This is one of those emails that comes along anonymously but has great wisdom and heart. I hope you enjoy it. Let me know if you learn who wrote it!
The principal use of Grandma's apron was to protect the dress underneath, but along with that, it served as a potholder for removing hot pans from the oven. It was wonderful for drying children's tears, and on occasion was even used for cleaning out dirty ears.
From the chicken coop, the apron was used for carrying eggs, fussy chicks, and sometimes half-hatched eggs to be finished in the warming oven.
When company came, those aprons were ideal hiding places for shy kids. And when the weather was cold, grandma wrapped it around her arms.
Those big old aprons wiped many a perspiring brow, bent over the hot wood stove. Chips and kindling wood were brought into the kitchen in that apron. From the garden, it carried all sorts of vegetables. After the peas had been shelled, it carried out the hulls. In the fall, the apron was used to bring in apples that had fallen from the trees.
When unexpected company drove up the road, it was surprising how much furniture could be dusted in a matter of minutes. When dinner was ready, Grandma walked out onto the porch, waved her apron, and the men knew it was time to come in from the fields to dinner.
It will be a long time before someone invents something that will replace that "old-time apron" that served so many purposes.
Jan 27, 2008
Jan 21, 2008
Tortuga Sea Return (by Marcie Barr)
Well every trip always has that special moment ... there is always a story.... and it just had not arrived yet.
As we stayed at the Tree Tops beach cabanas, we heard about Ernesto, a Mexican man that lives down the beach caretaking a casa for the owner who lives in Rome. He and his wife live in a very small living quarters in the bottom of the house. Jeffrey, the owner of Tree Tops, had been hatching sea turtle eggs from the beach and returning the small turtles to the sea.
Ernesto had arrived on the beach one day with a bucket of turtle eggs to try and sell to Jeffrey and he said he would buy them everyday, and in this way the two became friends. In a small portable plastic pool sea turtles were raised to return them to the sea. Each morning Ernesto would walk at 5AM to get the eggs before the poachers got to them. As friends do, Jeffrey taught Ernesto how to care for the turtles.
Jeffrey, after many years, could no longer give time to the turtles, for it meant changing the pool water with many 5-gallon buckets suspended from his shoulders from a stick. He passed on and entrusted the task to Ernesto and his wife. This man, who once gathered the eggs to sell to feed his family, now brings them to his small turtle care area and nurtures and protects them until it is time for their return to the sea. For this act from the heart they receive no monetary compensation. His family lives on $80 per week.
Well, as the story goes, we received a phone call that turtles were going to be released the day before we were to return to the States. Hurriedly we went down to the beach to the funky blue plastic swimming pool and there were small little sea turtles everywhere swimming around.We slowly counted them out, as is required by the license Ernesto has, and placed the tiny turtles into buckets. We then walked out to the beach and, standing in the pounding waves, we carefully placed the tiny turtles into the sea and watched them as they eagerly swam out to the open sea saying, I am sure, "Now this is a BIG pool!" The sunset was fire red as the little turtles disappeared into the surf.
It was a magical, experience of a lifetime to enable these small -- someday to be large -- creatures a helping hand into the sea. My heart soared as their little flippers moved so swiftly. What a gift to experience nature at such a level.
The next morning I returned to their humble home and thanked them for their work with the turtles. I told them how important their mission was and I appreciated the fact that they wholeheartedly embraced their choice, their task. I gave them a small amount of money to help with this cause and I was grateful to this man and his wife for contribution to the regeneration of the sea turtle.
Last year they released 20, 000 turtle back to the sea.
My wish is to find these people a Quad that Ernesto could use to search for turtle eggs. My hope is that this would be gifted to them in some way. This is the story of one man's effort to make a difference and it is the story of coming full circle. And so I will search the Internet for turtle foundations and I will share this story hoping it will hit a heart string and by some miracle this man will receive help to continue his cause.
Our lives are really one long story .... and I always love reading the next chapter....
Para Vida
Marcie
Jan 8, 2008
In Capable Hands
It seems like folks talk with such discouragement when the topic of the future generation comes up. They criticize their selfish, lazy need to be entertained. They say the youth of today lack sticktoitiveness.
Really.
A friend's daughter asked me to write her a letter of recommendation for her high school English class. As I was preparing the letter and reflecting on her accomplishments to date, it became apparent that Sara's life has not been privileged or struggle-free. She wrestled with ADHD and had great difficulty in school until she matured. Her hard-working single mom couldn't afford the typical perks of teenage life: disposable income, a car to drive, cool vacations. She had an in absentia father.
So for all those Chicken Littles who think the sky is falling, this little exercise left me feeling encouraged about the new generation.
Really.
A friend's daughter asked me to write her a letter of recommendation for her high school English class. As I was preparing the letter and reflecting on her accomplishments to date, it became apparent that Sara's life has not been privileged or struggle-free. She wrestled with ADHD and had great difficulty in school until she matured. Her hard-working single mom couldn't afford the typical perks of teenage life: disposable income, a car to drive, cool vacations. She had an in absentia father.
So for all those Chicken Littles who think the sky is falling, this little exercise left me feeling encouraged about the new generation.
I have known Sara for seventeen years, watching her grow from an inquisitive toddler into the fine woman she is today. She has persistently worked to develop the study habits to succeed in high school
Sara is a leader. It has been a joy watching her challenge herself both in and out of the classroom. Sara naturally gravitates to challenging coursework and excels at things she finds interesting. She is currently taking two AP courses and intends to sit for exams in those areas in the spring.
Socially, Sara has participated in the UOP summer music camp during the summer after 8th grade, followed by a stint with the Sacramento Junior Symphony for French Horn, followed by teaching herself clarinet so she could be in the high school marching band.
Sara spoke before the Japanese Consulate in
It’s hard to imagine Sara would be able to maintain a 3.9 grade point average with all of these outside interests, but she does. She also finds time to participate in the Japanese Club (as club President for two years), the Medical Careers Club and the Anime Club (as club President for two years).
Probably her most compelling focus is in the area of medicine. She enthusiastically studies and grasps complex medical terminology and procedures. She has been a volunteer at UC Davis
Is there anybody out there who really thinks she's not going to achieve her goal?
Jan 6, 2008
Three Hundred and Sixty Five Days
It's the new year now.Last year was 'The Year of Change' if you think it's possible to pin a theme on a moving target.
In 2007, I stepped out of the workforce and into a writer's world. I wrote and schemed and reflected every day. I explored the online world as friendships flourished and I discovered writers and other intellectuals traveling their own journeys.
But back on Earth, some family and friends worried and wondered what had become of the practical girl with workaholic tendencies who seemed to have just stopped short. They assumed depression or discouragement was the cause of such idle time. Why wasn't I volunteering or something? Others knew what I knew, that time on a journey is always well spent because time is more of a noun than a verb.
