De-Sensitivity Training

This is a column from March 13, 2011 that mysteriously disappeared.  A reader pointed that out, so here it is: 


As I arrived at my jet for a departure last week, one of my Flight Attendants asked me if I would like a Brazilian soda. He showed me a can that I didn’t recognize and I assumed it was left over from an international flight. With my tongue firmly in cheek, I said, “No, I try to avoid drinking anything from third world countries”. Several minutes later, he took me aside and told me that he was offended by my comment as he was from a third world country.

Rather than pursue the matter, I stated that no offense was intended and moved on. My company, much like most others, has created an offense-free work environment where almost anyone can claim umbrage at almost anything said, regardless of the tone or context. With a relatively short time before reaching my retirement date, I chose discretion over valor in letting his remark go unchallenged.

But this venue is anything but offense-free, so allow me to vent a bit and offer a counter strategy to blunt the ever-encroaching politically correct police. First of all, Brazil is far from a third world country: it is the 8th largest economy in terms of GDP and the 7th when comparing purchasing power. If my flight attendant friend took his offense based on his Brazilian roots, he needs to take a bit more pride in his heritage. If, on the other hand, he hails from another country that doesn’t enjoy such a high degree of success, how am I to know? Once again, without further discussion, nothing is learned and no one is better served. He considers me an insensitive prick and I see him as a hyper-sensitive pain in the ass suffering from a shortage of self-esteem.

So be it, but what can be done to stymie such exchanges? I propose a new organization: the NAAYP, or the National Association for the Awareness of You People. That’s right: you people. You see, to everyone else, I qualify as “you people”. The categorization could be one of many traits: ethnicity, religion, skin color, income status, political affiliation. The list is endless. Regardless, I am “you people” to others just as they are “you people” to me. So what’s so great about the NAAYP?

Well, the first benefit is the slow realization that everyone has preconceived notions about most everyone else in one form or another and most of these notions are false. Rather than hold them in, let’s share them with our friends. “You people sure know how to drink.” “Why don’t you people learn to take better care of yourselves?” “The world would be a better place if you people knew how to get along.” Or, with a sigh and a shrug, “You people...!”

It wouldn’t take very long before we started laughing at such observations instead of reacting with pretended offense and haughty indignation. And, in so doing, we’d eventually get over ourselves and accept each other with a bit more understanding and less resentment. Would “you people” then disappear from our lexicon? No, unfortunately, there will always be “you people” in the form of nay-sayers and such. But their numbers will be less and they will continue to offer comedic relief for the rest of us folks. 

Finally, when we’ve achieved this new level of interaction and awareness, we could change the name of our group to the NAAWP: the National Association for the Advancement of We People. We people are all a bit different, but we all share common traits that should be embraced rather than emphasizing differences to exploit and shun. We people all bring unique qualities to the table of humanity and, once recognized, we can achieve great things together. 

Learn From Thy Neighbor

Picture, if you will, your back yard. And there you are standing in the middle of it. You are surrounded by fertilizer and grass seed. Bermuda grass seed, to be exact. You intend to spread the fertilizer and sow the seeds in the hope of enjoying a lush and robust lawn come next summer.

You casually look over the fence into your neighbor’s back yard and notice that it is in great need of repair. Coincidentally, he, too, has planted Bermuda grass, but it is not flourishing. Rather, it has died in spots while others are marginal, at best. This strikes you as odd because the rest of the grounds look wonderful. Could it be that Bermuda grass simply does not do well in your area?

Now picture yourself spreading the fertilizer and planting the Bermuda grass seed as originally intended. “What? Am I nuts?” you ask. And rightfully so. Who would maintain a course of folly in the face of less-than-hoped-for results? Well, it looks like we would, economically speaking, at least.

Our political debate currently revolves about the best way to reinvigorate the economy. One side (the Right) maintains that austerity alone will bring about prosperity. They reason further that, as the deficit is reduced and tax rates are kept low confidence will return, companies will hire, and all will be well. The other side (the Left) argues that what is needed now is a combination of more government spending and higher tax rates. Then, as good times return, the deficit can be addressed as more money flows into the federal coffers.

