Taking it Outside

I'm going to Kobe for a few days to work on a book proposal, but I wanted to crack open a thread if anyone wanted to discuss the happenings there. Gary's post is a welcome sight, though I'm not sure I would have led with prison rape. There's also some talk of new front pagers. Thoughts?

When I talked about embedded, I didn't really think at all about the reasons I may have become embeddable, so the comments to the last post really generated a lot of thought for me.

I don't think it was an inheritance as such, though it would be logical. I've talked about my mother leaving the UK at the age of 14 with her parents and my dad's island fever bringing him from Hawai'i to Madison, Wisconsin. I love both places, but I don't think you can trade one for the other. But if it were inheritance, it would make it difficult for me to understand why my brother is the complete opposite. One way I think people deal with being dis-embedded is by dismissing the values of be part of a local community. It's a method that I hope I haven't succumbed to too often, but to do it in a complete manner, I would have to diss my brother to an extent that isn't really possible for me.

A more likely reason (to me, at least) is that a very low level of patience coupled with being very easily amused by new things. 2 years ago, one friend took up darts in a pretty serious way, as long as I've got someone to throw with, I'm there. Another friend, after having a minor health incident, took up ping pong, and I get out there once or twice a week as long as he's willing to play. However, with both things, it is not enough to just play, I have a pathetic need to get the right gear, and find out as much about the obscure object of desire as I can. If those friends moved away or quit, I'm sure that I would pack up my stuff and move on to the next shiny bauble. One room of the house is filled with the detritus of various hobbies and sports that I have done.

When I was younger, I really envied other people who were able to throw there all into doing something. I've mentioned that I was in music, and there, you have any number of people for whom the center of their life was playing the horn or being a conductor or whatever. And if I fell into their orbit, I would keep up with them for a bit, but, if they moved on, would find my motivation for continuing slowly ebbing away. 

For a while, I thought that salvation would be found in choosing some subject that had countless niches, so that if I grew tired of one, I could shift to another. That's kept me busy and moderately entertained, but now, the remembering takes a bit longer, the mountain of information to know seems a bit taller, and I seem a bit too tired to jump into something. 

Does any of this sound familiar?

It's a shame that 'embed' has been taken over by journalists wanting to pretend they are objective yet still cheer on the 'good guys', because the word embed seems to sum up all my experiences on this planet. I've always felt a lack of membership in the particular community I am in at any one time, not thru any fault on their part, but feeling like I don't quite fit. That's to be expected here in the land of Wa, but going back to the states for the summer highlights how I'm probably more at home in Japan than I will ever be again in the States. At any rate, with Sebastian doing his Ferrari impression (naive wonder to faux outrage in 3.5 comments!), I certainly don't want to step in the water at the mothership, so I'll just write up various impressions from 3 weeks in Carriere-Anaheim-New Orleans-Hattiesburg and Jackson.

My youngest daughter got her first taste of the happiest place on earth (I guess they don't use that now since there are 5 of them) but what was depressing was seeing so many of the 'cast members' (as they are called) at D'land folks who seemed to be doing it because it was the only job going. I'm pretty inured to this in Mississippi, but it was a surprise to see so many in California in this state. AFter noticing it there, it seemed that almost everywhere else, a similar thing was happening. Going on a vacation means that you use the service economy a lot more than usual, but it really seems marked.

About 5 years ago, going to D'land, my daughter got sick and we had to stay in Anaheim for much longer than we had planned, and so I got to know the town a bit better than I would have. Anyway, this time, we wanted to have some pastries for breakfast, so in the afternoon, while the family was resting, I went to a pastry shop that I remembered from that time. It was across the street for a big used book store which had two books that I wanted to buy and were unlikely to be wanted by anyone else, so I headed over there. On the way over, I stopped at the supermarket that we had gone to, and was a bit surprised to see that though it was the same storefront, it had turned into a hispanic mercado. That wasn't too shocking, with demographics and stuff, but when I went to the neighborhood with the pastry shop and the used book store, all the signs were in Arabic and the bookstore was a muslim community center. The baklava were fantastic, but this kind of change in the space of 5 years makes the current mosque crap much more understandable. In fact, we had a family reunion at a cousin's house which is in Temecula, the sight of a mosque protest. 

