Kerfuffle

Spirituality? You bet. Religion? Not so much

I was baptized Methodist.  Neither of my parents had a really good reason why they chose that brand of Christianity back in the late 1950s.  It must not have been too solid a connection, because when I was about nine years old, they switched to the local Presbyterian church.  (In the hotel business, I think they call that "reflagging.")  The reason?  The people were nicer, and it was the place known as The Village Church, as it was located in the center of our town. 

While I mean no disrespect to my late mother, especially on this the 27th anniversary of her death, but she was always brand conscious.  Frankly the Village Church had a better social brand in the Village of Northbrook.  So that's where we went, and where i was confirmed.  And it was the last church I was a member of, with the relationship ending in 1974.

Perhaps this "church as brand choice" is partly why I claim no religious affiliation and instead identify as agnostic at best.  A much bigger factor is the high level of hypocrisy that seems the be so pervasive in organized religion.  Nowhere is that more apparent that the highly selective reading of the Bible as convenient support for things loathed, feared or misunderstood. Throw in the wealth of scientific evidence that is at odds with much of the Old Testament and, unfortunately, the world's best selling book really does belong in the fiction section.

That's not to say religion doesn't serve an important moral and social role.  Churches offer support, guidance and fellowship that are genuinely important to some people.  Many do great things in their communities, filling the gaps left by underfunded governments and uncaring people.  Nevertheless, I just can't buy into the smiting and the water-into-wine and the did-it-in-seven-days creationism explanation.  It's mostly, to me, a bunch of bull dukey.

Still, the number of people going to church regularly, and the number of people who say that religion is an important part of their lives, remains reasonably steady over the past decade.  And that's great.  I mean, honestly, if people can find strength from going to church, more power to them.  For me, I don't feel the need the go to a church and rely on an interpretation of an interpretation of an interpretation of a holy book to help me out.  I consider myself a spiritual person without the need for all the claptrap, hypocrisy, branded denigration of others not in the sect, and sanctimonious judgment of others.

Seems that I am not alone.  Organized religion is losing it's relevance among Americans, according to Gallup...

PRINCETON, NJ -- Two-thirds of U.S. adults today perceive that the influence of religion in American life is waning, while just 27% believe it is rising. This represents a sharp decline in the image of religion compared with only three years ago, when 50% thought its influence was on an upswing, and marks one of the weakest readings on the influence of religion in Gallup's five-decade history of asking the question.

To inject politics...

Given this historical context, it is possible that the recent decline in perceptions that religion is increasing in influence is partially a result of the decline of Republican political strength throughout President George W. Bush's second term, a trend that was punctuated by the election of Democrat Barack Obama last month.

Here, I think that religious fundamentalists, who are every bit as extreme in their views as the Muslim extremists they condemn, are partially at fault.  To say that we are a nation founded on Christ, which is about as wrong as possible, doesn't sit too well with people who find religious tolerance to be a valuable social asset.  Politicking from the pulpit and requiring religious litmus tests of candidates and judicial appointees defies our Constitutional foundation. Throw in the rank hypocrisy of sex scandals and the way the Republican Party has played Christian fundamentalists for suckers, and you don't have to look much further to understand why both the Republican party and religion itself are falling in perceived influence among U.S. citizens.

So here I sit, on Christmas, seeming to be panning Christianity.  But that's not it at all.  I think that the vast majority of people who identify as Christian follow the basic teachings of Christ.  They try to be good people.  They look to be kind and helpful to those in need.  They care about their neighbors.  It's only when leaders, both political and religious, decide to marshal their followers for motivations that aren't all that Christ-like do things go astray.  That's how we end up sadly witnessing poor people voting against things most potentially of benefit to...  poor people.  It's why Congress passes a health care bill that first and foremost looks after big for-profit insurance companies.  It's why people will part with money to smooth talking preachers yet will continue to vote down bond issues to fund new school building or materials.

Mine is a minority view, to be sure.  But I think we'd be a lot better off if people were a lot less religious and a lot more spiritual.  One's organized.  The other is personal.    I like to think for myself, so I'll continue to opt for the latter.

That said, Merry Christmas.  Most people have moved it at least half-way to a secular celebration anyway, and I'm all for those.

Take a moment and ask yourself this: What, exactly, is a moment?

Pretty cool.

Thanks to Hal Sparks for pointing me toward this. 

The death of my newspaper reading habit wasn't sudden; it was more like a long, slow, farewell.

