A WORKINGMAN'S MESSAGE OF HOPE

Hi again, folks. As I’m writing this, it’s early New Year’s Eve 2008 and I’m listening to a song whose lyrics begin:

There are people in this country who work hard every day,
Not for fame or fortune do they strive.
But the fruits of their labor are worth more than their pay
And it’s time a few of them were recognized

Hello Detroit auto workers. Let me thank you for your time.
You work a forty hour week for a living, just to send it on down the line.

Hello Pittsburgh steel mill workers.
You work a forty hour week for a living, just to send it on down the line.
This is for the one who swings the hammer driving home the nails…
Or the one behind the counter, ringing up the sales.
For the one who fights the fires, the one who brings the mail,
For everyone who works behind the scenes.

You can see them every morning, in the factories and the fields.
In the city streets and the quiet country towns,
Working together, like the spokes inside a wheel,
They keep this country turning around.

There are, right now, quite a few of us who recently did that but now don’t pack a lunch pail, punch a timecard and hit the line. I’m one of them. Sometimes, despite our best efforts, we get overwhelmed by how slim the margin between a roof and a cold night’s sky seems.

We wonder how much we’re going to have to give up or let go of in order to keep from hitting the streets with a backpack and a prayer. For some of us, the hours between two a.m. and dawn are the hardest.

It’s tough for a lot of us to ask for help. We were raised to believe that a man’s not a man unless he’s got a job and can take care of his own. We’ve done a lot of different kinds of work ~ some of it real dangerous ~ to remain true to that definition of what a man is or should be. Some of us, thank God, though, have also survived the narrow interpretation of it.

I’ve personally had over these holidays, some cause to reflect on the other ways that a working stiff ‘takes care of his own’. We still get asked for advice about stuff; to fix things; evaluate a resume; deal with a late night panic attack; sit in on discussions and give my opinion. Stay up late at night with a troubled friend. Help fix a leaky roof. Share resources with a few others and sometimes to be there to celebrate the small victories over apparent adversity.

Whether the line needs us at the moment, they will again eventually. This isn’t going to last, no more than any other recession has. We’ve got a lot of people working on this and it’ll get solved. And whether the line needs us at the moment, our family, friends, neighbors, community and country still do. Nothing ever changes about that because it’s the legacy of a working stiff. It’s one of those immutable constants.

I’ve also studied some on the history of this country and been through about 60 years of it now myself. We, as Americans, are not always the brightest stars in the galaxy, no matter how much we’d like to believe otherwise. We’re the authors of about half of our own misery and sometimes we’re so stone flipping foolish we embarrass even the most patient and understanding of our gods.

We also, however, have a remarkable penchant for seeing the light and correcting for course. We elevate ourselves to the 222nd floor of the Tower of Babel, get knocked off by a strong breeze, get real sheepish about it and start working on being a little more humble and in touch with the rest of the sentient life on this planet.

We’re going to do that now too. Americans are insufferably arrogant at times but we are not stupid, nor are we lacking in compassion, decency and integrity. We just occasionally need a rough jolt to snap us back to a reality that is even older than the universe.

We’ve got some work to do, folks. It’s time we best got on then, eh?

Rusty

FROM SNOWBOUND SEATTLE

My Street

Seattle, Washington

Day 1

"The Storm of 2008"

Photo by Merritt Scott Miller

Well, hello again, from snowbound Seattle. It’s been real fun here the last week or so and I imagine a lot of you in other parts of the States, in Canada, the U.K., France and California can relate to that.

It doesn’t snow here that often and this is the most ambitious I’ve seen in the 18 years I’ve been here. There were two memorable ones before that but they were single storm occasions. We’ve been slammed by three so far and snow’s expected until Saturday.

We’re built on seven hills, two lakes and a bay. To our backs are the Cascade Mountains. To the west, across Elliot Bay and our portion of the Puget Sound, there are the Olympic Mountains of the peninsula of the same name. Beyond them lies the vast and mighty North Pacific. North and south, along the I-5 corridor, which runs from the Canadian Border to the Mexican, there is the Fraser River Valley of British Columbia, a funnel for the Chinooks which barrel in from the Arctic. To the south, the mighty Columbia River and then Oregon beyond.

