I admire people who get personally involved in helping people who are less fortunate than themselves...people who don't need a church or a service club or an employer to do good work, but who help others because they feel a sense of personal responsibility.
I wish I could count myself among such people, but it's rare than I engage in purely altruistic behavior with strangers. I'm more the sort of person who will participate with a group of others who have an inclination to help, so long as the group does not use its good works to blackmail the recipients.When I hear of churches that send groups off to foreign countries to build houses, etc., I'm always suspicious that part of the deal is an implicit expectation that the recipients will accept the church's religious message. To me, that's not true altruism. True altruism is done simply because it's the right thing to do; someone needs help and someone else, upon learning of the need, fills it.
There are hundreds, probably thousands, of organizations that exist to help people in need. The ones I admire are the ones founded on the principle that they will offer help where help is needed, with no expectation of any quid pro quo.I'm not able to contribute financially to every organization whose mission I support, but at least I can recognize many of them and can recommend to you, the reader, than you try to make contributions to one or more of them when you can. Here are some of the organizations I recommend to you:
Action Against Hunger
Provides a broad range of disaster relief for all types of disasters, from house or apartment fires to floods, earthquakes, and hurricanes.
American Red Cross
Provides a broad range of disaster relief for all types of disasters, from house or apartment fires to floods, earthquakes, and hurricanes.
AmeriCares
Provides disaster relief and humanitarian aid and provides immediate response to emergency medical needs, as well as supporting long-term humanitarian assistance programs
CARE
Assists by facilitating and strengthening poor communities' capacity for self-help, providing economic opportunities, delivering relief in emergencies
Direct Relief International
Distributes medical supplies and pharmaceuticals
Doctors Without Borders
Doctors Without Borders/Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) is an international independent medical humanitarian organization that delivers emergency aid to people affected by armed conflict, epidemics, natural and man-made disasters, and exclusion from health care.
Oxfam America
Oxfam America is a Boston-based international development and relief agency and an affiliate of Oxfam International. Working with local partners, Oxfam delivers development programs and emergency relief services, and campaigns for change in global practices and policies that keep people in poverty
Monday, August 15, 2005
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Rural Life
Before reading this post on rural life, the reader should understand: I have never lived a rural life. However, I have been reading a good bit about the day-to-day challenges of farm life and have what may be an inexplicable desire to live in the country, work the land, and experience first-hand the challenges and rewards of rural life.
People who are able to successfully contend with life on a farm or ranch deserve far more respect than most people typically accord them. The conveniences I take for granted in my urban life are rare treats for my rural brethren. For them, the grocery store is not just down the block. Blockbuster Video is not readily available for their entertainment, not that they would often have the time to watch videos. I drop my shirts at the drycleaners and pick them up later the same day. I suspect folks in rural environs rarely have a need for a drycleaners...but when they do, it's most certainly not convenient.
I have a lawn service take care of mowing my yard. I call a pest control service when I see evidence of ants or roaches. Whenever my refrigerator runs low on fresh vegetables, I can visit the supermarket to get a fresh supply. If my wife and I are not in the mood to cook dinner, we can visit one of hundreds of wonderful restaurants in our area, dining on anything from pad kee mao at a Thai restaurant to lamb vindaloo at an Indian restaurant. Most rural communities in my part of the country don't have a lot of Thai or Indian restaurants...most have a Dairy Queen, or, at best, a locally-owned diner whose proprietor learned to cook vegetables in the old school: cook them until they are soft enough to drink from a glass.
So what is it that I find appealing about living without all these conveniences that I have come to expect? Part of the appeal is the sense of self-sufficiency that can come from living on a farm or a ranch. Many of the things we take for granted come to us as a result of the work of the farmer or rancher. He or she works hard to put food on our table. And that food also finds its way to his or her table. I imagine it must give the farmer or rancher a great sense of pride to know that, as a direct result of his work, people have food on the table.
