Thursday, April 30, 2009

Color Blind

I am not color blind; I can see the difference between red, white, blue, or green. I get annoyed though when I am forced to make a distinction between pink and salmon. I have long hoped that those folks at Garanimals would market their signature line of matching separates in men’s clothing. Occasionally when I have been forcibly removed from the comfort of my home to attend some social gathering, my wife and daughter will amuse themselves at my expense. “What color is the living room in our house,” they quiz me in front of the gathering crowd. “Yellow?” I suggest. “No it’s sea foam-green (or whatever color it is), but that was a good guess.” This parlor game can occupy several minutes where I am cross-examined on the colors of the rooms in our house. It’s fun for the whole family.

The actual color of something is just not that important to me. But I do enjoy discussing how the names of colors can be used to describe someone. Someone can be green with envy; so depressed they feel blue; so angry that they see red, or branded yellow if they are afraid to act contrary to current popular opinion. I am sure that you can come up with your own examples. Feel free to talk amongst yourselves.

Green is the new red, white & blue. Everyone is racing (in hybrids and Smart cars) to be thought of as environmentally friendly – or Green. Some companies claim to be greener than others. Cars, cooking, construction, almost anything can me presumably better if it is deemed Green.

Last Wednesday we celebrated Earth Day. I didn’t get any of the stuff I asked for. I wanted some cool fluorescent bulbs with instructions on how to properly dispose of them. Maybe if we could get Earth Day declared a Hallmark Holiday then we could start exchanging Green gifts. Well, at the very least take the Monday of that week off from work. We could shut down the economy in our quest to be seen as Green.

It’s hard to keep up on all of the latest trends without being a slave to fashion. My friend Jeff took his fuel-friendly motorcycle out of its stable for a little ride recently. But, because he’s a family man he wanted to include his wife and sons. So recognizing his patriotic duty to help kick-start the economy he bought bikes for everyone. He rationalized that this was the Green thing to do because his cycle gets about 44 mpg. But upon further examination he discovered that when all four of them take their bikes out for a family outing the accumulative mileage drops down to a meager 11 mpg (you may want to check his math). He’s thinking of buying an American-made SUV that gets about 18 on the highway.

The current trendy crisis is now called Climate Change (so named because it can cover the entire range of weather related issues). A few months ago it was called Global Warming, and a little over thirty years ago we were being warned of a coming ice age. Back in those dark ages scientists were documenting increased ice and snow cover and decreasing global temperatures. I am certain that we could point to current findings to offer a difference of opinion. But the truth is – convenient or not – sometimes people can be blind to everything but what they want to see. Things aren’t always black & white. There is often a grey area somewhere in the middle that is open to interpretation and debate. I can see that.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Judge Not

Sometimes a first impression is also the last. There is rarely a second date if the first one tanks. Advertisers, especially those who concentrate on TV and radio understand this, which is why they spend gazillions of dollars for a fleeting opportunity to pull you in and push you one way or another. Because if you don’t like what you see or hear, you touch the dial to change the station, or perhaps you flip the page – or maybe you just tune out. Many a job interview is considered spoiled if a “good first impression” is not given. But the first impression, however crucial, is often incomplete, if not altogether inaccurate. Newspaper headlines work the same way. The first line in any story is supposed to grab and hold your attention. But to get the complete picture you must read the whole article.

To stay current I read the papers. I read to be informed, enlightened and entertained. In addition to newspapers I like to read magazines. I subscribe to a few, and I will buy others at a newsstand or bookstore. I usually carry some reading material around with me in my briefcase (some have cruelly called it a man-purse). These are periodicals you could comfortably share with your favorite aunt (who just happens to be a nun). Sometimes it is the cover that snares my attention. If I am unfamiliar with the reputation of the publication I have to make a decision; a quick judge of its content and character based solely on its appearance.

Yeah I’ve done that with people too, but hey – I’m working on it. It’s not a personality property I am proud of because it so often fails me. I got another one of those reminders the other day when I watched a video clip of Susan Boyle. About a week ago she appeared on “Britain’s Got Talent”- their version of “American Idol.” I had heard about this and when my friend sent me a Youtube link I checked it out myself.

Here was this woman better suited for third prize at the Salzburg Folk Festival. She was neither polished nor professional. Her physical appearance: the dated dress, hairstyle and eyebrows hinted that a quick exit assisted by a stagehand with a long cane would be forthcoming. She came to the show from a small village in Scotland with her dream and her voice. For the purpose of this essay I am going to ignore the cynical view that this was contrived by Simon Cowell.

