elusive...but worthy

embrace others
embrace peace
REJECT OTHERS
REJECT PEACE

thoughts from today

Today's Trillions

+ Tomorrow's Trillions

= Generation Screwed

thoughts from yesterday

Regulators: these are the same group of geniuses who were carting Martha Stewart off to jail while Bernie Madoff went undetected.

pigs, people and paranoia?

Only a few days ago I was immune to the 24 hour barrage of reports squarely obsessed on the swine flu outbreak. I thought too many people were over the top with out of place trepidations. Sometimes, however, immunization breaks down and a crack in the shell appears. My crack surfaced and revealed itself in my level of consciousness.

Driving home from work yesterday, in compliance with Joe Biden’s proclamation, I made Alley Pond Park in Queens a via-point to carry out one of my habitual running sessions. I made a quick visit to the park house, twice I thoroughly washed my hands (following President Obama’s decree) and I began my mental preparation for the 6 mile round trip trek. As I began to envision the route of my trot, the paranoid side of my brain realized that the half way point loops behind St. Francis Preparatory High School. Yes, the same St. Francis Prep associated with the New York outbreak of H1N1. Random inane voices seeping through my logic began to ask questions. Is it safe? Will I be too near the epicenter? Should I get back in my car and fight the traffic to another trail? Is there a hotline I can call? What would Joe Biden do?

As I bent down to tie my sneakers, reason thankfully began to take hold. Deliberate utterances in my head said of course I will run here. But, true to my form-I compromised. I decided not to follow my normal trail through the woods, for that road leads to a prep school. Instead, as I took my first strides, I began to map out a circuitous path that would mimic the overall length of my desired workout by utilizing the surrounding streets to encompass a broad sweep of the park that would manage to safely round back a few blocks short of the virus hub.

I made a turn and headed west on Union Turnpike, passing only the wooded outskirts of the park for about a quarter mile. Serenity began to set in. A few blocks more though and I skirted by a couple, as they headed hurriedly into a doctor’s office. What’s their rush? Is this safe? Should I be at home?

I kept running, as my tempo was good, the temperature was in the high 50’s, dry and I certainly wanted to take advantage of these prime conditions. As I ventured toward Hollis Hills Terrace I chose to veer north along a boundary between Alley Pond and Cunningham Park. There were more crowded ball fields to pass, more ice cream vendors to dodge and my antennae involuntarily heightened. A man zigzagging back across the road, following his dutiful retrieval of an errant soccer ball sneezed heavily as we cut past each other. Was he sick? Or was it an allergic reaction to the recently cut grass? I kept pace and didn’t look back.

I did not want to risk penetration into the more populated areas and so I turned back east along 73^rd Avenue and then south on 210^th street, all the while using fences and park perimeters as my guide. I meandered my way back to Union Turnpike and headed east for a second time. Back once more by the physician’s office, and strangely now I became the object of a woman’s glare, as I blew out a deep breath to maintain my body rhythm beginning mile 4. Does she think I’m sick? Is she paranoid? Am I allowed to run here? What would Joe Biden do?

I darted across Springfield Blvd, feeling lively, strong and ready to step up the pace for the home stretch. Briskly I pursued the park house I had embarked from 35 minutes ago. A sharp turn north at Winchester Blvd dropped me in the midst of more ball fields, more crowds and more concern. I managed to clear my head and spurred myself on for a few more laps, hoping that in a month or so the higher summer temperatures may eradicate this pandemic wannabe of a bug.

I came to rest at the far end of some tennis courts and then began a slow cool down back toward my car. But I was veered off course by a klutz, swiftly exiting and loosely swinging his bag and racket. ‘Hey-damn it’, I yelped. I declare six feet. You are in violation of the six foot rule!

the persistent struggle in faith

Unsettling, unspeakable, untamed, vile and heartbreaking events have been chronicled in the news on a daily basis recently. Thirteen innocent lives were taken in a ghastly shooting rampage in Binghamton, NY on April 3, 2009. A few days later, an eight year old girl’s lifeless body was found packed into a suitcase near an irrigation pond in California. And on the 11th of April, authorities discovered a 19 year old mother and her 23 month old son shot dead in a New Orleans apartment, along with a 6 year old boy that died on the way to the hospital. These are just a few of the senseless, depraved and violent news updates of late. And the sad reality is that depraved violence has been occurring repeatedly throughout human history. Perhaps because of a broader media network and magnified reporting I am more aware of these horrific crimes today than in the past. These news events fodder and foster in me, an enormous and continual struggle, which pits my pessimistic world view against my positive world view.

Without being heinous, some deaths are nonetheless quite senseless. Just a week ago I attended a memorial service for a 31 year old woman. Merely weeks ago she was a healthy, bright-eyed, energetic, caring, talented and strikingly beautiful woman. No matter how hard I try, I cannot render a satisfactory understanding of her passing. Even in the prime of our lives and health, our existence can change abruptly. Dangerous diseases, freak accidents and improbable injuries run parallel to our lives each day. In the case of my friend, a path from vitality to illness to coma to death was short and not far astray.

