They're the Seasons*

No, it doesn’t roll off the tongue as well as 'tis the season, but, to be fair, we do have more than one holiday this month. So let’s take a moment to review our options, shall we? I use the word “options” loosely, of course because all three of them rely upon specific religious or cultural affiliations.

First of all, we have Christmas: the most widely acclaimed holiday to celebrate in December. The celebration is limited to Christians, though, as it centers around the immaculate conception and birth of Jesus Christ, the Savior. I suspect many others sneak into the tent for the express purpose of the presents that go hand in hand with the more serious tenets. I was raised within Christian confines, but have chosen faith over religion as my years have advanced. Regardless, I do have one question regarding Christmas: we know Jesus lived a specific number of years, months, and days, don’t we? Sure we do. Well, if Easter changes yearly, why does Christmas always fall upon the 25th? After all, one is the birth and the other the resurrection (3 days after the death) so why are they not separated by a fixed number of days? And why does Easter always fall on Sunday and Christmas is open for any day of the week? Let me know if you figure this one out, will you?

OK, on to Hanukkah. This December holiday is reserved for the Jewish community and lasts eight days and since the Jews don’t consider Jesus any more than a mortal man, they celebrate the festival of lights. Each night for eight nights, another light of the Menorah is lit. Presents? Apparently so, but, from what I understand, far from the opulent types Christians enjoy. The timing is different and the holiday can occur anywhere from late November through December.

Not to be outdone, the African-American community has decided to celebrate Kwanza in December. This holiday is more of a celebration of culture rather than religion and was created in 1966. A couple of things here: I’d say the Christians and Jews have seniority over Kwanza by over a couple of thousand years, give or take. And if the African-Americans wanted to celebrate their heritage and draw attention to their ancestry, why wouldn’t they pick a month with nothing going on? January, maybe. St Valentine has February, the Irish have March, and Easter rolls around in April or May so yes, January would be a great time, what with Martin Luther King Day and all. Nope. They picked December.

So we have three “holidays” falling almost simultaneously and the overlapping has created the shit storm over whether to say Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays or maybe even Happy Kwanza. Here’s what I think: in conversations with folks you know, it would be appropriate to use the appropriate holiday greeting, should you know which one it might be. Otherwise, “Have a happy holiday” casts a wide net over whichever one might apply and everyone is happy. Right? No, there are many who want to wish a happy “their” holiday. “Screw you, buddy, it’s my celebration and I want it to be yours, too.” So much for the goodwill towards men, huh?

Some think Ramadan fits in here somewhere. While It rotates through the year based on other concerns, it won’t be in December within the next six years. So let that one go, OK? Three’s bad enough, I’d say, and I offer you the latest in politically correct sentiments without sacrificing brevity: Merry ChristmaKwanUkkah!

* The asterisk in the title refers to the fact that this column has missed my self-imposed deadline of Sunday night. It so happened that I was in a Marriott Hotel in San Diego this past weekend and they saw fit to charge $12.95 for a day of internet access. (Sounds like a good topic for a future column.) My apologies for the tardiness.

Where's Mine?

Unemployment remains above 10% with little relief in sight. As a result, much is being debated regarding the wisdom of additional stimulus to “create” jobs. While I believe that some jobs in certain sectors are gone for good and while I believe that others are genuinely unemployed and unable to find gainful employment, I am left to wonder about the others who find it more convenient to be unemployed and collect their unemployment checks.

We’ve always had ne’er-do-wells that will continually seek sustenance from the public teat, but I’m afraid that another group is gaining numbers: those that delay employment so as to collect the maximum amount of unemployment benefits. I know a man whose wife was laid off and collecting her benefits. She had found another position and her husband told me that he had cautioned her against taking the job “too soon”. His “too soon” was defined as any point prior to exhausting all unemployment benefits she had coming to her. “After all, it’s her money”, he explained to me. “No, it’s our money”, I replied. After all, every employer and employee pays into the system in one way or another and the resulting pool of money provides a bridge for those that find themselves between jobs.

This feeling of entitlement to “our money” ends up working against our best interests, though, because, as the costs of unemployment go up, the payments made by companies goes up, and the price goes up for the end-user (you and me). How maximizing one’s unemployment payouts results in an overall increase in income is beyond me. “Well, if I didn’t do it, someone else would.” There’s an original rationale: yeah, I’m gaming the system, but so does everybody else. We’ve already debunked the “my money” excuse, too, so it comes down to the age-old getting something for nothing mindset.

