Personalizing Disasters

On the evening of Christmas Day, as a get-together Benson had planned at home was winding down, I did a little web-browsing. I saw a report about how the largest earthquake in 40 years had struck, and the resulting tsunamis had killed a couple thousand people. I nonchalantly reported this information to Benson and his friends.

Since then, seemingly every time I check in on cnn.com or nytimes.com, the number killed rises. Right now, it's up to about 57,000--not including those who are in peril from disease, hunger, etc.

As I saw these reports, I couldn't help but compare my feelings to those of September 11th. When my Mom woke me up on that day to tell me what happened, and I saw the tapes of the building collapsing, I started crying and, like most Americans (if not most people), felt dumb-founded for a while afterward.

With all of this death and destruction of the tsunamis, though, I felt nowhere near the same level of emotions. I felt bad for the people who have died and their families, but to about the same extent that I would have felt if any stranger died. The magnitude of this disaster, the fact that whole communities are gone, the suddenness of the death, the terrible fear people must have felt--none of this brought me close to the September 11th feelings.

I've been asking myself why. Was it because 9/11 was murder, and this was a natural disaster? Because 9/11 happened in America, not around the world? Unconscious racism? For a while, I favored the first option--because the latter ones made me feel too uncomfortable about what it would mean about myself.

But just now, I think I realized what a large part of it is. With September 11th, I immediately saw the video images shortly after everything happened. Seeing the buildings fall to this day makes me emotional. Seeing the people running away, the stories of people desperately looking for their family (and wondering myself if some friends were okay) brought the tragedy down to an individual level.

With these tsunamis, I've not seen any video footage. I've had all of my news from the web--and by this point I have stopped reading any articles. The first articles I read (which were really the only ones I read until tonight) mentioned the general fact that tsunamis killed a lot of people, but did not provide any details or individual stories.

Tonight, I finally read some articles detailing the individual experiences of people. Reading these excerpts, like this one from Alan Sipress' In Indonesia, a boulevard of destruction, finally started to bring it into focus for me:

Haggard with unkempt, jet-black hair, Emi, who like many Indonesians uses one name, recounted how she and her family had dashed from their home in fright Sunday morning when the earthquake rocked the province, followed quickly by the onslaught of the dark sea.

As the water poured across Panglima Polim Street, many tried to outrun it. But the wall of water came too fast.

"Then, people started yelling, 'The water is coming! The water is coming!' " Emi said. "I asked everyone to get into the car."

Her husband, son and two grandchildren clambered into the family's jeep. Emi caught a ride from someone on a motorcycle. The beachfront was more than a mile away, but it took the ocean no time to flatten buildings for blocks in every direction and whisk vehicles off the pavement. Wooden fishing boats up to 75 feet long were heaved ashore, setting down atop houses and against storefronts. Emi's two grandchildren, she said, were drowned instantly.

"The water kept rolling us, rolling us," Emi continued, tugging anxiously on her brown-and-white sarong. "I ended up on a rooftop hanging on. My husband ended up in a tree."

From the branches, he clung desperately to the hand of their son. But the boy slipped away, dropping into the churning waters, vanishing. "So I keep searching and searching," she said. "How can I know the reasons for it? It is the power of God."

As she retold the story, the neighborhood was eerily still. In front of Emi was a broad lake where her block once stood, with islands of blasted brick walls and household furniture.

After reading this, and others like it, I'm finally starting to feel a level of emotion that is perhaps more appropriate for this kind of tragedy of humanity.

It is hard to comprehend what it means for something to have killed 57,000 people. When does something become tragic? Is it more tragic for 57,000 people to die than 20,000? What about 3,000?

Tragedy comes from the individual stories, like that of Emi. It is perhaps a human failing, but the real sense of tragedy for me comes from me being able to imagine myself in the same situation--or at least to picture the enormous heart-wrenching agony that she went through during that time. Once the event is personalized on that level, the thought that such a tragedy is multiplied many thousands of times finally becomes overwhelming.