How many of us who live the easy life in urban America give much thought to what it takes to run a productive farm or ranch? How many of us view farmers and ranchers, consciously or not, as "hicks" who don't possess the degree of sophistication that we urbanites have? I'm afraid honest answers to those questions would shame us. Rural folks might have similarly jaundiced thoughts about urbanites if they were to see the vacant looks in our eyes when asked about aflatoxin, Power Take Offs, barrows, 3-point hitches, disc harrows, box blades, scraper blades, swathers, jacks & jennies, ROPS, or ridge-till.
Lately, I've been working to learn a bit more about rural life...what it's really like. Like city life, rural life has its ups and downs. Methamphetamine use, I'm told, is actually a much greater problem in rural communities than it is in the city. Poverty is as much of a problem, if not more so, in small towns and in unincorporated areas than in cities. Unemployment is high in rural America (thanks, in part, to the diminution of the small farm, courtesy of corporate agriculture). Rural life is hard, no doubt about it. But it can be exceptionally rewarding, I think, because the effort it requires to live successfully gives people a real sense of accomplishment when things go right.
I have tended to think of life on a farm as being less expensive than life in the city. That may be true of farm-hands, but farm owners are in an expensive business. The costs of farm machinery that is absolutely required to operate a farm today are astronomical. Aside from the money invested in equipment, the farmer must invest enormous amounts of time to learn how to operate and maintain farm machinery, because he does not have the luxury of dropping it off at the dealership for repair. And the farmer must invest heavily in seed, fertilizer, and other farm chemicals. And land is getting increasingly expensive. I'm told that, if a farmer had to buy the land today to grow his crops, he would not be able to do it because the price of land has gotten out of reach. So, today's farmer either works land he inherited (or bought many, many years ago) or he leases land from someone else who bought the land long ago.
I recently came across a television channel devoted to rural life and I am impressed with it. It's called RFDTV (named after Rural Free Delivery, RFD). It's geared toward farmers and ranchers, providing educational content aimed at making them more productive; it also has entertainment content directed toward rural communities. Recent programs I've watched (including AG PhD, Farmweek, Horse Sense, Training Mules and Donkeys, and Farm Bureau Today) have dealt with:
People who are able to successfully contend with life on a farm or ranch deserve far more respect than most people typically accord them. The conveniences I take for granted in my urban life are rare treats for my rural brethren. For them, the grocery store is not just down the block. Blockbuster Video is not readily available for their entertainment, not that they would often have the time to watch videos. I drop my shirts at the drycleaners and pick them up later the same day. I suspect folks in rural environs rarely have a need for a drycleaners...but when they do, it's most certainly not convenient.
I have a lawn service take care of mowing my yard. I call a pest control service when I see evidence of ants or roaches. Whenever my refrigerator runs low on fresh vegetables, I can visit the supermarket to get a fresh supply. If my wife and I are not in the mood to cook dinner, we can visit one of hundreds of wonderful restaurants in our area, dining on anything from pad kee mao at a Thai restaurant to lamb vindaloo at an Indian restaurant. Most rural communities in my part of the country don't have a lot of Thai or Indian restaurants...most have a Dairy Queen, or, at best, a locally-owned diner whose proprietor learned to cook vegetables in the old school: cook them until they are soft enough to drink from a glass.
So what is it that I find appealing about living without all these conveniences that I have come to expect? Part of the appeal is the sense of self-sufficiency that can come from living on a farm or a ranch. Many of the things we take for granted come to us as a result of the work of the farmer or rancher. He or she works hard to put food on our table. And that food also finds its way to his or her table. I imagine it must give the farmer or rancher a great sense of pride to know that, as a direct result of his work, people have food on the table.
How many of us who live the easy life in urban America give much thought to what it takes to run a productive farm or ranch? How many of us view farmers and ranchers, consciously or not, as "hicks" who don't possess the degree of sophistication that we urbanites have? I'm afraid honest answers to those questions would shame us. Rural folks might have similarly jaundiced thoughts about urbanites if they were to see the vacant looks in our eyes when asked about aflatoxin, Power Take Offs, barrows, 3-point hitches, disc harrows, box blades, scraper blades, swathers, jacks & jennies, ROPS, or ridge-till.