I was partly raised in high mountain snow country and I’ve spent several winters deep in the Cascades, once in a rough timber and plywood shack with a corrugated tin roof and a Fraser potbelly stove for heat. No electricity, running water or telephone. Two Coleman lanterns and a Coleman stove for backup. An am/fm radio for company and the nearest town, Canyonville (pop. 500) about an hour away. I had a 1984 VW Bug and I worked as a ranch hand.

I’m no stranger to this kind of weather and I admire those who can adapt to it as well as my neighbors have. Something happened the other day that made me laugh and admire them both.

Our local NBC affiliate, KING5 (link) showed a predawn clip of a Seattle Police cruiser, with chains, make two unsuccessful attempts to drive up one of our seven hills. I admired the dedication involved but then I got to thinking. (Yep, you’re way ahead of me.) Burglars watch television too. And some of them come from places way colder than this.

Nope, the crime wave never happened, which tells me that even a burglar wouldn’t go out in weather like this. I’m from a family line that produced a couple of them and that is saying something. Trust me on this, folks.

It’s hit us hard, too. In some ways, but not in all. Our emergency services were prepared for this and I’ve got nothing but the highest of praise for them, my dig at the Seattle Police Department notwithstanding.

I live across a ship canal from Seattle, in the University (of Washington) District. Our mercantile establishment has not shut down and though we may not be able to drive to a mall or to one of the prestigious department stores downtown, we can still make a good Christmas and now we have another reason for cutting back besides being either laid off, let go or worried about our jobs. We can blame it on the weather. And knowing us, we probably will.

As of this writing, Sea-Tac Airport is closed, stranding thousands of people. Considering the weather where the majority of these flights come from or connect to, that’s not such a bad thing. Those folks in that airliner in Denver were very, very, very lucky. Nothing’s flying in and out of Seattle but nothing’s crashing and burning either.

Our buses still run, though not always on schedule. But it’s better than a couple of storms past when they ran on the freeway during a blizzard and then had to pull off finally and give passengers a choice between walking to a place where they could be picked up or waiting in a cold bus.

Nobody’s going to lose their job for not showing up to work or being late. We’re host to more than several international corporate operations here, a dozen reputable colleges and universities, some of the finest medical research and hospital care facilities in the world. Those who work at these places know how important it is to be there. Those who employ them know how important it is not to lose them. Adjustments are made.

It’s likely that before this is all over, this will also be our state’s Katrina, when it’s taken into consideration the massive flooding we experienced behind torrential rains in October and November. But I doubt it will be publicized as such and I would be very surprised if Governor Christine appeals to the federal government for help.

Despite all the industrialization Boeing and the Second World War, and Weyerhaeuser and Microsoft have brought to Seattle, we still haven’t been a city long enough to acquire the sophistication of New York, the Dixie charm of Atlanta, the totally rowdy and go for it attitude of Dallas-Ft. Worth, the dedication to the heartland of Chicago, the gritty glitz and glamour of Los Angeles and the "what box do you want me to think beyond now?" attitude of San Francisco.

We are, however, a small megalopolis which has more to teach about "community" than it has to learn. I suspect most of you can profoundly relate to that.

Take care, stay well and God Bless.

Rusty

TWO GENTLEMEN FROM ILLINOIS: Springfield v. The Space Needle

Space Needle from Capitol Hill

Seattle, Washington

Photo by MS(R)M

Well, first, I want to thank those of you who responded to my invitation for a forum on hard times. I’m waiting now to see how much of that input is getting out there through the popular media and I’m very encouraged by what I see in these regards.

I’m also pleased with what President-Elect Obama has done so far. He’s keeping it simple and non-partisan. He’s choosing the best people for the job. I’m also enjoying his relationship with the media. He’s got a sense of humor and doesn’t mind making jokes at his own expense. It reminds me of what Grandpa Seamus used to say about paying attention to the wolf who shows its throat. I hasten to add that I see nothing predatory about Barack Obama. I admire his strength and a self-confidence. I also appreciate that he doesn’t talk up or down to me.