This realization has taken away some of my anger at the attention some news sites paid to how many Americans died in the tragedy or, as CNN has, Tsunamis shatter celebrity holidays. These stories seemed in such poor taste--are they implying that an American life or a celebrity life is somehow more meaningful than the other lives lost? But any personalization of the tragedy helps those of us not directly affected by it to understand the loss.

Chicken Soup for My Soul (And, Okay, For Benson Too)

Benson has a cold. It's the same cold that I had a couple of weeks ago, but as anyone who cares about someone else can empathize with, I'd much rather that I was still sick than that Benson was suffering. (Okay, that's a bit dramatic--it is just a cold after all.)

Doing what any guy would do, I thought about how I could make him feel better, and I hit on the idea of making him chicken soup from scratch.

I made chicken soup from scratch for the first time a couple of years ago, also when Benson had a cold. I was house- and dog-sitting for my friends Rob and Rachel in their beautiful Redwood City home, so I got to take advantage of their jealousy-inducing kitchen. I stopped by the Albertson's between my work and their house to pick up the chicken, carrots, onion, celery and parsley my googling had told me I would need. I dumped it all in a large pot, covered it all with water, brought it to a boil, then let it simmer for a couple hours.

Then the problems started. I didn't know you were supposed to skim the fat off of the top. (Chicken fat may sound good, but floating globules on the top of your bowl of soup isn't very appetizing.) I also didn't know that you were supposed to throw out all of the vegetables used in the soup. The whole point is that the flavor from the vegetables ends up in the water--so the vegetables end up as bland lumps of fiber. I'm sure Benson appreciated the thought--and the ounces of loved I infused the soup with must have made him feel better--but the soup just wasn't all that great.

This time around, I learned my lessons. Instead of relying on Google, I used Julia. Ms. Child and I are on a first-name basis ever since I saw her getting a tour of the Media Lab. Media Lab students spent a not insignificant amount of our time giving demos of group projects to visitors, including corporate sponsors and occasionally celebrities. On this instance, Julia Child was getting a tour and someone else in the group gave her a demo--and I saw her. So maybe we're not as close as me and my good friend Bruce Aidells, but there's a connection there. Even if she didn't feel it. Or ever see me.

Anyway, I found her basic instructions for chicken stock at the front of her book Julia and Jacques: Cooking at Home. (This book was actually a gift to me from a guy I went on a few dates with right after moving to California, but we don't need to let Benson know that.) A few of the key things I picked up were (a) you want to simmer immediately after the water starts boiling or else your stock will be cloudy and, most importantly, (b) after skimming the fat off, boil the stock down by half. (Or, if you're feeling pretentious, you can decoct the stock instead.)

Cooking in general--and in particular making something involved like chicken soup--is quite relaxing. It does take a long time. I had to prepare the ingredients, let it boil, skim the foam off the top, let it simmer, strain out the solids, chill the soup overnight to let the fat congeal, skim off the fat, decoct the stock, and add salt to make it just how Benson likes it. But the truth is, I enjoyed it. And the fact that I was doing it for Benson made me enjoy it that much more.

When I think about it, I realize that part of the reason I enjoy cooking almost every meal is the realization that I'm making something someone else might enjoy--usually Benson, but maybe someone at a potluck or a Thanksgiving dinner. There's a nurturing aspect of cooking that gets intensified when you're trying to make someone feel better, but it still exists when you're just trying to fill his or her belly with something tasty.

Scalia and the Last Paragraph

Before heading to work this morning, I read Tom Curry's article Scalia's friends and foes prepare for battle. Well, I read most of it except for the last paragraph or two--I'd finished brushing my teeth and was ready to go. (This detail is important.)

The part I read this morning actually did make me think. Scalia is an interesting character; I don't agree with most of the opinions he reaches. But when reading his dissents it is often hard to argue with his logic (especially after reading some of the contortions that the Justices in the majority go through to reach their conclusions). My Supreme Court class professor said reading him was for many students a "guilty pleasure," and he was right. (I'll likely post some detailed examples of what I am talking about at some point...)

So since some people are bringing him up for Chief Justice, it is a scary thought--I disagree with the results of his opinions so much and wouldn't want that dominating the Court, but if his opinions are sound then why shouldn't he have the job?

