What was to be the tangental ramblings of a perfectly good Mothers' Day post

In sharing his thoughts on 'duties', Cicero said

"For surely to be wise is the most desirable thing in all the world.  It is quite impossible to imagine anything better, or more becoming for a human being, or more appropriate to his essential nature.  That is why the people who try to reach this goal are called philosophers, because that is precisely what philosophy means, the love of wisdom.  And wisdom, according to the definition offered by early philosophers, signifies the knowledge of all things, divine and human, and of the causes which lie behind them.  If anyone is prepared to disparage so noble a study as that I cannot imagine anything he would find himself able to approve of!"

Now that will play into the spirit of this post but mostly I quote it hoping that the majority of readers will have gotten bored and stopped halfway through, because I'm going to take a position in this piece (always a mistake) and I'm concerned that people may make inferences about this position that they find offensive.  And I suppose all I can hope for is that they will hearken back to Cicero's words and interpret this in the best possible light as a philosopher reasoning through the complexities of human nature in the pursuit of wisdom.  This started out as a light hearted piece for mothers day, but perhaps mothers are just too important for any reference to be without substance worthy of debate.

First, let me make very clear that I see a clear distinction between Civil Rights and Human Rights and I feel like these distinctions were clearly made in the last century so I get frustrated when I see them combined and confused in recent positions and editorials. 

Civil rights  are privileges and freedoms that a society agrees the individuals within it will be afforded within their boundaries.  Virtually anything may be decreed a civil right by a society; it is up to them. 

Human rights must be more intrinsic to the human condition and experience. They must be fundamental to our humanity and natural cycle of life, so that when we see them violated it strikes us as a clear aberration of the template of the human life.

So, it is hard for me to take you seriously, I'm looking at you United Nations, when you say something like, "the use of the internet is a fundamental Human Right".  It makes me think that your views and priorities are hopelessly confused and outdated.  It strikes me as maddening that you would put the denying of someone use of the internet in the same class of violation as torturing a person. Surely, along the way, we have missed some other rights, some other elements of the human life that more fundamental than that. 

Don't get me wrong, the internet is great, no government of corporation should deny its use, it should clearly be a Civil right in every modern society and the United Nations should urge its members to enact laws securing such rights.  But if we are talking about fundamental rights let us take a few steps back to what humans are more organically entitled.

When you are pulled from the womb (even if, like me, it is temporarily without breath and with a squished, purple head from too much forcep pressure from a stupid doctor) you come out with at least two things: your body and your will.  The use of these two forces are, by definition, your birth right and these above all other things must be the focus of human rights protection.  If babies start emerging Wi Fi enabled I am open to revisiting this issue.

If you having something else at this point in life, it is your mother.  Technically you have a father somewhere as well and hopefully he is there holding your mother's hand beaming down at you, or failing that he is close by throwing up in a sink or wearing a Yale sweater and handing out cigars in the waiting room.  But we can come back to him later.  For now all you have is your body, your yet unfocused and undeveloped will, and your mother. Surely, if there is a human right after the first two we discussed then it would be a right to your mother. 

So why are mothers not listed on the UN's list of substantive rights?  Why would we turn our focus onto anything else until we had made sure that everyone had access to their Mother or having lost her a suitable substitute?

I know there are myriad of social programs both governmental and non that seek to provide this for those who are unfortunate enough to not have their mothers in their life, but again, I point this out as an example of what I see as missing when something is discussed as a human right.  I accept the idea of human rights, but for me it is an issue organic along the path I have presented above.  If you have the right to something after your mother it is your father.  If you have a right after that it is to your extended family.  If you have a right after that it is to listen to Zeppelin as loud as you want with the only constraint being the structural integrity of your ear drums.  I am open to the idea of natural law and social contract but to me the first of those would be with your family. 

I am open to broader extensions of those laws and contracts with your broader human family but if you are attempting to discuss with me social issues you would need to understand that for better or worse to me the basic unit of a society is that family and I will interpret alternative views as ignoring tens of thousands of years of human and social evolution. 



 

What was to be Barcelona: Day 2

I thought communicating with the locals would be easier than it has been. I feel like we don't share some of the basic vocabulary of nouns.  And I definitely don't recognize the names of any of the food.  Luckily, this is a city designed to service an international variety of tourists, so almost every place has pictures of the food and the pricing out front.   

So getting the food is easy, but the question then becomes, do I want any of it?  Every dish I have tried here has just seemed little off.  It's hard to put my finger on what it is, the meat is somehow too salty and oily, the vegetables seem like they have spent too much time in vinegar.  The bread is fine.  Apparently we agree on the way bread should taste.  I thought about staying here for the next few weeks as a weight-loss strategy, but I'm sure I would eventually find an acceptable way to overeat again.