He seems, as well, to understand ~ perhaps better than any of us ~ that a several score percentage point victory in this election does not mean he has the mandate of the entire nation. I sense he knows full well that there are people waiting for him to falter, stumble and fall on his butt. I don’t believe that keeps him up late at night, though. He’s got too much to do to worry about failing. He’s also got a dynamite significant other and a real nice family. He’s probably been vetted more thoroughly than any president-elect since the McCarthy era and I appreciate not having to worry about surprises up the road. The man’s honest.

Apparently that’s not true of the Illinois governor Rod Blagojevich and as bad as I feel about that, having friends back there, I don’t imagine I’m nearly as outraged, embarrassed, ashamed and generally extremely PO’d as they are. What got me was the sheer arrogance of the man. Chicago may yet be the Land of Daly but the capital of Illinois is Springfield, the Land of Lincoln. The fact that he joins a short list of crooked state chief executives probably doesn’t make the average Illinoian feel real good either. It’s been suggested that those who live in the Land of Lincoln have become cynical and ‘grease’ whatever palm which requires it. I, for one, don’t buy it. Not for a country heartbeat.

It’s also ironic, considering where I live. We’ve got several Port of Seattle employees up on fraud charges now and several executives have resigned. It didn’t go on very long and when it was discovered, it was acted on swiftly. One of our elected officials said today on the news, with reference to the Illinois governor scandal, "We don’t let that kind of thing happen in Seattle."

Well, no, but we’ve had Rodney King Verdict marches, the WTO riots, anti-war protests and marches, gay pride demonstrations and parades, et al ad human rights. For all our reputation as being Birkenstocks-and-wool-socks-in-winter-laid back, we’re just as reactive as anywhere else in the country.

We’re a community of busybodies and we pay attention, collectively, to everything that goes on. That’s also why it takes us longer to get things done. EVERYBODY not only has an opinion, it seems like everybody’s got a mouth to go with it. Nice part about that is, though, once we decide, it’s pretty much then just a matter of getting it done.

We’re also extremely patriotic. It generally rains on the Fourth of July but that has never compromised the fireworks. Primordial humans may have invented fire. Seattleites some while back learned the value of waterproof matches.
Until next time, then eh? And thanks for the ear.

Rusty

INVITATION TO A READERSHIP FORUM ON HARD TIMES; AND HOW TO SURVIVE THEM AND GROW

Well, hi again. I’ve been laying a bit low these past couple of weeks, trying to figure out which way the winds are blowing and taking Grandpa Seamus’ advice about keeping my butt out of the breeze in the process.

Actually, Seamus himself wasn’t very good at that which is probably why, among other things, he got run out of Ireland after Bolland’s Mill and encouraged everywhere else to "go west, young man, PLEASE go west" until he got to some high mountains that were just as ornery as he was. And neighbours just as colourful. But I’m third generation and it’s been thinned out some. Mostly. Maybe. Okay, you’re not buying that. I digress.

Like some of you, I got laid off back late last summer and the job I had before that lasted five years. I’ve also worked at Boeing. As in a lot of other places right now, even temp work is hard to find in Seattle. I understand why and even though I’m behind in the rent, so does my landlady. I’ve got enough unemployment coming in now to pay the rent, just not enough to catch up.

She also knows I spend a lot more than 40 hours a week trying to get back on the Hit Parade. She and her sister own 17 buildings and a lot of tenants won’t be able to make their rent at all. They’re international, these two, and their native country’s going through what the rest of us are.

I think maybe I’m luckier in some ways because I’ve survived lean times before. When a federal judge up here closed down old growth to protect the spotted owl, I ended up losing a three bedroom mobile and fourteen acres of land. Then I moved into a city of almost a million people where I only knew one. It hasn’t been real glamorous but I have learned how to adjust my outgo to my income. Mostly.

I also grew up with good role models in that regard, as well. I remember one time in the early Fifties when times got lean on the ranch and the weather was favouring the trout. There was a lot of work to do around the place and Seamus wasn’t the most patient person to begin with.

