Well, for what I think is now a comfortable margin of success, I'm prepared to make this stunning announcement that will in no way affect any of your personal lives, but still, here it is: I quit smoking. About two months ago (okay, seven weeks, but I have to grasp here for some encouragement).
I quit for three reasons. Quite simply, cost, health, and increased human interaction. I can't afford this $5.00 a day. That's my monthly rent twice over and then some in a year's time ($1,800.00). Starting to bike more often also nudged me toward it. I struggled up meager hills and found myself gasping for air as angels from heaven prepared for my departure from the world.
Purchasing an entry-level road bike upon quitting for two weeks afforded further encouragement. It became the new addiction. I joined a new club. Left the smokers for the snobby road bikers who I, in all actuality, give care less for and continue to poke fun at with their spandex and synthetic-fiber shirts with the little pocket on the back so they can answer their cell going 25 mph around the lake ("Honey--I'm biking, I can't talk right now." Why did you even answer your phone, polyester bike-ninja man?).
That's tangential, my apologies. I was returning to a legitimate point. I entered a new class of people. The non-smokers. I'm considered friendly, tolerable now. And now I understand it. There really is a whole majority of the population that's willing to poo-poo the smokers to the point of ostracizing them.
It's actually rather pathetic. It's a bad habit. It's no different than constant binge-drinking which seems to be all-the-more acceptable than smoking. And people are willing to draw judgement on this one thing. A therapist friend of mine explained how smoking is often a sign of childhood or adolescent trauma. For many (including myself really), it was a safety behavior. No different than the rocking motions often observed in autistic children.
And perhaps this does translate to others unconsciously (smokers are traumatized people). After all, it is nicely built into the lexicon of characters that the stressed out, angered, or generally "edgy" are always puffing away.
I'm not sure how I should draw my conclusions here. Being honest, I'd rather not be judgemental toward anyone, smoking or not. Alas, I'm human, but my judgement errs on the side of tolerance: you only live once, it's just how long you want to.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Friday, June 29, 2007
A Win for Modesty
Today, the Minneapolis City Council unanimously approved a measure to restrict the size of homes built by placing the designs within proportion to lot size. Several other suburbs have adopted similar measures such as Edina and Minnetonka, as the Star-Tribune reports. And I couldn't be happier thinking about all the psychological connotations that the decision carries.
As the title of this text suggests, I think it's a sign of a possible resurgence among Minnesotans to readily accept and operate their daily lives within the limits of "Minnesotan Modesty." Once thought long gone with the arrival of the "I need a large vehicle because it snows a lot, a large home because I don't want my children having to share rooms, and an enormous boat that I can't afford because I want a large boat that I can't afford" crowd, modesty is perhaps returning, very slowly.
Likely, I think it's due to the price of energy steadily rising over the last decade, and especially since Katrina. But I'd like to think it has something to do with a cognitive shift in Minnesotans. Maybe we're ready to embrace the cultural history of German and Scandinavian roots where penny-pinching and creativity we seen as admirable traits.
But the economy suffers as a result. It's a terrible paradox as we see consumer-spending drop because people don't have money and those who do are saving instead of spending it. Credit card companies are quite possibly the owners of many individuals' critical objects in life (computers, phones, cameras, etc.). It's troubling.
Believing all things are still equal (at least in the world I walk around in), penny-pinching may actually do something for the economy. It may actually spawn second economies. Case and point: craigslist. Everything from bicycles to stuffed animals make their way onto the site and with surprising success rates, manage to get picked up. Not only is it better for the economy, it's incredible what it does for the environment when these things are not recreated and rather recycled.
Returning to my point, the mansions are unnecessary, wasteful, and frankly, serve as testimony to a misguided American ideal of bigger is better. What ever happened to the rule of going up North? Leave the campsite better than when you found it. Seriously, quit leaving the McMansions behind. After all, we can't afford the energy bills on them.
As the title of this text suggests, I think it's a sign of a possible resurgence among Minnesotans to readily accept and operate their daily lives within the limits of "Minnesotan Modesty." Once thought long gone with the arrival of the "I need a large vehicle because it snows a lot, a large home because I don't want my children having to share rooms, and an enormous boat that I can't afford because I want a large boat that I can't afford" crowd, modesty is perhaps returning, very slowly.
Likely, I think it's due to the price of energy steadily rising over the last decade, and especially since Katrina. But I'd like to think it has something to do with a cognitive shift in Minnesotans. Maybe we're ready to embrace the cultural history of German and Scandinavian roots where penny-pinching and creativity we seen as admirable traits.
