A sensitive topic

There is an interesting article on BBC News online today regarding abortion; a good read on a sensitive topic.

I’m pro-choice and I don’t believe that automatically labels me a bad person. It simply means that I don’t feel it’s my decision to decide what my neighbor, coworker, or the woman in line behind me at the grocery store should do with her body. I don’t think the government should decide that for her or me, either. Of course I'm for life, but I'm also for choice. All pro-choice means is that it’s up to the individual to decide.

One of my brother's was not planning on becoming a father as soon as he did. Granted, he’s 32, but you haven’t met my brother and you’d understand better if you did. He’s an airline pilot and he has the classic, stereotypical pilot looks, down to the chiseled jaw line. The thought of having a child scared him beyond words. He and his girlfriend did decide to have their baby; abortion wasn’t an option for them. But you know what, it was their decision. And they make a great family, are very happy together and great parents … on their terms.

The important thing to remember is that the option was there if they decided to use it and it’s not my business if they had gone that route or not. I fear for the women, especially teenagers, who might not have an option because even if abortion was illegal or parental consent was needed, it would continue in unsanitary, back alley style. I hope this country does not step backward any further on this issue. It has already stepped back far enough in several states.

Update: A related article on CNN.com today if interested.

It's about the experience

Even during the holiday season when people start losing their patience and humor, I still love airports. Luggage restrictions, weight requirements, long lines, people attached to their electronic devices, people screaming at their kids are all minor inconveniences.

Of course, I call this a minor inconvenience now because I haven’t technically been the one to travel lately. I picked up my brother and his wife a few weeks ago at SFO, my home away from home, and last week I met my parents at SFO to grab a coffee with them before saying bye to my mom as she left for a trip. But I never do pick-ups, drop-offs or hellos and goodbyes at the curb; I always park and go inside because my love of airports stems from the people-watching-and-wondering aspect.

I love watching and wondering where someone is going or coming from, who they’re meeting on the other end, are they coming back or were they just visiting, business or pleasure, is that their wife or daughter they’re hugging goodbye (hey, sometimes you can’t tell!), why does that pair look so distant, and there’s a family with matching tropical shirts and serious tans that must be returning from Hawaii… the possibilities are endless.

And then there’s flying itself. When I fly, it is a relief just to make it onto the plane and sit down but sometimes you’re lucky enough to meet interesting people. I have had the opportunity to sit next to a college professor, a mother of four traveling to visit a sick relative, a man who never looked up from his book, a woman who softly snored, a man heading to Kuwait to continue work in the oil industry (that flight left from Houston, go figure), a man heading back to college after visiting family in Italy, a Mr. T look-alike (minus the gold chains and mohawk) who spoke fluent Swedish, and my favorite was the woman whose husband was stuck in a different row – but when I offered to switch – turned out she was fine taking a break from him and we ended up chatting away. And at the end of these flights there is usually no exchange of phone numbers or e-mails; just a simple farewell and thanks for making the flight enjoyable.

And that’s what I love about airports and flying. It’s the experience. It’s a moment where lives briefly intersect, on the ground or in flight, each leaving some kind of impression unique to us.

We're in this together, like it or not

Ya know, here’s the thing. Most Americans are good at sharing and reaching out. Don’t laugh, really, we are. Sure, we’ll donate to help tsunami and hurricane victims, we’ll support our coworker’s children by buying cookies or wrapping paper for school fundraisers, and of course we’ll give the homeless guy an extra dime or two if we have it on us as we leave a store.

Oh, and don’t forget company potlucks. Yes, we’ll stay up until 11 p.m. making that pasta salad to feed 50+ people or pitch in $20+ for the boss’s retirement gift.

But we have a flaw through all this charity and giving we do with glowing pride and how-great-am-I-for-pitching-in attitudes. The flaw is the inability to look beyond our feet, our immediate surroundings, and prepare or consider what might happen ahead for ALL of us.

The House passed a budget bill Friday. And here’s who will pay because of the proposed cuts – the poor, the students, and the farmers.

C’mon America, open your eyes and look ahead. I don’t like paying taxes either, but if we don’t pitch in and help out by doing our part for our country, our children AND our elderly, our environment, our future, then we’re going to leave a huge chunk of our people behind because nobody pitched in – the poor, the students, and the farmers. And all we'll be left with is a poor, uneducated nation with a huge deficit and no food.

Let's take better care of each other.

Update: Let's take better care of each other locally and globally. (Thanks for pointing that out, Monika.)

One more of the Altamont

I finally transferred my latest batch of digital photos to the computer and ran across this shot of the Altamont from the same Sacramento drive I took several weeks ago for work. Last Altamont photo... really. Time for a change in scenery, especially as the leaves are changing color here.