Lately, I've been carrying our morning copy of the Wisconsin State Journal in with the afternoon mail and immediately dropped it in the recycling bin unread.  That's not to say I hadn't read the newspaper on those days.  I read several, in the same favorite chair I used to read the local daily.  But like many others, I read my "papers" online.  The State Journal isn't close to being as interesting as the online choices I make.

This past week, I didn't give it much thought when there wasn't a paper in the box.  I just figured Tom took it to work.  He used to do that sometimes and I thought he was doing that again.  But this morning, when he asked about the Sunday paper, it dawned on me:  our subscription ran out.  The bill came a month ago and I set it aside, unsure of whether we really wanted to shell out a couple hundred bucks just to fill the recycling tub.  We hadn't received a paper since a week ago Thursday, and it took us over a week to realize it.

I stopped to think about that for a moment.  It took over a week to realize the paper wasn't being delivered anymore.  Wow.  There used to be a time when I'd get up before the guy delivered my paper, and I would be agitated, waiting for the daily news of the world.  My morning paper and coffee was a solid part of my routine for longer than I can remember.  It was as ingrained a habit as any I have had. 

When I was maybe 10 years old, I began delivering the Chicago Tribune and Chicago Sun-Times in my neighborhood.  It was then that I began my love affair with newspapers.  I read the Trib before school, and would ask my dad not to leave his afternoon Daily News on the train so I could read it to.  I discovered columnists like Mike Royko and George Lazarus, and began decade long devotion to certain comic strips.

We always took the paper at our house.  When we moved to California during my high school years, we subscribed to morning San Diego Union and afternoon Escondido Times-Advocate.  In college I read the Des Moines Register, and a Tribune if I could find one.  Once I was working, I loved getting the Tribune as well as the New York Times at home.  I was late to work on days when I fell way into a great story.

During the year I worked in Los Angeles, I was thrilled to discover my New York Times hit my doorstep around 11 pm.  I'd read tomorrow's paper before I went to bed, then wake up to the Los Angeles Times.  Awesome.

When we moved to Wisconsin, I found myself rather disappointed with the Wisconsin State Journal, Madison's morning daily.  It was OK, but nothing exceptional, but we subscribed anyway. I was much happier when I got home to read the Madison Capital Times, the metro daily afternoon paper.  The Cap Times was the superior paper, but like all afternoon papers, its circulation was wasting away. 

The beginning of the end came when I learned the Cap Times was going to stop printing a hard copy, and move to being an online news source with a free weekly print supplement.  This was a closely guarded secret, but the firm I used to work for was doing project work for the paper, so I knew before most the paper was going away.  Oddly, I stopped reading it then, in December 2007, even though the paper continued to print for another four months before going public and pulling the plug.  I just didn't want to keep reading it anymore once I knew it was going away.  Odd, but that was my reaction.

Instead, I followed the Cap Times' move to online.  These days, I look at their recently redesigned site frequently, and make it my go-to source for local news coverage (the local TV news in Madison blows, like in most mid-size and small cities).  When I focused my attention to online newspapers, I stopped reading the State Journal.  It came, and we just threw it out.  It was of little value anymore.  The fact that the shrunk the page size to the width of a paper towel didn't help make it any more inviting.

It's both humorous and sad to think that the State Journal stopped coming and it took us over a week to notice.  Talk about losing your relevancy.  It's really a shame.  I loved reading the paper, and don't want to stop now.  But with the State Journal failing (in my opinion),  I am actually looking to find another newspaper -- of the paper variety -- to fill the void.  I looked at the campus Badger Herald for the first time last Friday.  I may start taking the Jefferson County Times Union, a small-town daily from the the booming metropolis of Fort Atkinson. county.  They don't try to pretend they are something they aren't... and will probably be in print long after the State Journal tanks.

I hope the have Doonesbury.

Addendum:  I couldn't help but notice that nearly all the papers mentioned above have changed hands or disappeared.  Gannet more or less wrecked the Des Moines Register, once a great paper but now just another Gannet clone.  The Copleys sold the San Diego Union after 80 some years.  The Chicago Tribune sold the Times Advocate to another paper that folded it.  Years later, the Tribune bought the LA Times, only to sell out and then go bankrupt later.  The Sun-Times has changed hands several times since the Field family owned it when I was a kid.  These days, the New York Times is the subject of takeover rumors. 

I think there's something inherently cool about the fifty dollar bill

The fifty dollar bill is my favorite denomination of US currency. 

Why? 