Lately, I've been working to learn a bit more about rural life...what it's really like. Like city life, rural life has its ups and downs. Methamphetamine use, I'm told, is actually a much greater problem in rural communities than it is in the city. Poverty is as much of a problem, if not more so, in small towns and in unincorporated areas than in cities. Unemployment is high in rural America (thanks, in part, to the diminution of the small farm, courtesy of corporate agriculture). Rural life is hard, no doubt about it. But it can be exceptionally rewarding, I think, because the effort it requires to live successfully gives people a real sense of accomplishment when things go right.
I have tended to think of life on a farm as being less expensive than life in the city. That may be true of farm-hands, but farm owners are in an expensive business. The costs of farm machinery that is absolutely required to operate a farm today are astronomical. Aside from the money invested in equipment, the farmer must invest enormous amounts of time to learn how to operate and maintain farm machinery, because he does not have the luxury of dropping it off at the dealership for repair. And the farmer must invest heavily in seed, fertilizer, and other farm chemicals. And land is getting increasingly expensive. I'm told that, if a farmer had to buy the land today to grow his crops, he would not be able to do it because the price of land has gotten out of reach. So, today's farmer either works land he inherited (or bought many, many years ago) or he leases land from someone else who bought the land long ago.
I recently came across a television channel devoted to rural life and I am impressed with it. It's called RFDTV (named after Rural Free Delivery, RFD). It's geared toward farmers and ranchers, providing educational content aimed at making them more productive; it also has entertainment content directed toward rural communities. Recent programs I've watched (including AG PhD, Farmweek, Horse Sense, Training Mules and Donkeys, and Farm Bureau Today) have dealt with:
- correcting soil compaction caused by heavy farm equipment (soil compaction can limit root depth; the program sited corn grown in fields that have been properly prepared to address compaction as having up to 100% greater productivity than that grown in compacted fields)
- training horses to follow gentle leads
- comparisons between different types of tractors and implements used with them
I've learned alot about farm equipment, etc. from other websites, including the following, and if you're interested in learning more about rural life, you may find them of interest:
- Massey Ferguson farm equipment
- Yesterday's Tractors antique/used tractor website
- Agriculture Online
- Living the Country Life magazine
- Half Century of Progress
- Farm Videos
- Dairy Herd Management
- John Deere website
- Craig Cameron Horsemanship website
Saturday, August 13, 2005
Fascism in America
Cindy Sheehan wants to talk to George Bush. She wants to talk to him about why her son, Casey, had to die in Iraq. She wants to question Bush about whether his reasons for taking the unprecedented action of a preemptive attack on another country were legitimate. She demands answers about the reason her 24-year-old son was in Iraq.
Bush is steadfast in his resolve not to speak with her. He spoke with her once before; that's enough. Emphasizing his 'human' side, Bush expresses empathy for her and says she has the right to protest outside his ranch in Crawford, Texas, but he refuses to sway. Like always, Bush will not admit to any mistakes; he will not admit to his lies, his subterfuges, his gross deceptions.
Ultimately, Bush doesn't care about Cindy Sheehan. He doesn't care that her son died as a direct result of his calculated decision to attack a country that didn't pose a threat to the United States. His concern is whether his 'leadership' is unwaivering. In his myopic vision, a 'leader' never changes his mind, once a decision is reached. His supporters can depend on him; they know he will not change his mind, because he is inflexible. His supporters know their paychecks will arrive and their bonuses will remain intact.
Bush proclaims himself to be champion for the common man. He claims to be a fervent defender of freedom and a devoutly religious man. His response to Cindy Sheehan tells another story. It tells a story that is frighteningly similar to the story of Berzelius "Buzz" Windrip.
Buzz Windrip is the main character in a book by Sinclair Lewis, It Can't Happen Here. He is a charismatic Senator who champions the cause of the common man, but who is in the pocket of big business and who is favored by religious extremists, due to his careful use of religion as a political weapon. He eventually becomes the ultimate ugly capitalist. Boosted by Hearst newspapers (the FOX News of its day), he successfully incapacitates Congress and the Supreme Court, and then strips the people of their freedom and installs a fascist dictatorship.
