Showing posts with label you'll be back. Show all posts
Showing posts with label you'll be back. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 11, 2018

#neverforget: A Treatise on Fear and Freedom

After listening to President Obama’s speech (which I highly recommend), I was inspired to dig up FDR’s Four Freedoms speech.  I’d been meaning to do so for a while—it often pops into my head against the constant, reckless fear-mongering by our president and his enablers.  The Four Freedoms speech was FDR’s State of the Union address in January 1941—his message that the Union was preparing for the fight of her life, an existential battle for how humans deserve to live in this world: with freedom of speech, freedom to worship, freedom from want, and freedom from fear.  The surprise attack on Pearl Harbor would happen less than a year later.  

It’s scary how relevant his words are now.  An excerpt:

I suppose that every realist knows that the democratic way of life is at this moment being directly assailed in every part of the world–assailed either by arms, or by secret spreading of poisonous propaganda by those who seek to destroy unity and promote discord in nations that are still at peace.
... 
In times like these it is immature–and incidentally, untrue–for anybody to brag that an unprepared America, single-handed, and with one hand tied behind its back, can hold off the whole world.
No realistic American can expect from a dictator’s peace international generosity, or return of true independence, or world disarmament, or freedom of expression, or freedom of religion–or even good business.
Such a peace would bring no security for us or for our neighbors. “Those, who would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety.”
As a nation, we may take pride in the fact that we are softhearted; but we cannot afford to be soft-headed.
We must always be wary of those who with sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal preach the “ism” of appeasement.
We must especially beware of that small group of selfish men who would clip the wings of the American eagle in order to feather their own nests. 



How reassuring to read and imagine hearing those words from an American president.  Don’t know what you got till it’s gone, right?

I bring this up today out of anxiety that we are confusing what we should #neverforget about September 11, 2001.  The attacks of September 11th were an evil and cowardly attack on our freedom.  They were meant to inspire fear.  Death by itself can’t destroy democracy—fear can.  Like democracy, fear is simply an idea.  But they are two ideas that cannot live in the same place.

I remember a particular history lesson at Villa.  Our teacher remarked it wasn’t a given that ordinary Americans would stick to the values of democracy in the wake of the stock market crash and Great Depression.  The conditions for fascism seemed riper in a place like Germany, for instance, but we were not immune.  Look at this photo essay from The Atlantic.  These are images of 1930s New Jersey and New York, not Germany.  (Check out that crowd at Madison Square Garden—yuge!)  High-profile Americans like Charles Lindbergh espoused the “America First” Committee, whose stated goal was to keep America out of the war, an intention that sometimes mixed with fascism of its own.  On this day in 1941, Lindbergh gave a speech detailing the three groups he believed were to blame for pushing us towards war in Europe—the British, American Jews, and the Roosevelt administration.  Regarding the second group, he said:


It is not difficult to understand why Jewish people desire the overthrow of Nazi Germany. The persecution they suffered in Germany would be sufficient to make bitter enemies of any race.
No person with a sense of the dignity of mankind can condone the persecution of the Jewish race in Germany. But no person of honesty and vision can look on their pro-war policy here today without seeing the dangers involved in such a policy both for us and for them. Instead of agitating for war, the Jewish groups in this country should be opposing it in every possible way for they will be among the first to feel its consequences.
Tolerance is a virtue that depends upon peace and strength. History shows that it cannot survive war and devastations. A few far-sighted Jewish people realize this and stand opposed to intervention. But the majority still do not.
Their greatest danger to this country lies in their large ownership and influence in our motion pictures, our press, our radio and our government. 
But be assured: 

I am not attacking either the Jewish or the British people. Both races, I admire.
But I am saying that the leaders of both the British and the Jewish races, for reasons which are as understandable from their viewpoint as they are inadvisable from ours, for reasons which are not American, wish to involve us in the war.
We cannot blame them for looking out for what they believe to be their own interests, but we also must look out for ours. We cannot allow the natural passions and prejudices of other peoples to lead our country to destruction.