The last year, I traveled to Utah and Colorado and New Mexico to discover unexplored parts of myself. I cast off self-imposed boundaries and flew free, finding courage and insight in places I had to see to believe.
I shrugged off disappointments and patiently waited for God to lead me through helping my mother make her way from life to afterlife. He gave me the amazing gift of being able to throw my whole heart into my mother without her throwing it back. It brought a deeper, abiding love for my Aunt and Uncle, whom I admire and adore.
It brought a friendship with Texas Tim and his spirituality that deepened my faith. It brought Susan's friendship to an entirely new level, one that has enriched my life and challenged me. It brought me the knowledge that Colette's depth of love and friendship is more profound than I could have ever imagined.
It smoothed the transition from daughter to woman with a clearer perspective and balance. And all of these things together opened my whole heart so Randy could become the keeper of my dreams.
There is no doubt 2008 will be the joyous next chapter in the journey of three hundred and sixty five days that changed the course of my life.
Jan 2, 2008
Mirror Image
I was looking at pictures recently and thinking about wear and tear. I have been an average, attractive woman most of my life, but I tended my looks because I believed it would make me important and valuable to the man I loved.
When you're young, it's easy to do. With lots of energy and a ready smile, youth naturally showcases high cheekbones and tapered hips. I've loved the process of aging, it's made us all so much more interesting! I didn't ever grieve for my 20s or 30s or 40s because I always felt I gained more than I lost.
Recently, though, I've been discouraged at the overweight, menopause me I see in the mirror. I'm shocked, really, by how amazingly superficial it is to say to myself, that CAN'T be ME, but I do.
The ME I know springs into the day with enthusiasm and health, a young and vibrant and capable ME! And then the mirror reminds me, once again, that no matter how I feel the shell is showing wear.
Holding hands and watching TV, I look into his face and see the love reflected there and have a hunch he has come to know the ME I am inside. Being loved that way makes the rest gratefully easier to bear.
When you're young, it's easy to do. With lots of energy and a ready smile, youth naturally showcases high cheekbones and tapered hips. I've loved the process of aging, it's made us all so much more interesting! I didn't ever grieve for my 20s or 30s or 40s because I always felt I gained more than I lost.
Recently, though, I've been discouraged at the overweight, menopause me I see in the mirror. I'm shocked, really, by how amazingly superficial it is to say to myself, that CAN'T be ME, but I do.
The ME I know springs into the day with enthusiasm and health, a young and vibrant and capable ME! And then the mirror reminds me, once again, that no matter how I feel the shell is showing wear.
Holding hands and watching TV, I look into his face and see the love reflected there and have a hunch he has come to know the ME I am inside. Being loved that way makes the rest gratefully easier to bear.
Dec 26, 2007
The Merry Chase
Christmas this year was a symbolic event with dad and mom gone. Thoughts flitted in and out as preparations were made and invitations extended for our holiday gathering. Family and friends were invited -- I was so excited for it to arrive!
Christmas dishes were unpacked, the collection of Santas decorated shelves and counters, and the Nativity was set up on the table next to the fireplace: we were ready! I held my mother's stocking briefly and then tucked it into the box with the ornaments I no longer display. It made me wonder what other differences this holiday might bring.
A few days shy of Christmas, one of my sons had to rearrange time with his father. On the 24th, the eldest explained he wanted to spend Christmas day with his girlfriend's family and another anxiously watched the clock because his girl expected him later on Christmas eve. My sweetheart planned to spend Christmas afternoon with his grandchildren and my brother had Christmas dinner plans with a friend. And that is how I found myself alone on Christmas afternoon for the first time since ... since ... for the first time!
You know, it wasn't bad. Sophie and I hung around and napped, had some chicken soup and watched TV and napped some more. All I could think about was how much fun we had on Christmas eve! The loud and playful gifting and games and conversations lasted late into the night. When things finally began to wane, people gathered up their holiday spirit and headed back into their lives with a hug and a smile.
After our friends left on Christmas eve, I sat contentedly snuggled against Randy and marveled at change in all of its magnificent forms. Life seems to have arrived on our doorstep this year! It didn't resemble past Christmases, not at all, but I liked it just as well.
Next year, and in the years ahead, I will open the door and enjoy the merry chase!
Christmas dishes were unpacked, the collection of Santas decorated shelves and counters, and the Nativity was set up on the table next to the fireplace: we were ready! I held my mother's stocking briefly and then tucked it into the box with the ornaments I no longer display. It made me wonder what other differences this holiday might bring.
A few days shy of Christmas, one of my sons had to rearrange time with his father. On the 24th, the eldest explained he wanted to spend Christmas day with his girlfriend's family and another anxiously watched the clock because his girl expected him later on Christmas eve. My sweetheart planned to spend Christmas afternoon with his grandchildren and my brother had Christmas dinner plans with a friend. And that is how I found myself alone on Christmas afternoon for the first time since ... since ... for the first time!
You know, it wasn't bad. Sophie and I hung around and napped, had some chicken soup and watched TV and napped some more. All I could think about was how much fun we had on Christmas eve! The loud and playful gifting and games and conversations lasted late into the night. When things finally began to wane, people gathered up their holiday spirit and headed back into their lives with a hug and a smile.
After our friends left on Christmas eve, I sat contentedly snuggled against Randy and marveled at change in all of its magnificent forms. Life seems to have arrived on our doorstep this year! It didn't resemble past Christmases, not at all, but I liked it just as well.
Next year, and in the years ahead, I will open the door and enjoy the merry chase!
Charter Renewal Letter to the Board
Esteemed colleagues,
I am a new employee of this school but have worked in a public high school for fourteen years. Something is going on here that needs to be brought to your attention.
Students are thriving here. There are very few acts of aggression, very few thefts, and very few emotional outbursts. Students smile and walk with purpose through these halls, on their way from and to someplace they are proud to be. Their requests in the front often involve replacement IDs and inquiries about where to sign up for community service. I hear please and thank you all the time.
Attention is paid to these students and it clearly shows. You've witnessed a tiny bit of it at the Board Meetings. It's pretty great to watch parents and grandparents stand up alongside their students, teachers and principals and take time from their busy lives so you can hear first hand what a difference this school has made. Community business people and church leaders have joined the refrain: this school matters. Enthusiasm is high as we embrace the new concept of community culture and personal accountability.
I hope you see with unbiased eyes what is going on here. Teachers work hard and thrive. There is a depth of commitment here among the support staff. We work late and attend weekend events because we realize it isn't just teachers in the front of the room who carry the torch and it doesn't stop with the 4:00 bell.
I define success in terms of developing intelligent, independent thinkers who conduct themselves with integrity and honor. We are walking the walk, right here in the midst of a community where getting a hand up is rare. We listen and learn and dream and do. Isn't that really what Sacramento City Unified wants for all of its students?