Which one is right? How do we know? Well, it turns out that we have a neighbor with experience in such things (just like those in our Bermuda grass analogy): Europe. As the Euro crisis unfolded, countries chose austerity as a way out of the doldrums. Less government spending would decrease debt and low tax rates would encourage “job creators” to do just that. Britain is now in a second recession, Greece and Spain have received large bail-outs, and Iceland (once the darling of austerity) has not delivered on its promise of prosperity.  

I’m not an economist, but I read Paul Krugman’s column in the New York Times regularly. And I am struck not so much by his position, but the history upon which it is based. He looks back at our Great Depression, the Japanese “lost years” and Europe’s current dilemma and draws eerie similarities between those failed agendas and the current popular idea of running our national economy as we would our personal one.

Oddly, the comparisons of how we operate our family budget and how the feds should run the country’s are diametrically opposed. I’ll leave it to Mr. Krugman to elaborate, but the bottom line is the fact that if the government doesn’t spend and companies do not hire there is no one left to spend any money on anything.

No, the time for our government to spend is now. And it needs to spend a lot. The Japanese tried using small stimulus plans which only served to stagnate their potential for a decade. The time for deficit reduction is when the economy prospers. (Of course, in good times politicians are tempted for tax roll backs and the like so as to endear themselves to the electorate. But no one wins, long term, in that scenario.) And we need only to look over our fence and take a look at our neighbor’s lawn to see that our present course of action will lead to less-than-desired results. Nothing complicated: austerity, alone, will not work for, if it did, Europe would be flying high.

I believe the Right knows this, too, but has discovered a mantra that resonates while allowing the pursuit of their “true agenda”: the dismantling of both social programs and an organized workforce. I could be wrong, but regardless I urge you to Google Mr. Krugman and read his op-eds. They offer more than a debatable solution. They offer historical perspective and real-time comparison to our European neighbors. Or you could always go out and plant that Bermuda grass.

Lance

Hoping to have retained at least one or two loyal followers, allow me a moment to update you. Since we last wrote/read I have completed my “Big Adventure”: an around the country cross-country in which I landed in each of the lower 48 states at least once and completed six days of storm chasing in Texas. You may have followed me along on Facebook...or maybe not. Nevertheless, I’m back, rested, and ready to resume my place at the keyboard.

There are a few changes to my madness, though. First of all, no more deadlines. For the past 3+ years I have striven to maintain a Sunday night/Monday morning deadline for my weekly “column”. Now, I will write when the spirit moves me, but no more than twice a week and no less than once every two weeks. I want to neither inundate you nor starve you and feel this may be the best way in seeking the elusive happy medium.

Additionally, I will no longer refer to my effort as a column simply because it isn’t nor am I a columnist. A columnist, you see, writes in a given, cleansed way that is suitable for mass dissemination and is compensated for the effort. While I have tried to promote that facade, I now admit to my limitations in both scope and recompense. As such, expletives are no longer taboo when I feel they add to the discussion. No gratuitous profanity, but rather a bit of spice to the recipe. I trust you will find both changes acceptable.

Having dispensed with the formalities, allow me to turn to a more timely matter...

Dogs have been a major part of my life. I had a Collie (Lassie) as a boy and, after a lengthy absence for college and the Air Force, adopted a Collie rescue (Maggie Mae) in 1987. Since then I have had a Collie in my life. Until four days ago, that is.

During Maggie Mae’s tenure I acquired another Collie: Lad. The timing was a little off, but I had formed a relationship with a renowned Collie breeder in Northern California (Mary Wells of Blossom Hills Collies). One of her bitches had a litter of 10 in late 1992 and she asked if I was interested in one of her blue merle rough males. I was in the first stages of moving to Northern California and had planned on getting a second dog after relocating. And a male was in my plans so as to have a Collie named Lad.

“Lad:A Dog” is a children’s book written by Albert Payson Terhune and was based on an actual dog who lived in the early 1900’s in Pompton Lakes, New Jersey. I must’ve read that book a dozen times as a kid and then, after stumbling upon Terhune’s sequel “The Further Adventures of Lad”, read that one a dozen times more. It simply made sense to pay homage to the Lad of literature and so the new, blue Lad came into my life.