My professor hinted at something in class with which I agree: Scalia is great at dissents, because he just has to pick at the arguments of the majority. He is free to pick and choose those portions that are weak, which makes his arguments look stronger. There's a certain luxury in being on the losing side. Someone good at dissenting, though, won't necessarily make a good Chief Justice.

I also dislike the role Scalia played in Bush v. Gore and the utter hypocrisy of using an Equal Protection claim in that decision while opposing that claim in so many others--and then stressing that it sets no precedent. (The details of his role are found in a Vanity Fair article giving behind-the-scenes details of the case.)

The Curry article also includes a quote giving another reason for why Scalia shouldn't be Chief Justice:

Kim Gandy, president of the National Organization for Women, said last week, “I hate to give them any ideas, but Scalia would probably be the least effective choice out of that crowd for the Bush administration, strange as it may sound, because he is so divisive. He is so disrespectful of his fellow and sister justices on the court. The level of disdain for the other justices in his opinions comes through loud and clear. I’m not sure how they would take being herded by someone who had such disdain for them.”

To me, this is the big one; read his dissent in Planned Parenthood v. Casey:

Beyond that brief summary of the essence of my position, I will not swell the United States Reports with repetition of what I have said before; and applying the rational basis test, I would uphold the Pennsylvania statute in its entirety. I must, however, respond to a few of the more outrageous arguments in today's opinion, which it is beyond human nature to leave unanswered...One might have feared to encounter this august and sonorous phrase in an opinion defending the real Roe v. Wade, rather than the revised version fabricated today by the authors of the joint opinion...I cannot agree with, indeed I am appalled by, the Court's suggestion that the decision whether to stand by an erroneous constitutional decision must be strongly influenced - against overruling, no less - by the substantial and continuing public opposition the decision has generated.

Whether the argument he makes are sound or not, the snarky tone he uses--while sometimes fun to read--seems inappropriate for a United States Supreme Court Justice, much less a Chief Justice. Some of his writings would be more fitting for, say, a blog.

Anyway, remember how I said I hadn't read the last few paragraphs of the article? When I got home and turned my computer on, the web page was still on the screen so I went ahead and finished it:

If the court has become a super-legislature, then, Scalia said, “We can have a sort of plebiscite each time a new nominee to that body is put forward.”

And if Scalia is nominated to be chief justice, it will be a sort of plebiscite; not a debate over whether he’s qualified, because, after all, the Senate unanimously confirmed him in 1986, but a struggle over his decisions and dissents on abortion, the death penalty, racial preferences and the exercise of religion.

This type of reporting is what gets to me. Earlier in the article, Curry quotes someone as providing a quite valid reason of why Scalia--even if he is qualified to be a Justice--may not be qualified to be a Chief Justice. So this last paragraph is just wrong and an oversimplification, and it even contradicts the article that contains it!

The desire to make an amazing insight in the last paragraph of some piece of writing--which I am clearly doing here--is a natural one. But amazing insights tend to be more amazing and insightful if they are actually the culmination of the rest of the piece in which they are contained. In fact, Curry should look no further than a Scalia opinion to learn this lesson. Scalia's dissent is Casey ends:

[B]y foreclosing all democratic outlet for the deep passions this issue arouses, by banishing the issue from the political forum that gives all participants, even the losers, the satisfaction of a fair hearing and an honest fight, by continuing the imposition of a rigid national rule instead of allowing for regional differences, the Court merely prolongs and intensifies the anguish.

We should get out of this area, where we have no right to be, and where we do neither ourselves nor the country any good by remaining.

Genuineness Under Siege!

I can't believe I'm getting caught up in this, but I just heard on NPR that Wal-Mart is allowing Salvation Army ringers outside their doors. More than that, they are going to provide a match of up to $1 million!

Wal-Mart truly truly cares about our country, much more so than the anti-Christian, communist and anal-sex loving Target.

Or perhaps they are a desperate business whose sales are unexpectedly low this year, and are trying to stir brand loyalty by tearing the country apart.