Thank you for your time.
(The Charter was renewed for five years by a unanimous vote at the board meeting on Thursday, December 20, 2007.)
I am a new employee of this school but have worked in a public high school for fourteen years. Something is going on here that needs to be brought to your attention.
Students are thriving here. There are very few acts of aggression, very few thefts, and very few emotional outbursts. Students smile and walk with purpose through these halls, on their way from and to someplace they are proud to be. Their requests in the front often involve replacement IDs and inquiries about where to sign up for community service. I hear please and thank you all the time.
Attention is paid to these students and it clearly shows. You've witnessed a tiny bit of it at the Board Meetings. It's pretty great to watch parents and grandparents stand up alongside their students, teachers and principals and take time from their busy lives so you can hear first hand what a difference this school has made. Community business people and church leaders have joined the refrain: this school matters. Enthusiasm is high as we embrace the new concept of community culture and personal accountability.
I hope you see with unbiased eyes what is going on here. Teachers work hard and thrive. There is a depth of commitment here among the support staff. We work late and attend weekend events because we realize it isn't just teachers in the front of the room who carry the torch and it doesn't stop with the 4:00 bell.
I define success in terms of developing intelligent, independent thinkers who conduct themselves with integrity and honor. We are walking the walk, right here in the midst of a community where getting a hand up is rare. We listen and learn and dream and do. Isn't that really what Sacramento City Unified wants for all of its students?
Thank you for your time.
(The Charter was renewed for five years by a unanimous vote at the board meeting on Thursday, December 20, 2007.)
Dec 9, 2007
Trimming the Tree
I have given ornaments to the kids every year, something that represents a milestone or a new interest, places we've been and places we've lived. The original idea was for my sons to someday adorn their own trees with these ornaments that tells their story.
Our tree is a wonderfully large, lively assortment of Baby's First Christmases, ski trips, sports teams, first cars and travels. The ritual begins with an empty tree and boxes stacked on either side. One by one, memories emerge from the tissue: a football star, honor student, ski bum, little truck, Saguaro cactus, Disneyland train, graduation cap, beloved pet, and macaroni angel. Hand painted eggs and crystal snowflakes go high up in Loge, above wagging tails and inquisitive fingers. Darth Vader action figures and Gingerbread men bravely sit below. Box after box empties into our hearts the vivid memories of love that has defined and strengthened us.
I love to hold close these magical moments of the family in full action, and when I do I see again their hair fly in a soccer game or them scramble over a fire truck on a Scout outing. Ornaments have caught a bit of the sweetest and richest moments we have known.
It dawns on me now, as they adorn the tree and vie for attention, that for me the whole story is told in this way, all of it intermixed, my world. But for my sons, these ornaments are their starter pack, a prologue to a wonderful, eventful life ahead.
Merry Christmas, my loves.
Our tree is a wonderfully large, lively assortment of Baby's First Christmases, ski trips, sports teams, first cars and travels. The ritual begins with an empty tree and boxes stacked on either side. One by one, memories emerge from the tissue: a football star, honor student, ski bum, little truck, Saguaro cactus, Disneyland train, graduation cap, beloved pet, and macaroni angel. Hand painted eggs and crystal snowflakes go high up in Loge, above wagging tails and inquisitive fingers. Darth Vader action figures and Gingerbread men bravely sit below. Box after box empties into our hearts the vivid memories of love that has defined and strengthened us.
I love to hold close these magical moments of the family in full action, and when I do I see again their hair fly in a soccer game or them scramble over a fire truck on a Scout outing. Ornaments have caught a bit of the sweetest and richest moments we have known.
It dawns on me now, as they adorn the tree and vie for attention, that for me the whole story is told in this way, all of it intermixed, my world. But for my sons, these ornaments are their starter pack, a prologue to a wonderful, eventful life ahead.
Merry Christmas, my loves.
Dec 1, 2007
AIDS Day
Today is a pretty significant day for anyone who has lost or is losing someone they love to AIDS. It's an insidious disease, hard to diagnose, hard to fight, hard to survive. AIDS deeply touches us at the root of who we are and how we survive.
When frantic AIDS headlines splashed across the news and we thought it was a Gay disease, a friend of mine's father had the misfortune of needing surgery. It was the early 1980s, and during the procedure he needed two pints from the local blood bank. He was an attorney, a heterosexual family man and strong Catholic whose daughter had to call me one day to say he had AIDS.
How is that possible, I demanded? Her explanation was incredible: we hadn't responded quickly enough to protect the blood and it hadn't been screened for AIDS. Her dad: the quiet man who warmly hugged us as we dashed through their lives during our college dorm years; the husband who adopted three children to give them love and a better life. There was not even hope to cling to.
My friend and I had our babies in the mid '80s and often talked. I would cuddle my boys on my lap as she talked of placing hers in her father's arms as he became increasingly too weak to hold them. She was taking pictures.
I was afraid for her, for them, and shared my worries. How she could be sure AIDS wasn't transmitted casually? She told me she had to believe because she needed to see her children with their Grandfather as much as their Grandfather needed to have them there. I was inspired by her love for her father and ashamed for not knowing if I could make the same choice. That was the first face of AIDS I saw.
My best friend in high school was flambuoyantly, enthusiastically, wholly gay. He was warm and tender, smart, good looking, wonderfully funny, and a talented artist. There were months and years we were inseparable, and years after high school when we were not, but our friendship remained strong.
AIDS took him on in the 80s, and began its slow compromising of his immune system but it didn't take him down. A tecchie guy before it was in vogue, he made his living in a variety of ways until poor health got the better of him. He existed the last 10 years or so on Disability, participating in the Gay Olympics in Pool and bettering the lives of others in the ways that mattered. He passed away this year after fighting the good fight for 30 years.
It's nearly Christmas. What I want this year is for the most brilliant minds funded by the most wealthy countries to throw out the political barriers and channel their energies toward an international, results-driven eradication of AIDS and CANCER. All over the world, day by day, we are diminished until then. I Believe.
When frantic AIDS headlines splashed across the news and we thought it was a Gay disease, a friend of mine's father had the misfortune of needing surgery. It was the early 1980s, and during the procedure he needed two pints from the local blood bank. He was an attorney, a heterosexual family man and strong Catholic whose daughter had to call me one day to say he had AIDS.
How is that possible, I demanded? Her explanation was incredible: we hadn't responded quickly enough to protect the blood and it hadn't been screened for AIDS. Her dad: the quiet man who warmly hugged us as we dashed through their lives during our college dorm years; the husband who adopted three children to give them love and a better life. There was not even hope to cling to.
My friend and I had our babies in the mid '80s and often talked. I would cuddle my boys on my lap as she talked of placing hers in her father's arms as he became increasingly too weak to hold them. She was taking pictures.