Back in that history class, I remember thinking how obvious it seemed that remaining true to the values of our democracy would be the only way to defeat fascism.  And I still don’t think that’s my hindsight bias talking.  Democracy and fascism are fundamentally opposed.  Democracy includes all people—all men are created equal.  Fascism excludes certain people.  Charles Lindbergh doesn’t get to exclude Jewish people from an American democracy, as much as he professes to “admire their race”.  When we compromise on which groups of people get to be included in “freedom”, we defeat democracy.  When we compromise on a fundamental belief, it’s not a fundamental belief anymore.  Democracy depends on the word “all.”


Fear and freedom cannot live in the same place.  I believe this essential truth to my core.  You know it too.  We feel most human when we are most free:
  • when we can freely and honestly express what’s happening in our brains and hearts, and when we respect others for doing the same
  • when we can praise the spirit of life in whatever way makes sense to us, in whatever way gives us true joy
  • when our bodies enjoy health and sustenance and mobility, when we can walk and eat and dance
  • when we can do all these things with confidence, when we can do them without shame, without being afraid.

Isn’t that when we feel most alive?

That is the promise of America I grew up believing in and loving.  The promise itself is American exceptionalism—the rest is just noise.  When we abandon the promise, we lose what sets us apart, what makes us great—our freedom.

I’ll presume to close with the end of FDR’s 1941 State of the Union:

This nation has placed its destiny in the hands and heads and hearts of its millions of free men and women; and its faith in freedom under the guidance of God. Freedom means the supremacy of human rights everywhere. Our support goes to those who struggle to gain those rights and keep them. Our strength is our unity of purpose.

To that high concept there can be no end save victory.



Raise a glass to freedommmmm


Monday, January 15, 2018

Blob is back.

Blob is back, blob is back, blob is back.

Speaking of wholesome songs from my childhood, today on Sirius XM radio (Pop2K channel), I heard “What’s Your Fantasy” by Ludacris for the first time since attending/standing-stiffly-with-arms-folded-at Oratory Preparatory middle school dances.  Am I the only one who completely missed the lyrics?  Like, all of them?  It’s quite an exhaustive list.  I almost crashed my car at the (thankfully faded) memory of sixth graders humping each other to this song in a dark, hot gymnasium. SIXTH GRADE.  Are you even ten years old in sixth grade?  When I see a freshman in college now, I’m like, wow, you are a child.  So what do sixth graders look like?  Fetuses?  Terrifying.  How were the chaperones not traumatized by these images?  They must have been drinking to forget.  Feels like the only way to cope.  No wonder my parents hated those dances. 

And this is how I know I’m getting old.  Thoughts like these occur with increasing frequency.  I always remember my dad’s line for when we thought they were being mean parents for not letting us attend this or that event: “You think it’s because we don’t remember, but it’s because we do.”

ANYWAYS, I meant for this post to be a small update, but I think I’ll leave it there.  The Blob is momentarily reactivated.  Details to come.  GOD BLESS.

Thursday, December 21, 2017

The prodigal daughter returns.

The Blob began about three years ago as a way for me to put off packing for the big move from Houston to San Francisco.  It feels appropriate that it should end now with me being a giant procrastinator again, but this time packing for my big move back to the east coast (beast coast, as they say).

I'm so glad people have enjoyed this blog.  I promise there will be more to come (possibly "Reports from Solitude"...we'll see).

Merry Christmas (isn't it great we're allowed to say that again?  Just don't mention that Jesus was a vulnerable fetus) and a happy, healthy, peaceful 2018 to you all.

I'll leave you with my packing playlist--all songs that appeared on my Spotify Top Songs of 2017 (you'll find I am not "hip").  I can recommend these songs for singing aloud while moving piles from one place to another and mulling over your life choices.


Tuesday, June 20, 2017

And we're back.