I make no secret about not liking the Salvation Army. They are an anti-gay organization that actively works against gay rights. They have that right, but I shed no tears when Target banned Salvation Army ringers this year. (Target didn't do it because of a political stance, but rather because they were receiving a lot of requests for solicitors and didn't want to pick and choose who could be at their doors.)

It is disgusting that the Salvation Army involves itself in politics, and then tries to act like they are under attack by evil corporations. Helping the poor and being anti-gay do not have to go hand-in-hand. And I damn well do not feel bad about not supporting an organization that would rather I did not exist, even if they try to cover it up with "good works."

Wal-Mart, however, saw Target's decision as an opportunity. If the people who run Wal-Mart really felt stirred to give the Salvation Army money, they could have done so without issuing a press release and notifying the conservative media. Or they could have given the money at the beginning of the season, before people were crying that Christmas was under siege. Instead, in the face of declining sales, they broadcast this gift to the world. This is what corporations do--but anyone who thinks that Wal-Mart is a good company because they do this and goes and shops their is giving in to a cynical ploy. (People like Pat Robertson were already telling people to shop at Wal-Mart anyway.)

Like I said in my last post, I celebrated Christmas growing up and have no problem when people tell me Merry Christmas. I don't have a problem with the holiday itself. I have a problem with the way it is being used as yet another wedge by greedy (for power, money, or ratings) miscreants. Anyone who decries the "commercialization" of the holiday should take no solace in a corporate gift from Wal-Mart to the Salvation Army--the gift is commercialization at its most repugnant.

Merry Hanukkah!

I love Frank Rich. This is the one guy whose opinion pieces always say what I've been thinking, but in a much more eloquent, convincing and funny way.

His latest, 2004: The Year of the 'Passion' goes into the whining of some Christians about how they are being persecuted--yet at the same time claiming to be a large majority of the country. Some of the choice passages:

In the latest and most bizarre twist on this theme, even Christmas is now said to be a target of the anti-Christian mob. "Are we going to abolish the word Christmas?" asked Newt Gingrich, warning that "it absolutely can happen here." Among those courageously leading the fight to save the holiday from its enemies is Bill O'Reilly, who has taken to calling the Anti-Defamation League "an extremist group" and put the threat this way: "Remember, more than 90 percent of American homes celebrate Christmas. But the small minority that is trying to impose its will on the majority is so vicious, so dishonest — and has to be dealt with." If more than 90 percent of American households celebrate Christmas, you have to wonder why the guy is whining. The only evidence of what Pat Buchanan has called Christmas-season "hate crimes against Christianity" consists of a few ridiculous and isolated incidents, like the banishment of a religious float from a parade in Denver and of religious songs from a high school band concert in New Jersey. (In scale, this is nothing compared with the refusal of the world's largest retailer, Wal- Mart, to stock George Carlin's new best seller, "When Will Jesus Bring the Pork Chops?," whose cover depicts its author at the Last Supper.)

What is this about? How can those in this country's overwhelming religious majority maintain that they are victims in a fiery battle with forces of darkness? It is certainly not about actual victimization. Christmas is as pervasive as it has ever been in America, where it wasn't even declared a federal holiday until after the Civil War. What's really going on here is yet another example of a post-Election-Day winner-takes-all power grab by the "moral values" brigade. As Mr. Gibson shrewdly contrived his own crucifixion all the way to the bank, trumping up nonexistent threats to his movie to hype it, so the creation of imagined enemies and exaggerated threats to Christianity by "moral values" mongers of the right has its own secular purpose. The idea is to intimidate and marginalize anyone who objects to their efforts to impose the most conservative of Christian dogma on public policy. If you're against their views, you don't have a differing opinion — you're anti-Christian (even if you are a Christian).

As Ms. Kissling points out, the 50 million Americans who belong to progressive religious organizations are rarely represented on television because "progressive religious leaders are so tolerant that they don't make good TV." The Rev. Bob Chase of the United Church of Christ agrees: "We're not exciting guests." His church's recent ad trumpeting its inclusion of gay couples was rejected by the same networks that routinely give a forum to the far more dramatic anti-gay views of Mr. Falwell. Ms. Kissling laments that contemporary progressive Christians lack an intellectual star to rival Reinhold Niebuhr or William Sloane Coffin, but adds that today "Jesus Christ would have a tough time getting covered by TV if he didn't get arrested."

