Lost in Transliteration

The birth of a buzzword is probably a simple thing.

This one, I would guess, was no different. It likely began in the heart as an aspiration of the way things could be. In the mind, the word gathered weight, substance. It was a seed seeking fertile ground where it might take root and, finding sunlight and sustenance, begin to sprout. Spoken, the word received validation and bloomed. As it spread, it became something else, something more. A buzzword.

The word? Postracial society.

I’ve heard the term often enough. During those first frenetic days when the media was still grappling with the significance of the nation’s first Black President, some pundit would invariably ask: Isn’t a Black leader of the free world proof enough that we’ve gotten over our issues with race?

I’d like to believe that. I want to believe it. But wanting to believe a thing does not a reality make. I submit that we do not yet live in a postracial society, if only for one simple reason: people say the darndest things.

The 2008 Presidential campaign was remarkable in so many ways. The Democratic Party nominated its first African American to contend for the highest office in the country. Barack Obama proved that vision and charisma could be enough to bring unlikely voters back to the booths again. Not to be outdone, the Republican Party nominated its first woman as a Vice Presidential candidate. Sarah Palin, a little-known Governor from the state of Alaska. energized a listless group of supporters and rivaled- some would argue that even exceeded- her running mate’s ability to generate headlines and excitement.

And, of course, there was Hilary Clinton, the first woman to receive 18 million votes in a Democratic caucus and primary season.

For me, it was the first election in a long while where it didn’t seem as though we were making a President of the perceived lesser of two evils. Party and policy differences aside, these were individuals whose care for our nation was intelligently articulated in ways that inspired and motivated.

But it was a long, grueling process, one that strained the limits of respect and civility and shone a bright, unflinching light on the myriad differences within our electorate on issues of policy, vision for the future, and race. It was a campaign season I don't think we'll forget anytime soon.
What I won’t forget are the numerous statements I heard about race.

A random guy off the street told a CNN reporter this: “The only change a black man can make for me are for the dollar bills in my pocket.” Old people say the darndest things.

I heard Jeremiah Wright say he believed HIV was created by the U.S. government as a tool of genocide against people of color. Pastors say the darndest things.

Geraldine Ferraro had this to contribute: “If Obama was a white man, he would not be in this position. And if he was a woman of any color he would not be in this position. He happens to be very lucky to be who he is. And the country is caught up in the concept.” Former Democratic running mates from the 80s say the…you get the point.

Did all those sentiments about race simply fade away after Election Day? No. They’re all still out there, hidden (or not-so-hidden) beneath a very sensitive surface.

Whether you believe the statements or not, I think we can all agree that they are not the words one might expect to hear in a postracial society.

With Barack Obama’s election, the country has taken a visible step towards the goal. The journey, one that our national conscience has been walking for some time now, is far from complete. All that has come before has been a painful but necessary prelude for what is to come.

I recall these quotes not because I believe that a postracial society is beyond our reach. Achieving such a community, however, will take effort, resolve, and time. There have been and still are obstacles standing in the way - systems, institutions, and people who would hinder the pursuit of progress. Though they represent a kind of Old Guard, they are not all old. Some are actually quite young. Some haven’t been born yet.

If there is a future where this undiscovered utopia exists, then those of us still alive may have the toughest time living in it. There are so many ways in which intent, delivery, and reception can get screwed up.

Earlier this month, Texas State Representative Betty Brown, while addressing a member of the Organization of Chinese American on an issue of voter identification legislation, said the following: “Rather than everyone here having to learn Chinese- I understand it’s a rather difficult language- do you think that it would behoove you and your citizens to adopt a name that we could deal with more readily here?”

She went on to say, “Can’t you see that this is something that would make it a lot easier for you and the people who are poll workers if you could adopt a name just for identification purposes that’s easier for Americans to deal with?”

Though Representative Brown maintains that her remarks were not racially motivated (see the video here), the fact remains that even a polite suggestion to change one's name- even for official purposes- doesn’t seem all that postracial to me. While I can imagine Arnold Schwarzenegeer as Robert Johnson or Rod Blagojevich as Steve Green, something important gets lost in the translation.

Politicians, it would seem, say the darndest things, too.