2017 is not turning out to be my favorite year ever, but I’m not looking for a pity party.  Ladies and gentlemen, I am newly single and have already continued my rampage of breaking hearts across San Francisco (sorry to Sergei, my brief Muni romance).  As he said after I texted him that it turns out I’m not into 40-year-old Ukrainians, maybe we will meet again another rainy day on the Muni.  (We won’t, because I changed my commute.)

For the first time ever, I understand Taylor Swift.  I, too, feel compelled to fill my art (blob = art) with Starbucks lovers.  But then, the lilting voice of an old English teacher creeps into my head—girls, do not sell your souls in the marketplace.  I won’t, Mrs. O.—at least not more than I already have.

And thus, The Blob returns.  I leave you with one more bit of wisdom, from Sergei’s final text—don’t waste the pretty.


What did I miss?

Thursday, January 19, 2017

Thanks, Obama: A Treatise on Race in America

More book review than treatise.  Not actually much about Obama.  Just felt like a good title.

Few books have altered my understanding of history and of the present moment as profoundly as The Warmth of Other Suns by Isabel Wilkerson.  I want every person in the country to read this book.

The Warmth of Other Suns is the story of the Great Migration, the exodus of six million African Americans from the South from around WWI through the 1970s.  I remember learning about this in high school history, but mainly as a simple chain of cause and effect.  Jim Crow was bad, black people moved away, demographics in northern cities changed.  I completely missed the big picture.  This was the largest and fastest migration of people in American history.  I’m not sure my italics can convey how huge that statement is.  How about This was the largest and fastest migration of people in American history.  The sheer number of migrants dispersing at such a rapid rate from one region to the rest of the country fundamentally changed most, if not all, aspects of our nation—our economies, our politics, our culture.

Isabel Wilkerson weaves the stories of three distinct migrants together with the overall picture of the Great Migration.  The personal accounts of Ida Mae Gladney, Robert Joseph Pershing Foster, and George Swanson Starling give the story of the Great Migration something I missed in history class—the power and emotion of our common humanity.  We learn not only of the indignities they escaped and the challenges of their new homes, but also what they felt at those moments.  We can feel Ida Mae’s nerves as she and her husband quietly prepare to leave Mississippi, without alerting their sharecropper for fear of retaliation.  We can feel Robert’s humiliation and delirium as he pleads for a place to sleep for the night on his drive from Texas to California.  We can see ourselves in these people.  They make us ask, “What would I have done in their shoes?  What if I had to flee the place I’d always known and start from scratch in a foreign city?”

This is not a political book, but it has clarified my views of civic responsibility.  As President Obama said in his farewell address,

[if our democracy is to work] For white Americans, it means acknowledging that the effects of slavery and Jim Crow didn’t suddenly vanish in the ‘60s…

Ms. Wilkerson expertly draws the lineage from slavery to the Jim Crow South to the Great Migration to the present, illustrating the compounding, deleterious effects of slavery on today’s African Americans.  We can’t pretend the wealth gap between white and black people is the result of one group’s hard work and the other’s laziness. Black people began in this country as slaves, were kept subject through sharecropping, denied rights and respect, forced to leave their communities to start again elsewhere, where they faced the same prejudices and earned less than their white counterparts.  While at the same time, white people were free to build their wealth over generations, free to attend the better half of “separate but equal” schools, free to buy homes where realtors forgot to tour their black clients, where those homes would appreciate in value and prove a good return on investment.  We cannot pretend institutionalized racism is a made-up phenomenon, when almost 9% of black men in their late 20s are in prison.  When, at the same time, a young white man convicted of raping an unconscious woman walks free after only three months in jail. It’s dishonest to pretend we all start on the same playing field.  We just don’t.

I’m not shaming white people for our ancestors’ wrongs.  I’m asking us to recognize how our whiteness has eased our paths through life.  If we truly believe all men and women are created equal, we have to acknowledge the injustice of the fact that one’s mere skin color either enhances or threatens one’s ability to pursue happiness.  The Warmth of Other Suns opened my eyes to so many ways that is true.