I'd actually heard about O'Reilly's ridiculous "Christmas Under Siege" garbage a while ago, and then came across a longer article in Salon, entitled "The Grinch who saved Christmas", which covers some of the same territory as Rich. After reading that article, I thought about adding my rant about how whiney and confrontational these people have become, but I resisted because I felt like that was exactly what O'Reilly wants. They make money by antagonizing, and I didn't want to be a part of it. But Rich's article did such a perfect job of capturing my sentiments, I couldn't let it go by without a mention.

I grew up celebrating both Hanukkah and Christmas. I don't have a problem with it when people wish me a Merry Christmas. I actually hate the term "Happy Holidays" because it sounds so generic and half-ass: if you're going to try to be inoffensive, don't mention holidays at all because unless you are Jewish or Christian, there isn't really much of a holiday going on. (I know there is an overlap with Ramadan some years, but what about atheists?)

At MIT, there was a small tree put up outside the Student Center. It was known as the "Non-Denominational Holiday Shrub." So I took to calling my menorah a "Non-Denominational Holiday Candle Holder." It makes about as much sense.

I'm more bothered by the fact that corporations use these holidays and all other holidays as marketing tools. Does Wal-Mart really want me to have a Happy Holiday? No, Wal-Mart wants money--but getting people in the "Holiday Spirit" helps them do that.

John Boykin's "Can the 'Christ' Be Kept in Christmas" was an audio commentary on All Things Considered a couple of weeks ago that explored the commercialization of Christmas and also the weird idea of having a holiday that focuses so much on a baby. Boykin points out that we don't celebrate Martin Luther King Jr's birth on his birthday, but rather look at his life and teachings. Boykin would be happy giving up Christmas to total secularization (returning it to its pagan roots perhaps?) and celebrating Easter as a real Christian holiday instead.

So I am not offended by a "Merry Christmas" from anyone. I am offended by people trying to tear this country apart for ratings, for money, and for power. I am offended by people who are so mean-spirited and angry that they use the facade of a holiday as a reason to attack other people. I am also offended by people who are in the majority and who have power whining about persecution when there is so much real persecution in this world.

I Am Aidells' Sausage

Sure, my friend Charity can rub in the fact that Gorbachev visited Google, but can she claim a visit from famous sausage chef Bruce Aidells? He stopped by Oracle today, taking over one of our cafes with all Aidells-themed food. (There was roasted pork loin, grilled sausages and sausage soup among other things.) I mean, sure, Gorbachev helped bring about the demise of the Soviet Union, but can the man cook? Did he give us chicken apple sausage? No, all he left us with are loose nukes and Putin.

I really do have fond memories of his sausage; when Benson and I first started dating I frequently cooked us breakfast on the weekend and made Aidells sausage. Of course, Benson doesn't remember--when I told him Aidells was coming today, the conversation went a little bit like this:

Joey: "Chef Aidells is going to be at Oracle tomorrow!"
Benson: "Who is that?"
Joey: "You know, the guy who makes the sausage?"
Benson: "Who?"

Then today:

Joey: "Look, I got Chef Aidells to sign a book for us."
Benson: "Who?"

The main reason for his visit was to promote his new book Complete Book of Pork. It felt a bit hypocritical getting a book signed. Benson works at a bookstore, and they have not-too-infrequent book signings. I've told him that the whole idea of getting a book signed by someone seems so meaningless. The process is too mechanical for the big names: sign the book, "next", sign the book, "next." When Clinton visited Barnes&Noble here in San Jose, it was specified that he would not write any personal messages, and he barely even spoke to the hundreds of people that came through.

But when I stopped by the cafe today, there was Bruce Aidells sitting at a table with his books, and no line. I had decided beforehand that I would buy one of his books and get it signed if it wasn't too much of a hassle--I sort of justified it to myself that this book could actually be useful. It is a cookbook after all. (I felt a bit guilty since I am Jewish and all, but pork just tastes so good.)