By Any Other Name

There are optimists walking among us, people who see the silver lining in every cloud, never look a gift horse in the mouth, and always see the world in bright, cheerful color.

I am not one of them.

I operate under Murphy’s Law. I believe that if there’s something bad that can happen, it usually finds a way to happen…and chances are good that I’ve already imagined its occurrence. Countless times. Like that cheesy Seth Green movie a decade ago, it would seem that I have an imagination intent on moonlighting for evil.

The Myers Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) is a personality test that uses neat little acronyms to categorize how we interact with others, make decisions, and perceive the world. I have my own little acronym to describe my way of thinking. I am a WCSG: Worst Case Scenario Guy.

It’s hard to be a WCSG. It takes skill to dream up the worst possible thing that can happen. Plus, there are drawbacks: never being able to tell people that you knew things- bad things- were going to happen before they did, the inability to enjoy an episode of Law and Order because the twists failed to surprise, laughing inappropriately during the supposedly scary parts of horror flicks. Years ago, a friend told me that if I were a Winnie-the-Pooh character, I’d be Eeyore. Perhaps. Nevertheless, I’ve learned to live with my ability and even accept it as a gift of sorts.

I’m not always right. My small stock of Y2K supplies proved to be utterly unnecessary. My 4-year old remains in good health and has no broken bones (that sound you hear would be me knocking on wood). The country hasn’t gone to hell in a large, uncomfortable basket.

But there’s one scenario that hasn’t entirely resolved itself.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was awakened by a ringing cell phone. My wife worked for a large reinsurance company in a building that, unbeknownst to her, would soon be evacuated because it served as Lockheed Martin’s headquarters. Judging from the missed call counter on my cell, she’d tried to reach me several times. When I finally did answer, I was…grumpy.

“Why are you calling me?” I croaked.

“Are you watching?”

“Watching what?”

“Turn on the TV.”

“What channel?”

“Any,” she said. And that was how I learned of the attack on the Towers. I watched in awe. I watched in fear. I watched.

At the time, my wife and I were living in New Jersey, a stone’s throw across the Delaware and Philadelphia where I had returned for Grad School 2.0 (a long story ultimately summed up in another nifty acronym: ABD) at Penn. The City was less than two hours up the Turnpike from where we lived and we’d driven there many times.

As details emerged, I remember thinking that if these attacks were the opening salvo of some undeclared war by some unknown country, it wouldn’t be long before the U.S. became one giant war zone. There’d be suicide bombings on street corners, biochemical warfare, snipers hiding on rooftops. Martial law would reign as the social contract, the contract that says a person should be able to go shopping at the local mall without getting blown up or poisoned, was shattered.

Though the possibilities were limitless, I tried to imagine them all.

History hasn’t unfolded exactly as I projected and I’m pleased. Yet I find myself revisiting those thoughts in light of the recent shootings in Texas, Missouri, Pennsylvania, New York. Are we really that far from a war zone when one has to be concerned about getting attacked on the job, in their home, church, post office, school, or convenience store? Not really.

(Side note: And why is it that so many who want to End It All feel the need to rack up a body count along the way? Why can’t they just off themselves and let that be the end of it?)

In my opinion, these folks- though Americans, all- are as much a terrorist as any member of al-Qaeda. The 9/11 terrorists succeeded- for a time- in changing the way we traveled, the way we looked at the world and our place in it. This new crop is just as dangerous and these days, recruiting is good. Whether the impetus is a lousy economy or job market, a fear that President Obama will take away their precious guns, or a urinating dog, the numbers of the disgruntled seem to be growing. And they are succeeding where al-Qaeda has struggled: to change the very manner in which we live while destroying the basic trust we have for one another as Americans and human beings.

Even for me, that seems startling.

Seeing Red

When I was a child, the world seemed a simple place. Right was incontrovertible, the ends never justified the means, and good always triumphed over evil. As I’ve grown older, however, time has taught me that right can be relative, the ends occasionally do justify the means, and evil is more formidable than I ever imagined.