I would like to end this treatise and step off my soapbox, after a quote Ms. Wilkerson included in her Notes on Methodology, from the 1922 Chicago Commission on Race Relations report The Negro in Chicago.

It is important for our white citizens always to remember that the Negroes alone of all our immigrants came to America against their will by the special compelling invitation of the whites; that the institution of slavery was introduced, expanded, and maintained in the United States by the white people and for their own benefit; and that they likewise created the conditions that followed emancipation. Our Negro problem, therefore, is not of the Negro’s making.  No group in our population is less responsible for its existence.  But every group is responsible for its continuance; and every citizen, regardless of color or racial origin, is in honor and conscience bound to seek and forward its solution.

Raise a glass to freedommmm 

Wednesday, June 1, 2016

Count up to vacation.

First of all, I would like to sincerely apologize for the 11-day gap between my two most recent blobs.  Several of my constituents have communicated their disapproval and I feel deep shame for doing wrong by you all.  I hear you, the rest of the world hears you.  To atone, I made the considerable effort to turn off The Great British Bakeoff and write this post on time.

Secondly, I forgot to announce that I did indeed pass my last architecture exam and school is out for the summah!  No more studying for me until I decide to schedule the California state exam (hopefully by the end of the year).  WOO HOO.

Number three—I know my sister like I know my own mind, you will never find anyone as trusting or as kind.

Fourth and final point.  This time next week, Will and I will have convened with my family in Italy.  Buongiorno principessas!  To continue my atonement (see paragraph one), I pledge to blob for the next two weeks FROM ITALY.  (That is, if I do not succumb to deep vein thrombosis on the flight over.  Yes, I am worried about this.  Yes, I am a hypochondriac.  I’m already experiencing phantom DVT pain.)  Feel free to send along book/movie/sleep aid suggestions for the flight.  Till next time from Italia—ciao bellas!

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

Soon.

Friends and family, I have good news and news.

Good news: I finally finished Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow.  I now want to read Chernow's biography of George Washington...and I also feel like I need to give Thomas Jefferson another fair shake (I tend to assume the biases of my biographee, so I'm currently thinking TJ is a slippery and conniving son of a gun.  Probably would not be friends with him.  Hamilton, on the other hand...very sexy and totally into it.)  This is all leading me to reevaluate my presidential biography quest.  Will I ever escape the founding fathers?  Shouldn't I read one about Benjamin Franklin?  Is he feeling left out?  Probably.

News: I am taking what I hope will be my LAST ARE on Friday.  (I passed Building Systems!  A vent stack is a stack of vents.)  Send good vibes to San Francisco.  After my exam, I plan to write a more exhaustive review of Alexander Hamilton.  I wanted to do it today, but alas...I must study.  I know you will be waiting at the edge of your seat.  Until then, my faithful readers.

Thursday, January 28, 2016

Battle of Braintown.

Sincere apologies for no post yesterday.  I got distracted by cramming for my exam, which is not usually how distraction works for me.  I just returned from the testing center and feel…suspicious.  Suspicious of success, suspicious of failure…who can say.  We shall see.  The exam was Construction Documents and Services AKA How Not to Get Sued/Screwed/Taken Advantage Of/Bankrupt by the Owner/Contractor/Consultants/Users.  Riveting stuff…jk that was the Structures exam.  (Ah ah.  Brain fried.)

So this exam was two parts—multiple choice and a design vignette (a building section through structure/HVAC/etc).  Everything is going along smoothly enough until I get to the vignette and read the word “parapet” in the instructions…and then HAMILTON (the musical) is UNLEASHED in my brain.  “After a week of fighting, a young man in red coat stands on the parapet.”  So all while trying to draw this wall section, I have lines like “FREEDOM FOR AMERICA FREEDOM FOR FRANCE” and “WE WON WE WON WE WON WE WON” playing over and over in my brain.  Not the best concentration music, but I did manage to finish the drawing.  I may need to take a break from listening to Hamilton/I just turned it on...I’m gonna go rendezvous with Rochambeau.  BYE.