But we’ve already figured out that we’re paying more in the long run, haven’t we? Ah, the long run: there’s the problem. We live in an era of myopia where long-term lies somewhere within the next day, or so. Screw the future, I’m getting mine now and I’ll let tomorrow take care of itself. There’s a 21st century mantra if I’ve ever heard one. I was “unemployed” for several months in late 1984/early 1985 (the airline that employed me filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy). However, I was still in the Air Force Reserve and turned to them so I might fulfill my financial obligations. Some of my ex-colleagues were also reservists, yet they were collecting unemployment benefits. “But your not unemployed”, I told one. “Well, they’ll never know and, after all, I’m due”, was the reply. A college educated professional, still serving in the military, and yet clinging to an over-used and under-justified mentality.

I’d like to think that are fewer of these folks than the career lollygaggers mentioned at the outset, but I’m not sure if the numbers would provide any solace. Not that there are any numbers to compare. I am sure that, if polled, less-than-forthright answers would be offered to simple questions like, “Are you delaying employment until your unemployment benefits are exhausted?”

Sorry, no solution to be found within this passage. The problem is not economic, societal, philosophical, ethnic, nor religious in nature. You see, ultimately, it comes down to the character of the individual. We cannot cajole or coerce someone into doing the right thing if they have no inner desire for the same thing. There was a time when nothing was worse than being on the dole. That time has passed and we are now faced with gimmickry and twisted logic to explain behavior that is something less than noble. Let’s all hope that this, too, shall pass.

Societal Immaturity

Each of us matures as we move through life. Some more than others and at varying chronological stages. It stands to reason, then, that our society matures, too. One look no further than our continued puritanical reaction to nudity. Europeans have matured well beyond the point where an exposed breast could turn heads, let alone stop traffic. Not so in the good old US of A. No siree, Bob.

It seems that we’ve become stalled in the early pubescent stage of maturity where everything titillates our imagination and creates a greater thirst for that which titillates. The latest example is that of Tiger Woods and his implied infidelity. Tiger has achieved great success in the golfing arena and, as a result, gained financial independence through his various affiliations with corporate concerns. That’s called making the best living possible. Something you and I and everyone else, from the top floor to the basement, hopes to accomplish.

The fact that Tiger has succeeded beyond most “normal” expectations in no way reduces his human foibles and, as a matter of fact, may exploit them as a feeling of invincibility pervades his everyday life. God knows we’ve seen other wealthy, influential men seemingly squander their public image through various trysts.

The perception of Tiger’s indiscretions is one thing, but the mob-like straining to see or read or hear the latest on his exploits is akin to teen-agers standing on tiptoes to get a better look through the neighbor’s bedroom window in the hopes of securing a glance at a wisp of lingerie. Aren’t there better things upon which to concentrate? (That’s a rhetorical question, you know.)

The economy. The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Foreclosures. And on and on and on. Granted, dwelling on these burdens can wear one down (or out) and maybe Tiger’s personal life provides a respite from those more sobering issues. Except for the fact that reality television continues to burgeon with just about every other facet of voyeuristic media. No, we’re not taking a deep breath in preparation to return to the problem of the day. We’re looking for things that replace the need for serious thought; just like any other hormone driven adolescent.

Diversion is an important part of creativity and problem solving. Within reason, though. Now, one can consume an entire day with Google, YouTube, Dancing With the Stars, Survivor, Twitter, Facebook, and their ilk without spending one single moment thinking about the substantive issues lurking over the shoulder. This “disconnect” with true reality while wasting time in other realities leads to a society where a few folks decide for the majority with nary a second thought about public opinion. After all, the public no longer has an opinion, what with spending all day seeing if Tiger is going to make a statement.

I’m not suggesting that news tidbits concerning the latest celebrity indiscretion represent welcome relief from the daily grind. I am suggesting, though, that we need to lower its position on our list of priorities. Otherwise, we are left with the alternative of waking up one day and texting “WTF?”.

Who Goes There?

“KEEP OUT”

“AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY”

“DO NOT ENTER:THIS MEANS YOU!”

These are just a few examples of the various signs posted throughout this country in various locations with but one intent: to let you, the observer, know that proceeding further will have consequences. And, just to make sure, various layers of security maintain vigilance beyond these signs.

Unfortunately, there are those that do not take these signs at face value and strive to proceed further. Some are bent on mayhem while others are merely curious. Some are suspicious looking and others appear to be a next door neighbor. And between these extremes of intent and appearance is a countless combination that creates havoc within the security details assigned to ensure only the select few are allowed to proceed further.

Michaele and Tareq Salahi created quite the stir when, earlier this week, they attended the state dinner at the White House sans (apparently) the appropriate invitation or clearance. Their modus operandi is unknown to the public at large, but their motive seems to be fame and/or fortune. They are currently peddling rights to an exclusive interview.