This knowledge, while it’s given me a modicum of wisdom, hasn’t always made me happy. There have been times when the knowledge has made me flat-out mad. These days, there seems to be a lot of mad people out there. In fact, it only takes three little letters to cause me to see red: AIG

American International Group (AIG) has- in my opinion- become a catalyst of sorts, a symbol toward which the common man can focus our considerable frustration for everything that’s wrong right now. I think the reasons so many of us are upset about AIG come down to our basic concepts of fairness, morality, and justice. AIG violates them.

The first concept is that of a meritocracy. Growing up, I was told that America was a country where one’s achievements and talents would directly influence their advancement in life. In a meritocratic society, only the best and the brightest would ascend to positions of leadership because only the best and brightest would be elected or hired. In business, only the best and most profitable companies would continue to survive and thrive. There was a large element of personal responsibility attached to meritocratic principles. If you were a worker bee or a drone, it was because you didn’t apply yourself enough in school or on the job. If your company failed, it was because your product, sales force, or management group wasn’t good enough to capture the market share essential in ensuring its longevity. The ultimate responsibility for success or failure rested with the individual or company. And that was comforting.

Not so with AIG. AIG reminds us that life, like high school, is a popularity contest. We’re told that certain banks are ‘too big to fail’ and that losing them would throw the country into a deep, dark depression. They are the jocks you knew from school that sat at the back of the classroom and refused to study, refused to participate and continually fail tests. But they’ve never been benched, always pass class with a D and continue to play week in and week out. The meritocracy concept doesn’t apply to them because the rules bend for them.

And then there’s this retention bonus stuff. I know the bonuses account for less than 1% of the $170 billion recently given to the company (not that I know how the other 99% is being spent) and I know the company had contracts with these employees, but there’s something questionable about giving performance bonuses to employees within a company that missed the mark in so many areas. Even when there were employees, units, and divisions that did great jobs. Sorry, Mr. DeSantis. While I acknowledge your hard work and understand the points you make in your now famous resignation letter, I still don’t believe you’re entitled to receive a taxpayer-financed bonus, contract notwithstanding. That’s not fair.

Finally, there’s the concept of capitalism itself. I learned about supply and demand, the difference between a bull and bear market, and the point of the stock market in my 10^th grade Economics, Business, and Free Enterprise course. I loved that class. It’s easy to understand why some folks make a religion of the market: it is a kind of mysterious force guiding the fortunes of the masses. Fortune and favor, tragedy and devastation are meted out almost arbitrarily, though there is always a reason for its actions, even when those reasons cannot be totally understood.

The market was supposed to able to correct and take care of itself. But where AIG is concerned, even that concept is suspended out of fear. Franklin Delano Roosevelt told us that there is nothing to fear but fear itself. But if the past 8 years have taught us anything, fear can be an extremely big motivator.

Only time will tell.

Heroes, Villains, and Victims

About two weeks ago, I got into a fight.

Well, not a fight so much as a disagreement. It happened on Facebook, so it was really nothing more than a few concise messages left on one another’s “walls”.

How did it begin?

I’d joined a group (FB is big on groups) whose sole purpose was to protest the existence and request the removal of another group called, ‘Soldiers are NOT heroes’. A friend saw my status update and asked why I would ever participate in such anti-democratic nonsense. Why, he asked, would I ever want to prevent others from exercising free speech?

Although he was correct in his advice to simply avoid the offending site, I told my friend that my action was an equally democratic expression of speech: I happen to think that soldiers are heroes. This is not a stretch for me since, like Forrest Gump’s Lieutenant Dan, I come from a military family. But I am neither idealistic nor naïve in my belief. I am fully aware that while our armed forces are responsible for doing quite a bit of good both in our nation and around the world, some of the greatest atrocities of the past 100 years were committed by uniformed men who justified their actions under the guise of ‘just following orders’.

My friend and I had a couple back and forths (at one point, he told me that if I really did believe that being a soldier, in and of itself, made one a hero then I was truly lost) before we agreed to disagree. No harm, no foul.

But the exchange has stayed with me. I keep thinking about the idea of heroes and villains. It is said that one man’s heaven is another man’s hell. A variation says that one man’s hero is another man’s villain. I tend to think that one man’s villain is another man’s victim.