But the economy suffers as a result. It's a terrible paradox as we see consumer-spending drop because people don't have money and those who do are saving instead of spending it. Credit card companies are quite possibly the owners of many individuals' critical objects in life (computers, phones, cameras, etc.). It's troubling.
Believing all things are still equal (at least in the world I walk around in), penny-pinching may actually do something for the economy. It may actually spawn second economies. Case and point: craigslist. Everything from bicycles to stuffed animals make their way onto the site and with surprising success rates, manage to get picked up. Not only is it better for the economy, it's incredible what it does for the environment when these things are not recreated and rather recycled.
Returning to my point, the mansions are unnecessary, wasteful, and frankly, serve as testimony to a misguided American ideal of bigger is better. What ever happened to the rule of going up North? Leave the campsite better than when you found it. Seriously, quit leaving the McMansions behind. After all, we can't afford the energy bills on them.
Friday, June 8, 2007
"Retirement, What's That?"
Sure, we've heard the joke a number of times from our parents. Believing Social Security will be defunct and the economy in a perpetual state of collapse, they believe they will be working forever. When I say "we" I speak of (not for) the Echo-Boomers (or the more lackadaisically named Generation Y). And we shrug thinking to ourselves, "Well, so be it. Maybe they'll miss out on all that travel they've been planning, but they'll die with a smile on their face because they're at work." This brings up three areas of interest for me.
Firstly, I guess people my age (twenty-somethings) are traveling more. It's not uncommon to quit your job out of college after a year or two and take all that unused salary to travel around for a few months, or even years if you can stretch it. I did. And it was terrific. I'll never regret doing it. Especially as we continue walking to the vicious drumbeat of globalization.
Secondly, I'm noticing that here, and perhaps elsewhere, retirement spells death. I unscientifically attribute it to the Northern European work ethic. Life is work. No work, no life. My grandfather held many different occupations from a fire-fighter, to mayor of Parshall, ND, to Physics instructor. All the while continuing to help his colleagues on their respective farms. He retired at the age of 77 in 1994. It was front page news in the Montrail County News. Arthur Hedberg retires! Who'd a thought?!
Arthur (widowed in 1982, sixth months after my birth) traveled for a year and a half, visiting his children across the country. In the fall of 1996, he came to my father's house for an indefinite stay (my father had been encouraging him to live with us, and not alone in rural North Dakota). Considering it, he passed away in our home over Thanksgiving break. Very quickly in fact. Massive heart attack. After the initial shock, my father said something that surprised me: "He should have never quit working."
And finally, as I was reading the Star-Tribune this morning, I read a report that the Baby-Boomers are working far past typical retirement age. They don't want to stop. And they have plenty of encouragement for and against retirement. Many employers are pushing for retirement. They're older employees, and hence more expensive employees. But my generation seems to have fewer and fewer competent individuals. Now, the story didn't express this. I did. I find that my generation is not interested in what our parents are telling us. Moreover, I think it's very much attributable to the technological divide. We don't trust them. We became the teachers.
Experience is invaluable. The Baby-Boomers have it. We want it but have no patience to acquire it. What are we Echos to do. The first step is to yank those headphones out your ears. The next step is to sit down next to a Baby Boomer and say, "I'm the idiot. I'm sorry I treated you like one when you couldn't find figure out how to burn a CD. Please tell me how I can make this world a better place."
Firstly, I guess people my age (twenty-somethings) are traveling more. It's not uncommon to quit your job out of college after a year or two and take all that unused salary to travel around for a few months, or even years if you can stretch it. I did. And it was terrific. I'll never regret doing it. Especially as we continue walking to the vicious drumbeat of globalization.
Secondly, I'm noticing that here, and perhaps elsewhere, retirement spells death. I unscientifically attribute it to the Northern European work ethic. Life is work. No work, no life. My grandfather held many different occupations from a fire-fighter, to mayor of Parshall, ND, to Physics instructor. All the while continuing to help his colleagues on their respective farms. He retired at the age of 77 in 1994. It was front page news in the Montrail County News. Arthur Hedberg retires! Who'd a thought?!
Arthur (widowed in 1982, sixth months after my birth) traveled for a year and a half, visiting his children across the country. In the fall of 1996, he came to my father's house for an indefinite stay (my father had been encouraging him to live with us, and not alone in rural North Dakota). Considering it, he passed away in our home over Thanksgiving break. Very quickly in fact. Massive heart attack. After the initial shock, my father said something that surprised me: "He should have never quit working."