We ended up going out fishing one Sunday morning after church, which was unusual because generally going before was Seamus’ way of getting out of going at all. By the time we got to the ravine where the fishing was best, it was noon. And while I took up position downstream and at the bottom of the ravine, instead of baiting up and casting, Seamus tied a blasting cap to a rock, leaned over and tossed it into the creek.

I got a little wet and the ground shook a bit. But between us, we scooped up enough German Brown and Rainbow to get through most of a winter. He admitted it wasn’t very sporting but it did put food on the table. And he doubted it troubled the trout nearly as much as it apparently still bothered some other folks.

And I’ve been fortunate to live among whole communities who reacted, in spirit if not also in fact, like that too during hard times. Reflecting on it, it seems to me they all had a couple, three things in common.

First, facing common adversity, they put their political, religious, economic and other differences aside. (For the most part.) They admitted, both to themselves and to one another, that they were scared of losing it all and trying desperately to figure out to hang on to at least some of it.

Once the figurative and sometimes literal hugging and crying together was over, they got organised. They looked at needs and resources and got a game plan behind every contribution every single member of their family, neighbourhood and community could make, each in their own way.

I’m talking about the kid who rides their bike delivering papers over nine square miles before school because suddenly two incomes is not enough. And the teenager who spends afternoons bucking hay on their uncle’s ranch because said uncle got hurt in a tractor accident and the mortgage can’t survive a bad harvest.

I’m talking the Iraqi war veteran who sees more hell than any human being should, coming back to a nation in chaos. And the UAW line worker who, for twenty years, busted their butt, sometimes double shifting and working on holidays so their kids could get a college education and not have to work probably the toughest job there is alongside coal mining, commercial fishing, construction, farming, logging, ranching and steel working. (in alphabetical order)

I’m talking the ninety year old great grandparents who survived the Depression, a World War, several protracted conflicts and more than one recession, working to exhaustion and falling asleep praying to the Almighty for the strength and courage to make it so all those they helped bring into this world wouldn’t have to keep on going through it.

I’m also talking the company president who cares about their people and needs to make some tough and lonely decisions that get passed down to the line boss, the foreman, the superintendent, the editor. We’re talking a lot of ‘bosses here. You make the best decision you can in the time you’ve got to make it. But no matter how good or bad the call, it stays with you forever.

These folks I’ve had the privilege of knowing during hard times also didn’t spend a lot of time blaming their elected officials for it. Out here, in the Pacific Northwest, we tend to look at their job as we do our own. Because we’re a region of mostly small communities often isolated in winter, we tend to elect our neighbours.

So we’re on a first name basis with folks like Governor Chris, whose daughter I ran into at the post office the other day, and U.S. Senators Maria and Patti. It sometimes takes things a lot longer to get done here but that’s because our elected officials are taking constituency input. If they don’t do their job, same thing happens to them as happens to us if we don’t do ours.

Perhaps most importantly, these folks who not only survived but came out ahead, saw this as a chance to reinvent and prosper in different ways. They had the daring to consider that just maybe the machine’s breaking down for a reason. And maybe it’s because human beings have been sacrificing their health and sanity far too long for a lifestyle that is toxic to every living species on this planet, including them.

Maybe it’s time to downscale and retool. We’ve been a power-driven society since the dawn of the Industrial Age and in our need for validation, our need to keep up with the Joneses, we’ve laid waste to practically every other people and every other species who sometimes not so quietly suggested there was a better and far more time-tested way. And when it comes right down to it, I don’t think we’ve been real kind to one another, have we, gang?

Well, Grandpa Seamus had a mouth on him and I guess I do too. I’ve got some ideas about how we can not only survive this but come out happier and kinder to one another and the planet. But my voice and that of an unreconstructed Irish rebel who should have been gagged, roped to a chair, stood up against a wall and shot by a British firing squad at the "tender" age of 17, is certainly not near enough. We need to open this blog to input from you, the readership, in these regards.

Granted, there are only a hundred of you now but you’re a very special one hundred. And each of you knows a few more like you. You’re spread out from one end of North America to the other and in the UK and France. You’re a brain trust to be reckoned with and then some. Each and everyone of you.