Bush, in his treatment of Cindy Sheehan and in his treatment of the rest of us, is positioning himself as a dictator. He does not have to account for his actions. He must only insist that he is doing everything he can to protect us; he suggests that disagreements with his position are unpatriotic. Bush has figured out that an enormous number of Americans have been misguided into equating religious zealotry with patriotic strength and he is catering to that attitude. Unless the rest of us join hands with Cindy Sheehan, who is simply seeking answers about her son's death, we will be giving tacit approval to Bush to install a dictatorship. We will be offering our support of living in a society guided by corporate greed and religious bigotry. We will be endorsing Fasiscim in America.
Bush is steadfast in his resolve not to speak with her. He spoke with her once before; that's enough. Emphasizing his 'human' side, Bush expresses empathy for her and says she has the right to protest outside his ranch in Crawford, Texas, but he refuses to sway. Like always, Bush will not admit to any mistakes; he will not admit to his lies, his subterfuges, his gross deceptions.
Ultimately, Bush doesn't care about Cindy Sheehan. He doesn't care that her son died as a direct result of his calculated decision to attack a country that didn't pose a threat to the United States. His concern is whether his 'leadership' is unwaivering. In his myopic vision, a 'leader' never changes his mind, once a decision is reached. His supporters can depend on him; they know he will not change his mind, because he is inflexible. His supporters know their paychecks will arrive and their bonuses will remain intact.
Bush proclaims himself to be champion for the common man. He claims to be a fervent defender of freedom and a devoutly religious man. His response to Cindy Sheehan tells another story. It tells a story that is frighteningly similar to the story of Berzelius "Buzz" Windrip.
Buzz Windrip is the main character in a book by Sinclair Lewis, It Can't Happen Here. He is a charismatic Senator who champions the cause of the common man, but who is in the pocket of big business and who is favored by religious extremists, due to his careful use of religion as a political weapon. He eventually becomes the ultimate ugly capitalist. Boosted by Hearst newspapers (the FOX News of its day), he successfully incapacitates Congress and the Supreme Court, and then strips the people of their freedom and installs a fascist dictatorship.
Bush, in his treatment of Cindy Sheehan and in his treatment of the rest of us, is positioning himself as a dictator. He does not have to account for his actions. He must only insist that he is doing everything he can to protect us; he suggests that disagreements with his position are unpatriotic. Bush has figured out that an enormous number of Americans have been misguided into equating religious zealotry with patriotic strength and he is catering to that attitude. Unless the rest of us join hands with Cindy Sheehan, who is simply seeking answers about her son's death, we will be giving tacit approval to Bush to install a dictatorship. We will be offering our support of living in a society guided by corporate greed and religious bigotry. We will be endorsing Fasiscim in America.
A Stab at Poetry
A poem I wrote a few years ago. I revisit it occasionally, trying to make it better, clearer. It says something I can't put into words otherwise.
Spirit
Parched, cracked earth.
Empty skies and endless horizons.
Cold, savage winds that carry with them sharp, brittle shards of sand that
bite into skin like claws.
Relics of stunted trees, long-ago crippled by too-much wind and too-little water.
Rusted, broken barbed-wire fences, the decaying work of people with a lot of spirit and not enough money.
Screeching hawks and searching buzzards.
Everything is raw, pointed, sharp here.
Shelter is rare.
Amid this desolation is striking beauty.
It is the beauty of absolute isolation and the purest of privacy.
The core of nature rests in these stretches of mile upon mile upon mile.
We can think here. We can understand ourselves, and each other.
And then spring comes.
Torrents of rain, flashes of brilliant lightning.
Water changes the land, and it changes us.
Gray and brown transform into shades of pale green.
Grass grows where even seeds shuddered before.
Pink flowers stab the sky and yellow petals shower the earth.
The land replenishes itself and strains at its boundaries, bursting with energy and color.
Colors do not mask the desolation.
They enhance it and make it palpable.
We can think here. We can understand ourselves, and each other.
Spirit
Parched, cracked earth.
Empty skies and endless horizons.