I was afraid for her, for them, and shared my worries. How she could be sure AIDS wasn't transmitted casually? She told me she had to believe because she needed to see her children with their Grandfather as much as their Grandfather needed to have them there. I was inspired by her love for her father and ashamed for not knowing if I could make the same choice. That was the first face of AIDS I saw.
My best friend in high school was flambuoyantly, enthusiastically, wholly gay. He was warm and tender, smart, good looking, wonderfully funny, and a talented artist. There were months and years we were inseparable, and years after high school when we were not, but our friendship remained strong.
AIDS took him on in the 80s, and began its slow compromising of his immune system but it didn't take him down. A tecchie guy before it was in vogue, he made his living in a variety of ways until poor health got the better of him. He existed the last 10 years or so on Disability, participating in the Gay Olympics in Pool and bettering the lives of others in the ways that mattered. He passed away this year after fighting the good fight for 30 years.
It's nearly Christmas. What I want this year is for the most brilliant minds funded by the most wealthy countries to throw out the political barriers and channel their energies toward an international, results-driven eradication of AIDS and CANCER. All over the world, day by day, we are diminished until then. I Believe.
Nov 27, 2007
Techno-Mousetraps
I was thinking this morning about change and what a mixed bag it is. Good things like indoor plumbing, electricity, automobiles, technology and eradicating diseases like polio have enormous human impact. I suppose change has to stand on the shoulders of the past and use it for fuel, but it makes me sad to know the horse and buggy, Pony Express and slide rule become an asterisk in some history book.
'Follow me', Change says, 'There is a better way.'
Change isn't good by nature, it depends on how we direct it. I don't see it strengthening our society in our beating our best efforts without contemplating the toll. Do we really need this much entertainment-driven technology that isolates the society? If our best minds are focused on Gameboys and Blackberrys, who will carry on the American legacy of being the world's gritty survivors, inventors and innovators?
That bigger and better mousetrap everybody's focused on might just beat us at our own game.
'Follow me', Change says, 'There is a better way.'
Change isn't good by nature, it depends on how we direct it. I don't see it strengthening our society in our beating our best efforts without contemplating the toll. Do we really need this much entertainment-driven technology that isolates the society? If our best minds are focused on Gameboys and Blackberrys, who will carry on the American legacy of being the world's gritty survivors, inventors and innovators?
That bigger and better mousetrap everybody's focused on might just beat us at our own game.
Nov 20, 2007
Still
Sunday curls sunlight into the room as a fire gently plays its song. In pajamas and robes, we tuck into the sofa and laugh over a jumble of old movies, then and now. She loves you, ya ya ya.
The day before we'd been on Potrero Hill admiring The City at night, re-discovering Diego Rivera's frescoes at Coit Tower, reliving the Haight and Apollo Records, savoring steamed clams and Louie at the Clam House, walking the Giant moments at Pac Bell Park, taking the crookedest street that isn't Lombard, and celebrating 'The Thinker' at the Legion of Honor.
His home turf. As am I. This connection we have, these moments, make me forget what life was like before. My heart stands still.
The day before we'd been on Potrero Hill admiring The City at night, re-discovering Diego Rivera's frescoes at Coit Tower, reliving the Haight and Apollo Records, savoring steamed clams and Louie at the Clam House, walking the Giant moments at Pac Bell Park, taking the crookedest street that isn't Lombard, and celebrating 'The Thinker' at the Legion of Honor.
His home turf. As am I. This connection we have, these moments, make me forget what life was like before. My heart stands still.
Nov 12, 2007
Advanced Citizenship
I was surprised to learn a Presidential debate, a school board meeting and a movie raised the same question: Have we quit participating in our own lives?
Television and newspapers are not designed to cull from the herd a qualified Commander in Chief. They set up ratings-driven jousting competitions whose bias is to entertain. Education and enlightenment are byproducts. We already know the modern media takes no moral responsibility in its reporting. Why, then, would we expect it to provide a neutral and meaningful forum for in-depth discussions on significant issues?
It wasn't always that way. In the Nixon/Kennedy debates, television provided an incredible opportunity for the masses to evaluate the two platforms and candidates. Nowadays, it promotes itself. I don't think we should underestimate the impact of Reality shows here, no more than we should underestimate the effect violent video games have on violence. Reality shows have developed in us a taste for entertainment decision-making. These shows often vote off the most capable players, encouraging and empowering us to make snap judgments using superficial criteria. When it comes to picking a President, some of us use other tools to be informed on the issues, but most of us don't.
A school board meeting last week brought to light a concern about a middle school history book which inaccurately teaches about Islam. What is the problem, I wondered to myself, until this intelligent woman questioned the School Board on the disparity of teaching religion in a school that disallows its children the right to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. I listened to her voice crack with emotion as she wrestled with understanding the relevance of her son learning why Muslims face East as they kneel in prayer and explained the inaccuracies inherent in the textbook adopted by many of our nation's schools. I listened intently now as she cited passages describing the holy meaning of 'Jihad' without them mentioning the resulting terror that it has come to mean in the modern world. And when she pleaded with parents to listen to their children and become involved in their learning, I understood.
How incredible those words had to be said, that parents don't already actively participate. Education enlightens and promotes tolerance if it is impartial and balanced or it is propaganda. The danger isn't the topic as much as that we aren't paying attention.
I saw the movie Lions for Lambs yesterday. It was an interesting movie but not a comfortable experience. The movie explores the importance of recognizing and excising self-centeredness and complacency through dynamic participation. Whether we succeed or fail, the human experience dares us to engage in our world, to risk ourselves and take a stand.
I believe in education, as most of us do. I believe it is the key to diplomacy and taking the high road wherever possible. If we are to provide an even-handed foundation of philosophical enlightenment for our people, it needs to be taught in the schools. Along with a light dusting of religion where it pertains to human motives for significant historical events, we should teach what Socrates and Aristotle knew about advanced citizenship.
But we need to do more. We must demonstrate the personal responsibility each of us bears as Americans by actively and continually participating in the democratic process toward the goals for which we stand: One God. Indivisible. With Liberty and Justice for All.
It was Hillel who said: 'If I am not for myself, who will be? If I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?'
Indeed.
Television and newspapers are not designed to cull from the herd a qualified Commander in Chief. They set up ratings-driven jousting competitions whose bias is to entertain. Education and enlightenment are byproducts. We already know the modern media takes no moral responsibility in its reporting. Why, then, would we expect it to provide a neutral and meaningful forum for in-depth discussions on significant issues?
It wasn't always that way. In the Nixon/Kennedy debates, television provided an incredible opportunity for the masses to evaluate the two platforms and candidates. Nowadays, it promotes itself. I don't think we should underestimate the impact of Reality shows here, no more than we should underestimate the effect violent video games have on violence. Reality shows have developed in us a taste for entertainment decision-making. These shows often vote off the most capable players, encouraging and empowering us to make snap judgments using superficial criteria. When it comes to picking a President, some of us use other tools to be informed on the issues, but most of us don't.