Since there was no line, and perhaps just because he is naturally friendly, we made some small talk. I asked him why he decided to write a whole book about pork (it turned out he was asked to by the publisher apparently).

He's also quite witty. He said that the book goes into details on how sausage is made. I asked "aren't we not supposed to want to see how it is made?" To which he responded "Much like programming."

Since he didn't have the same rule against personalization that Clinton apparently had, I asked him to make it out to me and Benson. He got a little flustered when spelling Benson's name:

It is amusing how celebrity works. After that brief moment, I feel some sort of connection to him, even though he wouldn't remember me if he saw me tomorrow. I can also feel a surge of brand loyalty building up in me. I find it funny that I am so uncomfortable with these feelings--and even moreso that I feel the need to justify it internally by thinking "he's a minor and local celebrity, with a wholesome and tasty product that I already enjoyed." Now if Gorbachev wants to come to Oracle with some Gorbachev-themed food, then maybe I'd let him sign a book for me.

A Penny Saved Is A Penny Thrown Into A Black Hole

There was a time, not that long ago, when I finally decided that I did not need to make that much money. I looked at all of my expenses, and figured that Benson and I could easily live off of half of what we make now--we wouldn't necessarily have all of the little luxuries, but we would have shelter and food. I used this to justify changing careers to something that would have more of an impact on the world, perhaps doing more in the service of mankind.

Then we went on a small spending spree--buying a new washer and dryer (environmentally friendly!) and a new color laser multifunction device (consolidating other devices and saving space!). We've thought about buying a new refrigerator (again, doing our part to save the world), and a new espresso machine (okay, this one has no redeeming qualities.) I've somehow decided that I need a nice leather recliner or armchair (from Pottery Barn perhaps?) and could use a new ultraportable laptop (my current one is just too damn heavy).

I'm not sure where this materialistic streak has come from, but it so strong that even after reading a Mother Jones article about the poverty of the migrant workers in California's San Joaquin valley ("Migrants No More" by Maggie Jones) this afternoon, I had only minor pangs of guilt thinking about when and where Benson and I will buy our commitment rings.

If I have to think of a justification for this, I could point to two things that have made me question the worth of money: the weakening dollar and the potential of a real estate bubble.

The weakening dollar has been scary since at least before the election, but it has been picking up steam--at least in the media. The Economist (whose name assures me I can trust it in matters dealing with the economy) had a pair of cover articles about this, entitled "The disappearing dollar" and "The passing of the buck?". In essence, the articles argue that the huge deficits that we are running--up to 6.4% of GDP compared to a maximum of 3% of GDP required for all countries that use the Euro--have led to a weakened dollar and to fact that the euro is becoming more appealing as a reserve currency. The effect of this is that foreign governments that currently finance our debt and buy massive amounts of dollars will stop doing so, sending interest rates soaring and the value of the dollar tumbling.

The dollar has been the leading international currency for as long as most people can remember. But its dominant role can no longer be taken for granted. If America keeps on spending and borrowing at its present pace, the dollar will eventually lose its mighty status in international finance. And that would hurt: the privilege of being able to print the world's reserve currency, a privilege which is now at risk, allows America to borrow cheaply, and thus to spend much more than it earns, on far better terms than are available to others. Imagine you could write cheques that were accepted as payment but never cashed. That is what it amounts to. If you had been granted that ability, you might take care to hang on to it. America is taking no such care, and may come to regret it.

A weakening dollar means that any money I put into savings today will be worth less tomorrow. Why put money into savings if this is the case? I could put money in the stock market, but if we have the recession that some predict, then the stock market sure isn't a good bet. Is it not therefore better to spend money now on goods that last a little while--refrigerators, washers and dryers, espresso machines, recliners--than letting the money sit in the bank and devalue?

One of the major savings goals that Benson and I have established is having enough money to afford a large down payment on a house. In the Bay Area, you need at least $500,000 to get a tiny house in a not-that-rundown area. That is a discouraging proposition, and makes the amount that we are able to put into savings seem quite small. I sometimes think that our only realistic option is to save up some money and move to the middle of nowhere where houses are cheaper. (I dutifully sent Benson a link to CNN's Take the money and run--to Auburn?", an article about this very topic.)