Cold, savage winds that carry with them sharp, brittle shards of sand that
bite into skin like claws.
Relics of stunted trees, long-ago crippled by too-much wind and too-little water.
Rusted, broken barbed-wire fences, the decaying work of people with a lot of spirit and not enough money.
Screeching hawks and searching buzzards.
Everything is raw, pointed, sharp here.
Shelter is rare.
Amid this desolation is striking beauty.
It is the beauty of absolute isolation and the purest of privacy.
The core of nature rests in these stretches of mile upon mile upon mile.
We can think here. We can understand ourselves, and each other.
And then spring comes.
Torrents of rain, flashes of brilliant lightning.
Water changes the land, and it changes us.
Gray and brown transform into shades of pale green.
Grass grows where even seeds shuddered before.
Pink flowers stab the sky and yellow petals shower the earth.
The land replenishes itself and strains at its boundaries, bursting with energy and color.
Colors do not mask the desolation.
They enhance it and make it palpable.
We can think here. We can understand ourselves, and each other.
Friday, August 12, 2005
The President's Language Lesson
Usurper Bush was visiting a primary school. One of the classes was in the middle of a discussion related to words and their meanings. The teacher asked the pretender if he would like to lead the discussion on the word "tragedy." So the illustrious leader asked the class for an example of a "tragedy."
One little boy stood up and offered, "If my best friend, who lives on a farm, is playing in the field and a tractor runs him over and kills him, that would be a tragedy." "No," said Bush, "that would be an accident."
A little girl raised her hand: "If a school bus carrying 50 children drove over a cliff, killing everyone inside, that would be a tragedy."
"I'm afraid not." simpered the pretender. "That's what we would call a great loss."
The room went silent. No other children volunteered. Bush searched the room. "Isn't there someone here who can give me an example of tragedy?" Finally at the back of the room a small boy raised his hand.
In a quiet voice he said: "If Air Force One carrying Mr. Bush was struck by a "friendly fire" missile and blown to smithereens, that would be a tragedy."
"Fantastic!" exclaimed Bush. "That's right. And can you tell me why that would be a tragedy?"
"Well," says the boy, "it has to be a tragedy, because it certainly wouldn't be a great loss and it probably wouldn't be an accident."
Courtesy of my brother.
One little boy stood up and offered, "If my best friend, who lives on a farm, is playing in the field and a tractor runs him over and kills him, that would be a tragedy." "No," said Bush, "that would be an accident."
A little girl raised her hand: "If a school bus carrying 50 children drove over a cliff, killing everyone inside, that would be a tragedy."
"I'm afraid not." simpered the pretender. "That's what we would call a great loss."
The room went silent. No other children volunteered. Bush searched the room. "Isn't there someone here who can give me an example of tragedy?" Finally at the back of the room a small boy raised his hand.
In a quiet voice he said: "If Air Force One carrying Mr. Bush was struck by a "friendly fire" missile and blown to smithereens, that would be a tragedy."
"Fantastic!" exclaimed Bush. "That's right. And can you tell me why that would be a tragedy?"
"Well," says the boy, "it has to be a tragedy, because it certainly wouldn't be a great loss and it probably wouldn't be an accident."
Courtesy of my brother.
Monday, August 8, 2005
Cheney/Edwards Debate--October 2004
I wrote this immediately following the debate between Dick Cheney and John Edwards on October 5, 2004.
If the United States ever hopes to recover its position of leadership and respect in the world, our citizens must elect leaders who are honest, competent, and willing to admit-- and correct--their mistakes. The debate between Vice President Dick Cheney and Senator John Edwards underscored the fact that the leaders of the Bush administration cannot claim any of those traits this country so badly needs in its leaders.
Bush and Cheney both have argued that the preemptive war against Iraq was part of the war on terror in response to the 9/11 attacks. Yet Cheney said he has never suggested a connection between Iraq and 9/11. The fact is he has been one of the most vocal administration officials to argue that an alleged meeting (the existence of which has been widely discredited) between hijacker Mohamed Atta and an Iraqi agent in April 2001 offered evidence of an Iraqi connection to the 9/11 attacks.