In short, folks, you rock. So let’s get those cards and letters coming in, gang. (And yep, Judah, that means you can get creative with tofu. Just don’t try to sneak any broccoli or cauliflower in mine.)

Those folks I talked about, who survived hard times and came out ahead? They’re you yahoos.

Folks, we have a chance to make a difference. I’ll look forward to hearing from you. Take care, stay well and God Bless.

Rusty

VETERANS DAY 2008

A VETERAN REFLECTS

I am a veteran but I do not believe that wars are good or even necessary. I am, however, proud of every human being on the face of this planet who died in the service of family, neighbours, community, cause and nation. Honoring those who gave the ultimate sacrifice should not, and never has, respected demographics. It is said that history is written by the victor. I suggest that it is remembered by all.

I am glad we no longer blame warriors for wars. I came back to a nation which had apparently forgotten that. I saw what it did to those who fought the hardest and the best. According to one Veterans Administration study I read, 50,000 veterans of my generation’s war killed themselves after they got back. That’s almost as many as who died in battle or from battle-related causes. That seems so incredibly unfair to me, even some 35 years later.

It’s taken me a long time to live down the guilt I feel for the death I helped bring to civilians as well as "enemy" military. It took a Vietnamese University of Washington student whose father was in the North Vietnamese Army and who visited here and welcomed me like a comrade in arms, to let go of a measure of what has haunted me down almost four decades now.

"Rusty, soldiers do not make wars. They only fight them."

I leave you with a poem I wrote 37 years ago and updated at the end after two of the young people in my life served in Operation Desert Storm. I leave you, as well, with a final heartfelt plea, because as Americans, you can do this.

ATONEMENT

It was Christmas Eve and even the Buddhists were turning out.
While their former European masters gathered in basement pubs
to dance and wassail, while from their towers beyond,
Red Chinese border guards smiled knowingly.
We're just come off the gunline and I was tired of killing.
I'd known even then that a single death buries a thousand dreams.
My ship alone snuffed out Paradise several times over.
I watched it all again on a Hong King ferry plying the harbour to Kowloon.
White mingled with yellow' Confucius with Commodore Perry;
the Mings with MacBeth and the Mandarins with Richard the Nix.
Back and forth I rode, sometimes forward, other times aft,
but mostly amidships, like Gulliver in an artillery barrage.
Each trip, a few more of my own dreams died.
It was an act of penance which continued until another gulf
and another war gave both Jesus and God
something else to regret.

Hong Kong
Christmas 1970

Please, put an end to this madness.

The Spirit of '76 - Part II?

EVERY FLIPPING TIME I THINK THE LIMITS OF WEIRDNESS HAVE BEEN REACHED….

Hi again, folks. You know, just about the time I think the parameters of weirdness have been reached, I get something in the email which gives me some pause to reevaluate that assumption. I don’t normally quote emails but since this one was forwarded to me by one of the NSJ readership, I’m making a hopefully rare exception.. And also for the record? I’m glad she thought enough of me to pass it along.

Anyhow and stuff, the Weirdness Bar got raised another couple of inches. Or so. And stuff. Soooo, here’s the letter and my response . Happy Friday, gang.

Fellow Business Executives:

As the CFO of this business that employees 140 people, I have resigned myself to the fact that Barrack Obama will be our next President, and that our taxes and government fees will increase in a BIG way.To compensate for these increases, I figure that the Clients will have to see an increase in our fees to them of about 8% but since we cannot increase our fees right now due to the dismal state of our economy, we will have to lay off six of our employees instead.

This has really been eating at me for a while, as we believe we are family here and I didn't know how to choose who will have to go.So, this is what I did. I strolled thru our parking lot and found 8 Obama bumper stickers on our employees' cars and have decided these folks will be the first to be laid off. I can't think of a more fair way to approach this problem.

These folks wanted change; I gave it to them.

If you have a better idea, let me know.

Sincerely,

Yep, I've got a better idea and this comes from someone who saw merits in both parties and candidates, did a Force Field Analysis and voted according to the results.

If you've read my latest blog http://nstar312.blogspot.com/, you'll know where my greatest concern lies now. I wrote that blog on Election Day, without benefit of the media keeping me abreast of the returns.

