Several days ago the
health care bill passed.
I am glad that it did.
It is certainly not a perfect
bill and there are aspects of
it, especially such shenanigans
as the ``Cornhusker
Kickback,’’ that rankle. But
anyone familiar with any
political process, be it village
or national politics, knows
that in order to get anything
done deals are made,
compromises are forged,
and lofty aspirations often
fall prey to more modest,
politically achievable results.
One of these days I hope we
do find the moral fortitude
as a nation to care enough
about one another to create
a system of universal health
care for all.
There is a strange and
troubling irony about our
national penchant for starting
wars in far away places
knowing full well that thousands
on both sides will die.
And that those who happen
to survive such inexcusable
barbarism will suffer in
innumerable ways for the
rest of their lives. What is
it that makes it so easy for
us to go to war, even begin
them under false pretenses,
and suggest that those of us
who oppose such idiocies
are somehow less patriotic
because we see no earthly,
or spiritual, justification for
such self-destructive escapades
in the first place. There
is just something downright
puzzling about the way in
which we set national priorities.
Frankly, I do not care a
whit which political party
anyone belongs to. I wish we
could do away with them.
Madison warned us about
factionalism a long time
ago and his fears have come
home to roost. People are
so dug into their factional
foxholes these days that civil
discussion is nigh impossible.
I need not review the
ugliness that certain partisans
have exhibited publicly
the past several weeks.
It is not surprising, really,
since anyone whose head
is not buried in the sand
knows that ugliness, most
often nurtured by fear and
ignorance, is alive and well
throughout this land. Unfortunately,
we share this pathology
with the rest of the
world. I wish I was optimistic
about its eradication. The
extent to which we live
in fear of terrorist attacks is a
testament to the heightened
levels of insanity that hatred
has evolved to.
The operative credo is
simple: to get your way, or
at least make your point, kill
as many innocent people
as you like. Then have the
audacity to attribute your
actions to your personal
deity.
The same mentality
seems to pervade politics. If
you do not agree with someone,
then do the honorable
thing: vilify him. If you do
not believe that government
should involve itself in health
care, then call those that do
communists, socialists or,
even worse, Hitlerites. If you
believe that government
does have a role, then castigating
all those who disagree
as cold-hearted, uncaring,
and greedy seems to suffice.
Even though I hold some
relatively liberal views, I also
think of myself as equally
conservative with respect to
certain issues. I guess what
matters is how you define
your terms. It used to be that
our legislators would debate
by day, often disagreeing
vehemently, but come
nightfall they would dine
together and often go on
family weekend trips together.
We have lost some
fine people from both sides
of the aisle because politics
has become more personal
than ever. Mean-spirited divisiveness
has replaced civil
dissent, a necessary cornerstone
of any democracy.
The abortion debate
brings out the worst in us.
If you believe that a woman
has the right to make her
own reproductive decisions,
including the termination of
a pregnancy, then you are
characterized as a ``baby
killer.’’ If, on the other hand,
you characterize yourself
as being ``pro-life,’’ a rather
ambiguous phrase at best,
the tendency is to claim the
moral high ground as yours
alone. The implication, then,
is that those who see things
differently are spiritually
bankrupt. Of course, any
rift rooted in theological
conflict is ideologically
irresolvable. And the beat
goes on.
My antidote to all this is
to take a very long walk.
Hawthorn Hill
Hawthorn Hill: Reflections
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Up On Hawthorn Hill: Bird Feeder?
Bird feeder is a relative term. At least that is the case around here. A few mornings ago we spotted the first rabbit to visit the feeders. Normally, all we see during the winter are rabbit tracks crisscrossing the gardens.
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Up on Hawthorn Hill: Making sense of things
A book I have been reading investigates the various ways over time that we have made sense of the world. It carries the reader through to the present via several seminal classical texts and ultimately aims to suggest a strategy for “ finding meaning in a secular age.”
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Up on Hawthorn Hill: Of birds and faith
I watch birds quite a bit. Every five days or so I send in a report to Cornell as partof its annual Project Feeder Watch program. The data, collected from volunteers from all over the country, enables scientists to track population trends. I would spend quite a bit of time checking out the visitors to our feeders anyway. Participating in the feeder program makes a personal pleasure that much more meaningful. It is rare that aesthetical and scientific endeavors work in tandem.
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Up on Hawthorn Hill: Circularity
When she was a puppy my dog Gabby would run in what I described then as “circles of joy.” She celebrated her15th birthday a few weeks ago and despite the inevitable frailties that old age imposes upon all of us, she is doing pretty well.
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Up on Hawthorn Hill: Irony abounds
These are querulous times. Dissent and disagreement, as uncomfortable as they sometimes are, are essential components of a viable democracy. Democracies are always messy because everyone has a right to speak his mind and because whenever a majority is able to gain the numerical upper hand it pretty much runs the show. Several political philosophers have written quite persuasively of what they characterize as the “tyranny of the majority.” Get enough people on your side and you have the opportunity to get your way so long as you are able to maintain power. I suspect that most thoughtful people would agree that wisdom is hard to come by.
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Up on Hawthorn Hill: Of kinglets and mortality
This is that transitional time of year when fall begins to take its final bow and winter starts to seep into our lives not always with a great deal of subtlety. It is also a time when body seems quite willing to step aside and let mind have dominant sway for a while.
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Up On Hawthorn Hill: Wisdom
I do not know about anyone else, but I tired of selfcongratulatory political talk a long time ago. Fact is, I have never liked it much. One candidate interviewed yesterday had nothing at all good to say about the present administration. In the process of lambasting its record on just about every front, this individual never once offered any specifics as to how he would go about creating jobs, ending Medicare fraud, or terminating these idiotic wars that we seem intent on embroiling ourselves in.
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Up On Hawthorn Hill: Rights
There is a lot of chatter these days about rights. It gives one pause. Several weeks ago I heard a politician claim that it is time to win our country back. I was not aware that we had lost it. I wonder who stole it. If you ask a rabid conservative, the answer will most likely be those bleeding heart liberals.
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Up On Hawthorn Hill: Looking for diversions
It has been a long, psychically trying winter. I always feel more comfortable knowing that I am not alone, so when friends complain openly about cabin fever and wanting “to get the hell out of here” for a while I know exactly what they mean. We are planning a trip to Costa Rica in March, so in order to keep one’s head above the darkening inner clouds, it is necessary to look for diversions that have, as Wordsworth put it, a renovating virtue. Luckily for me, Redpolls fit the bill.
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Hawthorn Hill: Quietness
I want to make a case for quietness. Thoreau writes that he never found a companion as companionable as solitude. It is a sentiment that I share. As I sit here looking out over the snow-covered hills I am struck by the absence of movement. I am awed by a stillness unstirred by wind or activity of any kind. There is no noise, neither human nor animal. How nice that is.
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Up On Hawthorn Hill: Bird Feeder?