There isn’t a lot of agreement on the subject of modern day heroes. Maybe because no one- beyond their own private fantasies, that is- sets out to become one. There is no Hero College or Heroes, Inc. seeking applications or resumes. We like to believe that, given the right circumstance, everyone has an inner hero who will rise to the challenge. I suppose this explains why we give the heroes we do agree on such extraordinary exposure. Witness Chelsey Sullenberger, the media-crowned Hero of the Hudson. I doubt anyone would argue that a pilot who managed to spare the lives of 155 passengers by landing an engineless plane in the middle of the Hudson River wasn’t a hero.

Villains, however, are a more complicated subject, whether in the movies, on TV, in books and especially the comics. Nearly every guy has a Bond villain or two within just yearning to breathe free and utter a few choice quotes (No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to…) given the flimsiest of excuses.

We make lists of our Top 10 villains every time a particularly villainous villain (yeah, I know that’s grammatically questionable) comes along. That doesn’t happen with heroes. Once they’ve fulfilled their mission, we tend to forget them. Villains, however, can arouse our patriotic spirit, bring us together and unite us against a common enemy long after the hero is gone. We need villains, but heroes? Meh.

Can heroes survive in a gray world where the lines are so blurred and it’s so much easier (and fun) to get excited about villains? I wonder. And if they can, how long before they begin to look identical to the villains?

Personally, I believe we need more heroes. And not just the larger than life, save-a-person-from-a-fire kind, either. No, I’m referring to ordinary heroes- people willing to volunteer with Big Brothers Big Sisters, do the right thing when no one’s watching, and do the jobs, as Mr. Sullenberger would say, they were trained to do. Whether we call them heroes or not, we’re all just a little better off because of their efforts.

Update – I just learned that the FB group I mentioned was removed. The one I joined has been renamed ‘Do You Believe Soldiers Are Heroes?’, and touts itself as a place for ‘fair debate and discussions about the armed forces’.

It's a Start

A couple months ago, I did the unthinkable. I created a Facebook account. My wife had amassed a following of several hundred friends on hers and was always telling me about the latest person to befriend her.

“You’d like it,” my wife would say to me in my bFB (before Facebook) days.

“I didn’t like high school when I was there,” I’d scoff. “Why would I want to relive it?”

“You could connect with your college friends,” she’d say.

“I’m in contact with everyone I want to be connected to from college.”

One day, though, I finally gave in. Truth be told, it’s not so bad. I’ve reconnected with people I haven’t thought about in years, decades even. And I’ve made new friends. Change can be good.

Facebook was a voluntary change for me. Recent circumstances have forced us all to deal with involuntary change. It’s not nearly as easy as setting up a social network account; involuntary change can be painful. Yet it can also drag us down paths we’ve known we should have started down years ago.

Change agent: Oil and gas prices

12 months ago, oil prices were on a march to $150 a barrel and companies like Exxon were enjoying successive quarters of unprecedented profit. And why not? Gas prices were the highest they’d ever been and were moving higher. Wall Street was speculating that our national and global demand for oil would only increase now that China was in the game. The turmoil in the Middle East was clearly not going to end any time soon.

But then something happened.

We decided to change. People began to carpool, take the bus, drive less, learn about hypermiling, and buy hybrid cars. As a result, the nation’s consumption of oil gradually inched downward. It wasn’t a big change, but it was a start. I still remember how thrilled I was to fill up the tank of my rental car in Houston this past Christmas to the tune of $1.36 a gallon. I couldn’t remember the last time gas prices were so low. I nearly cried.

Change agent: A failing economy

We are a nation of consumers who proudly spend more than we keep. In direct contrast to countries like Japan where 7-10 percent is the accepted minimal norm, the average U.S. family savings percentage has been in the negative for quite some time now.

But then the economic bottom fell out and nest eggs took significant hits. Thanks to charlatans like Bernie Madoff, a few were even wiped out entirely. Several senior citizens have reluctantly come to the realization that the bar for retirement has been moved a little higher.

The real estate industry, the force propping up the economy for so long, faltered and then fell flat on its face. I can remember when I was in financial advisor hell a few years ago attending business network meetings. The group’s realtor would tell us that houses, unlike stocks, were safe investments. She would tell us about the latest CNBC interview she’d watched and pass out magazine articles. In her CNBC-validated world, there was no stinkin’ bubble.