And finally, as I was reading the Star-Tribune this morning, I read a report that the Baby-Boomers are working far past typical retirement age. They don't want to stop. And they have plenty of encouragement for and against retirement. Many employers are pushing for retirement. They're older employees, and hence more expensive employees. But my generation seems to have fewer and fewer competent individuals. Now, the story didn't express this. I did. I find that my generation is not interested in what our parents are telling us. Moreover, I think it's very much attributable to the technological divide. We don't trust them. We became the teachers.
Experience is invaluable. The Baby-Boomers have it. We want it but have no patience to acquire it. What are we Echos to do. The first step is to yank those headphones out your ears. The next step is to sit down next to a Baby Boomer and say, "I'm the idiot. I'm sorry I treated you like one when you couldn't find figure out how to burn a CD. Please tell me how I can make this world a better place."
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Spirituality and Culture
Dresbach, Minn. has been the backdrop for a tragedy for one Hmong family. A father, mother, and their two children went missing. Presumably now dead from drowning, a search for the bodies has been underway since Saturday.
Earlier this week, Hmong elders from the community along with family members performed a ceremony asking the deities in control of the waters to release the bodies.
Reading the story, I recalled my time working at Steve's Park Amoco (now BP) in Saint Louis Park. After working for there for two years after school daily, I was delighted to meet the new mechanic "Neal." We would soon come to know "Neal" as "Nhia." He was Hmong and soon after his hire, his nephew (of the same age) Meng began work.
The years that followed were marked with a heightened awareness to Hmong culture. Arriving with consistent frequency from Laos, Thailand, and Cambodia, the Hmong population has its roots in the mountains and foothills of Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam (Hmong literally translated means "hill"). During the US "conflict" in Vietnam, they were instrumental in their military aid and intelligence to the US. And in turn, we opened our doors.
In general, the Hmong population has assimilated (remove negative connotation with that word for cynics) very well. Learning English is considered paramount amongst the other pursuits for Hmong immigrants. Many go to college. Many are now working in government, and some even holding public office.
Back to my point. Major events in one's life are often accompanied by a ceremony to demarcate the occasion for posterity. We have weddings and funerals and the same is true for the Hmong population. With so many things in life, it's not the bigger picture that generates thoughtful conversation. The little things do. I noticed Nhia's bracelets. They appeared very much like the bracelets we wove in summer park programs.
He said they were for luck. They guarded against negative spirits and invited positive forces into his life. Then, in my infinite wisdom of twenty-something, I asked him "So do you really believe in all that stuff?" He was polite in his response: "It works if you believe."
Today, one of the bodies in the Mississippi River was recovered.
Earlier this week, Hmong elders from the community along with family members performed a ceremony asking the deities in control of the waters to release the bodies.
Reading the story, I recalled my time working at Steve's Park Amoco (now BP) in Saint Louis Park. After working for there for two years after school daily, I was delighted to meet the new mechanic "Neal." We would soon come to know "Neal" as "Nhia." He was Hmong and soon after his hire, his nephew (of the same age) Meng began work.
The years that followed were marked with a heightened awareness to Hmong culture. Arriving with consistent frequency from Laos, Thailand, and Cambodia, the Hmong population has its roots in the mountains and foothills of Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam (Hmong literally translated means "hill"). During the US "conflict" in Vietnam, they were instrumental in their military aid and intelligence to the US. And in turn, we opened our doors.
In general, the Hmong population has assimilated (remove negative connotation with that word for cynics) very well. Learning English is considered paramount amongst the other pursuits for Hmong immigrants. Many go to college. Many are now working in government, and some even holding public office.
Back to my point. Major events in one's life are often accompanied by a ceremony to demarcate the occasion for posterity. We have weddings and funerals and the same is true for the Hmong population. With so many things in life, it's not the bigger picture that generates thoughtful conversation. The little things do. I noticed Nhia's bracelets. They appeared very much like the bracelets we wove in summer park programs.
He said they were for luck. They guarded against negative spirits and invited positive forces into his life. Then, in my infinite wisdom of twenty-something, I asked him "So do you really believe in all that stuff?" He was polite in his response: "It works if you believe."
Today, one of the bodies in the Mississippi River was recovered.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Buses, Cars, and Bikes
I have three options when I wake up in the morning. The bus picks my groggy backside up less than three blocks from my house and takes on average about twenty minutes. My lonely car usually sits a block from my home and with parking and walking to work, takes roughly twenty minutes also. And then there's my new bike, found on Craigslist two weeks ago. Though I've been struggling to replace certain parts and adjust others, I'm finding that it takes an astounding twelve minutes door-to-door.
