half the U.S. Congress before the recent election -- 231 legislators in total and more since the election -- are backed by the religious right.

Forty-five senators and 186 members of the 108th Congress earned 80 to 100 percent approval ratings from the three most influential Christian right advocacy groups. They include Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist, Assistant Majority Leader Mitch McConnell, Conference Chair Rick Santorum of Pennsylvania, Policy Chair Jon Kyl of Arizona, House Speaker Dennis Hastert and Majority Whip Roy Blunt. The only Democrat to score 100 percent with the Christian coalition was Sen. Zell Miller of Georgia, who recently quoted from the biblical book of Amos on the Senate floor: "The days will come, sayeth the Lord God, that I will send a famine in the land." He seemed to be relishing the thought.

And why not? There's a constituency for it. A 2002 Time-CNN poll found that 59 percent of Americans believe that the prophecies found in the book of Revelations are going to come true. Nearly one-quarter think the Bible predicted the 9/11 attacks. Drive across the country with your radio tuned to the more than 1,600 Christian radio stations, or in the motel turn on some of the 250 Christian TV stations, and you can hear some of this end-time gospel. And you will come to understand why people under the spell of such potent prophecies cannot be expected, as Grist puts it, "to worry about the environment. Why care about the earth, when the droughts, floods, famine and pestilence brought by ecological collapse are signs of the apocalypse foretold in the Bible? Why care about global climate change when you and yours will be rescued in the rapture? And why care about converting from oil to solar when the same God who performed the miracle of the loaves and fishes can whip up a few billion barrels of light crude with a word?"

Because these people believe that until Christ does return, the Lord will provide. One of their texts is a high school history book, "America's Providential History." You'll find there these words: "The secular or socialist has a limited-resource mentality and views the world as a pie ... that needs to be cut up so everyone can get a piece." However, "[t]he Christian knows that the potential in God is unlimited and that there is no shortage of resources in God's earth ... while many secularists view the world as overpopulated, Christians know that God has made the earth sufficiently large with plenty of resources to accommodate all of the people."

No wonder Karl Rove goes around the White House whistling that militant hymn, "Onward Christian Soldiers." He turned out millions of the foot soldiers on Nov. 2, including many who have made the apocalypse a powerful driving force in modern American politics.

It is hard for the journalist to report a story like this with any credibility. So let me put it on a personal level. I myself don't know how to be in this world without expecting a confident future and getting up every morning to do what I can to bring it about. So I have always been an optimist. Now, however, I think of my friend on Wall Street whom I once asked: "What do you think of the market?"I'm optimistic," he answered. "Then why do you look so worried?" And he answered: "Because I am not sure my optimism is justified."

I'm not, either. Once upon a time I agreed with Eric Chivian and the Center for Health and the Global Environment that people will protect the natural environment when they realize its importance to their health and to the health and lives of their children. Now I am not so sure. It's not that I don't want to believe that -- it's just that I read the news and connect the dots.

I read that the administrator of the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency has declared the election a mandate for President Bush on the environment. This for an administration:

• That wants to rewrite the Clean Air Act, the Clean Water Act and the Endangered Species Act protecting rare plant and animal species and their habitats, as well as the National Environmental Policy Act, which requires the government to judge beforehand whether actions might damage natural resources.

• That wants to relax pollution limits for ozone; eliminate vehicle tailpipe inspections, and ease pollution standards for cars, sport-utility vehicles and diesel-powered big trucks and heavy equipment.

• That wants a new international audit law to allow corporations to keep certain information about environmental problems secret from the public.

• That wants to drop all its new-source review suits against polluting, coal-fired power plants and weaken consent decrees reached earlier with coal companies.

• That wants to open the Arctic [National] Wildlife Refuge to drilling and increase drilling in Padre Island National Seashore, the longest stretch of undeveloped barrier island in the world and the last great coastal wild land in America.

I read the news just this week and learned how the Environmental Protection Agency had planned to spend $9 million -- $2 million of it from the administration's friends at the American Chemistry Council -- to pay poor families to continue to use pesticides in their homes. These pesticides have been linked to neurological damage in children, but instead of ordering an end to their use, the government and the industry were going to offer the families $970 each, as well as a camcorder and children's clothing, to serve as guinea pigs for the study.

I read all this in the news.

I read the news just last night and learned that the administration's friends at the International Policy Network, which is supported by Exxon Mobil and others of like mind, have issued a new report that climate change is "a myth, sea levels are not rising" [and] scientists who believe catastrophe is possible are "an embarrassment."

I not only read the news but the fine print of the recent appropriations bill passed by Congress, with the obscure (and obscene) riders attached to it: a clause removing all endangered species protections from pesticides; language prohibiting judicial review for a forest in Oregon; a waiver of environmental review for grazing permits on public lands; a rider pressed by developers to weaken protection for crucial habitats in California.

I read all this and look up at the pictures on my desk, next to the computer -- pictures of my grandchildren. I see the future looking back at me from those photographs and I say, "Father, forgive us, for we know not what we do." And then I am stopped short by the thought: "That's not right. We do know what we are doing. We are stealing their future. Betraying their trust. Despoiling their world."

And I ask myself: Why? Is it because we don't care? Because we are greedy? Because we have lost our capacity for outrage, our ability to sustain indignation at injustice?

What has happened to our moral imagination?

On the heath Lear asks Gloucester: "How do you see the world?" And Gloucester, who is blind, answers: "I see it feelingly.'"

I see it feelingly.

The news is not good these days. I can tell you, though, that as a journalist I know the news is never the end of the story. The news can be the truth that sets us free -- not only to feel but to fight for the future we want. And the will to fight is the antidote to despair, the cure for cynicism, and the answer to those faces looking back at me from those photographs on my desk. What we need is what the ancient Israelites called hochma -- the science of the heart ... the capacity to see, to feel and then to act as if the future depended on you.

Believe me, it does.

Bill Moyers was host until recently of the weekly public affairs series "NOW with Bill Moyers" on PBS. This article is adapted from AlterNet, where it first appeared. The text is taken from Moyers' remarks upon receiving the Global Environmental Citizen Award from the Center for Health and the Global Environment at Harvard Medical School.

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