Looking for leadership

I was watching the NewsHour a few nights ago and a very well-spoken essay by Richard Rodriguez stuck with me. I feel that it echoes what many of us think but don't necessarily take time to say or discuss. I had to share, here's the essay and I recommend listening to it if possible:

RICHARD RODRIGUEZ: In those days after Hurricane Katrina, many remembered Rudolph Giuliani. On Sep. 11, the clear blue sky had seemed to collapse, and the mayor of New York strode down the roiling street, barking orders, oblivious of his own safety.

He embodied the resilience of his city and whatever measure one had previously taken of the man, that day it was clear. There was a leader.

After Katrina, television cameras searched and searched but never found their Giuliani. And so the argument in the aftermath of the storm was about the failure of leadership.

History does not always test the powerful. Potentially great leaders fade into obscurity because they do not preside over calamity. But pity the powerful who are tested by history -- and fail.

All of us can name people who are powerful in America. But who can name leaders from among their ranks? Whether in Washington or at the state capitol, whether on Wall Street or in some church hierarchy, there is power, not leadership.

From Rome there is news that the Vatican intends to purge homosexuals from the ranks of clergy in order to avoid future pedophilia scandals, but the greatest scandal within the Church has been the failure of bishops as moral leaders.

In corporate America, the CEO sells his stock before the plunge or rewards himself even as his company fails.

We have grown so used to seeing corporate America in handcuffs we are becoming a soft and cynical people. We are entertained by the vulgarity of Donald Trump and his humiliation of the underling.

(DONALD TRUMP: All right. Brian, you're fired.)

The relationship of the powerful to the crowd is stuff of high drama. It was Shakespeare's concern: the lives of kings and princes. We groundlings in the pit are not Prince Hal, but in becoming king, Hal learns to embody the character of his people.

In a democracy, we do not elect leaders exactly. We elect representatives to work the will of the people. But we like to think that we appraise the character of those we elect.

(FRANKLIN D. ROOSEVELT: The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.)

A leader emerges often in times of duress by finding the true meaning of his position and task: As president, as governor, as mayor.

There is often a risk in leadership. The leader assumes the danger the crowd faces and more. The general leads his men into battle; the captain is the last to abandon the ship.

In today's America, men and women of the working class are paid to fight wars the powerful never risk.

Princess Diana, dysfunctional, perhaps slightly mad, seemed to me a true leader, instinctive in ways that appropriate Queen Elizabeth will never be. Princess Diana could touch people -- literally touch the wounded. And a nation recognized their suffering in her suffering.

The ritual of hands touching hands is a staple of modern politics. It derives from an ancient belief that the anointed hand of the royal had healing power. But what happens when this ceremony is only theatrical and the powerful inhabit a world unconnected in a common fate?

The failed Boston cardinal is awarded a palace in Rome; the ex-con has her TV show again. The floodwaters recede to reveal a network of contracts and cronies.

My concern here is not with the falling popularity of Republicans or with the failure of Democrats to say what they stand for beyond an envy of power. My concern here is with the disconnection between power and leadership in America.

In this time of the absence of leaders we groundlings in the pit might ask how we have come to have such kings and princes as these.

I'm Richard Rodriguez.

Too loud to ignore

I was the first to arrive to a dinner last night and decided to wait outside the restaurant as the full party had to be present in order to be seated. I plopped down in a chair at the outdoor patio facing the street and across the empty road, thanks to the weeknight, stood a couple fighting. I hadn’t noticed them when I arrived and they were too busy fighting to be aware of me, but I could not believe some of the vulgar words shouted by the man to the woman who looked defeated and embarrassed. Part of me wanted to intervene and the other part of me thought it best, and logical, to mind my own business.

The couple stood out because of the man’s high volume, plus I happened to catch a news segment the night before about a woman trying to leave an abusive husband. The program made only her shadow visible and her voice had been changed to protect her from a man who had left threatening phone messages regarding their kids, broke her windshield with his bare hands and stalked her to the point she had surveillance cameras installed on her property. Good for her, I thought. She is managing to pull through in spite of the horrendous ordeal.

This couple fighting in the street seemed to be teetering that border where the relationship can’t necessarily be labeled abusive (based on this public display) but it hit a nerve -- I had too much time to think while waiting -- that some women are in this position where they feel helpless, scared, nowhere-to-turn-for-help, but-I-love-him, but-he’s-not-always-like-this, but-he-pays-the-bills. And it especially bothered me because I do have a friend who has been hit but still wants the relationship to work out; she was only hit once but once is enough in my book. And equally bad, I have another friend who is emotionally and verbally abused… and still wants to work it out.