Twenties are the universal bill these days thanks to ATMs.  Most people get cash from machines, and that cash is delivered in 20s.  They are the modern coin of the realm.

Hundreds are both the flashy, look at me bills and, oppositely, are the utilitarian bills used by people who only deal in cash when paying large bills.  "Benjamins" are glorified in the movies, rap songs and videos, and in all kinds of other ways.  They are better than a platinum American Express Card for impact.

But the fifty dollar bill, with the hard-drinking U.S. Grant's visage gracing the front side, is kind of unique.  You have to get them at the bank, but they just don't have the gravitas a hundred does.  But they are still too big for a convenience store to change.  They're less popular than other bills, but unlike the two-dollar bills, fifties are in continuous production.

I like fifties.  And I'll keep that in mind as I celebrate my 50th birthday today.

With the alleged popularity of all those inane quizes on Facebook, maybe Kerfuffle should try to get a piece of that action. Here's a start

In keeping with the true social networking spirit, I totally stole -- I mean re-purposed -- this quiz from Bill in Portland Maine, one of my favorite Daily Kos front-pagers.  This comes from his Cheers & Jeers post this morning. (Since I have been drunk with Bill on exactly two occasions, I feel that entitles me to co-opt his work under the Budweiser-proxy-sorta-Fair-Use Doctrine.)

Let's play a game

All you have to do is figure out which of the following was said by a straight married couple, and which was said by a gay married couple. Ready? Go!

"Quit hogging the remote."

"It's your turn to take the dog out to pee."

"Hurry up or we'll be late for church."

"Be right back---I gotta pick the kids up from soccer practice."

"Happy anniversary."

"You're not wearing that to Jacob's Bar Mitzvah. Are you? Really?"

"I promise I'll be nice to your mother. For at least the first 15 minutes."

"You never, you always, why can't you, why don't you, why didn't you, how could you, why couldn’t you, why haven't you, why aren’t you...?"

"Our pastor married us. It was a great ceremony."

"We're not religious so we went to a justice of the peace."

"She voted for McCain, I voted for Obama. Let's leave it at that."

"Turn right, turn left, no the other left, now you've gone too far, gimme the map, you're speeding again..."

"I'm gonna cry at Rusty's graduation like a busted garden hose. You've been warned. Deal with it."

"Not tonight, I have a headache."

"Oh look! The underwear fairy made another deposit on the bedroom floor. How special!"

"I love you."

It's harder than you thought, no? 

I wonder: Where these guys go at night?

[San Francisco]  I came upon this man and his pets on O'Farrell Street at Powell earlier this afternoon.  It's hard not to notice a man with a white rat that is perched on top of a big tabby cat that itself is laying on top of a dog.

It was hard for this young man to pass the quartet by without asking if he could pet the rat.

I'm feeling a bit sheepish that I neither asked if I could take a photo, nor did I drop something in his collection can.  I was to amazed that he was sitting there with these three animals, all getting along. 

There's a lesson in there somewhere.

Two years of blogging at Kerfuffle; So far no book deal, no pundit invitations from MSNBC or CNN, no endorsement deals.

Plenty of typos, unsupported opinions, and likely unlawful exploitation of the Fair Use doctrine.

Two years ago today I decided to join the growing number of people who felt what they have to say is worth some form of publication.  I had been dumping a lot of comments on Daily Kos, plus the occasional diary, but felt there needed to be an even bigger opportunity for me to bloviate.  I always liked the word "kerfuffle," and it seemed an appropriate title for this stuff.

Truth be told, I wrote here for maybe two months before I mentioned it to anyone.  I wanted to see if I could put stuff up that was reasonably meaningful (using a very low bar) at a rate of at least three times a week.  I eventually went public with it, using a live-blogging marathon from Brandworks, my former employer's annual branding conference in June 2007, as the first thing I actively promoted.

The more I read other blogs, the more I liked blogging.  And the closer we got to the 2008 general election, the more political this space became.  I occasionally got into trouble, and did end up offering to resign from my job over one particular post.  I've reflected on the unexplainable death of a friend and former coworker, and the loss of my biggest fan.  In the home stretch of the presidential election, I probably took a little too much joy in beating Sarah Palin like a pinata... a guilty pleasure that continues even now.