There's considerable savings in this as well. Round trip the bus is usually four dollars a day. Parking, with gas, probably works out to ten or twelve dollars a day. Biking is free monetarily.
Here's the rub: staying alive. Though the biking infrastructure in this town has merit, it's terribly underdeveloped. And I don't quite have the deftness or experience (and perhaps absurdity) to ride alongside the cars on the road.
I find my way though. Braking for blind entrances and driveways, intersections, and for pedestrians, I manage to stay alive. But the truth is, I'm often reminded of riding my motorcycle years ago. There are a great number of drivers (in cars) who seem to brush off the presence of motorcyclists and bikers as if they were simply a nuisance. It's really frustrating. They want to go fast and be somewhere. They feel safe and secure enclosed in a vehicle.
I'm out there all alone! And then a biker passes me and reminds me that we're growing in number, slowly reclaiming our lane and letting everyone know, if you run us over, I hope you have an umbrella policy, because we'll hire any number of Minneapolis attorney's salivating at the sight of a vehicle/biker altercation.
Mike Ceresi, thanks for the unintentional protection.
There's considerable savings in this as well. Round trip the bus is usually four dollars a day. Parking, with gas, probably works out to ten or twelve dollars a day. Biking is free monetarily.
Here's the rub: staying alive. Though the biking infrastructure in this town has merit, it's terribly underdeveloped. And I don't quite have the deftness or experience (and perhaps absurdity) to ride alongside the cars on the road.
I find my way though. Braking for blind entrances and driveways, intersections, and for pedestrians, I manage to stay alive. But the truth is, I'm often reminded of riding my motorcycle years ago. There are a great number of drivers (in cars) who seem to brush off the presence of motorcyclists and bikers as if they were simply a nuisance. It's really frustrating. They want to go fast and be somewhere. They feel safe and secure enclosed in a vehicle.
I'm out there all alone! And then a biker passes me and reminds me that we're growing in number, slowly reclaiming our lane and letting everyone know, if you run us over, I hope you have an umbrella policy, because we'll hire any number of Minneapolis attorney's salivating at the sight of a vehicle/biker altercation.
Mike Ceresi, thanks for the unintentional protection.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Hatching a Reputation
In my young history of political involvement, I recollect the power with which Mike Hatch, former Attorney General of Minnesota, wielded. Like any well-intentioned Attorney General, he was an ardent consumer-advocate, fighting commercial and personal level scams that attacked the ignorant, the weak, and often, the average Minnesotan.
As he resigned his high-level post a couple of weeks ago, a post established for him to facilitate the transition from his tenure into the new Attorney Generals, Lori Swanson, he leaves behind a sterling reputation polka-dotted with indelible failures.
He attacked insurance companies. He's the reason why I was asked where I wanted my driver's side window fixed when some punk from Edina threw a Hornets' hockey puck through it in February 2006 (Lou Park represent!).
He attacked solicitors. My friend's mother would often fight the telemarketers, or the credit card companies and their constant barrage of mail. She kindly wrote back letters informing each company she was not interested and wanted to be removed from any "lists." under normal circumstances, she would have fallen on deaf ears. But she knew this, and in a calculated move of brilliance, placed at the bottom of each letter "cc: Mike Hatch, Minnesota Attorney General."
She never heard from them again.
I think history will treat Hatch with respect. They will note his failures, and purported favoritism, perhaps cronyism, in handling the Attorney General's office during his tenure. But then again, to beat the bad guys, you have to know them pretty well too. And boy did he beat them.
As he resigned his high-level post a couple of weeks ago, a post established for him to facilitate the transition from his tenure into the new Attorney Generals, Lori Swanson, he leaves behind a sterling reputation polka-dotted with indelible failures.
He attacked insurance companies. He's the reason why I was asked where I wanted my driver's side window fixed when some punk from Edina threw a Hornets' hockey puck through it in February 2006 (Lou Park represent!).
He attacked solicitors. My friend's mother would often fight the telemarketers, or the credit card companies and their constant barrage of mail. She kindly wrote back letters informing each company she was not interested and wanted to be removed from any "lists." under normal circumstances, she would have fallen on deaf ears. But she knew this, and in a calculated move of brilliance, placed at the bottom of each letter "cc: Mike Hatch, Minnesota Attorney General."
She never heard from them again.