A school board meeting last week brought to light a concern about a middle school history book which inaccurately teaches about Islam. What is the problem, I wondered to myself, until this intelligent woman questioned the School Board on the disparity of teaching religion in a school that disallows its children the right to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. I listened to her voice crack with emotion as she wrestled with understanding the relevance of her son learning why Muslims face East as they kneel in prayer and explained the inaccuracies inherent in the textbook adopted by many of our nation's schools. I listened intently now as she cited passages describing the holy meaning of 'Jihad' without them mentioning the resulting terror that it has come to mean in the modern world. And when she pleaded with parents to listen to their children and become involved in their learning, I understood.
How incredible those words had to be said, that parents don't already actively participate. Education enlightens and promotes tolerance if it is impartial and balanced or it is propaganda. The danger isn't the topic as much as that we aren't paying attention.
I saw the movie Lions for Lambs yesterday. It was an interesting movie but not a comfortable experience. The movie explores the importance of recognizing and excising self-centeredness and complacency through dynamic participation. Whether we succeed or fail, the human experience dares us to engage in our world, to risk ourselves and take a stand.
I believe in education, as most of us do. I believe it is the key to diplomacy and taking the high road wherever possible. If we are to provide an even-handed foundation of philosophical enlightenment for our people, it needs to be taught in the schools. Along with a light dusting of religion where it pertains to human motives for significant historical events, we should teach what Socrates and Aristotle knew about advanced citizenship.
But we need to do more. We must demonstrate the personal responsibility each of us bears as Americans by actively and continually participating in the democratic process toward the goals for which we stand: One God. Indivisible. With Liberty and Justice for All.
It was Hillel who said: 'If I am not for myself, who will be? If I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?'
Indeed.
Nov 5, 2007
Hallowed Ground
How many people acknowledge schools as organic life forms? Kids breathe life into the mortar and bricks, lawns and desks. It is the skeletal structure for the heart and intellect of those walking its halls, and they count on it.
Schools are an intermediate step to independence. Parents ease children faithfully into the schools, believing in the process, understanding the inherent risks of releasing their grasp. Like a mother bird nudging her chicks toward the edge of the nest, we are readying our children for flight. We know exploring the world educationally and socially is key to their success. We know they can't fly without wings and yet it is no less of a struggle to let go.
Some think schools are a microcosm of the world, but it's more than that. It's an alternate universe, a place where life extends beyond what children know at home. Here they are also known, protected and challenged to explore ideas and be groomed for life.
This is hallowed ground. The relationships and experiences developed in schools are every bit as significant as those at home. Schools take seriously their responsibility in creating an environment of safety and tolerance but they can't do it alone.
When little ones skip off to school, we fret over who they meet, what they learn, and if they are safe. Years pass and parents settle into the routine, skipping more open houses and academic events in middle and high school and relinquishing the chance to know who and what influences their children the most.
There's not much I like about Hillary Clinton but one thing she said is very true: it takes a village to raise a child. Leaving the raising of anyone's child to someone else is foolish. But when a family stands alongside school officials, bus drivers, teachers, ministers, community leaders, friends and neighbors, you've got yourself a winning team.
Schools are an intermediate step to independence. Parents ease children faithfully into the schools, believing in the process, understanding the inherent risks of releasing their grasp. Like a mother bird nudging her chicks toward the edge of the nest, we are readying our children for flight. We know exploring the world educationally and socially is key to their success. We know they can't fly without wings and yet it is no less of a struggle to let go.
Some think schools are a microcosm of the world, but it's more than that. It's an alternate universe, a place where life extends beyond what children know at home. Here they are also known, protected and challenged to explore ideas and be groomed for life.
This is hallowed ground. The relationships and experiences developed in schools are every bit as significant as those at home. Schools take seriously their responsibility in creating an environment of safety and tolerance but they can't do it alone.
When little ones skip off to school, we fret over who they meet, what they learn, and if they are safe. Years pass and parents settle into the routine, skipping more open houses and academic events in middle and high school and relinquishing the chance to know who and what influences their children the most.
There's not much I like about Hillary Clinton but one thing she said is very true: it takes a village to raise a child. Leaving the raising of anyone's child to someone else is foolish. But when a family stands alongside school officials, bus drivers, teachers, ministers, community leaders, friends and neighbors, you've got yourself a winning team.
Oct 25, 2007
Too Tired to Cook
I forgot. I forgot how great it feels to tap into energy sources with an exciting new job. I forgot the passion of a volunteer post. I forgot what being in love is like. I've been taking the hill at a run instead of pacing myself for the long haul.
Oops. One teensy assignment or meeting a month seems like a totally workable plan until it gains momentum and sucks everything into its vortex. That explains why I find myself daydreaming about a free day to rake the leaves and put out fall decorations...
You ever hear the rocks-in-the-jar analogy? According to internet lore, a college professor tries to illustrate a point by filling a wide mouth glass jar with river rocks. He asks his students if the jar is full. Yes, they say. He then adds to the jar a bucket of pea gravel, working it down between the rocks. How about now, he asks? Some students still say yes. Next, he pours sand in the jar which fills the spaces around the rock and gravel. And now? The students have caught on by now and remain silent. Lastly, the professor pours a pitcher of water to the brim.
What does this illustrate, he asks? One student suggests that no matter how full you think your life is, there's always room for more. But the professor answers, 'No. What it illustrates is you have to put the big rocks in first or you'll never get them in.'
Right on. The things we pick for our jars define who we are, the big rocks representing where we focus our energy. As we mature, we reorder our jars and rocks to reflect the changing people we are. I don't spend all my time devoted to the kids anymore, but they'll always be big rocks in my jar.
Lately, though, life has felt a little out of balance. I'll bet during the last reorg, I missed the down time rock. Gotta get back at that jar, as soon as I have time.
Oops. One teensy assignment or meeting a month seems like a totally workable plan until it gains momentum and sucks everything into its vortex. That explains why I find myself daydreaming about a free day to rake the leaves and put out fall decorations...
You ever hear the rocks-in-the-jar analogy? According to internet lore, a college professor tries to illustrate a point by filling a wide mouth glass jar with river rocks. He asks his students if the jar is full. Yes, they say. He then adds to the jar a bucket of pea gravel, working it down between the rocks. How about now, he asks? Some students still say yes. Next, he pours sand in the jar which fills the spaces around the rock and gravel. And now? The students have caught on by now and remain silent. Lastly, the professor pours a pitcher of water to the brim.
What does this illustrate, he asks? One student suggests that no matter how full you think your life is, there's always room for more. But the professor answers, 'No. What it illustrates is you have to put the big rocks in first or you'll never get them in.'
