Very Superstitious

I was really happy to see August go. It seemed extra long and hot this year; the mosquitoes and bugs were relentless; and Glenn Beck got way too much attention for someone who knows so little. I was also happy to finally be able to change the months on my calendar and see what animal graced September. The blood sea star staring up at me had lost its charm half way through August, and yet as much as I wanted to, I wouldn't look ahead to see what September had in store for me. See, I believe that looking ahead to the next month means that I assume that I'll make it to the next month, when, in fact, I might not. So, I choose not to tempt Fate and opt to bide my time until the first day of each month to change my calendar.

Harry from "When Harry Met Sally" chose to read the end of a book first so that he knew what would happen in the event he should die before finishing the book. That's certainly one approach I could take - check out all the months once I get the calendar - but I think that just gives Fate, God, Karma, Wakan Tanka, Zeus or whatever even more of reason to cut things short for me. I mean, if I know that December is a polar bear, then what's the point of actually letting me see December? I choose not to give them any more reason than they already have.

I do cheat sometimes by looking at the thumbnails on the back of the calendar; still, I don't know if the Black-Footed Ferret is May or October. I only know he'll appear at some point that year. Technicalities like that are important. So is the anticipation of waiting.

Otherwise, I'm not all that superstitious. I routinely walk under ladders, seek out black cats, and I don't understand the spilt salt thing. I don't break mirrors because they're expensive, especially now that I'm boycotting both Target and Wal-Mart (where's the principled consumer to shop?!). I only buy lottery Quick Picks. There's no lucky shirt in my wardrobe and I can't think of a single routine of mine that's conducted to specifically ward off bad luck or bring me good luck.

I do carry a rosary in my pocket whenever I leave the house, so maybe I'm more superstitious than I want to believe. Despite having never been confirmed or accepted the authority of the Church or even taken the time to learn what all those beads mean, it doesn't make sense for me to carry a rosary...but I do...religiously. Seems harmless enough and no rabbits had to part with their hind feet for my peace of mind. I like rabbits; I wonder if there's one in my calendar.

September is a keel-billed toucan.

A Few Books That Mattered

After reading about the resurging popularity of Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged, I got to wondering about books that influenced my life. I'm not just talking good reads here; there are too many for that. I'm talking books that impacted the way I thought about the world and/or how I lived my life. As good reads go, To Kill a Mockingbird is probably my favorite; still, it didn't profoundly influence or impact me one way or the other. These books did:

Atlas Shrugged
I didn't really know what this book was about when I started it; I just wanted to know who John Galt was. Now I know, and even though I haven't finished it yet (700-some pages down, only 300-400 more to go), I don't think I'll be able to look at our society quite the same again.

Cadillac Desert
This book altered how I thought about the availability of water and the existence of cities in the Southwest and southern California. I once told Ida that Las Vegas was "against everything I stood for," and it still is, thanks, in part, to this book.

God's Dog: A Celebration of the North American Coyote
The photo of a dead coyote pup burned out of the den has haunted me since I read this book as a teenager.

Monkey Wrench Gang
A band of eco-warriors fighting to save the desert. Today they are called eco-terrorists, and I still support them. A spiked tree is a living tree.

Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH
Anyone not read this in elementary school? This fictional tale of rats escaping from a life of certain death for the sake of human science was the foundation for my life-long support for ending animal experimentation.

On the Road
In the fall of 1991, I randomly picked On the Road from my roommate's shelf, laid back in a hammock, and embarked on an amazing adventure, both in the novel and in real life. Dharma Bums, Big Sur, and The Subterraneans followed, but by the time I started Desolation Angels, I'd moved past that life. But what a life it had been!

The Razor's Edge
Larry turned his back on the material and found happiness and inner peace. Only Thoreau's dictate to "Simplify! Simplify! Simplify!" has had a stronger influence on my life.

The Religions of Man
If more people took time to learn something - ANYTHING - about other religions they might actually see that the similarities out-number the differences.

Robert Kennedy and His Times
RFK had his flaws, but more than any politician before or since, he tried to do the right thing, not the expedient or political or prudent thing, but the right thing. I try hard to do the right thing, but I also know that the right thing to do is not always the best thing to do. Still, I try.

They Marched Into Sunlight
Changed how I imagined war, the soldiers who fight it, and what it really means to protest.

Honorable Mention:
Steppenwolf
Absalom! Absalom!
Fast Food Nation

Turning Over a New Leaf

There are a lot of things in this world that make me angry. For brevity's sake, let me just group them into very broad categories: inconveniences, disrespect, and idiocy. Pretty much all that makes my blood boil can be assigned under one of those categories, and it seems not a day goes by when I don't find myself mentally -and sometimes verbally- railing against my fellow man. It's true that I'm well on my way to being a grumpy old man. I'm okay with that, though, being old and grumpy, and I look forward to the day when some punk kid calls me the same while I hurl profanities at him for not picking up where his dog left off on my lawn.