Maggie grew old gracefully, but by early 1997 her quality of life had diminished to the point where my wife and I felt it in her best interest to put her down. Our vet, Bob Atton, came to our home and we held her, said our goodbyes, and shed our tears as she quietly slipped away from us.

Lad carried on the tradition nobly until, on July 6th, 2001 he died suddenly at the early age of 8 1/2. I was not home at the time and can still vividly recall the phone call from my wife. To this day I recoil when my phone rings while away from home. 

At the time, we also had a Yellow Labrador Retriever: Riley. More my wife’s dog, Riley was unable to fill Lad’s shoes when it came to companionship and soon after his passing I was open to the possibility of giving a new Collie a home. Of course, no one animal could take Lad’s place, but I was willing to consider the possibility of a “substitute”. 

By that time, we had become good friends with our Collie breeder, Mary, and she offered a year old sable male, Lance. We traveled to her home for a first-hand look. It was no surprise to me that Lance, while handsome in his own right, could not hold a candle to the image Lad had built in my heart and my head. But I thought it was worth a shot and when I asked Mary about the purchase price I was stunned by her response: nothing...take him home,,,see how he fits in and if all is good, keep him.

The first week was Hell! Lance would pace through the night, looking at the ceiling and barking. My only respite was a three day trip, but my wife endured every night. After a week we voted to return him to Mary and chalk the experiment up to nothing but a good effort. The day we were to drive him back we went to a nearby town to run some errands. Upon returning to our car it would not start. Nothing...Zip. By the time we called a tow truck and got back home it was too late to drive the 2 1/2 hours to Mary’s even if we had an operational vehicle. Since this was a Friday, we would have to wait until Monday at the earliest to return Lance.

Suddenly, the pacing stopped. And the barking stopped, too. It was as though Lad (Lance’s uncle) had returned to advise him of how bad he was fucking up a good thing. By Monday, Lance was a new dog. And, strangely enough, the mechanic could find nothing wrong with our car. Make of that what you will, but I have my theory.

For the next 11 years, Lance served faithfully as my stalwart companion. His thyroid required meds (nothing new to Collies) and he had some kidney failure in the latter stages of his life. Through it all, he was the constant in my daily routine. We had other dogs and cats, but Lance was the senior member and enjoyed all the perks of such a position.

When I departed on my Big Adventure (May 1st), his health was suspect. Nearly blind and hard of hearing, he had taken to snoozing through most of the day and I had no reason to believe that he would be alive upon my return. So I hugged him and kissed him goodbye as if we would not see each other again all the while hoping that he would find a way to maintain.

I got home last Tuesday to find him rail thin. My wife said his eating had become more sporadic than usual (he was never a ravenous eater) and that his pacing had become the norm. Apparently, it was hard for him to stand and hard for him to lie down. I weighed him on Wednesday to find that he had shed 20% of his weight in the last two months. Basically, he was wasting away in front of us and to allow this to continue was unconscionable.

I made the call to our vet, affectionately referred to as Dr. Jan, and told her of our decision. My main concern was allowing him to pass in a setting other than a stainless steel examination table. Dr. Jan said that we could work that out and the appointment was made for the next day.

In circumstances like these, one can feel like the executioner awaiting the carrying out of the sentence. Having been faced with a similar situation with Maggie Mae, I knew this was but an opportunity to embrace our beloved partner one last time. We fed him scrambled eggs, chicken, and steak. Sadly, his appetite had waned to the point where even these delicacies did not evoke significant interest. He slept next to me in bed for several hours that last night until we both became too warm. And the morning routine was as normal as it could have been.

We drove to Dr. Jan’s office and laid in the grass out front. She came out and gave Lance a brief examination before confirming our lay-diagnosis. It was time for him to be at rest. After a sedative, she injected the solution that would stop his heart and bring his fight against the indignities of old age to an end. We cried as he passed and I am shedding tears as I write this. While my head was prepared for this moment, the heart never is and it matters not whether the patient is an animal or human. The finality of death, even under the most humane circumstances, takes an emotional toll. 

