Canada's in a recession. Yep. I think most of us saw that "let's face facts" moment coming.
But, we are relieved to learn, we really don't need to worry--it's only a technical recession, according to the Prime Minister and his Finance Minister. Well. Whew, indeed!
During the recent Canadian election, mere weeks ago, the Prime Minister said, "The fundamentals of the Canadian economy are strong," in that "you're too stupid to breathe" tone he adopted from the Decider-in-Chief to the south.
I suppose that insistence explains why the current recession is only technical.
And we all feel better. Technically.
Sheesh.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Friday, November 21, 2008
I'd Prefer an Expert
A Canadian hardware chain has been running tons of ads lately. It's using a concept in which an employee, looking like someone you'd see in the neighbourhood, smiles and shows a customer something that is apparently just what the customer didn't even know she wanted. Delight all around!
I haven't really paid attention to this campaign until recently, in part because the "just-folks" personalities don't have lines. There's just a manly-man voiceover. But then I figured out what they were singing: "Homeowners helping homeowners."
No, thanks! I don't want the guy next door helping me with a home renovation or repair project. Actually, I personally did even marry the guy next door in part because he knows how to do all kinds of home care projects and cares about my "homes" and he "helps" me (see summer photos of the roof). But in theory, no.
Just like I don't want the couple next door, under the direction and guidance of some "designer" who's famous for being on a TV show, to make over a room in my house in 24 hours. Are you kidding? I've seen what-all that next-door-neighbour couple leaves in their back yard. I've heard their screaming. I've smelled their barbecue.
At the risk of talking about the recent U.S. election again, this commercial echoes the idea that what the public wants is "someone just like them," or "the American Idol" candidate, to run the country. No, we don't. We want someone who knows more than we do, so we can go back to doing what we do best as our contribution to the whole.
So if I have to take time from the work I do best to figure out something in the house, give me an expert to help. Someone with a license and a business and insurance and a track record. And if that's who this hardware chain employs, great--tell me that.
I haven't really paid attention to this campaign until recently, in part because the "just-folks" personalities don't have lines. There's just a manly-man voiceover. But then I figured out what they were singing: "Homeowners helping homeowners."
No, thanks! I don't want the guy next door helping me with a home renovation or repair project. Actually, I personally did even marry the guy next door in part because he knows how to do all kinds of home care projects and cares about my "homes" and he "helps" me (see summer photos of the roof). But in theory, no.
Just like I don't want the couple next door, under the direction and guidance of some "designer" who's famous for being on a TV show, to make over a room in my house in 24 hours. Are you kidding? I've seen what-all that next-door-neighbour couple leaves in their back yard. I've heard their screaming. I've smelled their barbecue.
At the risk of talking about the recent U.S. election again, this commercial echoes the idea that what the public wants is "someone just like them," or "the American Idol" candidate, to run the country. No, we don't. We want someone who knows more than we do, so we can go back to doing what we do best as our contribution to the whole.
So if I have to take time from the work I do best to figure out something in the house, give me an expert to help. Someone with a license and a business and insurance and a track record. And if that's who this hardware chain employs, great--tell me that.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Holiday Dissonance
Next week I'm "going American" to celebrate Thanksgiving.
In October, I was on the road and therefore missed Thanksgiving when it was on the minds of Canadians. Next week, I will be making another trip south of the border and will enjoy the holiday with a brother and much of his family.
The thing is, people up here have blithely scheduled events as if the holiday, or my absence, doesn't matter. Don't they know I'll be gone and therefore miss the readings (at least two, possibly three!), the meetings, the deadlines, the dinner-dance, the concerts?
It's as if the mice are playing while this cat is, um, also playing, I guess. Never mind.
In October, I was on the road and therefore missed Thanksgiving when it was on the minds of Canadians. Next week, I will be making another trip south of the border and will enjoy the holiday with a brother and much of his family.
The thing is, people up here have blithely scheduled events as if the holiday, or my absence, doesn't matter. Don't they know I'll be gone and therefore miss the readings (at least two, possibly three!), the meetings, the deadlines, the dinner-dance, the concerts?