It has come to my attention, however, that I am not quite old yet, chronologically or mentally. In fact, I'm quite a young 41, and if it weren't for my graying and balding and bad back most folks would take me for, oh, 39 or 40. I do have a bad attitude for only being 41, though. Over the years I've let those things that make me angry make me angrier and more bitter and, well, I'm really too young to be chasing kids off my lawn, shaking my fist at people texting while driving, reporting covenant violations or watching FOX News (in truth, I've only done one of those - can you guess which one?!).

It's time I try and re-focus my attention to those things in life that are life-affirming, like knowing that for every dirtbag that tries to kill his dog with a hammer, there are many people who would like to do the same to him if given the chance; that for every parent that abuses their child, there are thousands of social workers trying against huge odds to give kids a better life; that for every jacka** who thinks herself too important to get in line like everybody else, there are little kids shhhhing people in movie theaters; that for every U.S. citizen who is too lazy to vote, there are people in this world who risk losing life and limb in order to have a voice; for all the religious bigots spreading hate and fear, there are people of deep faith and kindness reaching out; for every ignorant Glenn Beck there's an intelligent Jon Stewart somewhere; and for every 40-something who has just about lost faith in humanity, there's someone else out there who hasn't. Man, I hate that last group of people...but I think I'll try and be more like them.

The Greatest

There's no Triple Crown chance this year, and so the Belmont Stakes will be just a blip, if that, on most people's radar. I love horse racing simply because watching horses run, whether it's around a track or on the plains, is quite simply one of the most moving of experiences. Grace, muscle, power, poetry, natural beauty. It can move me to tears.

Lest you forget: Secretariat won the Triple Crown in 1973, and it was his performance at the Belmont that cemented his claim as the greatest thoroughbred to run a race (some consider Man-O-War the greatest). If you've never seen that race, you can watch it here. And to put that horse and that race into context, I also recommend watching Part II of ESPN Classic's tribute to Secretariat.

"Secretariat is widening now! He's moving like a tremendous machine!"

Sends chills down my spine.

Lost

So, "Lost" is over and the blogs are buzzing with reviews of the finale. Personally, I liked it a lot, and I had to go looking online to see if I could get some of my own questions answered. While browsing through comments posted on USA Today's site, many fans agreed with me and thought the finale "rocked" while others thought it the "worst ending ever." It's to be expected. But the posting that really caught my eye was this one:

"SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME OUT HERE. Half the comments on this page are by Lost fans and the other are by people calling the show tripe, or calling the fans of the show the masses. Why? Why, do you get on here and do that? I really want to know what the point is of bashing the show or its fans. Everyone has something they like, just because you dont doesnt mean you need to be a dooshbag (sp). I also notice the people who bash the show NEVER say what their interests are. For the record, I loved the show and enjoyed the finale."

I couldn't have said it better myself! What IS the point of bashing the show and its fans? I suspect those people are the same ones who lashed out in high school and who counselors tried to make excuses for by saying they had low self-esteem rather than just admitting that they were bad seeds. Why do so many people get their jollies criticizing people for liking something they don't? It's not like it adds to the discussion. To me, it's just ignorance and stupidity. Personally, I can't think of a positive thing to say about this whole vampire obsession that people have, but I'm not going to go onto some blog or discussion board and start bashing those people and the shows they like just because I don't like what they like. To each, their own, and if you don't like the fact that I loved "Lost," that it gave me hours upon hours of great, quality entertainment, and that I'm kind of depressed that it's all over, then, please, just shut your trap.

Brother, can you spare a dime?

I've spent my adult life anguishing over what to do when someone asks me for spare change.

In high school a young social activist suggested I just offer to buy the bum (my words, not hers) a cup of coffee instead of giving money that he'd probably use to get alcohol or drugs. It was a great idea except that I wasn't inclined then (and am even less so now) to share a cup of coffee with someone I didn't know. I'm bad at making small talk, unless you want to hear about cats.

I later held that if what the bum really wants is to get loaded and that's what will make him happy, then let's do away with the whole cup-of-coffee charade and help him on his way. I'm no social worker, I thought, so who cares if the money I give makes his life worse in the long-run, just as long as it makes him happy now. I always respected the bum who told me outright he needed money to get beer. Still, it didn't seem right contributing to their delinquency.

Then one day I heard the theory that people begging for money were actually angels in disguise and my willingness to give would be noted by said angel and the cumulative total of my deeds would be addressed at St. Peter's Gate. Now that prompted me to give! They asked for change, I gave them a percentage of that night's tips, and I did it with a smile. Even though I doubted the existence of God back then, I was smart enough to cover some of my bases, just in case I was wrong. The problem, of course, was that it was Boulder and there was a bum on every corner. Some of those homeless souls were quite young, and it was then that I learned that many of the "homeless" were just lazy-asses who could make more money begging for money than actually earning it. Simultaneously, I began to think that surely not every legitimate bum could be an angel, and seeing how I couldn't afford to give money to each one that asked in the hope that one would be an angel and I'd get a good mark, I cut back on my alms giving. I decided it was a sleazy way for God to judge me and I stopped my giving despite the fear of eternal damnation.