Barcelona is a city waiting for Summer and unsure of what to do with itself in the mean time.  It has magnificent beaches but not a ton of use for them in the current weather of 50-55.  Each restaurant I have entered has been empty, so you would think that there would be some level of enthusiasm at my arrival, but everyone acts the way the locals do in the movies when a Nazi officer comes into the store or tavern of the occupied city, or when the bad guy walks into the bar in an old Western. 

Everyone scatters to the back, and one person tentatively walks up and just stares at you.  We stare at each other before I bungle through some greeting and then we kind of go back and forth in a mixture of Spanish/Catalan/English until I am sitting down.  By now they have figured out that I am American, and despite the frosty reception, they clearly want me to feel at home, so the music changes.  seriously, every time, each restaurant must have a cd it keeps and written on it must be, "Play in case of American"  It has been the most eclectic mix of music with the one common thread being that the songs are in English.  For example:

"The Gambler" by Kenny Rogers
"Imagine" by The Beatles
"Wonderful Tonight" by Eric Clapton
Something by the Ramones
"Talk that Talk" Rihanna and Jay-Z

Probably not a great surprise to those who know me that I have found the interpersonal experiences awkward and difficult to navigate, but Barcelona in the Winter is great for wandering around by yourself.

I spent most of the day exploring Montjuic.  Which, as near as I can tell is either translated Mount Judah, or Jew Mountain.  This is a very broad hill that offers a gorgeous view of the city and harbor and has many museums, gardens, and a large stadium.  The view might have changed my life a little bit. 

What was to be Barcelona: Day 1

The first thing you notice about Barcelona is that sound only enters in from your right ear.  This is such a remarkable feature that you cannot fathom why it was not mentioned in any of the travel literature.  However, upon further review you realize this may be a issue localized around yourself due to descending 35,000 feet with a cold.  This leads to the embarrassing scene in the airport restroom where you are observed pinching your nose while simultaneously attempting to blow out of it.  I'm told this can be bad for your eardrum, but they said the same thing about rock music and pouring pop rocks in your canal; so, whatever.

With your hearing back up and running it's time to find a taxi.  Despite a pretty good grasp of the Spanish language, you are not really clear how to pronounce the address to your hotel (Avenida Paral-Lel 76-80) so your driver assumes you are an idiot and doesn't talk to you for a lot of the ride. 

About halfway between the city and the airport a large and magnificent cemetery comes into view on your left side.  This is the locals' way of letting you know that death is a common and celebrated certainty here so you best step correct lest you wind up on that hill as well. 

But the hill gives you the opportunity to try out some Spanish interrogatives on your driver who slowly decides that you are not the moron he originally took you for, and is now happy to discuss the local area and culture in the few minutes of the drive you have left. 

At the hotel, your room is not ready yet so you trade them your luggage for a ticket and a local map and go out to experience the city which your stomach is looking forward to, but your left knee which has never really recovered from its last set of tennis is grumbling about. 

You feel comfortable here as the average height is much closer to your own.  You have read about the expert Barcelonian pick-pockets but most of the populous appears benign, either through age or accompaniment of children or the choice of unisex neon tights for jogging.  This give you confidence to wander the streets until you find yourself in a quaint alley when a small shop opens to exhale a woman with two pit bulls and what is either a large lighter or a taser.  So taking the defensive cue from the locals, you meander back to the more populated district.

What you observe as you go up and down the streets is that  Barcelona is an economy based on Tapas and alcohol served in long narrow shops or tables and tents right outside. 

There is a large statue of Columbus in the middle of a roundabout near the piers. I can only imagine that the message here is, "Look, if you're stuck in traffic just imagine how bad it would be to have been him.  He didn't even know where he was most of the time."  Not to be confused with Columbus Circle in New York, though I suspect the message is meant to be the same. 

Near the ports there was some kind of televised cooking competition with over a hundred participants.  Friends, family, and onlookers stood round, but I couldn't figure out what the prize was. It couldn't be your own restaurant as clearly everyone in the city already had to own their own given the volume of small establishments I'd already viewed.  I determined this was just an elaborate distraction ploy for pick pockets and I moved on.

Eventually I made it back to my hotel, got into my room, a shower, and then a bed.  In that order.  Where I have been until now.  Day 2 holds the promise of a gothic district and Gaudi architecture before work starts in the early evening, so I need to stock up on {insert goth/gotic pun here}. 