It's as if the mice are playing while this cat is, um, also playing, I guess. Never mind.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Closure
Actually, I don't believe in closure--which I loosely define as being emotionally ready to move on after something monumental happens.
I guess I believe (for the purposes of this blog post) that closure, like forgiveness, is an action. Closure is like this: you decide to move on, you find other things to do that you suspect might be good for you, you do them, and eventually you find that the hurt isn't as bad, the emptiness is filling, or the moment of joy has brightened the entire fabric of your life.
After my mother's death, my father spent a year "staying busy," and then he found that he WAS busy, surrounded by friends and a supportive community. He didn't miss my mother less; he just lived with it more easily. In this, as in so many other things, he set an excellent example. (I have to say this aloud because he also made me nuts, and I said that aloud, so....)
How closure fits into one's grief process is unique. In my case, it's not even in there. Nothing is really "over." Whatever experience it was is part of you irrevocably. So closure is really the wrong name for it. It's more like a change in direction, that involves the pit of my stomach somehow.
Whatever it is, whatever it's called, it doesn't descend upon you--you have to do it. That's my main point.
Over the weekend, a dear friend recommended that I read the Newsweek special issue about the American election. I read it Saturday night--glued to the computer screen. It is fascinating. An overview and seven chapters from behind the scenes of each candidate's campaign (and plenty from Hillary, too)--embargoed until after the election. Surprising and not. Instructive. Fascinating. Did I mention fascinating? And satisfying, like a piece of dark chocolate after a meal. I now have enough information about the past to anticipate the future in a more balanced way.
I have also graciously shared my thoughts on the impending Utopia with the President-Elect's transition team here. (There's a link at the bottom where you share your vision. I don't like to just share stories--I like to tell people what to do.) So they know what I think. The best part is, while they don't care about my opinion because they don't know me, they do care about my opinion in theory and as part of an aggregate.
Therefore, if enough people email to say "Invest in basic scientific research to prime the innovation pump, and target technology transfer spending and consumer economic incentives to green technologies," we will be heard. Or "Include ASL interpreters at every briefing, and you will create incredible goodwill and harness an entire generation's energy for change," or "Continue your great job of making intelligence a valued commodity again." For example.
My life path didn't include a stopover in Washington (or Ottawa, for that matter). That's perfectly fine with me, because there's plenty in my life to get done, and some of those things have to get done pretty soon. (Deadlines.) The discipline of paying attention to "now" will also help me switch focus from the election hubbub. Discipline. Doesn't forward progress always come back to that?
Anyway, now I really do think I'm done, in the sense of "What's next?" At least for today. I highly recommend it.
I guess I believe (for the purposes of this blog post) that closure, like forgiveness, is an action. Closure is like this: you decide to move on, you find other things to do that you suspect might be good for you, you do them, and eventually you find that the hurt isn't as bad, the emptiness is filling, or the moment of joy has brightened the entire fabric of your life.
After my mother's death, my father spent a year "staying busy," and then he found that he WAS busy, surrounded by friends and a supportive community. He didn't miss my mother less; he just lived with it more easily. In this, as in so many other things, he set an excellent example. (I have to say this aloud because he also made me nuts, and I said that aloud, so....)
How closure fits into one's grief process is unique. In my case, it's not even in there. Nothing is really "over." Whatever experience it was is part of you irrevocably. So closure is really the wrong name for it. It's more like a change in direction, that involves the pit of my stomach somehow.
Whatever it is, whatever it's called, it doesn't descend upon you--you have to do it. That's my main point.
Over the weekend, a dear friend recommended that I read the Newsweek special issue about the American election. I read it Saturday night--glued to the computer screen. It is fascinating. An overview and seven chapters from behind the scenes of each candidate's campaign (and plenty from Hillary, too)--embargoed until after the election. Surprising and not. Instructive. Fascinating. Did I mention fascinating? And satisfying, like a piece of dark chocolate after a meal. I now have enough information about the past to anticipate the future in a more balanced way.