”Leave,” I tell her as kindly as I can muster. “I know I should, I know that’s the right thing to do, but I can’t help that I’m in love with him,” comes the routine answer I've heard for years.

Ugh.

There is nothing worse than standing by a friend and wanting to provide support, lend an ear, give a hand, while screaming inside can’t-you-see-this-will-continue-if-you-stay. Believe me, I’m honest with my friends in this situation and I don’t understand why their own parents and siblings still let these men visit or stay with their daughters/sisters, but at some point a woman needs to face the truth and bite the bullet. Suck up the pride and move away if need be, find a new circle of friends, just find a safe place to start fresh and not be tempted to look back. No, you’re not worthless without him and of course you deserve better; any human does. It’s not easy to stay strong and it’s often not an easy road but it’s worth it.

I have never been in an abusive relationship but I have been in one where outwardly, to friends and family, I was treated much better than I was behind the scenes. The hardest but most rewarding lesson from that relationship was realizing that I was responsible for my choices. I dated him, I allowed him to treat me poorly, and in the end it was also I who packed up his various items around my apartment, drove over to his place, ended the relationship in-person, and drove away crying for two days. I knew I would lose his friends, that I would miss certain things, that I would wake up alone, and that was fine by me. I made the choice not to say goodbye via e-mail, I faced my problem head-on, cordially, and I moved forward.

And I so desperately want to help my friends in much, much worse situations, including that woman across the road from the restaurant, but I can share my opinions and lessons learned until I’m blue in the face because I won't really be heard. At some point, a person must stand up for himself/herself when enough is enough and have the courage to take control and move forward.

Finger pointing gets old

One reason we're not moving forward in this country is because we’re too busy pointing fingers and assigning blame when we should be taking responsibility and making smarter decisions.

Someone made a good point to me recently that I might not agree with 100% but certainly raises the let-me-give-this-more-thought eyebrow:

This is the only country where people vote against their best interests.

(That perspective does not apply to recent election results; what a brief breath of fresh air.)

Rewind button

This is where I’d like to be today. At the home of my morster and morbror (aunt & uncle) in Sweden, taking in the end of summer together like I did last year. I wish I could press the rewind button.

My uncle has been living with Leukemia for years and for the most part, it hasn’t been discussed because it was something he managed to keep under control. Until now. The past two months he has been going to the hospital for blood transfusions and this week he is stuck at the hospital. I know it is now at the worry stage because my aunt, a strong but quiet force with a heart of gold, is worried enough that we have all taken notice. I come from an extremely stubborn family so I know it’s bad when the stubbornness is set aside and emotional support is requested.

And stubbornness aside, we’re all very close; many thanks to the postal service and the invention of e-mail. But today I wish I could hop a plane and spend time with my uncle. And I will, as soon as possible.

My brother the father

My older brother, also known as ohmygod-your-brother-is-so-hot growing up, celebrated his daughter’s first birthday recently. He lives on the opposite coast and I wasn’t able to join in the festivities this time, but it is still amazing to watch how fatherhood has turned my brother into a man.

Girls in high school would dedicate songs to my brother on the radio. He was popular, good looking and he knew it; a lethal combination for sensitive hearts. One flash of his pearly whites and girls would giggle themselves silly. I often wanted to stand behind him when he talked to girls and hold up a sign reading “run now, thank me later”. He is the reason I can spot a player a mile away. He is also the reason I don’t date players (alright, so I was oblivious to one or two).

Then fatherhood hit. He had just purchased his first home and was wondering where to place a pool table in his bachelor pad. Next thing he knew it was goodbye bachelor pad, hello family and baby room.

And you know what? Fatherhood is the best thing that ever happened to him. He can change a diaper in twenty seconds flat, check the weather to make sure he has a warm sweater handy for his daughter, and the way he speaks proudly about his family leaves me speechless. Mr. Selfish has become Mr. Family Man. One flash of his daughter’s four pearly whites and my brother giggles himself silly.

Jack London Square

I was in Oakland last night.

“Gasp!”

That’s the standard reaction. Oakland has a bad reputation; mainly from news stories about murders, gang violence, shootings, rapes, robberies… did I miss anything? Probably. It also has a bad reputation from friends experiences and friends-of-friends experiences. For example, I knew a couple whose two cars were broken into often enough that they ended up buying a motorcycle and parking it in their apartment. They have since moved.

I like Oakland. Perhaps not enough to live there but Oakland is a very interesting place with cultural diversity, good views and proximity to San Francisco. I try never to let a bad reputation spoil a good place.

I was at Jack London Square listening to jazz last night.

"Whew. That’s better."

Over the Altamont

Wind energy in the making over the Altamont Pass.