Simon, the other two judges and the entire studio audience had already made up their minds. Susan did not belong there, maybe for comedic effect, but that was all. How quickly everything changed when she began to sing. Those in attendance were awe-struck by her voice. Her disheveled exterior no longer mattered. They, who had judged her so quickly and were ready to cast her aside, would have missed out on a very nice lady with a wonderful voice. Susan has changed the perspective of millions. Because they listened and gave her a chance they are now drawn to her story.

Who else do we regularly dismiss? The old man who makes you crazy for driving too slow was risking his life some fifty years ago in Europe operating a tank. Give him some room and respect. How about the leather outfitted biker-guy? He may be a loving father who would give you the shirt off his back. Pick the costume and character that most often trips you up and give that person a chance – you might be impressed.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Tea Party Deadline

We all have deadlines to meet. Sometimes they inspire us to perform better, but at the very least they force us to get the job done. Now here it is Monday morning and I haven’t completed my column yet. So I am going to stick my neck out and make two wild guesses: The second American Revolution has not yet begun, and we still only have one senator representing us in Washington.

For the past several weeks I have heard about protests planned throughout the country that were scheduled to be held Wednesday, April 15th. Now unless you are part of the growing number of people in this country who do not pay taxes April 15th is a big day for you. Some people consider this day to be the biggest gambling day of the year as they hope the I.R.S. doesn’t pull their return for a closer examination. (The previous sentence doesn’t apply to me or anyone I know – I’ve just heard about other people – like in the movies or something).

These scheduled protests were supposed to mimic or at least symbolize the famous protest party of 1773 when about 200 American Colonists dressed up like Native Americans (no specific tribe was noted) illegally boarded ships and unloaded a bunch of tea directly into the Boston Harbor. Thus the American Revolution was born. Forgive the brief history lesson, but The Boston Tea Party was held to protest the duty (tax) on tea that was imposed on the American Colonists by English Parliament. The Colonists were upset about “taxation without representation.”

We have a similar representation problem here in Minnesota because the Coleman/Franken circus is still in town with two of these rings held almost daily in the press and the courts. This has turned into such a joke. Once again we have somehow allowed ourselves to become the subject of ridicule. Long gone are the days when Minnesota and its citizens were held up as an example of virtue.

In 1973 Time Magazine featured then Governor Wendell Anderson on the cover with the caption “The Good Life In Minnesota.” The August 13th edition had as its cover a photograph of The Governor holding up a fish (Northern, or Muskie? I don’t know). Sharing the moment with the Governor is a pipe-smoking man seated by a gas-guzzling, carbon-belching outboard motor (probably the same type used by Somali Pirates today). Neither the Governor nor his first-mate was wearing a life-jacket or a helmet. This of course was before we had lost our minds.

Now as I think about this – we may actually be able to profit from the past. When Walter Mondale vacated his senate seat at the end of 1976 to become Vice-President under President Jimmy Carter (Oh those were good years), Wendy Anderson resigned the governor’s office and appointed himself senator to fill Mondale’s seat. Then Rudy Perpich (who had been Lieutenant Governor) became Governor. You can still feel the breeze from the revolving door that spun wildly back then.

Let’s play this scenario out right here and see where we get. If Governor Tim Pawlenty would exercise some executive privilege and appoint himself senator we would then have two senators representing Minnesota, then we could tell Al and Norm to pack their carpet bags and hit the road. Then we would have the first female governor in our history as Carol Molnau would step up from her Lt. Governor’s desk and then maybe, just maybe everyone would be happy.

But Governor Pawlenty better hurry as the filing deadline for the 2014 senatorial election is looming in the background.

Friday, April 10, 2009

The "Guiding Light" goes out

"Guiding Light" extinguished – the soap opera that ran for 72 years will end this September. Lest you think that I find value in soap operas or that I look to television for the beacon that will lead me through the darkness - let me straighten you out. I don’t, but within the demise of this show with the thought-provoking title I do find the suggestion of a metaphor. Or is it an analogy?

Here we have a TV show that began as a radio program in 1937. Then in 1952 it moved to TV. It survived a World War, regional skirmishes, boarder battles, police actions; Operation This and That, depressions, recessions, elections, and changes in theology, ecology, technology and now – the light dims and then it goes out.