I have also graciously shared my thoughts on the impending Utopia with the President-Elect's transition team here. (There's a link at the bottom where you share your vision. I don't like to just share stories--I like to tell people what to do.) So they know what I think. The best part is, while they don't care about my opinion because they don't know me, they do care about my opinion in theory and as part of an aggregate.
Therefore, if enough people email to say "Invest in basic scientific research to prime the innovation pump, and target technology transfer spending and consumer economic incentives to green technologies," we will be heard. Or "Include ASL interpreters at every briefing, and you will create incredible goodwill and harness an entire generation's energy for change," or "Continue your great job of making intelligence a valued commodity again." For example.
My life path didn't include a stopover in Washington (or Ottawa, for that matter). That's perfectly fine with me, because there's plenty in my life to get done, and some of those things have to get done pretty soon. (Deadlines.) The discipline of paying attention to "now" will also help me switch focus from the election hubbub. Discipline. Doesn't forward progress always come back to that?
Anyway, now I really do think I'm done, in the sense of "What's next?" At least for today. I highly recommend it.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
I Got Nuthin'
I've been trying to return to normal life this week but it's been tough going. I've been dreaming of a post-Bush world since, what, November of 2000. Eight years later, it's on its way and I don't know what else to think about.
Of course that description is an exaggeration. Politics has been an interest of mine, in a sideways way, for years. My father and I could always bond over a discussion of the vagaries of the political system. But I'm not a politician. I don't write seriously about politics. I'm probably more informed than the average Joe, lastname The Plumber or Six-Pack or whatever you want to dream up. But that isn't saying much. It really hasn't been my life. I can't imagine the kind of withdrawal actual political junkies are going through.
So I've been trying to work (with a little success, yippee). Reading the magazines that piled up while we were gone. Taking care of business, which is easily a half- or even three-quarter-time job. Picking up and opening books, and putting them down again before getting past the first paragraph.
And walking, rain or about-to-rain or momentarily-finished-with-the-rain. (Those seem to be November's weather options.) While walking, I've seen a doe, a blue jay, a pileated woodpecker, various whiskey jacks, and chickadees. The other night we were driving into town for an event and bobcat crossed the road in front of us. That's always cool.
The photo above is about six weeks old. When I was uploading photos earlier today, I thought of that line from Ain't Misbehavin': "Everybody needs a little gold, baby."
So that's what I got. A little gold. Enjoy.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Half-Coherent
Actually, the subject line is a goal. Half-coherence would be good.
One of my exes talked about "toiling with an idea." I always thought it was a pretty apt description. I take ideas and worry them to death. Toiling includes toying, at first. But at some point, it just feels like work and then I need to write about it.
I've been toiling with a couple of ideas for a couple of days now. I know they are related. Somehow. We'll see how this goes. Bear with me, because they are important enough to have kept me toiling.
They're both related to the election and life in the U.S.
First, a lot of people have been saying, "I feel like I got my country back." I understand what they mean. I too have felt alienated from "my country"--the one where I was born and spent the first half (ulp) of my life--for the past eight years.
It feels terrible to disagree (vehemently, if not violently) with the actions of the people elected to serve you. To feel your heart race when your perspectives and beliefs are skewered and dismissed, at volume and with open disdain, in public, with no one representing your views. To feel unwelcome in community and "family" settings, to feel muzzled and unable to relax among the people who, in theory, are tied to you by more than blood.
And I am serious--vehemently--when I say that I don't want ANYONE to feel that way now.
But I have been wondering about something. Who took "my country" away from me? Who alienated, or was aliented from, whom? If I don't want to feel alienated and don't want those who voted for McCain (or opted not to vote) to feel alientated, we all have to hang in there. Nobody can check out of public life. Which is, basically what I did. No wonder I felt so remote from "my country"--I'd left, mentally and emotionally long before I left physically.