Right on. The things we pick for our jars define who we are, the big rocks representing where we focus our energy. As we mature, we reorder our jars and rocks to reflect the changing people we are. I don't spend all my time devoted to the kids anymore, but they'll always be big rocks in my jar.
Lately, though, life has felt a little out of balance. I'll bet during the last reorg, I missed the down time rock. Gotta get back at that jar, as soon as I have time.
Oct 21, 2007
Night Lights
I love working with clay. Just like life, it's unpredictable, malleable, poignant: that is, until all hell breaks loose.
A six week triple-header with a death, a broken engagement, and three sons in transition made it feel like the chips were truly down. The reckless life of a teen became a fortunate blur. How grateful I was not to be able to imagine the chilling days ahead. Moments strung themselves into an adrenaline-forced heal. I grew accustomed to the dark as we survived it, and don't I know there are lots who can't say the same.
It's empty in that place you never want to be. A support circle can warm the periphery but it's your life, not theirs, and only you can take it on. Probably the best moment I've ever known is seeing a hand reaching down to give me a boost up. It makes a need in me to be that hand for someone else.
Last weekend in the American Cancer Society Relay for Life training class, I sat listening to a mother share her thoughts about facing her daughter's cancer. Yes, yes, I kept thinking, having a child on drugs feels like that, too. She spoke of the shock, the terror, the sense of powerlessness, the anger and reconciliation, the fight of their lives.
They say what doesn't kill you makes you strong. It surely strengthened my faith. These days, I live in hope and gratefulness for this personalized God who turned on the night light during those really long nights. I am forever shaped by it.
A six week triple-header with a death, a broken engagement, and three sons in transition made it feel like the chips were truly down. The reckless life of a teen became a fortunate blur. How grateful I was not to be able to imagine the chilling days ahead. Moments strung themselves into an adrenaline-forced heal. I grew accustomed to the dark as we survived it, and don't I know there are lots who can't say the same.
It's empty in that place you never want to be. A support circle can warm the periphery but it's your life, not theirs, and only you can take it on. Probably the best moment I've ever known is seeing a hand reaching down to give me a boost up. It makes a need in me to be that hand for someone else.
Last weekend in the American Cancer Society Relay for Life training class, I sat listening to a mother share her thoughts about facing her daughter's cancer. Yes, yes, I kept thinking, having a child on drugs feels like that, too. She spoke of the shock, the terror, the sense of powerlessness, the anger and reconciliation, the fight of their lives.
They say what doesn't kill you makes you strong. It surely strengthened my faith. These days, I live in hope and gratefulness for this personalized God who turned on the night light during those really long nights. I am forever shaped by it.
Oct 9, 2007
It's All in the Details
I was thinking today about love and honor. Some of us have this built-in cloaking device when we're called on to make significant decisions that affects those we love. A crossroads seems to drift us in the direction of wondering how they will be impacted. They're not just important to us, they are an integral part of us. We don't always do the right thing, but we always try to make it right.
Or not.
A friend recently separated from his wife and offered to help move some things to her new place. A pretty nice gesture, I thought, and certainly one I wouldn't have made during my divorce. I admired him knowing the importance of maintaining an amicable relationship for the sake of future family functions.
He took great care in boxing up things she had asked for, wrapping and marking them, moving large items into the truck and heading across town. While there, he noticed a decorative stone in her garden inscribed with her name and another man's, dated October '06. Coming face to face with proof of her infidelity must have been a blow, even with a marriage winding down. They had separated in January '07.
That stone was probably a really small thing to her, something she didn't give a second thought about at the time. She's not even considering the impact it will have on her kids and grandkids when they read the inscription and do the math. No cloaking device here!
Fifty something years on this soil and still living life as though she's the only one in it. That just blows my mind.
Or not.
A friend recently separated from his wife and offered to help move some things to her new place. A pretty nice gesture, I thought, and certainly one I wouldn't have made during my divorce. I admired him knowing the importance of maintaining an amicable relationship for the sake of future family functions.
He took great care in boxing up things she had asked for, wrapping and marking them, moving large items into the truck and heading across town. While there, he noticed a decorative stone in her garden inscribed with her name and another man's, dated October '06. Coming face to face with proof of her infidelity must have been a blow, even with a marriage winding down. They had separated in January '07.
That stone was probably a really small thing to her, something she didn't give a second thought about at the time. She's not even considering the impact it will have on her kids and grandkids when they read the inscription and do the math. No cloaking device here!
Fifty something years on this soil and still living life as though she's the only one in it. That just blows my mind.
Oct 7, 2007
Efficient!
Graciously shared from onceuponasmile.blogspot.com
An efficiency expert concluded his lecture with a note of caution: "Don't try these techniques at home."
"Why not?" asked somebody from the audience."I watched my wife's routine at breakfast for years," the expert explained. "She made many separate trips between the fridge, stove, table and cabinets, often carrying only a single item at a time. One day I told her, "You're wasting too much time. Why don't you try carrying several things at once?"
"Did it save time?" the guy in the audience asked.
"Actually, yes," replied the expert. "It used to take her 20 minutes to make breakfast. Now I do it in ten."
Oct 1, 2007
Be of Good Will
Outlets and Superstores are all the rage. In Folsom and Redding and San Jose and Gilroy, they sprout up like garlic. Fremont even turned an unsuccessful car manufacturing plant into a SuperMall. I guess regular old everyday stores are just too banal and unimpressive.
When I walk into an outlet store, I'm on the prowl. There's an opportunity to find one-of-a-kind items, stylish but not big sellers, priced to move. In we trapse with the promise of finding the deal of the day and out we come either disillusioned at not finding dirt-floor pricing or delerious about the leather jacket that was 60% off PLUS on the 50%-off-the-lowest-markdown rack. Woo Hoo.
The concept of a Superstore is one-stop shopping: groceries and fishing tackle and clothing and nursery and photo studio all in one convenient spot.
That said, you can imagine my surprise at discovering a Goodwill Outlet Store and a Goodwill Superstore on my way home from work. That's right: the repository for cast-off home and hearth items has an outlet and superstore. I can't begin to imagine a Superstore Goodwill. Please tell me they don't sell health and beauty items alongside used bedding.
But an Outlet store? Are they in a rush to move last season's items off the shelves for new used items? I don't GET it. Goodwill has an abundance of one of a kind items priced to sell already. What do they have, displays designed to snag impulse buyers with staged used furniture and snappy skirt/jacket combos?
This is a Goodwill store. How ridiculous to feel like they have to dress up what provides a great service to the community. I've gotta admit, though, I got a kick out of the sign proclaiming it is 'Open to the Public.' Whew! For a second there, I thought I'd need a membership card.
When I walk into an outlet store, I'm on the prowl. There's an opportunity to find one-of-a-kind items, stylish but not big sellers, priced to move. In we trapse with the promise of finding the deal of the day and out we come either disillusioned at not finding dirt-floor pricing or delerious about the leather jacket that was 60% off PLUS on the 50%-off-the-lowest-markdown rack. Woo Hoo.