Kerfuffle went over a thousand views in a single day for a piece I wrote that was more journalistic than most and ended up getting picked up by a high traffic blog.  Some of the posts that required the least effort brought a lot of hits, thanks to some clever headline-writing.  Curiously, the throw-away rant I wrote about the incompetence of the Illinois Tollway Authority last year has turned out to be my most enduring Google link, generating at least five hits a week every week since it went up.  All in all it's been a fun experiment that eventually turned into a regular activity, not to mention becoming an element of my area of research and study in grad school.  Who knew?

For those of you who drop by regularly or even occasionally, I sincerely thank you.  It's not like there are a lot of you -- bringing just over 17,000 page views since this got going.   On a great day maybe 100 people stop by; on a slow day maybe we pick up, umm, maybe five hits.  But I appreciate them all.  Even more, I value comments. 

Stop in any time.  We're always open.  And if there's nothing new, there's always some Pulitzer-quality writing in the archives you can enjoy.  Of course, that's the stuff I "borrowed" from real writers.  But still...

Of college libraries, cell phones, and feeling both old and young at the same time

Not that I didn't know this already, but I am fucking old.  All I need to do to be reminded of this is go to the UW Whitewater library on any given day.  There are constant reminders, all of them walking around, hunched over computers, and generally flaunting their youngness.  At times I actually have to actively concentrate on not overtly acting old.

Earlier today I was sitting at a table, trying to read a rather dry journal article that we would be discussing in class later in the evening.  A girl (I use that word rather than "woman" since at 49 I could easily be her father) answers her cell phone.  That happens a lot, but usually people make an effort to quickly end the call. Not this time.  She proceeded to go on and on, reading passages of a paper she was writing to the person on the phone.  I had to fight the urge to go tell her to shut up, all the while realizing that only a cranky old person would be bothered by this.  Looking around, no one else seemed to even take notice.  Of course, they all had headphones on... including the blabbermouth on the phone.  (That might explain why she was talking so loud.)  Whatever happened to the thing about being quiet in a library?

I got to thinking about this, after I relocated to a relatively quietly, more remote part of the library.  My god, I am turning into an old guy.  I'm getting all kinds of pissed of, albeit quietly, over a cell phone conversation.  Welcome to the 21st century.  People think nothing -- nothing -- of taking calls where ever and when ever they feel like doing so.  Most people, OK some people, make an attempt to respect others in close proximity, but for the most part cell phone yammering is just a part of life.

After class, I went back to the library.  Just as I had settled down and unpacked my stuff to study, my phone rang.  I was not going to take the call, of course, but I thought I'd look to see who it was.  Oh, shit; it's my dad.  My 82-year-old dad, and he is calling past 10pm his time.  I have to answer, if only to tell him I can't talk.  I hit the answer button and utter a barely-audible "hi."  David?  "I'm in the library, Dad; I can't talk now.  What?  David?  Now a little louder, and drawing a few looks, "Dad, I am in the school library.  I can't use my phone right now."  I can't hear you.  What?  (sigh) "Dad, is something wrong?  I'm going to have to call you back."  When? I have a dilemma.  "Nothing's wrong then?"  I thought you said you can't talk.  "I can't."  Well call me back in a few minutes.

So I pack up my shit and head for the exit.  As it turns out, the dilemma is that he is supposed to fly to North Carolina in the morning, but over in southwest Michigan they are getting a foot of lake effect snow.  His ride to the airport is stuck in Chicago, and no neighbor in his little retirement village is going to drive him to Grand Rapids to catch his flight.  Why the hell is he calling me... in Wisconsin... when my brother and sister both live within a half hour of him?  Fact is, he was calling because he didn't know what to do.  He said he wasn't sure he wanted to make this trip anyway, and has been thinking that for a week.  It's a trip he has made for the past ten years, flying to Raleigh and then driving down with old friends to spend Thanksgiving in Florida.  He just doesn't feel like going, and he's all worked up over it.  I talk him through his options, and he says he'd rather just stay home.  By the end of the 15 minutes on the phone, that's what he decides to do.

Having this conversation with my dad reminds me that while I may feel kind of old, he really is old.  He gets a little confused and forgetful, and he needs to call one of us, usually me, to help get things figured out.

So I turned out being one of those people who answered a call on my cell phone in the library.  Oddly, it made me feel kind of young.

14 years and this is just the beginning

My partner Tom and I are marking our 14th anniversary today.  Since we aren't married, thanks in part to people who think gay men and women are some kind of threat to so-called traditional marriage, we celebrate the day we met as our anniversary.