Regardless, buying a house seems so overwhelming that when I read an article like "Bubble Trouble" in U.S. News & World Report, I think about giving up on getting a house any time in the near future anyway. A lot of people think that the housing market is a bubble, and that rising interest rates--which could be accelerated if The Economist articles mentioned above are right--will pop it. Part of me has thought this was a bubble that was going to pop in the past, it hasn't yet, so it won't in the future. That is the same thing I was saying around 2000, right before the stock market bubble burst. The article also mentioned something I hadn't been aware of--housing prices in LA in 1990 fell by 40%, and in Boston and SF by 20%. Who in his or her right mind would buy a house in this market???

So the need to save for a house starts to seem a little less pressing--we'll just wait for the bubble to burst and then move in.

With less of a need to save for a house, and the fact that money I save today could be worth less tomorrow, it just seems to make more sense to spend money instead of saving it. While this logic makes sense to me, it still has an unusual feeling to it. I'm worried that the American economy is going to collapse, along with the housing market. Instead of preparing for it by saving money for hard times, though, I've somehow decided that saving money is useless.

I am being a bit dramatic. As with most areas where my only expertise comes from reading articles, I am skeptical about my reasoning, so I hedge my bets quite a bit. In fact, we still are saving quite aggressively--only a little less so than we would have otherwise. (On the plus side, we get shiny new things to show for it.)

Of course, this still leaves the question about whether this money we are spending on luxuries could be better spent on, say, feeding the hungry or helping to end injustice throughout the world. Yup, it looks like those pangs are back.

A Message from Colorado

Sometimes it is motivating to read articles from the other side. John Andrews' "What the Hell Happened in Colorado?" contained this:

The message gap was a consequence of this motivation gap. Democrats talked about making Colorado a better state, about not letting Republicans cut cherished programs, and about the GOP's supposed obsession with "gays, guns, and God." Republicans talked about . . . what? Other than denying their charges and hurling some back, we pretty much punted. Republican candidates picked their own issues locally. Churchill would have called it a pudding with no theme.

Andrews is wondering why the Democrats won big in Colorado (except, of course, for that whole voting-for-Bush thing). The Republican Senate seat became Democratic again. The Democrats took control of both houses of the state legislature for the first time since 1960.

His reason is that the Republicans had no message. Sound familiar? Switch the parties (and positions) around, and it sounds the same thing the Democrats have been saying nationally.

So is it possible that you simply pull out the excuse about message whenever your side loses? I'd like to think that the Democrats won in Colorado because the people there support its positions. It seems much less painful to say "they would agree with us if we had gotten our message out better," but both sides can't be right. If both sides got their messages out so that the public was completely informed, who would be winning elections?

Sure, it is possible that the Democrats in Colorado have done something right that the Democrats in other states did wrong, and that we should learn from what they did. But if John Andrews is right, the flip side could also be possible--that the Republicans in Colorado have done something wrong, and need to learn from the Republicans in other states.

NPR Proves I Found Mr. Right

What are the chances???

This past week, NPR has proved that Benson and I were meant for each other. "How?," you may ask? Because in a single week there were stories on national NPR shows that mentioned both of our high schools. Now, we didn't go to Exeter or Stuy, so you likely never heard of our schools before. But that is what makes it so special...

Benson's high school--Mission San Jose High in Fremont, California--was mentioned on Morning Edition on November 29th in the story Immigrants Weigh Splitting from California School System. The story explores how the white students/families at Mission San Jose are annoyed at the majority of Asians (including Indians) at the school--and how some Asians are trying to split away. (There was a follow-up story the next day, Children of Immigrants Seek to Define Their Identity, but that one was a bit more generic and less about the high school itself.)

My high school--Lumberton Senior High in Lumberton, North Carolina--was mentioned later in the week on All Things Considered's Remembering Lance Cpl. Benjamin Bryan. This was a depressing story about a Marine from Lumberton that was killed in Iraq. He also went to Lumberton Senior High, and the school got a brief mention. (The local paper, The Robesonian, covered Bryan's death as well.)