The concept of a Superstore is one-stop shopping: groceries and fishing tackle and clothing and nursery and photo studio all in one convenient spot.
That said, you can imagine my surprise at discovering a Goodwill Outlet Store and a Goodwill Superstore on my way home from work. That's right: the repository for cast-off home and hearth items has an outlet and superstore. I can't begin to imagine a Superstore Goodwill. Please tell me they don't sell health and beauty items alongside used bedding.
But an Outlet store? Are they in a rush to move last season's items off the shelves for new used items? I don't GET it. Goodwill has an abundance of one of a kind items priced to sell already. What do they have, displays designed to snag impulse buyers with staged used furniture and snappy skirt/jacket combos?
This is a Goodwill store. How ridiculous to feel like they have to dress up what provides a great service to the community. I've gotta admit, though, I got a kick out of the sign proclaiming it is 'Open to the Public.' Whew! For a second there, I thought I'd need a membership card.
Sep 23, 2007
Entitlement
There is a fierce debate over what constitutes risk, particularly financial risk, and whether it should be the responsibility of its citizens and government to step in when things unravel. The question I want answered is how lenders could allow greed to supersede their fiduciary responsibility for ensuring we are committing ourselves to a supportable loan.
We all know the needs-vs-wants war. A little child wants a giant double fudge sundae. It's evident the child can't eat it and it's expensive, but the child reeeeaaaalllllly wants it. Do her folks buy it anyway or steer her toward a humble single scoop dressed up with chocolate sauce and sprinkles, realizing the child will be satisfied with that?
America is all about options that are exceeded only by opportunities. The sky is the limit for those who know how to play the money game, and for those who don't there's credit. We play so fast and loose with credit, we've come to believe needs and wants are the same thing. We are conspicuous consumers.
Needs are things basic to survival, like food, shelter, clothing, health and welfare, education, freedom of religion, etc. Wants are everything else. Though we want our own home, we need shelter; though we want a car for school, we can get there by walking or using public transit.
Needs are things basic to survival, like food, shelter, clothing, health and welfare, education, freedom of religion, etc. Wants are everything else. Though we want our own home, we need shelter; though we want a car for school, we can get there by walking or using public transit.
Those who take sensible steps toward increasing financial responsibility are rarely told no. There's no mystique to it, really: they listen to the experts, scale their wants and needs, and establish more achievable goals. They respect the relationship between hard work and responsible spending which garners respect in the financial world.
Borrowers who are in the gotta-get world of materialism snub those cautioning them about risk. They feel a sense of entitlement for a house and you bet they are entitled to everything the rest of us are. They're entitled to take responsibility for the consequences of a loan or understand the terms - variables, negative am, interest only. They're entitled to believe once they're in, they can relieve the financial choke of being overextended by refinancing. But they're also 'entitled' to decide what they're going to do when things don't turn out as planned.
The couples in a $600K house, with a new Suburban and full size truck painted to match the boat in the drive are tenuously balanced on an income that can't sustain their lifestyle. It must be terrifying to lay down at night, knowing an emergency or job loss would plunge them into financial ruin.
My first house was a dump of a place that cost $484 a month, PITI. Sounds like a car payment now, but then it represented sixty percent of my income. It was an enormous struggle to make the payment. Six years of sweat equity later it was a pretty home, but learning to be disciplined on a budget eventually led to afford landscaping, and paint, and other improvements. That experience, and others since, shaped my philosophy of consumerism.
I get the difference between needs and wants. There's times I want want want and there's times I indulge myself, too. But I stop short of hurling myself into a financial chasm I cannot possibly scale. I don't expect people to bail me out if the investment doesn't yield what it expect. So I say, let the chips fall where they may as long as their misery doesn't take down the entire financial structure of our country with 'em.
Life is too short to dance on the point of a pin.
Borrowers who are in the gotta-get world of materialism snub those cautioning them about risk. They feel a sense of entitlement for a house and you bet they are entitled to everything the rest of us are. They're entitled to take responsibility for the consequences of a loan or understand the terms - variables, negative am, interest only. They're entitled to believe once they're in, they can relieve the financial choke of being overextended by refinancing. But they're also 'entitled' to decide what they're going to do when things don't turn out as planned.
The couples in a $600K house, with a new Suburban and full size truck painted to match the boat in the drive are tenuously balanced on an income that can't sustain their lifestyle. It must be terrifying to lay down at night, knowing an emergency or job loss would plunge them into financial ruin.
My first house was a dump of a place that cost $484 a month, PITI. Sounds like a car payment now, but then it represented sixty percent of my income. It was an enormous struggle to make the payment. Six years of sweat equity later it was a pretty home, but learning to be disciplined on a budget eventually led to afford landscaping, and paint, and other improvements. That experience, and others since, shaped my philosophy of consumerism.
I get the difference between needs and wants. There's times I want want want and there's times I indulge myself, too. But I stop short of hurling myself into a financial chasm I cannot possibly scale. I don't expect people to bail me out if the investment doesn't yield what it expect. So I say, let the chips fall where they may as long as their misery doesn't take down the entire financial structure of our country with 'em.
Life is too short to dance on the point of a pin.
Sep 21, 2007
Creating Moral Hazard
Has Fed Risked Creating Moral Hazard?
By David Wessel, 9/20/07, WSJ
Federal Reserve Chairman Ben Bernanke and his colleagues clearly explained why they cut interest rates this week by one-half percentage point: "To help forestall some of the adverse effects on the broader economy that might otherwise arise from the disruptions in financial markets."
But a vocal chorus is complaining that Bernanke & Co., instead, just bailed out a bunch of greedy speculators, imprudent lenders and short-sighted homebuyers who got too-good-to-be-true mortgages."This is like adding Jack Daniels to the AA-meeting punch bowl," emailed Rob Brantley, a Washington consultant. "The market's reaction provides proof."
"I plan to now sell my house and upgrade to a $4 million or $5 million home in Highland Park. If I find I can't meet my mortgage payments, will Mr. Bernanke bail me out?" Cheryl Kawalsky emailed from Dallas. "Or, is that type of American socialism reserved for hedge-fund managers, investment bankers, and private-equity moguls? The truth is, in America today, I feel like I'm living in a huge house overrun by children. All the adults have left town."
Some of this skepticism is implicit criticism of the Fed's reading of the economy. If one is convinced the economy will muddle through recession or painfully slow growth, then cutting rates is somewhere between unnecessary and unwise because it risks stoking inflationary embers.
That appears to be a risk Mr. Bernanke was willing to take. The more provocative attacks -- which come both from left and right --accuse the Fed of encouraging people to take foolish risks by cutting rates now to protect them from harm. This is known as creating moral hazard, a notion that dates back more than a century and holds that offering insurance encourages people to take risks they otherwise would avoid.