What was to be gang related

I'll never forget the first time my mom put me on a bus to go to school.  She waited with me at the stop until the bus arrived, and as I began the ascent up those rubber coated stairs she said to me, "Whatever you were before, you are entirely alone now." 

She may remember the experience differently and perhaps those were not her words verbatim, but that was certainly what I felt as I navigated my way through the noisy metal box.  Once I sat down though, I looked at my lunchbox and realized that I was not entirely bereft of comfort.  On my lunchbox was the image of He-Man holding his sword aloft as his allies stood at his back in the face of the onslaught of skeletons and monsters in the lower corners of the case. 

There are a lot of lessons that my young self could have taken from that moment.  I could have learned that as long as I was brave, just, and true that I could stand up to anything.  Or that I too could find friends and allies to unite with against the terrors of the unknown.  But instead I thought, "I wish I were home watching He-Man". 

Between fight or flight, I had opted into flight, but since mobility was limited I practiced mental escapism into an imaginary world.  When I got to school I continued this strategy by finding a book and fortifying myself against the world within its pages until the bell rang.  Over the weeks this behavior attracted like minded children.  Now, with a  small gang, we felt more confident venturing into other parts of the playground and talking out in class. 

I have always been fortunate in this way, that my introverted behavior has still been rewarded with very close friends.  So when I saw on facebook that a friend was seeking counsel for what she should do about a son who was being bullied, the advice that I wanted to type was that he needed to get a gang together.  I was never bullied in school, despite personal and aesthetic peculiarities.  I think I insisted on wearing sweatpants to school well into my elementary school years, and spent much of second grade reading babysitter club books rather than talking to actual girls.  But again, I was never bullied, probably because I always rolled 5 or 6 deep, making the true loners the more likely targets for misdirected aggression and insecurity. 

We have a problem with the term 'gangs' as they are associated with escalating violence, peer pressure, and bullying themselves.  But in a scenario where you are basically in a prison with one guard per 30 inmates, and less than that on the playground.  You would be well advised not to try to go it alone.  Plus, Red Rover doesn't work by yourself. 

What was to be extinct

The Western black rhinoceros was declared officially extinct today as no one has recorded the existence of a living specimen since 2006.  Apparently, absence for 7 years is the benchmark to declare a species extinct.  This is interesting as it is the same amount of time that a person must be missing before they are declared 'dead in absentia' in the United States and England.  If you want an example of the wrong way to do it, you can (as per usual) turn to Italy where you must be missing for 20 years.

This is a time of mourning and serious contemplation regarding the conservation efforts we make to save such species.  Even if you are a Northern white-supremacist rhino, you cannot wholly rejoice in the extinction of your enemy because you, and all of the other Northern white rhinos, are also teetering on the verge of extinction.

Or you may be like me, the typical armchair skeptic at his desk in his pajamas, robe, and slippers, sipping his tea, rubbing out scratches in the wood with walnuts, and shaking his head thinking, "Well, what could have reasonably been done? It must have just been their time."

Except that the Southern white rhino was culled down to a population of less than 100 at the end of the 19th century and now has an estimated population of 20,000.  But the conservation measures taken to achieve this were not implemented in the Western black rhino's habitats.

I know that we live far away, and that we are extremely busy, I myself have dozens of square feet of desks that require constant finishing with walnut oil as I persist on scratching it as I set down my many remotes, devices, and tea cups on it. 

There is also an excruciatingly limited portfolio of action we can take, living where we do.  The biggest threat these animals faced were poachers, and as political instability increased in those areas, so did the poaching instances.  I know we all love the idea of sitting atop a black rhino, our rifles trained on the jeep of approaching poachers, as we swayed from side to side as our terrible rhino mount glared at the poachers, shaking his head in disgust.  But these regions have harsh political realities that makes this scenario unlikely. 

In the case of the Northern white rhino, 5 of the surviving specimen are being moved from their home habitat in the Democratic Republic of  Congo to a preserve in Kenya, as the security of the Congo park can no longer adequately ensure their safety. 

So, again, I come to. "What can we do?" and I've reached the end of this post, and I still don't have a satisfactory answer.  Maybe donate some money to the http://www.olpejetaconservancy.org/ which is the park in Kenya where the white rhinos are being taken.  But our finances are stretched, and there is a lot of human suffering that is also asking for monetary relief. On top of that, the IUCN reports that 25% of the world's mammals are at risk of extinction, so there is a lot going on outside of the world of rhinos. 