OK, so where do we go from here? There is a major breach of security to investigate, for certain. The fact that these two did no harm is beside the point as they were definitely in a position to do so had they wished. The additional claim that they were screened for weapons also is irrelevant as a host of weaponry could have been found or fashioned within the perimeter. (This fact exists regardless of whether the potential assailant was properly invited and screened.) No, heads will roll on this one as well they should. The claims of “everything was under control” were meant to assuage a citizenry increasingly questioning the government's ability to maintain any control whatsoever. It is obvious that everything was not, indeed, under control.

To top it all off, the Salahi’s are threatened with prosecution. I’m curious of the charge, though: brass balls, perhaps? All they did was walk up to the front door like you and I could and fabricate some cock-and-bull story to see if it would pass muster. The fact that it did has more to do with the security lapse than with the fabricators, don’t you think? I think they’ve performed a public service in shedding light onto some glaring shortcomings regarding White House security. Good for them!

To a point, however. While there is nothing wrong in looking for a highest bidder to report their story, no news organization should spend one red cent on providing insight into the processes that culminated in their unauthorized entry. They are not famous so much as the oddity du jour and should be allowed to melt back into obscurity where they more than likely belong. Anything more only encourages others to perform in kind and, while that may elevate the aptitude of security forces, the overall effect is something we could well live without.

There will always be unauthorized personnel looking to infiltrate defenses for a myriad of reasons. Authorized personnel can learn much from these attempts, successful or not, but to hail the trespassers as celebrities is ludicrous for more than one reason. God knows we have enough reality wannabe’s out there. Why encourage others?

Charity Revisited

The Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays are upon us and one of the normal protocols is the plea for charitable donations so the hungry and needy can also enjoy the season. Charity refers to the giving of those in need. Could someone please define “in need” for me? Don’t get me wrong: I’m as generous as the next guy, but I can’t help but wonder if my “investment” is charity or tom-foolery.

There was a time when public assistance of any kind was considered to be an unenviable position. There was no pride while standing in a soup line. Times have changed, though. Traditional venues for those “in need” have become a haven for those “in want”. “It’s free so I’m getting mine while I can.” And there is no way to determine the eligibility of the poor souls lining up for the handouts.

I volunteered at a homeless holiday (Christmas) dinner almost twenty years ago when I was living in Southern California. It had always seemed like a good way to offer my services for a good cause. It provided food and a blanket for all and a present for each of the attending kids. My job was pouring drinks and bussing tables. I tried to engage each participant in a bit of idle chatter, but was surprised to find that most had nothing to say. Not even “thanks”. To make it worse, the entrance closed early because “repeat diners” were coming through the line a second time to obtain another blanket/present. Hardly a heart warming experience.

It is impossible to believe that things have gotten better in the ensuing years. As a matter of fact, I’d bet that most would believe the opposite. So how do we continue our charitable efforts while ensuring the validity of those asking for charity? We ask for something back in return for our assistance. What if the local charity offered food and shelter to only known individuals who were truly down on their luck, but striving to regain their footing on the financial ladder? No strangers and no familiar miscreants that have given nothing of themselves for themselves or their community. This isn’t mean or unemotional. It is merely requiring the quid for the quo. Yes, there will always be scofflaws and scalawags taking something they do not deserve, but standards such as this would go a long way in deterring such behavior.

I can no longer find it in my heart to donate food and clothing to unnamed individuals who may feel more entitled to my donations than appreciative. Nor should you. There is a homeless man who frequents the street outside of the Miami hotel I use on airline layovers. Over time, I have gotten to where we “greet” each other when I pass. I once asked him what he would do with the dollar I might give him. “Beer, cigarettes, whatever I need”, was his reply. The key word was “need”. He doesn’t need nicotine or alcohol. He wants them. While I admired his honesty, the response made it easy for me to refrain from donating to his cause.

I have taken other pleas to the heart while on city streets, but they include some extra steps on my part: rather than merely providing spare change, etc., I take my pan-handler into the nearest convenience store. I give the cashier the money I wish to donate and direct that all purchases are for food and non-alcoholic drink. What my homeless friend doesn’t spend goes to the cashier. A little more involved, but much more gratifying as I am now assured that my input will go towards needs rather than wants.

Those holding “will work for food” signs should be given some work to do. Tell the “applicant” to meet you at the same place tomorrow for some extraneous work around your house and see if he shows up. Sadly, most don’t. They want you to think they’re looking for work when, in fact, they’re looking for a free lunch. And it is up to us to know the difference.

There are many worthy causes out there, be they individuals or organizations. The problem lies in the fact that many others strive to prey upon the kindness of others to gain in ways undeserved. Heartless? Miserly? Conceited? Nope...just a guy looking for a return on my investment. The return I’m interested in is the betterment of that individual and of the society around us. While I may never gain individually, we will all gain should that street-person re-enter the work force or perform some other community service in return for the kindness shown. Isn’t it time to remove the sense of entitlement from a charitable gesture? I think so.