"With automobile-collision insurance, one is more likely to venture forth on an icy night," Harvard's Richard Zeckhauser puts it in the Concise Encyclopedia of Economics. "Federal deposit insurance made savings and loans more willing to take on risky loans. Federally subsidized flood insurance encourages citizens to build homes on flood plains. ... Products covered under optional warranties tend to get abused, as do autos that are leased with service contracts.
The worries are, in part, practical. "Providing [after-the-fact] insurance for risk behavior ... encourages excessive risk-taking and sows the seeds of a future financial crisis," the governor of the Bank of England, Mervyn King, said with conviction Sept. 12, a few days before he and the British government had to move from the sidelines to fight a bank run.
But there also is an ethical dimension to the criticism, a righteous indignation at speculative excess. "There's a definite feeling, when the crisis comes along, that these un-Christian people are getting their comeuppance," says Brad Delong, an economic historian at the University of California, Berkeley. He cites British thinker Edmund Burke in 1790, bemoaning the ascendance of financiers following the French Revolution, who said, "The age of chivalry is gone; that of sophisters, economists, and calculators has succeeded, and the glory of Europe is extinguished forever."
Lower short-term interest rates do help banks that borrow in the short term and lend for the long term. They help anyone who holds debt securities, since their value increases when interest rates come down. No doubt some speculators, greedy investors and imprudent borrowers profited by the Fed's rate cut. But there are moments -- and this may be one -- where one can worry too much about moral hazard. As Fed officials have quipped: We want to discourage people from smoking in bed, but do we want to prevent the fire department from putting out fires caused by such carelessness?
Or, to paraphrase Charles Kindleberger, the late Massachusetts Institute of Technology economic historian: In a speculative boom, one wants to stir doubt as to whether the lender of last resort will step in. But when the bust comes, one certainly wants him to show up.
At times like these, it is the Fed's job to make sure the financial system functions. The Fed shouldn't cut rates just to protect investors or lenders who made stupid bets they didn't fully understand that only made sense when credit was cheap and rising home prices were thought to be inevitable. But neither should the Fed hesitate to cut rates or otherwise intervene when financial panic imperils otherwise sound investments and businesses; otherwise, people will be reluctant to make such sound investments in the future and the overall economy will suffer.
At times like these, there is a danger that a principled stand to punish the profligate could inflict severe economic pain on millions of innocent bystanders. As Mr. King put it in his Sept. 12 statement: "There must be strong grounds for believing that 'central-bank inaction' would lead to economic costs on a scale sufficient to ignore the moral hazard. When there are such strong grounds, failure to act is wrong, no matter what the critics say."
By David Wessel, 9/20/07, WSJ
Federal Reserve Chairman Ben Bernanke and his colleagues clearly explained why they cut interest rates this week by one-half percentage point: "To help forestall some of the adverse effects on the broader economy that might otherwise arise from the disruptions in financial markets."
But a vocal chorus is complaining that Bernanke & Co., instead, just bailed out a bunch of greedy speculators, imprudent lenders and short-sighted homebuyers who got too-good-to-be-true mortgages."This is like adding Jack Daniels to the AA-meeting punch bowl," emailed Rob Brantley, a Washington consultant. "The market's reaction provides proof."
"I plan to now sell my house and upgrade to a $4 million or $5 million home in Highland Park. If I find I can't meet my mortgage payments, will Mr. Bernanke bail me out?" Cheryl Kawalsky emailed from Dallas. "Or, is that type of American socialism reserved for hedge-fund managers, investment bankers, and private-equity moguls? The truth is, in America today, I feel like I'm living in a huge house overrun by children. All the adults have left town."
Some of this skepticism is implicit criticism of the Fed's reading of the economy. If one is convinced the economy will muddle through recession or painfully slow growth, then cutting rates is somewhere between unnecessary and unwise because it risks stoking inflationary embers.
That appears to be a risk Mr. Bernanke was willing to take. The more provocative attacks -- which come both from left and right --accuse the Fed of encouraging people to take foolish risks by cutting rates now to protect them from harm. This is known as creating moral hazard, a notion that dates back more than a century and holds that offering insurance encourages people to take risks they otherwise would avoid.
"With automobile-collision insurance, one is more likely to venture forth on an icy night," Harvard's Richard Zeckhauser puts it in the Concise Encyclopedia of Economics. "Federal deposit insurance made savings and loans more willing to take on risky loans. Federally subsidized flood insurance encourages citizens to build homes on flood plains. ... Products covered under optional warranties tend to get abused, as do autos that are leased with service contracts.
The worries are, in part, practical. "Providing [after-the-fact] insurance for risk behavior ... encourages excessive risk-taking and sows the seeds of a future financial crisis," the governor of the Bank of England, Mervyn King, said with conviction Sept. 12, a few days before he and the British government had to move from the sidelines to fight a bank run.
But there also is an ethical dimension to the criticism, a righteous indignation at speculative excess. "There's a definite feeling, when the crisis comes along, that these un-Christian people are getting their comeuppance," says Brad Delong, an economic historian at the University of California, Berkeley. He cites British thinker Edmund Burke in 1790, bemoaning the ascendance of financiers following the French Revolution, who said, "The age of chivalry is gone; that of sophisters, economists, and calculators has succeeded, and the glory of Europe is extinguished forever."
Lower short-term interest rates do help banks that borrow in the short term and lend for the long term. They help anyone who holds debt securities, since their value increases when interest rates come down. No doubt some speculators, greedy investors and imprudent borrowers profited by the Fed's rate cut. But there are moments -- and this may be one -- where one can worry too much about moral hazard. As Fed officials have quipped: We want to discourage people from smoking in bed, but do we want to prevent the fire department from putting out fires caused by such carelessness?
Or, to paraphrase Charles Kindleberger, the late Massachusetts Institute of Technology economic historian: In a speculative boom, one wants to stir doubt as to whether the lender of last resort will step in. But when the bust comes, one certainly wants him to show up.
At times like these, it is the Fed's job to make sure the financial system functions. The Fed shouldn't cut rates just to protect investors or lenders who made stupid bets they didn't fully understand that only made sense when credit was cheap and rising home prices were thought to be inevitable. But neither should the Fed hesitate to cut rates or otherwise intervene when financial panic imperils otherwise sound investments and businesses; otherwise, people will be reluctant to make such sound investments in the future and the overall economy will suffer.
At times like these, there is a danger that a principled stand to punish the profligate could inflict severe economic pain on millions of innocent bystanders. As Mr. King put it in his Sept. 12 statement: "There must be strong grounds for believing that 'central-bank inaction' would lead to economic costs on a scale sufficient to ignore the moral hazard. When there are such strong grounds, failure to act is wrong, no matter what the critics say."
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