Even though we still have 3 dogs in our menagerie, the loss of Lance is deep and cannot be filled by a surrogate. Yes, we will heal and move on, but we will always remember him as well as all others we have lost: a unique, irreplaceable individual. There are those we describe as something other than “dog people” who may read this and wonder why it’s such a big deal. I can’t (nor will I even try to) explain such a loss to them for they simply do not get it. I think of them as young souls who have yet to appreciate the unconditional love a canine brings to a relationship. After all, shouldn’t we all strive to be as forgiving? Maybe in time, as their own soul ages, but in the meantime I can only shrug and shake my head.

And since I’m waxing theologically, I believe in one thing after death: the Rainbow Bridge. Google it if you’re curious, but I assure you that most “dog people” are fully aware of its existence and believe in it, too. Let me just say that it is a place where I will be reunited with the dogs of my earthly life after I die. Crazy? Well, if you’ve ever experienced the joy a dog can bring into your life you know that it just wouldn’t be Heaven without them.

I sense one more Collie in my future: a tri-color rough male named Payson. I’ve never had a tri and paying tribute to the author that so enriched my life is a no-brainer. Not today or tomorrow, but someday, hopefully. 

Either way, such thoughts are for another time. This time belongs to Lance: much more than a mere substitute. A noble companion in his own right and without peer. Rest easy, my dear friend. We will meet again...

An Update on My Hiatus

For those loyalists out there, I'm not lying in a fetal position in the corner of a darkened room. I am in the early stages of my so-called "Big Adventure": a cross-country around the country in my airplane and a bit of storm chasing thrown in for good measure. As I write this, I'm in the hotel laundry room in Liberal, KS (I know: the ultimate oxymoron) awaiting a final decision regarding next week's storm chasing. The weather, while initially promising, has fallen apart and we may have to postpone the chase. You can catch up and follow along at my Facebook Page, G. Bruce Hedlund.

THe writing respite has done me good, though, and I look forward to returning to this site upon my return (with a few important changes in it's presentation). In the meantime, take care and take charge!

Upon Further Review

We’ve all heard of writer’s block, but until last week I had never really experienced it. Frustrated, I considered taking down my “It’s NOT Just You!” shingle. I heard from an audience member today who admonished me soundly for such thinking. I was told, in no uncertain terms, that I could not quit and I was not fired. So what choice do I have but to continue sharing my thoughts with at least one person each week.

The reader went on to suggest I take a “fake-ation”. I’ve never heard, nor used, the term, but being of reasonable intelligence and imagination I inferred that a hiatus was due me. And a hiatus I will take.

It will not be idly spent, though. I am still in the midst of establishing Cox-Ükr Wine  (Cox-UkrWine.com) as a rare combination of unique labeling and great wine. Funny how some choose to pronounce it, but who am I to judge?

Additionally, on May 1st I will embark on an around the country cross-country in my Cirrus SR22. My goal is to land at least once in each of the contiguous 48 states. Some stops figure prominently in my history while others will be at random. This journey will take a brief respite in Amarillo, TX on May 8th where I will begin 5 days of storm chasing. Then, should I survive that adventure, my flights will continue eastward. And the entire trek will be briefly chronicled daily on my Facebook Page for those that may want to keep an eye on me.

The idea is to put everything together in a book interspersed with various and sundry anecdotes from my careers in military and airline aviation. The project is attractive and I hope I can pull it off and then put it down in a format that others find enjoyable and informative.

So much for a fake-ation, huh? But, hey, I’ve been writing every week for over three years so I think a break is in order. Hell, Europeans take six weeks off every year. Of course, their economies are all fucked up, so maybe they should emulate the worker bees in the USA. (Of course, our economy is all fucked up, so who’s to say?)

My thanks to the one that saw fit to reach out and give me the kick in the pants that I apparently needed. And we all do from time to time, you know. Otherwise, the bastards get us down and we can have none of that!

Time for a Break

For over three years I have found a suitable talking point for our weekly chat. Today, though, I’m coming up dry. Well, dry is not the word since many things clutter my mind with varying degrees of wonderment and frustration. Corporate greed, political machinations that amount to the single creed of “the enemy of my enemy is my friend”, societal mutations that result in “stand your ground” legislation, and countless other facets of our day-to-day life have ganged up on me and I am left with but one acronym: AFU.