Life in Canada has been a fabulous process of finding myself again and anew. I am engaged in life in a way I wasn't in the U.S. This is my home. I'm not even tempted to consider anything else.
But why is it easier to live here? I tell myself that in my life in the U.S., I wasn't able to participate, that they didn't want to hear me, that I wasn't welcome if I didn't share all the "right" beliefs, that "they" shut me down and pushed me out.
Those things are true. And yet--I'm an adult. I'm the one who checked out. I walked away, physically, emotionally, intellectually, spiritually. I put distance between myself and my country (physically, etc.). It's easier for me to live here, and live fully, in part because I have given myself permission to do so. So again--who alienated, or was alienated from, whom?
The second, somehow related idea is this: there is no "right to be agreed with" in the U.S. Constitution. All the freedoms that it mentions--I'm thinking mostly about the right to believe whatever and talk about those beliefs (without hurting others)--do have limits.
When I lived in the U.S., I wanted the right to be heard, listened to, and agreed with. That people would say, "What is your perspective? We never thought of it that way before. You're right; we'll change now." And there's no guarantee of that last sentence.
I'm not stupid--I know in my head that people don't have to agree with me. I never had that right in any house I ever lived in, including this one. In fact, I want my "family," whether we are related by blood or vow, to say "OK, but have you thought about this?"
What I did expect, and what is reasonable to expect in my home, was that my opinion would be respected. I was right to leave a life in which that was not true.
What we can all also reasonably expect from the world at large, outside a family, is similar. There must be room in the public sphere for people to express opinions, respectfully, without shouting and without being shouted down. Those opinions may not be reflected in law or policy or programming. But it should still be OK to have them.
So what I hope follows from this election is the installation (or restoration) of two of those rights: the right to be heard and listened to. Nobody has, or should reasonably expect, the right to be agreed with. But we do all expect, and deserve, to be treated with respect, and we must be held accountable when we do not treat others with that respect.
But all of that is still pretty fuzzy. For one thing, I keep thinking about what Linus said: "I love mankind. It's people I can't stand." In theory, I don't want anyone to feel as bad as I have the past eight years. Except, of course, for those individuals I know whose views I find repulsive, with whom I don't exchange respect. Those people can feel bad for awhile. A long while.
And while I'm copping to being as human as the next person, I get it, totally. It's hard not to feel that "I got my country back" because its incoming Commander-in-Chief tends to agree with me more than the last one did. Because my side "won." But that makes half of the country "losers," afraid and adrift as I was. And that makes my stomach hurt on their behalf, even (a little bit, but only a little bit) for the people whose opinions I don't respect.
I just know this: If I, and the U.S., can't move beyond that "us/them" divide, we all lose. This toiling mind just keeps coming back to that.
If only people would just AGREE WITH ME. What a fabulous place the world would be THEN.
One of my exes talked about "toiling with an idea." I always thought it was a pretty apt description. I take ideas and worry them to death. Toiling includes toying, at first. But at some point, it just feels like work and then I need to write about it.
I've been toiling with a couple of ideas for a couple of days now. I know they are related. Somehow. We'll see how this goes. Bear with me, because they are important enough to have kept me toiling.
They're both related to the election and life in the U.S.
First, a lot of people have been saying, "I feel like I got my country back." I understand what they mean. I too have felt alienated from "my country"--the one where I was born and spent the first half (ulp) of my life--for the past eight years.
It feels terrible to disagree (vehemently, if not violently) with the actions of the people elected to serve you. To feel your heart race when your perspectives and beliefs are skewered and dismissed, at volume and with open disdain, in public, with no one representing your views. To feel unwelcome in community and "family" settings, to feel muzzled and unable to relax among the people who, in theory, are tied to you by more than blood.
And I am serious--vehemently--when I say that I don't want ANYONE to feel that way now.
But I have been wondering about something. Who took "my country" away from me? Who alienated, or was aliented from, whom? If I don't want to feel alienated and don't want those who voted for McCain (or opted not to vote) to feel alientated, we all have to hang in there. Nobody can check out of public life. Which is, basically what I did. No wonder I felt so remote from "my country"--I'd left, mentally and emotionally long before I left physically.