In an interview a few days ago I heard a congresswoman from Florida say that what we need is for everyone to pick one issue and get really passionate and involved in it, she sees this as the way to get people back in government.  And I mention it because I couldn't disagree with her more completely.  We need to all strive for the Renaissance Ideal, we need to become people who can speak and debate intelligently across disciplines and issues.  We need to move our debates away from derisive comments about one ideologies conclusions, and towards a debate and discovery about the assumptions that led to the conclusions, because that is where sharing and learning happens.  An argument is only negative if you walk away from it without learning something. 

If Oprah Winfrey wanted to save the Western black rhino, she probably could have done it, she probably had the money to buy them that time.  But even if she gave every dollar she had, she could not have stemmed the root cause of their extinction.  That is going to require an informed populace pushing political leaders to make intelligently aggressive decisions across the board.

Getting there is beyond the scope of any blog, but I think it has to start with making our communication more informed and informative.  We must owe the rhinos as least that.   

What was to be donated

I was lured into my company's Health and Wellness center today with the promise of  $50 gift card if I would let them give me a flu shot, weigh me, measure my waist, measure my body fat, take my blood pressure, and take a blood sample to gauge cholesterol/glucose etc.

After being poked and prodded, I asked for my gift card and was directed to a website where I could redeem it, but here is what I found there:

I wanted that $50.  I didn't need it.  I've never needed $50.  But I wanted it.  And what really was the difference between taking this $50 and not donating it.  I have hundreds of $50 in various accounts that I don't donate everyday.  What was one more?  I mean, what if Microsoft started pitching all my incentives this way:

"Congratulations, your 2010 stock award has vested! Click here to redeem OR look at these pictures of 100 dying babies and donate this to save their lives. Or you know, buy a hot tub, and just know that you are soaking in the blood of innocents every time you get in it."

I ended up donating to fund the vaccinations.  And while my suspicion is that these vaccinations would have been given out somehow anyway, this money came too easily to really feel that attached to it.

I'll probably spend $50 this month on desserts and treats ( it's fine, my glucose is below 90 and my triglycerides are less than 45) and won't feel like I've taken food from anyone's mouth.  I'll buy a beautiful new desk set without feeling like I left anyone homeless.  Maybe I should, but I won't. I lack that level of compassion or empathy.  But when the money comes that easy and it is easier to give it away than give them my address, open a letter one day and put a card in my pocket, even I can reach beyond my 3? inch waist and click the kindest option. 

  

What was to be happily ever after

During the Spanish colonization of California, the Franciscan and Jesuit orders built missions to spread their religion and confirm territory for Spain.  As you would imagine, they started in San Diego merged onto I-5 then took the 405 exit north and onto the 101 in Los Angeles,  this they followed North, building their missions and eating at In-N-Out along the way until they got to the Sonoma Valley where they stopped. 

Why did they stop?  Why not continue to consolidate their dominance of wine country and journey into the Napa valley?  All historians in my office as I write this agree, that to do this they would have had to take highway 29 through Robert Louis Setevnson State Park.  And though these were men who had ridden the stormy Atlantic, could force unpaid laborers to build without ever feeling sick to their stomachs; that road just made them way too queasy.

 The map below probably does not do justice to the experience, because what you need to understand is that this is straight down/up hill at 40 to 60 miles an hour if my dad is driving late to a wedding. 

Being braver or more foolhardy than any monk or conquistador, we traveled this road at breakneck speeds to make it on time to my cousins wedding at a vineyard in the Sonoma Valley.  We got there about a minute before the wedding was scheduled to begin, but luckily other more important people were late too, so there was time to say hello and take our seats before the procession began.  Which was good, because I was feeling very sick from my journey down the road which could have served to uncork any of the fine bottles of wine at the bar. 

So I was not particularly focused as the family members and friends came down to the aisle, and it would be a few minutes before I was really up to taking in what truly beautiful scenery surrounded us. And now, if you'll allow me (and I think you will because it's my blog) I'm going to get sappy for a bit. 

You spend so much time watching Hollywood's approximation of wedding-day love in the eyes and faces of two people that it is almost surprising when you see it for real in person.  Not the manic passion of adolescent infatuation, not the disturbing fervor of the co-dependent, and not the sort of unexpected resignation so common in today's romantic comedies.  It's a kind of excitement, muted by time and commitment, but enhanced by the events of that day. 

It's has a light to it that somehow makes the sunniest day and most beautiful vineyard a little dimmer in comparison, and you almost wish you were in a plain cellar somewhere so there wasn't so much distracting you from their faces.  And you definitely wished it on that day, because it was hot as hell out there in that suit.