I later found myself in Eugene, OR. Eugene used to be where Gateful Dead groupies stayed until the next tour, a town inundated with white, dreadlocked, pot-smoking bums with no further ambition in life than to mooch off of society as long as possible. Lacking a firm spare-change philosophy to guide me, I was a prime target. Every 7-11 I went to, every trip to the grocery store brought me in contact with perfectly healthy young men and women who accosted me and demanded I give them some of the money I'd made that day cooking french fries and flipping burgers at Red Robin and serving dinner at an assisted living home. If I told them to get a job, they replied that they wouldn't work for The Man (I guess that's me) and they wanted to remain free to live life on their own terms. I made just enough money in those days to pay rent, stay current on my student loans, and to buy my own weed and beer. I gave them nothing but contempt.

Austin wasn't much better, especially since being a slacker was in vogue when I got there, but by then I'd lost almost all sense of charity towards the real and supposed homeless. I did once buy cat food for a young woman who actually wanted to get her cat some food but didn't have the money. I reached over and gave the cashier $5.00. For once, I witnessed genuine appreciation...from the cat. In Austin I would formulate a spiritual philosophy that didn't involve angels, pearly gates or circles of Hell, and my social awareness moved from the plight of people to that of animals. I cast aside all presumptions of being my brother's keeper and decided to let him fend for himself. But I still voted Democrat. That was over ten years ago.

Enter the other day when I stopped at a street corner where a woman stood with the ubiquitous cardboard "Homeless and hungry. God bless!" sign. Though more critical of society than I once was, I am socially softer than before, and I looked at her and then my spare change. Time was of the essence for soon the light would change. She walked down the shoulder and stopped just ahead of my car, looked at me and gave a plaintive wave. She was older than the other woman who haunts that corner, gray-haired. My mind raced.

She's faking it.
Maybe, but she's older.
The lottery is tonight and if I give something to her now then karma might reward me later.
I don't need that change, just give it to her.
I wish she'd quit looking at me.
I am not responsible for her.
Ask the guy in the Escalade.
No, I will not fall for the sad eyes.
C'mon light, turn green.

The light turned green and I left her to solicit change from someone else. Yet even before completing the turn I felt guilty for not having given her something. I was mad at myself for not only not giving but for also feeling guilty about not giving. I guess I should be happy that I haven't gone completely over to the dark side and I feel compelled to help. I want to help those who truly need help, not those unwilling to help themselves. I don't want my generosity to be taken advantage of or to be taken for granted.

Yeah, I can spare a dime; I'm just not sure if I should.

Outrage-ous

It appears yet another segment of society is (yawn) feeling victimized. Some airlines are raising fees again and this is causing many travelers to feel a bit put out; in fact, it's being described more as "outrage." Although born with a champagne appetite, I live on a beer income, and so I, too, don't like the idea of paying any more money than I have to in order to fly. However, I have to side with the airlines on this one.

I'm sorry to break this to the outraged but travel and especially air travel is not a right, human or God-given. It is not enshrined in the Constitution or the Bill of Rights that you have a right to travel by air as cheaply as is convenient for you. Airlines, on the other hand, have a right as designated by our capitalist society to make money. Their goal is the same as any for-profit company, large or small, global or local: profit. Just because they provide a service that we feel we can't do without doesn't mean they don't have the right to charge more money whenever they want for that service. Many restaurants (rightly) charged for water during Georgia's drought but I don't recall hearing about any outraged diners. Movie theaters nationwide charge more for admission to 3-D movies and yet there was no end to the lines to get into see "Avatar." Where was the outrage when the US Postal Service raised the price of stamps? If businesses like restaurants, movie theaters and the USPS can impose fees to make more money without a lick of consumer outrage, then why the fuss when airlines do it?

The only way this particular bit of traveler outrage can be justified is if the airlines were nationalized because then we, the people, would own them...in a sense...and it wouldn't make sense to be charging ourselves extra fees. Of course, the government could step in and establish some sort of price ceiling or limits on certain fees. But that would be Socialism, wouldn't it, and if Americans think that government-run health care is Socialism and thus un-American, then, well, I'm sure they wouldn't want the government having anything to do with lowering the costs of flying home for Christmas (especially since Socialism is apparently "godless").

There are other means of transportation open to travelers. Buses go all over the country and provide ample opportunity to get close to your fellow Americans. Trains have sleeping, dining and viewing cars for your pleasure. The automobile can get you anywhere in the US that a airplane can go and more. Wait...what's that? You say those other means of travel aren't convenient? Oh, oh...I see. Well, I guess flying is like shopping at 7-11 or Circle K: you pay more for the convenience.

If you want to enjoys the fruits of capitalism (and you know you do!), then you have to pay for it. So, buck up airline travelers and keep your unfounded outrage to yourselves.