Life in Canada has been a fabulous process of finding myself again and anew. I am engaged in life in a way I wasn't in the U.S. This is my home. I'm not even tempted to consider anything else.
But why is it easier to live here? I tell myself that in my life in the U.S., I wasn't able to participate, that they didn't want to hear me, that I wasn't welcome if I didn't share all the "right" beliefs, that "they" shut me down and pushed me out.
Those things are true. And yet--I'm an adult. I'm the one who checked out. I walked away, physically, emotionally, intellectually, spiritually. I put distance between myself and my country (physically, etc.). It's easier for me to live here, and live fully, in part because I have given myself permission to do so. So again--who alienated, or was alienated from, whom?
The second, somehow related idea is this: there is no "right to be agreed with" in the U.S. Constitution. All the freedoms that it mentions--I'm thinking mostly about the right to believe whatever and talk about those beliefs (without hurting others)--do have limits.
When I lived in the U.S., I wanted the right to be heard, listened to, and agreed with. That people would say, "What is your perspective? We never thought of it that way before. You're right; we'll change now." And there's no guarantee of that last sentence.
I'm not stupid--I know in my head that people don't have to agree with me. I never had that right in any house I ever lived in, including this one. In fact, I want my "family," whether we are related by blood or vow, to say "OK, but have you thought about this?"
What I did expect, and what is reasonable to expect in my home, was that my opinion would be respected. I was right to leave a life in which that was not true.
What we can all also reasonably expect from the world at large, outside a family, is similar. There must be room in the public sphere for people to express opinions, respectfully, without shouting and without being shouted down. Those opinions may not be reflected in law or policy or programming. But it should still be OK to have them.
So what I hope follows from this election is the installation (or restoration) of two of those rights: the right to be heard and listened to. Nobody has, or should reasonably expect, the right to be agreed with. But we do all expect, and deserve, to be treated with respect, and we must be held accountable when we do not treat others with that respect.
But all of that is still pretty fuzzy. For one thing, I keep thinking about what Linus said: "I love mankind. It's people I can't stand." In theory, I don't want anyone to feel as bad as I have the past eight years. Except, of course, for those individuals I know whose views I find repulsive, with whom I don't exchange respect. Those people can feel bad for awhile. A long while.
And while I'm copping to being as human as the next person, I get it, totally. It's hard not to feel that "I got my country back" because its incoming Commander-in-Chief tends to agree with me more than the last one did. Because my side "won." But that makes half of the country "losers," afraid and adrift as I was. And that makes my stomach hurt on their behalf, even (a little bit, but only a little bit) for the people whose opinions I don't respect.
I just know this: If I, and the U.S., can't move beyond that "us/them" divide, we all lose. This toiling mind just keeps coming back to that.
If only people would just AGREE WITH ME. What a fabulous place the world would be THEN.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Dear Senator McCain
Congratulations on running for President of the U.S. I wish I could feel guilty or otherwise bad for not voting for you, but I don't. Here's why--and I know you don't really care. You don't know me. But hey, it's my blog.
So, here's why I can't apologize for not voting for you. Until 2000, your actions consistently showed your dedication to applying your principles in the service of the public. Public service--doing things for people like us. However, in 2000, you started supporting Bush--and you lost my vote. However grudgingly or unwillingly, you campaigned for him, you supported him in public--and all the while, you knew better. You knew that he doesn't care about people like us. You let us down.
However, you are a principled man. In your concession speech, you took a step back--not backwards, back--to the John McCain I respect (though often disagree with). (Although you could have shushed the boos a little more vigorously, just as in the campaign, you could have told that scared woman that Arabs are OK people, too. But woulda, coulda, shoulda.) As a principled man, you recognize other principled men, even those you disagree with. These people can help you now.