Cheney's comments during the debate were laced with claims that the Administration's policies have been working to make America stronger, more prosperous, and more secure. Establishing a policy of preemptive attack cannot strengthen America. Establishing policies that encourage downsizing jobs and sending them offshore cannot make America more prosperous. Sending our soldiers to war under false premises and failing to establish a plan for ending the war cannot make America more secure.
If the United States ever hopes to recover its position of leadership and respect in the world, our citizens must elect leaders who are honest, competent, and willing to admit-- and correct--their mistakes. The debate between Vice President Dick Cheney and Senator John Edwards underscored the fact that the leaders of the Bush administration cannot claim any of those traits this country so badly needs in its leaders.
Bush and Cheney both have argued that the preemptive war against Iraq was part of the war on terror in response to the 9/11 attacks. Yet Cheney said he has never suggested a connection between Iraq and 9/11. The fact is he has been one of the most vocal administration officials to argue that an alleged meeting (the existence of which has been widely discredited) between hijacker Mohamed Atta and an Iraqi agent in April 2001 offered evidence of an Iraqi connection to the 9/11 attacks.
Cheney's comments during the debate were laced with claims that the Administration's policies have been working to make America stronger, more prosperous, and more secure. Establishing a policy of preemptive attack cannot strengthen America. Establishing policies that encourage downsizing jobs and sending them offshore cannot make America more prosperous. Sending our soldiers to war under false premises and failing to establish a plan for ending the war cannot make America more secure.
Sunday, August 7, 2005
Old People...A Vignette for a Book
Here is a vignette that I wrote quite awhile ago while I was working on an idea for a book. I got sidetracked, but I come back to this vignette on occasion, polishing it a bit here and there, wondering what I can do to finish it and what I can do to make it work in my book. And, I wonder, what can I do to give myself the discipline to write the book I set out to write?
They were old people, people who had experienced the spectacular joys of love and friendship and passion. And they had suffered through incomprehensible pain; the struggles and heartache of friends dying, loving relationships gone irretrievably sour, lost jobs, repossessed homes, and thousands of other less dramatic though crushingly painful events that helped shape them and mold their lives. Their faces bore the marks of these occasions. Years of weather and love, laughter, anger, fear, and loss had once carved deep ridges into their old faces, the creases of life in the faces of men and women in their sixties and early seventies. But these people were beyond that...they were in their late seventies and early eighties, some even older. The passage of so much more time had softened those ridges into worn canyons, wrinkles that no longer suggested specific, traumatic events in their lives but, instead, revealed years and years of life, wearing relentlessly on what had once been supple skin.
While I stood watching them, I wondered who among them had been passionate lovers and fierce fighters. I wondered what issues had prompted them to stand their ground on matters of principle. What fundamental values had driven them to be bold, in their prime, and what ideas defined them as people? I wondered what had happened to the burning embers of passion that had driven their desires in years long past.
© 2004 Musings from Myopia Blogger
They were old people, people who had experienced the spectacular joys of love and friendship and passion. And they had suffered through incomprehensible pain; the struggles and heartache of friends dying, loving relationships gone irretrievably sour, lost jobs, repossessed homes, and thousands of other less dramatic though crushingly painful events that helped shape them and mold their lives. Their faces bore the marks of these occasions. Years of weather and love, laughter, anger, fear, and loss had once carved deep ridges into their old faces, the creases of life in the faces of men and women in their sixties and early seventies. But these people were beyond that...they were in their late seventies and early eighties, some even older. The passage of so much more time had softened those ridges into worn canyons, wrinkles that no longer suggested specific, traumatic events in their lives but, instead, revealed years and years of life, wearing relentlessly on what had once been supple skin.
While I stood watching them, I wondered who among them had been passionate lovers and fierce fighters. I wondered what issues had prompted them to stand their ground on matters of principle. What fundamental values had driven them to be bold, in their prime, and what ideas defined them as people? I wondered what had happened to the burning embers of passion that had driven their desires in years long past.
© 2004 Musings from Myopia Blogger