We met at Schuba's, a way-cool tavern on Chicago's north side known for great cheeseburgers and great music acts.  The owners are old friends of mine so I chose it as a safe place to meet this blind date.  Turned out we liked each other enough for more dates.  I;'ve lost count, but we're going on another one tonight.

Meeting Tom is the best thing that ever happened to me.  I love him more than words can say.

Hoping for change isn't such a bad idea. Ask my pal Sam.

There's a lot of trash talk going on this week in St. Paul.  Some of it is directed, still, at people who hope.  People who hope for change.  Take a break from the political effluvia emanating from Minnesota this week to remember what hope means, expressed in a story that isn't about economics, wars, morality or health care.  Well, sort of about health care, but not really.  It's a story about hoping to change the course of a deteriorating medical condition, and hoping to ease the pain and suffering of a friend who couldn't help herself.

In the spring of 2005, about six months after we moved to Cambridge, we bought a middle-aged mare named Magic Star.  I noticed the ad her owners had placed in the paper, and she seemed like a good buy, especially because she is gaited.  In other words, she's not nearly as bouncy a ride... perfect for me.  We had her checked out, bought her and brought her home with a new name:  Sam.

About a week after Sam joined us, we had the farrier out to trim her feet.  From ten feet away, he squinted as her looked at her, then said, "You know about the laminitis, right?"  No, we didn't.  The vet who checked her out didn't report it, but the fact that the farrier noticed from a distance suggested the vet (who was recommended by the seller, don't you know) was either incompetent or crooked.  Laminitis is a painful and sometimes devastating condition for a horse to develop, and the horse often founders when this happens.  You can follow the links if you want to know in detail how screwed a horse and owner are if this happens.  Suffice to say that Sam was not going to be ridable for a long time if ever.   Since the causes of laminitis are varied, so too are the possible treatments.  But Sam was ours, and we were going to live up to the obligation we felt toward her to make her comfortable and hopefully heal her.  That's a hell of a lot more than her previous owner ever did for her, so it seemed.

Over the next three years, we tried a lot of stuff.  Corrective shoes.  Special trimming of her hooves.  Special food.  Natural healing agents like cinnamon in her diet.  Care by a therapeutic (meaning twice the price) farrier, and some kind of electro-stimulation which I still think was junk science.  Nothing seemed to be helping her much.  She had trouble standing, lay down a lot, and always seemed to be in pain.  We put her on a regular regimen of pain medicine, but eventually that led to a near-ulceric condition so we had to stop with it.

Sam, we thought, was f***ed.  A friend who breeds and trains horses for a living came by one day and told us, as gently as she could, that keeping Sam alive was bordering on animal abuse and we should put her down.  Animal abuse?  I felt terrible, and guilty.  Tom left it up to me.  I couldn't do it.  Not yet.  We had put down two dogs a year earlier. We had to put down a yearling with a birth defect.  Tom's dad was terminally ill.  There was just too much death.  But we just didn't know what to do.

Elaine Burkhart, a veterinarian who just doesn't give up, kept looking for treatment options, and one day this spring, she found a new one.  She had read about a thyroid supplement that jumpstarts the metabolism, and was seeing some success with a few other horses and a donkey that had generally similar problems to Sam's condition.  We bought a bucket of the medication (that's how it works with horses... buckets) for $150 and figured Sam was worth another, perhaps last, try.  We were only going on hope at this point.

Today, maybe four months since trying this thyroid treatment, Sam seems to be very much on the mend.  Bill Hill, the farrier who first noticed the laminitis, said Sam was "a whole new horse" when he was by to trim her hooves last week.  This horse than could barely walk in February is cantering... uphill.  She is able to stay out for hours eating pasture grass, which once used to set her condition off for the worse.  She runs into the barn for her evening feed.  She' seems to be sound for riding.  Most importantly, she seems to be free of pain and has a full range of mobility.  I'm still having trouble believing what I am seeing in this animal.

These days, she is out nearly all the time with Gigger, our adolescent miniature donkey.  He is her sidekick and defender, and he has a total meltdown if he is separated from her.  Sam's not nearly so attached to him, based on how she chases him away from her food.  But considering how she didn't used to be able to muster any enthusiasm for keeping him at bay when we got him in January, I love that she tries to bite him when he intrudes too much.

Hope.  Hope for change.  It seemed pretty much the end of the story for Sam this spring.  But Elaine urged us not to give up hope, and we didn't. Sam is running proof that it was right to hope.  To hope for change.

I like supporting people who hope for change.  Know anyone like that?

[cross-posted at Daily Kos]