I think history will treat Hatch with respect. They will note his failures, and purported favoritism, perhaps cronyism, in handling the Attorney General's office during his tenure. But then again, to beat the bad guys, you have to know them pretty well too. And boy did he beat them.
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Wyatt Earp and His Cousin at Legends Bar & Grill
The Minneapolis-St Paul Star-Tribune reports this morning of a story involving a police officer and his cousin (the former on duty in plain clothes and the other, his cousin, a community police liaison) having a delightful cup of coffee.
As two armed men ominously emerged from the bathroom sporting the standard accoutrement of robbers (ski masks), Sgt. Bill Blake was crouched and ready to fire. His cousin reports he shouted "Police" to which the robbers responded by pointing their weapons at Sgt. Bill Blake.
Wyatt Earp never wanted any trouble. Just a clean town with legal gambling. And he was a hero because of his modesty (this prior to his revenge-fueled rampage after the OK Coral). Sgt. Bill Blake is no exception as he fired two rounds. One managed to shattered the gun in one robber's hand (this evidenced by fragments of the firearm found near the bar).
They fled. Sgt. Bill Blake chased them, only to return without them and in ultimate Samaritan fashion, make sure those in the restaurant were okay. One of the robbers actually turned himself in with minor injuries afterward.
Honestly, I still find it difficult to fathom that we allow free and open gun sales in this country. But there's a paradox here inescapable to either Democrat or Republican: what if the government decided to revoke your right to own one? Yes, we read stories more and less tragic than this one involving firearms, perhaps daily.
Arguably, we'd be reading such stories regardless of gun laws and ownership restrictions, but simply involving knives and other crude weapons (I read many of the English-language papers when abroad--it's just good daily reading yarn). By that same token, do we really know that? Just look to our cultural predecessors across the Atlantic. Their firearm laws are far more conservative than our laws. Yet there seems to be some nut who either owns an arsenal of freedom and the British authorities are removing the cache by the armful after arresting the bloke or an individual loses control over good sense and inhibition, locates a gun and rampages through a small town.
We're not alone in our problems. But when my younger brother in college is being asked why America is so violent and deadly by his Spanish language partner across the sea, he politely replies (in broken Spanish) that he has never seen a gun fired in person much less seen anyone shot.
My fear is not getting shot so much as it is when the government is at my front door saying "we repealed the Second Amendment. Hand over all your firearms." Though I won't have any to give them, I will certainly be terrified when the only people in our country with guns are government officials. I've seen that too. It's called Latin America.
As two armed men ominously emerged from the bathroom sporting the standard accoutrement of robbers (ski masks), Sgt. Bill Blake was crouched and ready to fire. His cousin reports he shouted "Police" to which the robbers responded by pointing their weapons at Sgt. Bill Blake.
Wyatt Earp never wanted any trouble. Just a clean town with legal gambling. And he was a hero because of his modesty (this prior to his revenge-fueled rampage after the OK Coral). Sgt. Bill Blake is no exception as he fired two rounds. One managed to shattered the gun in one robber's hand (this evidenced by fragments of the firearm found near the bar).
They fled. Sgt. Bill Blake chased them, only to return without them and in ultimate Samaritan fashion, make sure those in the restaurant were okay. One of the robbers actually turned himself in with minor injuries afterward.
Honestly, I still find it difficult to fathom that we allow free and open gun sales in this country. But there's a paradox here inescapable to either Democrat or Republican: what if the government decided to revoke your right to own one? Yes, we read stories more and less tragic than this one involving firearms, perhaps daily.
Arguably, we'd be reading such stories regardless of gun laws and ownership restrictions, but simply involving knives and other crude weapons (I read many of the English-language papers when abroad--it's just good daily reading yarn). By that same token, do we really know that? Just look to our cultural predecessors across the Atlantic. Their firearm laws are far more conservative than our laws. Yet there seems to be some nut who either owns an arsenal of freedom and the British authorities are removing the cache by the armful after arresting the bloke or an individual loses control over good sense and inhibition, locates a gun and rampages through a small town.
We're not alone in our problems. But when my younger brother in college is being asked why America is so violent and deadly by his Spanish language partner across the sea, he politely replies (in broken Spanish) that he has never seen a gun fired in person much less seen anyone shot.
My fear is not getting shot so much as it is when the government is at my front door saying "we repealed the Second Amendment. Hand over all your firearms." Though I won't have any to give them, I will certainly be terrified when the only people in our country with guns are government officials. I've seen that too. It's called Latin America.
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