So here's a suggestion. Phone the best ex-President we've ever had, Jimmy Carter. Find out from him how to best use your power now. He has walked that line between doing and advising, and between advising and interfering, and he's gotten it wrong sometimes and right sometimes, and he's happily lived with the consequences.
When you call him, he will probably tell you this, but if he doesn't, I will. Phone Hillary Clinton. (Force Bill to give her the phone.) She's another person who's smart as a whip. The two of you claimed bipartisanship as credentials in the campaign. Show us that you weren't just claiming them--that you really want to be part of the solutions during the Obama Administration. If you're both in the Senate, wield your power there. If one or both of you gets or takes a cabinet position, so much the better. You can see how it would help each of you individually to do this--but it will help all the rest of us even more.
President Carter will likely also tell you this: phone Barak Obama. Every week, every day, whatever. Keep calling. He has shown us that he will surround himself with smart people. He will take your call. You are not only a principled man--your principles actually have a solid foundation other than fear, and you're intelligent. The President will need your perspective. He will continue to listen to you, and he will probably co-opt your better ideas, and you may or may not get the credit--and you know that's how public service works.
In fact, you can be sure that he will always take a call from you--which, come to think of it, is why I can't apologize for not voting for you. If you had won, I doubt you'd have worked with Senator Obama. You would have been told that it was unwise. And unfortunately, those are the people you listened to during your campaign, instead of your own common sense or better angels or whatever label you want to apply.
But the campaign is over now. Congratulations on a hard-fought race. And now I look forward to seeing John McCain, the real one, in the Senate again.
So, here's why I can't apologize for not voting for you. Until 2000, your actions consistently showed your dedication to applying your principles in the service of the public. Public service--doing things for people like us. However, in 2000, you started supporting Bush--and you lost my vote. However grudgingly or unwillingly, you campaigned for him, you supported him in public--and all the while, you knew better. You knew that he doesn't care about people like us. You let us down.
However, you are a principled man. In your concession speech, you took a step back--not backwards, back--to the John McCain I respect (though often disagree with). (Although you could have shushed the boos a little more vigorously, just as in the campaign, you could have told that scared woman that Arabs are OK people, too. But woulda, coulda, shoulda.) As a principled man, you recognize other principled men, even those you disagree with. These people can help you now.
So here's a suggestion. Phone the best ex-President we've ever had, Jimmy Carter. Find out from him how to best use your power now. He has walked that line between doing and advising, and between advising and interfering, and he's gotten it wrong sometimes and right sometimes, and he's happily lived with the consequences.
When you call him, he will probably tell you this, but if he doesn't, I will. Phone Hillary Clinton. (Force Bill to give her the phone.) She's another person who's smart as a whip. The two of you claimed bipartisanship as credentials in the campaign. Show us that you weren't just claiming them--that you really want to be part of the solutions during the Obama Administration. If you're both in the Senate, wield your power there. If one or both of you gets or takes a cabinet position, so much the better. You can see how it would help each of you individually to do this--but it will help all the rest of us even more.
President Carter will likely also tell you this: phone Barak Obama. Every week, every day, whatever. Keep calling. He has shown us that he will surround himself with smart people. He will take your call. You are not only a principled man--your principles actually have a solid foundation other than fear, and you're intelligent. The President will need your perspective. He will continue to listen to you, and he will probably co-opt your better ideas, and you may or may not get the credit--and you know that's how public service works.
In fact, you can be sure that he will always take a call from you--which, come to think of it, is why I can't apologize for not voting for you. If you had won, I doubt you'd have worked with Senator Obama. You would have been told that it was unwise. And unfortunately, those are the people you listened to during your campaign, instead of your own common sense or better angels or whatever label you want to apply.
But the campaign is over now. Congratulations on a hard-fought race. And now I look forward to seeing John McCain, the real one, in the Senate again.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Roll Up Your Sleeves
So, we voted for change. That means us, too. And it starts today. Now.
It's OK to start small. Buy your McCain-supporting friends or relatives (most especially in-laws) a drink, a coffee, some chocolate. Take it to them and sit with them. Start talking about the weather, the crops, whether it's time for Regis Philbin to retire. Stop talking and listen. Silence is OK--but sit there awhile. And don't forget to listen. What do they need? How can you help?