Cleaning House

That’s right: throw the bums out! Wait a minute...we’re a year from the elections. So wadyamean “cleaning house”? As we bemoan the plight of our government and those that are supposedly responsible for its operation, I ask you to take a look at something much closer to home, literally: your garage. Nearly every home built in the last fifty years or so has at least a one-car garage. Two car garages became common in the seventies and beyond while three car garages (or more) are believed to be a necessity in new homes of the 21^st century. Is that because each family owns multiple cars? One would think so, but I believe it’s because each family has more crap than can fit in their home and they need to put it someplace other than the middle of the bedroom floor. And one only drive down a typical neighborhood street to bear out my belief: multiple cars parked on the street or in the driveway of homes with at least a single garage door. And what’s behind that door, Monty? Why, various and sundry boxes and crates and machines and such.

No, garages have become every man’s answer to storage space that is normally rented to provide for the junk you don’t regularly use. But why pay to store it when you can keep it in your very own garage? Of course, you can’t park your car in the garage anymore and your vehicle will suffer the ravages of inclement weather, freezing cold, and/or sweltering heat. And your neighborhood will start looking less like the tree-lined piece of Americana you once envisioned, but rather a congested, quasi-used car lot. Face it: you’ve lost control of your home, much like the federal government has seemingly lost control of their domain. Maybe we should take care of our own houses before asking Washington to take care of theirs.

A short column this week, I know, but it’s a simple solution to a minor, yet unrelenting, scene. So c’mon, folks! Clean up your acts and get organized. Sell the items you no longer need or want (hey…how ‘bout a garage sale?!) or haul it off to the nearest U-Store-It or landfill. Any money you spend on storage will be offset by the increased value of your car that is now safer from the elements and, maybe, even your home as it sits quietly on that tree-lined street free of extraneous vehicles.

Memory Lane

Last night I attended the 40th reunion for my high school’s class of 1969. I’ve made most of the previous get-togethers and thought it well worth the effort in traveling from California to northern Illinois (in November, no less!). I’ll spare you the details, but I’d bet that the ingredients of this particular reunion are common to all other similar assemblies, including yours.

Out of a class of approximately 600, last night’s participation was far from a majority. Some regular attendees were forced to choose between competing agendas and others are historically absent. I am left to wonder why some are adamant in their refusal to attend or even acknowledge the event. Like it or not, we are each an aggregate of our experiences and the high school years, while sometimes trying and confusing, played a large role in who, what, and where we are today. Reunions offer the opportunity to pause and reflect upon those times and lead us to appreciate our successes while accepting our failures.

I have no family left in my “home town”, so I’ve spent the past two nights in a local hotel room. To come this far requires maximizing the opportunity to stroll down memory lane since I doubt I’ll return prior to the next reunion. I had breakfast with the first airline pilot I ever met. He was a substitute teacher and I was a high school junior with a newly found passion for flight. He has always been my hero and is now in failing health. Sharing a meal allowed me to think back to the things that became possible through my association with him.

A friend of mine passed away several years ago and this was my first chance to pay my respects. His wife took me out to his gravesite. The ensuing (and inevitable) tears helped me find closure and I am now able to put my heart to rest.

I also took time to drive by the homes I resided in during my youth. Each one offered differing memories and, each in their own way, a look back onto the path that ultimately led me to my present position. Missing the chance to relive those times would have been unseemly to me despite the mix of good times and bad each abode represented.

Last night was the main event. Forty years makes it harder to recognize some classmates without looking at their name-tag, but recognition gave way to recollection and good conversation. We’ve lost some classmates through the years and their passing clarifies the fact that tomorrow is guaranteed to no one. All the more reason to take advantage of similar soirees.

Some simplify a reunion into a process of reconnecting with the cohorts of yore and, while that is a big part, it also represents the opportunity to connect with those who were largely unknown to us. It amazes me how time erases the differences and allows for new friendships. To ignore the unfamiliar is to waste this opportunity.

None of us are unchanged by the passage of time. Physically, emotionally, and intellectually: we have slowly grown into the person we see in the mirror. Looking into our memory banks serves us well so we can better appreciate the present. And what better venue than the good old class reunion to activate those recollections? Some have attended a reunion to find the experience less than fulfilling. So be it. After all, not every graduating class in every high school can claim equal levels of esprit de corps. And far be it for me to urge those folks to keep up a fruitless exercise expecting different results. But if you’ve yet to show up at your class reunion of any numbered anniversary, I urge you to give it at least one good shot. You might be surprised. Forget about your weight or hair or what-have-you. Just go...

As for me, I probably will not stay in regular contact with the classmates I saw last night. Nor would you or most other folks. That’s not necessarily the point, is it? But I’ve made a few new connections and am renewed by reconnecting to the people and places that contributed to the story of my life.