In fact, back in Mississippi, I caught up with some high school friends after 30 years and was down on the Gulf Coast, which has also turned Hispanic and Vietnamese. It was nice to visit and catch up, but Mississippi has never climbed too high, so it didn't have too far to fall with the current economic climate. Economically, things were pretty much the same and the social climate left over from Katrina and reinforced by the oil spill was going strong. Many of the main stores in shopping malls had been turned into churches. I wanted to call them First Bapco, but they were non-denominational. I didn't go to my old church, the congregation split and trying to remember who was who would have taken years off my life., but I did take my dad out for lunch (he'll eat anything, as long as it is a hamburger) on Sunday, right around 12, and I was surprised how empty the parking lots of the established churches were. Still, from talking to my brother and others in town, the elite of the town remain in control, because the influx of people treat the place as a bedtown, and so don't seem to vote or participate in city government. Even with the influx of outsiders, the town is still dry, (or rather damp/moist, as beer is sold, but you can't buy it at a restaurant, nor can you have any hard liquor). Bizarre.

This seems like as good a place to stop as any. 

I generally look to see what Dave Schuler thinks, and it aint good:

http://theglitteringeye.com/?p=11622

http://theglitteringeye.com/?p=11620

http://theglitteringeye.com/?p=11616

http://theglitteringeye.com/?p=11611

http://theglitteringeye.com/?p=11581

http://theglitteringeye.com/?p=11577

http://theglitteringeye.com/?p=11575

http://theglitteringeye.com/?p=11573

http://theglitteringeye.com/?p=11571

http://theglitteringeye.com/?p=11566

These are challenges, not necessarily doomsaying; the majority of folks around here are getting older.  We do need more repairmen for our appliances (not effective vs replacement, but what if you got TV right out of the air just a few years ago?), housing and our bodies in the future. This is what we want everybody, from individual healthcare providers, small businesses (especially). large companies, local, state (especially), and federal government (not so much) to address.

DARNIT, I cannot get the links to link (I cut and pasted and tried to edit in HTML). Just go to The Glittering Eye and you may have to check out previous posts. On the other hand, why even read this stuff, la la la la la la la

So, publius and Lindsay were on journolist. Not really a surprise. Hilzoy linked regularly to Ezra Klein, say every 2 or 3 posts. Perhaps she was more of a lurker.

And in 2008 not so good of a judge of whether McCain was a liar (and also Dishonorable - over and over).

=== Clip ===

I wanted to note a couple of things. First, McCain often distorted Obama's views. He said Obama would raise taxes, when (just to repeat myself) Obama will raise taxes only on people making over $250,000 a year. Still, in that case, you can imagine a way in which you might make what he said out to be true, if you squint a bit: Obama will raise some taxes. But there's no way to make this out to be anything but a lie:: [/i]

"His plan will force small busineses to cut jobs, reduce wages, and force families into a government-run health care system where a bureaucrat stands between you and your doctor."

Here's a link to Obama's health plan. If anyone can find the part about forcing anyone into a government-run health care system, I'll eat my hat. (Remember the controversy from the primaries about mandates, and how Obama didn't have them?)

=== /Clip ===

So here is how it is two years later:

 http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/18/health/policy/18health.html

Business cut jobs:Check. Reduce wages: Semi-Check (no raises). The govt-run health care is a Tax , is a Mandate, appears to be Medicaid rather than some other Public Option, but perhaps those are the same thing: Partial-Semi-Check. McCain's statement looks like it is much more truth than a lie, if you ask me.

Blogs aren't always fonts of wisdom. The opinions may not turn out to be true.  Don't believe everything you read or hear, and don't trust me on this.

Looky here now:

http://articles.chicagotribune.com/2010-07-21/news/ct-x-n-poison-ivy-0721-20100721_1_poison-ivy-plant-species-elevated-co2

Elevated CO2 levels in the atmosphere, although destructive to many plant species, are proving a boon for adaptive weeds such as poison ivy, said Lewis Ziska, a federal plant physiologist.

Really? That sounds kind of like Phil Ponce explaining on a PBS special how global warming will make Lake Michigan flood the Chicago shoreline, even though the lake has been at historic lows and ingonring the fact that Chicago is over 600 feet above sea level and in the middle of the continent.

But look a FEDERAL SCIENTIST is making the poison ivy claims! I on the other hand have only lived in the area for 25 years, and have always seen poison ivy, perhaps because I can identify it and do not need a newspaper article to tell me that it exists. I suspect that the article is meant to scare the cityfolk. The big unanswered question in my mind is whether corn and soybeans can tolerate CO2. We should all move to Antarctica, which, by journalistic standards, is the greenest place on earth.