Neither of these stories is particularly happy--one is about tensions with immigrants, and the other is about the death of someone in Iraq. But the coincidence of both of our high schools being mentioned nationally in a single week struck me.

My "What are the chances?" question is a bit tongue-in-cheek. One of my 6.042 (Math for Computer Science) professors, Tom Leighton, did a great job of ruining coincidences for me. His basic point was that if you think of all of the coincidences that could happen that don't then the few that do are statistically insignificant. So when I run into a friend I haven't seen in a long time in a store, what about all of the times that I didn't see that friend in the store? What about all of the other friends that I didn't see in the store? What about all of the other places I didn't see this friend?

Leave it to math to take the fun out of things. But just as I enjoy the slots in Vegas even though I know the mathematical odds are against me, I can be struck by coincidences even though I know they are "statistically insignificant."

Amazingly, People Have Different Perspectives

This is one of those ground-breaking blog entries that point out the obvious as if it were actually a reflection on the sapience of the blogger:

People have different perspectives.

It is easy to forget that there are a lot of people out there whose experiences in life are totally different from my own.

I came across this in a The Economist article "Where have all the people gone?"

Women now far outnumber men in Zimbabwe, and the very young and very old outnumber adults of working age. In a typical household in Pumula South, a township of Bulawayo, ten children gobble maize paste from plastic plates under a hot tin roof. Their various parents have been “out” for several months, says their grandmother.

That is, they are in Johannesburg, flipping steaks or working illegally in shops. Sometimes they send back a bag of flour with a few folded banknotes hidden inside. But only sometimes. In other townships, the story is the same. “Almost all my friends are in South Africa and my relatives are in Britain,” says a man in Nkulumane, also on the edge of Bulawayo.

The sentence in bold above is what really struck me. This morning, I was talking to my mom about how she could send me some money for a gift. We spent about 5 minutes deciding how to do this--Paypal? Check? Transfer into my savings? Give a check to my sister, have her deposit it, then Paypal me?

It never crossed our minds that she could put the money in a bag of flour and send it to me.

And it never crossed our minds that there are a lot of people in this world for whom receiving a bag of flour--and the promise of food that it brings--would have been a happy enough occasion without any money inside.

Looking back at this blog and my thoughts over the past few months, I realize that I'm focusing a lot on the process of things--the legal structures, what it means to live in a democracy, etc. It is easy to ponder these things when you have all of the comforts that I have.

There is virtually no chance that I am ever going to see the world from the same perspective as the guy "flipping steaks" in Johannesburg to send money back to kids in Zimbabwe. But it is still useful to remember that no matter how important or big I think my thoughts or actions are, there are many other ways of looking at the world.

What A Busy Nerd I've Been!

It's been a few days since my last entry, mostly because I've been busy with Thanksgiving and then writing papers for my Supreme Court class. I thought I'd be busy revising my Post-9/11 Foreign Policy paper, but my professor liked it enough that he suggested I think about writing an Op-Ed out of it. We'll have to see about that... (But for that reason, I'm not going to post that one yet even though I promised to do that earlier.)

I also spent a little bit of time working on adding a page of vocabulary to my web site. I think this means I have truly qualified to be a nerd. (Well, perhaps the blog and the web site--not to mention the Computer Science degree--meant I'd already obtained that qualification.)

I created that page mostly for my own use. I was toying around with the practice GRE some time ago (when I was considering getting a PhD), and I realized that my vocabulary skills weren't as great as they could be. Since then, I've become hyper-aware of how many words I just don't know. If it were not for the possibility of taking a standardized test at some point, would it really be worth it to look up these words and record them? Even though I actually do enjoy accumulating knowledge, what is the practical use? How many times am I going to weave "atavistic" into a conversation? I reckon any writings that I toss these words into will seem somehow more intellectual (well, as long as I avoid using the word "reckon").

Fortunately, I've embraced my nerdiness in this respect at least. The practical use of learning vocabularly doesn't really matter to me that much. I enjoy it for the same reason I enjoy reading articles about subjects that I'll never apply to anything, or having a conversation about a topic that doesn't change my world in any way. These things, just like the Fourteenth Amendment (according to Justice Harlan), stand on their own bottom.