But those double-digit gains were simply too good to be true. The housing bubble, much like the ‘dot-com’ bubble that preceded it, was quite real after all. I couldn’t help but feel vindicated thinking of her as I watched John Stewart give Jim Cramer a public drubbing last week on The Daily Show.

We have been forced to change. Our savings rate, now at 3-4 percent, is still small. But it’s a start.

Change agent: Historic unemployment

We have more unemployed people in our country than we did a year ago and we all know someone who has lost their job. Our current national unemployment rate hasn’t been seen since Reagan’s early years in office. In fact, there are so many jobless that traffic congestion has visibly decreased across the country.

I was somewhat surprised to learn that more than 80% of those laid off since 2007 have been men. This means that the roles in families where the husband was the primary breadwinner and the wife stayed at home to take care of the family have reversed. Men are now asking for appreciation for what they do in the home and women are asking for recognition for the amount of time they spend outside the home. It’s like that show Wife Swap. Minus the voice-over.

But even in this, something is starting to happen. Children are spending more time with their fathers. Some families are having conversations about male and female roles. Husbands and wives are talking about how they can support one another no matter who does what.

I think it is, as Martha Stewart would say, a good thing. Or at least a start.

I am NOT a role model

It’s hard to be a young celebrity these days. You have fame, fortune, and privilege at precisely the time when you’re least capable mentally or emotionally of managing them responsibly. Plus, there’s always paparazzi lurking around to make sure your every step is photographed, recorded, and critiqued. It’s a sweet deal and generally works well when you’re doing things right, but can be a nuisance when you aren’t. Here are a few of the more recent and noteworthy mistakes (some are much bigger than others):

· Michael Phelps posed for a picture while holding a bong during a visit to the University of South Carolina. Kelloggs, as a result, chose not to renew its endorsement contract with him. They felt that the photograph was not consistent with their image.

· Miley Cyrus made a few fashion choices that raised eyebrows. She has yet to meet a camera she didn’t like.

· Pop singer Chris Brown became embroiled in a domestic battery case following an alleged altercation with his girlfriend, pop singer Rihanna. His contract with Wrigley’s gum was suspended, pending legal proceedings.

In each case, it wasn’t long before someone popped the big question: should these folks still be role models to children? It is a familiar, if ancient debate.

As a college administrator, I recognize and understand the importance of role models. They help to validate, motivate, challenge and inspire. Role models encourage us to dream big and pursue our personal potential. A role model says, “Follow me. I know the way to where you want to go and I’ve been there. If I did it, you can.”

Most of us think it a good idea for children to have role models. Unfortunately, we don’t teach them how to think critically about role models. We don’t teach them that role models have feet of clay and make just as many (if not more) mistakes as we regular folks do in our own lives. We don’t teach them that there are lessons to be learned in the failures and missteps of our personal heroes. And we don’t teach them that- like Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy- our mental picture and accompanying expectations simply aren’t realistic or even real.

No, those lessons come only with age, exposure and experience. Or so we’d like to think.

In 1993, Charles Barkley did a commercial for Nike in which he proclaimed that he was not a role model. In no uncertain terms, he boldly told the world that his only job was to ‘wreak havoc on the court’. Barkley reminded us that role modeling was the task of parents and not power forwards.

He was right, of course. Parents should be our first, best models of behavior. Any parent, however, can point out the flaw in this line of logic. They will tell you that their influence in the life of a child waxes and wanes, seemingly at random. In a world where fathers imprison daughters in basement cellars and where stepmothers lock stepsons in bathrooms for a couple years, that’s probably a good thing; some parents flat-out suck at it.

Though Barkley was right, I always took issue with his message. Influence is not diminished by way of vehement denial or reluctance to acknowledge its presence. One doesn’t get to pick and choose what a fan will remember and imitate. Like it or not, celebrity behavior- whether bad or good- is recorded because it sells magazines, captures viewers, and fills stadiums and arenas.

And on some deep and secret level, I think maybe we want to believe the myth. Maybe we want to believe that the people we watch, whose CDs we buy, and whose books we read have discovered some small portion of the so-called secret to living a fulfilling and problem-free life. Maybe we want to believe that the Tooth Fairy really exists.

The unfortunate truth is that they don’t. And that’s made clear every time one of these guys make a mistake.