I like this Jacob Davies guy. Lets get on the horn with Ezra and throw him a few links. I still don't get Eric.

As specified in section 172, sub section 34 paragraphs 5-7, this is the thread to discuss the recent happenings at the mother ship. 

I dont like people in grocery stores that get their filthy hands all over the produce that I am about to buy. You know, the ones who stand in front of the green beans and apparently have the time to examine every single bean that they put in their bean bag. Come on now people, let's get with it, I dont have the time and patience for that kind of stuff. And another thing, Dont Eat The Store's Food Until You Pay For It.

It has only gotten worse what with all these furriner types clogging the aisles. A few months ago there was this big lady in a fur coat that blocked the entire aisle while she picked up and put back 40 to 50 beets. BEETS! For chrissake lady, beets are basically purple colored balls of dirt with dirt covering the outside of them! Be a fucking AMERICAN for crying out loud, and get your beets from a can like God intended for us to do, and then move on and get out of everybody's way.

And for the people who are buying eggs, here is the protocol: Open the carton. Eggs not cracked? Then put them in your cart.

Dont open three cartons of eggs and swap the eggs around until you think that you have one carton of the most wonderful, perfect eggs ever created. Here, let me lick that for you. Unsatisfactory? OK I'll put it back on the shelf.

This is your open thread.

A post from The Corner about heroism.

Medals of Honor?   David French

This weekend’s New York Times Sunday Magazine contains a fascinating article that hits quite close to home for me. Centered around the story of a 25-year-old Marine who — despite horrific wounds — had the presence of mind and courage to scoop a live grenade under his body to save the lives of his comrades, the article asks a simple question: Why is the military awarding so few medals of honor? Are we less courageous now? Or is the military stifling valor awards in a labyrinthine bureaucracy dominated by rear echelon second-guessers? The numbers are stunning:

Despite its symbolic importance and educational role in military culture, the Medal of Honor has been awarded only six times for service in Iraq or Afghanistan. By contrast, 464 Medals of Honor were awarded for service during World War II, 133 during the Korean War and 246 during the Vietnam War. “From World War I through Vietnam,” The Army Times claimed in April 2009, “the rate of Medal of Honor recipients per 100,000 service members stayed between 2.3 (Korea) and 2.9 (World War II). But since the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, only five Medals of Honor have been awarded, a rate of 0.1 per 100,000 — one in a million.”

To be clear, this article hits home for me not because I did anything meriting a valor award in Iraq (I did not), but because I know and served with men who did deserve valor awards but either (i) did not receive them; or (ii) saw the award requests downgraded or denied several steps up the bureaucratic chain. In some cases, we knew conduct would never be considered for more than a Silver Star, so we didn’t make the request.

The men I served with were courageous at a level that civilians simply cannot comprehend. Let me give just one example. In January 2008, a small team of American soldiers was ambushed after an al-Qaeda terrorist faked a surrender (this was common practice). The team leader and another officer were mortally wounded the instant the terrorists opened fire. The senior noncommissioned officer was pinned down and unable to take effective control of the formation; other officers were worked desperately to retrieve their fallen comrades. A Sergeant First Class took immediate control of the situation, personally returning fire and killing the majority of the attackers, directing the team’s defense, and coordinating the recovery under fire of his stricken team members. He shepherded the formation out of the kill zone and coordinated the medical evacuation.

All in a day’s work, you say? How about this additional fact: He did all of this after being shot in the neck in the opening moments of the ambush. He killed the enemy, protected his comrades, and led them to safety while bleeding profusely — collapsing only after help arrived. I’m not sure about you, but I can’t even imagine what I’d do in a similar circumstance. 

This courageous soldier received a Silver Star — our third-highest award for valor. It’s a medal he’ll wear proudly for the rest of his life, and he never asked for more. But did he deserve more? 

To be clear, our guys aren’t out there begging for medals, but these awards are a critical aspect of the ongoing story of our military and the valor of our soldiers. How can the public recognize the heroes in our midst if they will never know who they are? If their courage goes unrecognized or is unfairly minimized?

The incident described appears to be the day Andew was killed.  Andrew made the ultimate sacrifice when he took on a very dangerous mission to persuade members of AQ in Iraq to surrender or leave. I believe that the surge succeeded, at the cost of some of our most courageous and honorable soldiers.

The Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery is a lovely place, and a worthwhile visit for President Obama. It is a new cemetery and with the passing of generations is the resting place for many WWII vets.

A bit late to this, but there was a call for a thread about getting old. Well, here you go, old timers.

As a jumping off point, here is what hairshirtdontist said

My joke is that I have the mind of a 20 year old but the back and knees of a 60 year old, which I started using when I turned 40 (the joke, not the back and knees). I'm 49 now, but I still use the same numbers, which testifies either to mathematical illiteracy or (more likely) a willingness to laugh at jokes that no longer make sense in order to keep the foreigner smiling.

But I do believe I have it rougher than my parents in terms of maturity. (I write about myself, but I suspect it can be extended to others) One of the reasons I feel like a kid is that the world of my parents has given way to a much less hierarchical place. Staying in the same job or with the same company for an entire career was unremarkable. Couples didn't wait until they were in their late 30's or even early 40's to have kids. Knowing someone's age doesn't really give you a lot of information about them, other than what cultural touchstones they may have.

This may be exacerbated by the fact that I am living in a foreign culture, where the precise rules of hierarchical relations are opaque. A colleague was shocked to find out I was 49 because he assumed that having a 10 year old and a 5 year old meant I was mid 30's.

It is probably inflamed by the fact that I do lots of things that people my age probably don't do. I'm or doing aikido 2 or 3 times a week, teaching iaido twice a week. I'm with college age students all the time and I've got a few other hobbies that put me with lots of young people.

Of course, it might be because I can't accept that my parents could ever be as immature as I am, as unorganized as I am, as clueless as I seem to find myself being. However, I think back to when I started judo as a kid, and adding it up and I realize that my dad, who did judo as a kid, was out on the mat with me in his 40's. So he was taking breakfalls on the mat at the same time I was. Maybe he thought the same things I'm thinking. But I also have a memory of being in the back seat after a long drive to see my cousins, and being half asleep, and my father would pick me up and carry me to bed, even though I was probably awake enough to get up and walk, and feeling like he was picking me up with no effort, maybe when I was 8 or 9 or even 10. Yet when I do the same for my 5 year old, I struggle and barely make it up the stairs. Unfortunately, my dad isn't talkative, especially on the subject of his feelings. So this, from a book titled Dueling with O-Sensei, by Ellis Amdur, strikes a chord.

When I was 19 years old, my father became very ill with pancreatic cancer, a horribly painful, wasting disease. I hadn't seen him in some months and when he met me at the airport, the shock of his emaciated face and body made my knees buckle. He was mostly bedridden, but man that he was, he insisted on meeting me on his own two feet. Perhaps a week later, he fell out of bed, and his body, limp and helpless, was so heavy that I couldn't lift him. My mother and I finally managed to help him back into the bed, but the bitter shame that I could not return to my father what he offered me as a child burned through me. That this lovely man, who had carried me through nights of croup as I gasped for air was now nearly helpless, and I, a young man,could not carry him to his rest, scalded me deeply. One of the primary reasons for my drive to master what I could in martial arts was to ensure that I would never again have to experience such shame in the face of the needs of those I love. 

Have at it.

There are a swirling constellation of thoughts, concerning The Tea-Party stuff. I can’t articulate all of them yet, but I have some notes that seem to give them some context.

I found this post, by Pat Buchanan, to be very interesting. He observes the Tea-Party phenomena as a manifestation of an “ethno-nationalist” identity.

For after a year of battering as “un-American,” “evil-doers” and racists, and praise from talk-show hosts and Sarah Palin as “the real Americans,” Tea Party America seems to be taking on a new and separate identity.

Ethnonationalism — the recognition of an embryonic people that they are different from their neighbors, and the concomitant drive to live apart — is, as Arthur Schlesinger Jr. wrote 20 years ago, a more powerful force than any ideology, be it communism, fascism or democracy.

Ethnonationalism is the pre-eminent force of the age we have entered, the creator and destroyer of empires and nations. Even as Schlesinger was writing his “Disuniting of America,” Yugoslavia and the Soviet Union were disintegrating into 22 new nations, along the lines of ethnicity. In Dagestan, Ingushetia, Chechnya, Ossetia and Abkhazia, the process proceeds apace.

It has happened before — and here.