The "Guiding Light" will most certainly die with out government intervention. How can we as a nation allow the fabled folks of Springfield (the setting for the show) to be terminated? Surely, the Federal Government can bail them out. Maybe we can suggest an amendment to The Stimulus Package that could earmark some funds for this show. I would like to see President Obama replace the show’s producer with someone more in line with what the government expects in this new world order – for the former things are indeed passing away.

I am not so naïve to believe that life is static – without change, but lately the changes are coming fast and ferocious, threatening to consume us and all that we have come to rely on. Newspapers are disappearing; insurance companies and banks – longtime opponents of government regulation are standing in line for public hand-outs. Our government is spending our money at a pace never before seen or imagined. I keep waiting for someone to step up and say “Whoa, slow down there, let’s think about this. Have we looked at all the options and the possible consequences?”

When my kids were younger I tried to teach them to think things through and when presented with a problem to look for options. My friend Mark excels at this exercise. Once when the two of us met at the gym he noticed that he had forgot his tennis shoes (do people still call them that?). That didn’t slow him down; he approached the desk and asked if they had any shoes in the lost and found box.

“What color are they?” The clerk asked.

“What sizes do you have? The color doesn’t matter. I forgot mine and I just need to borrow a pair.”

He wasn’t interested in brand or style – he just wanted something to wear for an hour or two. Then later on he would give the shoes back, presumably no worse for the wear. He was being creative and resourceful.

I think this country has forgotten how to be problem solvers. We no longer wonder why or how we got in the jam we find ourselves in, but instead we throw money at the situation hoping to make it go away. And, if that doesn’t work, well let’s try some more money. Because when it comes to spending someone else’s money our representatives seem to close their eyes and hope for the best as they throw our coins down the bottomless wishing well.

A favorite pastime of mine is to look at the stars in the night sky. I enjoy identifying the constellations. I find that the stars are the brightest on the nights without a moon. The faintest light can guide you through the darkest night. How much darker does it have to get before we see the light?

Thursday, April 2, 2009

The Law of Limitations

I don’t do many things well. I make mistakes that need to be corrected, or at least admitted. I keep bumping into the limits of my skills and knowledge. When that happens, which is too frequently, I lean on the wisdom of Harry Callahan (the cop played by Clint Eastwood): “A man’s got to know his limitations.” So with that in mind I try to respect my boundaries.

I was in a hardware store the other day trying to figure out how to fix something - or at least not make it any worse for the professional who would eventually be summoned to take over. The gray-haired clerk who waited on me looked to be about retirement age. Now that used to mean about 65 (which is what I guessed him to be), but with the sharp decline in retirement accounts that age has increased to about 106.

There was something about him that distracted me. I knew him, or at least I used to, but I couldn’t fill in the blanks. Unable to place his face I closed my eyes and concentrated on the sound of his voice. The smooth, confident sound matched a tone from somewhere out of my past. Sometimes a scent will trigger a memory – but I wasn’t about to get close enough for a whiff. So unable to impress him with my knack for remembering names I broke down and admitted my failing.

“I feel like I should know you, but I can’t come up with why or where.”

For the next few minutes he and I talked about things like our church patronage and preferred hang-outs. When that didn’t produce a shared path he asked me where I grew up. When I told him Belle Plaine his eyes lit up, and then just as quickly they took on that far-away look as he replayed the past.

“Well,” he said, “I was a Deputy Sheriff for Scott County about the time you would have been in school.”

We didn’t have a regular police force for much of my youth in Belle Plaine. The town relied on the Sheriff’s office to maintain law and order. So each time I encountered the law it was likely a Deputy Sheriff who had traveled down Hwy. 169 from Shakopee.

He and I looked at each other and then I smiled; I remembered him now. I apologized for all the gray hairs I had caused him. I also thanked him for all the advice he had given me many years ago: Slow down, clean that up, put that back where you found it, get down from there, go home, have a seat and watch your head.

As I have got older I have felt the need to patch things up, to make things right - to apologize to those I have wronged. I am not ready to go so far as to accept responsibility and offer reparations for the wrongs caused by slavery, Columbus, the crusades, or Cain. But to be clear, I do want to clean up my own mess. I have gone back to my high school to see some of my teachers. They had given me breaks and second chances over and over again. So I went back there to apologize and thank them. But not all of them though.

Mrs. Keim gave me an F-minus on a drawing of an apple. I wasn’t finished with it. But when she handed the graded drawing back to me I laughed. I have never been able to draw well. But I’m O.K. with that. I know my limitations.