I hope this letter was truly a joke and I suspect it is. I'm also certain, however, that many people feel this way and will likely penalize those who disagreed with them and voted their own individual consciences.

If I was one of those employees, I'd be on the phone to the Washington State Department of Labour & Industries because at least in my state, discrimination of this sort is illegal. I know it is on a federal level and if one of those Obama supporters reports it to his Congressional representative(s), there will most certainly be an investigation and, likely, an example made.

I've been a journalist covering politics for over 30 years now and in California, Oregon and Washington. In Oregon, while on hiatus, I ran two county-wide campaigns. On the one hand I know, then, how dirty politics can be and on the other, how vengeful the constituency can be as well. The campaigns I ran in Oregon were clean and free of virtualy all of the unconscienceable behavour I've witnessed in this election.

Why? Because even these "dumb" farmers, loggers and small town merchants knew what constituted appropriate behaviour and which did not. This ‘mud-slinging" crap is beneath the dignity of the constituency, at least in the Pacific Northwest.

My suggestion is to remember that regardless of the demographics, we are ONE nation, ONE people. The election is over and like BOTH candidates said, it's time for us to begin acting like Americans. And I'll add to that, instead of a bunch of Gulliver's yahoos without the common sense God gave a mayfly. Not to libel either the yahoos or the mayfly.

And yes, feel free to circulate this response.

SPIRIT OF 76?

FOR POSTERITY OR AS A POST MORTEM

11/04/08 – Seattle, Washington
By the time you folks are reading this, the election returns will likely be in. As I write this, they are not. I’m not thinking about winners or losers. I’m thinking about how the game was played. I’m also not just reflecting on the politicians but on the slice of constituency I’ve experienced offline in a neighbourhood comprised mostly of University of Washington students and faculty, working people and the mercantile infrastructure. I’m also thinking about several online chatrooms I frequent and which, by the demographics of their regulars, represent not only most of America, but a slice of Canada, the UK and Europe, as well.

I’ll be 60 this March and I cannot recall an election which brought out more of the worst in some and the best in some others. Offline, we don’t discuss politics that much and when we do, it’s always an unemotional "force field" analysis. Name calling, lying and defaming candidates or people of opposing parties is simply considered rude because it’s non-productive. It’s also embarrassing to witness. We have an innate sense of human dignity which may be passe east of the Mississippi but which forms a cornerstone of not only our political philosophy and world view, but the way we behave toward one another. To put it bluntly, regardless of who wins an election, we still have to live with one another as family, friends, neighbours and community.

There was a particularly rabid viciousness to the online constituency I witnessed. It was savage, vile, profane and, for the most part, extremely unimaginative. It involved personal attacks which had nothing to do with the issues at hand or the qualifications of the candidates involved. It presumed an inherent superiority of one party over another that was nothing more than another aspect of the national arrogance. We castigated George Bush when he turned out to be wrong, but when he wanted to play Patton in his race to the Rhine to avenge 9/11, we cheered him on. He took that, rightfully, as mandate and became not president, but monarch. It didn’t take a coup to put him on the throne. It took the constituency.

Since, by birth I am also a member of the International Community, I was ashamed of the conduct I witnessed. I am just as American as anyone born here and I was brought up in Northern California by Americans. I’m a Vietnam veteran, a journalist who has covered politics in three states and someone who has organised and run two political campaigns. My coverage was unbiased and the campaigns I ran were clean ones. Neither would have been possible without a constituency which demanded that level of integrity and eschewed the crap that doth make hypocrites of us all.

Regardless of who is inaugurated in January, Capitol Hill will remain. There will be no rioting in the streets, no Stalineque purges, no calling for heads to roll. The government will go on because that is what THIS government does. McCain is no more the devil than Obama. And regardless of who emerges victorious, the "vanquished" will still be a member of the Senate in good-standing, with the gratitude of his peers and supporters for giving it his all.

My concern is for the constituency and who they will blame next for their troubles in their race to escape personal responsibility. I will also be wondering what happened to the words of the people, by the people and for the people.
I wonder what the framers of the Constitution, many war veterans of the bravest experiment since the Magna Carta, would think of us now.