The Convention

Politics, with all of its talk of bills and laws and foreign relations and domestic policies, seems to take place in Washington, far away, and is something out of our hands and inevitable, like taxes. The Democratic convention, which just ended, reminded me that it can also be about things more tangible, real, personal, and emotional.

Watching on TV is no substitute for being there, but even that medium, so artificial and distancing, couldn’t dilute the power of this one. Not that it didn’t try. We watched it each night on PBS, the supposed station of the people. It took until the last night and repeated yelling and cursing for us to realize that their commentary, any commentary, trivialized and insulted what was taking place. With C-span and its picture-only style, we finally were able to have an uninterrupted experience.

The convention, though planned and scripted as to who and when, seemed to develop in an organic and natural way. A bit scattered at the beginning, it began to coalesce. The Clintons gave their endorsements (despite the backstory) and testimony from regular Joes began to tie this process to the reality that this was the way we govern ourselves and who we elect to do it. As it progressed, it no longer seemed that our lives are controlled by an alien species we refer to as politicians. We saw real guys with real lives. They weren’t so different from us. They have their path and it is to serve in government.

Although I admit to optimism, to responding to Sousa, and to red, white, and blue, the longer I watched, the more patriotic and motivated I became. In contrast to the cynicism and helplessness I usually feel, I was reminded that we have a history and it goes back more than eight years. The United States is not without blame for many things, but we do have ideals and they are just that – something we keep aiming for.

Given the nudge by all this hoopla and discussion, by the speeches and stories, I can look around and see the melting pot they talk about. I see the examples of possibility and opportunity that exist in this country. It’s not just a nice story. In the world we live in now, no one and nothing can remain hidden. Reality, though sometimes filtered, is always before us and demands action.

Part of that action was unfolding at the convention. The ideas and ideals of hope, determination, and goodness were given voice. Even television and its chattering personalities, could not blunt the feeling shown in the words and the faces that were lighting up the evening.

America is a different kind of place and this gathering presented the wish of countless hearts to evolve and embrace and include whoever aspires to similar ideals. Obama was right when he said that it wasn’t about him, but about us. This election no longer feels like a mechanical abstraction that takes place in November, but a real decision that involves us all. A process that can move us forward, closer and closer to those ideals.

Exercise your right to vote. You’ll feel stronger.

Questions, Questions, Questions

They’re everywhere. When they get together, they multiply. Once put into motion, they take on a life of their own and it appears there is no end in sight. How big can a question get? Is a profound question more demanding than one that is casually dressed? And, who is to say which is which? Isn’t everything relative, anyway? And, won’t an excess of questions drive us crazy?

How can we possibly sort them all out? There seems to be no stopping them. Just when you think you’ve answered plenty for one guy, or have finally set them aside for good and gone about your business, here comes another one.

First, from birth, there’s, when’s lunch? A bit later, it’s why am I going to school? Sure, there’s learning and everything, but then you wonder about issues of control and conformity, not to mention the rationale for authority. Why can’t I say that? Why can’t I go outside? And, perhaps more importantly, what’s her name?

Dion said it best, why must I be a teenager in love? It’s a bittersweet moment for these teenagers and will lead to other questions that lay the groundwork for a process they call maturation. This maturation has its own set of questions, such as, who am I? Why am/are I/we here? (What!?), and who are you? This is the beginning of a personal philosophy.

This process of maturation and the development of a personal philosophy can take a while. I guess it all depends on when you want to stop or when you’ve had enough and you just can’t take it any longer.

After you’ve settled the serious question of How am I going to make any money, you tackle ones like, Is marriage possible? Or, even desirable? That maturity issue keeps poking its head into things and asks, am I really ready or responsible enough for that kind of thing? And then, what about kids?

A bit later, while looking in the mirror, you turn to your wife and ask, am I getting older? She looks at you, with sympathy. You begin to notice things that bring up questions of their own: What happened? Where are those hairs disappearing? Do I really look like my Dad? And then, the David Byrne question, how did I get here?

My own maturation process tells me that all these questions are Male-specific. And, it’s true. I have no idea what questions women are asking themselves. Which brings up another question, why are they so different? Not that I mind. I’m glad they are, but they’re a mystery.

Some questions just won’t go away, no matter how many times you think you’ve answered them. Who do I think I am? Or, rather, who am I? What is this world all about? Why are things the way they are? What should I do? What’s the best use of my time? Sometimes it’s, are you kidding me? The number and scope of questions is limitless. Which begs the question, why me?

I’ve found that it’s a good plan to pay attention, but to always go with the flow. My favorite question is the one that asks, what exciting thing is going to happen next?
Answers are hard to come by, but there’s always another question.

A big, warm hug?

The Olympics begin in China today. Who says money doesn’t make the world go round?

There is a lot of talk about the civilizing influence of the Games, the accomplishment and dedication of the athletes, the extension of world records, and the indomitable human spirit.

The other side to it is the tyranny and ruthlessness of the Chinese government, the unmistakable and pervasive pollution, the doping scandals, and the contrast of the opulent presentation of the Games with the struggles of so many of China’s billions. Certainly, we’re not blameless, either.

This situation resembles the stark difference in the upcoming election here. There is a choice between two very different candidates – young versus old, hopeful vision versus a defensive posture, clear thinking versus a desperate confusion, a new kind of candidate and the old, predictable guard, an attempt at a realistic and practical assessment of the problems and challenges that demand action and an unimaginative continuation of the dated and destructive policies that have brought us to the lowest point in our history.

George Bush makes feeble statements about human rights, but won’t really risk offending our biggest trading partner and the main investor/owner of the dollar. China rushes to present a clean, smiling face to the world, while he accepts his box seat and has a hot dog or the Chinese equivalent.

The Games and the competition there are inspiring, but behind the scenes the environment takes its last gasps, while politicians and businessmen are only interested in power and profit.

The state of information made possible by the Internet makes it impossible to hide the facts that result from our actions. Now, that’s true progress. This gives everyone an opportunity to recognize what is actually occurring and make the decision to dedicate ourselves to more basic and necessary matters.

A truly exciting competition would be one where all of the participating countries try to outdo each other in saving the environment, guaranteeing human rights to individuals, creating peace, and extending the brotherhood represented by the Games to a world that desperately needs it.

Pass the torch. Let it begin.