Think about what and how YOU will change in YOUR life to meet the challenges ahead. Maybe you can share those activities with those who are nervous and hurting today. Go in on a side of local beef together; share freezer space. Go to the local Farmer's Market. Sign up for a course in conversational Spanish or go for a walk. Join a group putting together holiday packages for the overseas troops. Do things to help the world, and do them with someone who disagreed with you yesterday.
You don't have to make these changes all at once--in fact, you can't. These changes are not the kind you can do in one grand gesture. These changes will be a daily thing, a discipline. We have to build bridges, but they're built one brick at a time. We have to listen to each other, talk to each other, and work together.
I wish I didn't need to say this, but I fear I must: don't gloat. Gloating is not only bad form; it's bad for you. It's immature and irresponsible. No one of us is any "better" than any other. If you truly believe that you "won" last night, remember what one of my swim coaches used to say: "When one of us wins, we all win." And it's your responsibility to make that true. So reach out.
I know that saying all this makes me too serious and un-fun. I've been called that before, and I'm OK with it.
But you're saying you want to savor the moment, to celebrate. Fine. You can wait till tomorrow to get to work, but no longer. And it would be better to start today.
As my favorite President, West Wing's Josiah Bartlet, used to say, "What's next?" Break's over. It's time to move on. The world is different today and we can harness its new energy. Yes we can.
It's OK to start small. Buy your McCain-supporting friends or relatives (most especially in-laws) a drink, a coffee, some chocolate. Take it to them and sit with them. Start talking about the weather, the crops, whether it's time for Regis Philbin to retire. Stop talking and listen. Silence is OK--but sit there awhile. And don't forget to listen. What do they need? How can you help?
Think about what and how YOU will change in YOUR life to meet the challenges ahead. Maybe you can share those activities with those who are nervous and hurting today. Go in on a side of local beef together; share freezer space. Go to the local Farmer's Market. Sign up for a course in conversational Spanish or go for a walk. Join a group putting together holiday packages for the overseas troops. Do things to help the world, and do them with someone who disagreed with you yesterday.
You don't have to make these changes all at once--in fact, you can't. These changes are not the kind you can do in one grand gesture. These changes will be a daily thing, a discipline. We have to build bridges, but they're built one brick at a time. We have to listen to each other, talk to each other, and work together.
I wish I didn't need to say this, but I fear I must: don't gloat. Gloating is not only bad form; it's bad for you. It's immature and irresponsible. No one of us is any "better" than any other. If you truly believe that you "won" last night, remember what one of my swim coaches used to say: "When one of us wins, we all win." And it's your responsibility to make that true. So reach out.
I know that saying all this makes me too serious and un-fun. I've been called that before, and I'm OK with it.
But you're saying you want to savor the moment, to celebrate. Fine. You can wait till tomorrow to get to work, but no longer. And it would be better to start today.
As my favorite President, West Wing's Josiah Bartlet, used to say, "What's next?" Break's over. It's time to move on. The world is different today and we can harness its new energy. Yes we can.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Another Message While We Wait
For those in the U.S., here's a request. Please please please. If your candidate loses, please don't say, "I'm moving to Canada."
I know you're just joking, but seriously. It's not a good joke. Don't even say it, and for sure don't come here. Your responsibility is to stay home and stay involved in your community. Put your beliefs into practice. Help someone else, even if that person voted for the "winner." Maybe even especially if that person is a "winner."
Let me back up. I know that I may look like the world's biggest pot calling hypothetical kettles black. However, as anyone who actually knows me knows, I moved here for reasons of real estate and stayed for reasons of love. Politics didn't enter into it. Sure, Bush and Cheney and their ridiculous vision for the U.S. made it easier to stay here. But they didn't cause me to leave.