The A represents “All” and the U is “Up”. I’ll leave it to your level of acceptability in deciphering the “F”. While I may sound hopeless, nothing could be farther from the truth. I am pleasantly surprised that the power of social networks has manifested itself in sites like Change.org or Credo.org. AmericansElect threatens to upset the two-party status quo regardless of its ultimate success or failure. And who can argue that, without the internet, the Arab Spring would never have come to pass?

No, there’s much to be hopeful for, but I am still feeling overwhelmed at how myopic we can be. While many are in favor of health insurance for pre-existing conditions and keeping kids on family policies until reaching the age of 26, many more are opposed to the mandate that pays for such improvements. Time and time again, we want, but we don’t want to pay.

Where does it stop? When do we realize that the free lunch never existed and come to grips about what kind of country we want. We listen to viewpoints that we agree with so those opinions are never challenged and grow stronger through reinforcement regardless of their legitimacy. Obama’s a muslim...Saddam Hussein attacked us on 9-11...global warming is a hoax. The list not only goes on, but gets longer as half-truths and worse are foisted upon us in the name of advancing a particular hidden agenda.

So I’m taking a break, folks. Time will tell if I pick up the proverbial pen again. I guess that’s up to you, the loyal reader. I don’t know if you exist, but if you do please let me know. Everyone needs an occasional word of encouragement or, perhaps, a cyber-pat on the back. Regardless, I promise to continue questioning the insanities and incongruities that thrive only through our indifference. I hope you do the same.

A Little This...A Little That

Many thoughts have gone through my mind this week, but I could not find a way to turn even one into more than a brief discussion. So how about us taking a brief look at them all, shall we?

The Price of Gas: As the cost per gallon goes up, Obama’s approval goes down. Related? Perhaps. Appropriate? Probably not. Most folks knowledgable about such things spread the blame around. First of all, the US is but a player in the global oil market as China and other developing nations are controlling the price by the amount of oil they require. US consumption is down while domestic production is up. So our ability to affect the market is limited. Add the speculation factor and you tack on what some calculate to be 50 cents a gallon. And before you complain about such gambling on commodity futures, take a look at your investments. Most mutual funds have some of their money in the oil market. So, yes, the price of gas goes up, and, yes, you contribute to it through your “investment” choices. Higher rates of return or lower gas prices: which way to go?

Presidential Powers: Many think the President is omnipotent. They are wrong. The President cannot write a law nor pass a law nor enforce a law. A president can only speak and, through this line of communication, hope to bring associated legislation to reality. Why is it, then, that every candidate for this office experiences numerous stumbles when speaking? Practically every day of the Republican primary process at least one candidate comes out with a “what I meant to say” retraction. These are veteran politicians with teams of handlers and preparers who are paid to avoid such gaffes. Are they filled with hubris? If not, then how can we expect them to do a better job when elected?

Campaign Rhetoric: Promises abound during political campaigning. Shouldn’t there be a penalty for promising things that one cannot deliver upon? Take the abolishment of the new national healthcare laws. A newly elected president cannot simply wave it away on day one yet that is what the Republican hopefuls would like us to believe. How about a financial penalty for such statements with the funds going to the opposing party’s coffers?

The Run Away Law: How about a law that mandates the fleeing from a situation where one feels threatened? Kind of an homage to Monty Python’s Life of Brian: “Run away! Run Away!” It’s no more foolish than the “Stand Your Ground” laws that are now getting a well deserved second look. The last thing we need, I’d say, is armed citizens looking to make up for what is seen as ineffective law enforcement. Just the thought makes me feel threatened!

Pizza: Pizza consists of crust (bread), sauce, and some toppings. Can anyone tell me why breadsticks are offered as a side? Isn’t there enough bread already? And the dipping sauce is the same as what’s on the crust! How about taking a piece of crust and dragging it through the top of the pizza? Voila: a stick of bread and a dipping sauce! And if you need some cinnamon bread sticks for dessert you need to rethink your dietary choices.

Well, I don’t know about you, but I feel better. Not a lot, mind you, but a little. It seems more and more daunting to come to grips with the weekly events of outrage and injustice and insanity. Maybe I need break...