There are people in this world who are REAL political refugees. They tend not to come from countries that are democracies, where raspberries are available in grocery stores year-round, where public libraries and the Internet hold more information than we can comprehend in a lifetime, where roads are paved, and where food safety failures are cause for outrage and lawsuits.
You are not a political refugee. You're just hurting a bit right now. You really don't want to come up here--you just want to run away from the hurt. Believe me, I know how that feels.
But you're lucky to live where you do. You're lucky that voting for the "loser" doesn't mean that supporters of the "winner" will appear at your door with a machete. Count your blessings. Lick your wounds. Stay put.
If you still think you're really serious about moving here, you should know a few things. Actual pieces of information. The capital city of the country. The names of a few of the provinces (no, they're not states here). The name of the current prime minister and, oh, at least one other from the past 140+ years. (Hint: look at the money.) This knowledge isn't too hard to find. Try Google.
But mostly, if you want to move here, think about this: how can you contribute to this country? That's right--how can you GIVE? It's about GIVING, after all, not GETTING. You don't get the benefits of the healthcare system without contributing to society.
Is this too hard? Yeah, I thought so. It's OK. I knew you really wanted to stay in the U.S. all along. Give it a little time and then get back out there and do something nice for someone else. You'll feel better. And so will we.
I know you're just joking, but seriously. It's not a good joke. Don't even say it, and for sure don't come here. Your responsibility is to stay home and stay involved in your community. Put your beliefs into practice. Help someone else, even if that person voted for the "winner." Maybe even especially if that person is a "winner."
Let me back up. I know that I may look like the world's biggest pot calling hypothetical kettles black. However, as anyone who actually knows me knows, I moved here for reasons of real estate and stayed for reasons of love. Politics didn't enter into it. Sure, Bush and Cheney and their ridiculous vision for the U.S. made it easier to stay here. But they didn't cause me to leave.
There are people in this world who are REAL political refugees. They tend not to come from countries that are democracies, where raspberries are available in grocery stores year-round, where public libraries and the Internet hold more information than we can comprehend in a lifetime, where roads are paved, and where food safety failures are cause for outrage and lawsuits.
You are not a political refugee. You're just hurting a bit right now. You really don't want to come up here--you just want to run away from the hurt. Believe me, I know how that feels.
But you're lucky to live where you do. You're lucky that voting for the "loser" doesn't mean that supporters of the "winner" will appear at your door with a machete. Count your blessings. Lick your wounds. Stay put.
If you still think you're really serious about moving here, you should know a few things. Actual pieces of information. The capital city of the country. The names of a few of the provinces (no, they're not states here). The name of the current prime minister and, oh, at least one other from the past 140+ years. (Hint: look at the money.) This knowledge isn't too hard to find. Try Google.
But mostly, if you want to move here, think about this: how can you contribute to this country? That's right--how can you GIVE? It's about GIVING, after all, not GETTING. You don't get the benefits of the healthcare system without contributing to society.
Is this too hard? Yeah, I thought so. It's OK. I knew you really wanted to stay in the U.S. all along. Give it a little time and then get back out there and do something nice for someone else. You'll feel better. And so will we.
Monday, November 3, 2008
A Message While We Wait
To smokers: why on earth do you think it's OK to throw your cigarette butts out car windows into otherwise pristine air?
You're inhaling so much crap into your body. Why not do us all a favor and eat the butt while you're at it? Dying sooner will relieve some of the burden on the healthcare system.
Why yes, I picked up litter on my walk this morning, why do you ask? Even out here in scenic Shuniah, smokers apparently think throwing their garbage onto the ground somehow doesn't "count" as the foul deed we know it is.
Wha??
Back to your nail-biting, folks.
You're inhaling so much crap into your body. Why not do us all a favor and eat the butt while you're at it? Dying sooner will relieve some of the burden on the healthcare system.
Why yes, I picked up litter on my walk this morning, why do you ask? Even out here in scenic Shuniah, smokers apparently think throwing their garbage onto the ground somehow doesn't "count" as the foul deed we know it is.
Wha??
Back to your nail-biting, folks.
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