Yesterday was Easter, and I spent a sizeable part of the day hunting for eggs, eating chocolate in the shape of bunnies and walking around tables adorned with brightly colored tulips. Rituals established (for those who believe) to serve as symbols of birth, life and new beginnings in order to bookend on the long told faith driven event that the son of God resurrected from his death. These activities, candies and flowers also make do to mitigate deliberation on how Jesus was brutally and barbarically crucified at the age of 33. Again I struggle, in this case, with my identity as a Christian. How much of this biblical account can I believe? Will I ever connect the puzzle pieces and reveal the meaning of life? Will we rise from our ashes and walk again among our creator? Is there a heaven? Is there a hell? When does our existence begin? When does it end?

I knew my 31 year old friend to be kind, affable, generous, optimistic, innocent and genuine. My feelings and my gut tell me that her existence, as I witnessed, was more intricate than I can understand. The sins of today make it difficult for me to feel connected to a Higher Power. And based on the history of humanity, I may have felt the same way if I had lived 2009 years ago. But, my feeling that at least one person may have made it to the other side in glory changes my perspective. I still cannot connect the puzzle pieces, but I do resist doubt and I do allow myself to surrender my thoughts and feelings to a vast and open universe of possibility.

just dreams together

a rose, I give, as a symbol of love
words, I put forth, as my spirited harbinger of love
a kiss, I avail, to enable my expression of love
a dream, I behold, as an eternal gift of love

to the rose, I add thoughtfulness
hoping to kindle the emotion of love
to the words, I supply heart
aspiring to encapsulate the experience of love
to the kiss, I mix in passion
seeking to arouse the ecstasy in love
and from the dream--I preclude certainty
proposing to free fall into the arms of love

reaching for love tenderly
reaching for love fervently
reaching for love wholly
in a quest for sharing
no roses alone
no words alone
no kisses alone
just dreams together

what to do with $819 billions dollars worth of non perfection?

In my gut I feel it is no more appropriate to become alarmed two weeks into President Obama’s administration than it would be to become alarmed two weeks into a bad start of a Yankee or Met season. I enthusiastically voted Mr. Obama for President. I voted for purposeful and sensible change. I voted for intelligence and honesty. I voted for innovation and new ideas. I voted for integrity. And I voted for hope.

When ‘we the people’ are preparing to spend $819 billion dollars on top of many other lofty sums already spent, then I think it is reasonable to take a moment for review before dotting the i's and crossing the t’s. Much of what The President says about this package surrounding money for education, health care, infrastructure projects, renewable energy and jobs makes sense to me and sounds purposeful. In fact, when trying to extract some lessons learned from what Japan did in the 1990’s to stimulate their economy there seems to be a worthy argument for The President to consider an even larger Economic Recovery and Reinvestment Plan. But, comparisons between countries and over different time periods can prove to be difficult and inconclusive. Uncertainties regarding the optimal size, scope and potential impact now and in the future that this stimulus package would wield does cause me to have some reservations. My trepidations don’t arise from a need to question Mr. Obama’s intelligence. My apprehensions also do not primarily hinder on the astuteness of his advisers, even though few experts saw clearly ahead to the mess we find ourselves in currently. My apprehension stems from execution. Who exactly is going to oversee the spending of these funds?

As enthusiastic as I am about President Obama still, he is only manning the front door of this proposed second bailout package. Who will be the watchdogs? I was a bit disturbed this past week by this administration’s initial nonchalant attitude regarding non-payment of taxes by public officials. Nonchalance is not a demeanor we can afford to have permeating its way around hundreds of billions of dollars. Meanwhile, some elected officials in Washington, lobbyists, bankers, and Wall Street executives still seem to have no qualms about keeping alive old traditions of shoveling their share (to be kind), their take to be accurate, out the back door. President Obama has stated ‘no plan is perfect, and we should work to make it stronger.’ Precisely because no plan is perfect is why we cannot afford to not take a closer look before taking action. If we need a few more days in order to make the right call, then let’s do it. Individually, and collectively I do not like to make decisions out of fear and desperation. I think Franklin Delano Roosevelt may have understood that best of all. Rather, I think that we, as a country, need to have fortitude and base our decisions on careful assessments of the reality that we face. This means that we need to welcome our ability to critique our leaders, and voice our differences—for that remains to be America’s priceless asset.

I would be less than honest if I did not say that I am a bit uneasy watching this administration and a Great Nation participate in a seemingly growing trend of rushed decision making, seeded from a perpetual fear of doom. I believe we need to have more faith and hope in our abilities and our lives. We obviously need to take bold actions in order to stimulate our economy and steer ourselves in a more prosperous and practical direction. But, let’s not be afraid to pause for a moment, so that we can put the best plan in place with the best execution in mind. Doom could also be misspending $750 billion plus $819 billion dollars plus X in order to only buy enough time to get to the future. That would leave all of us woefully short changed down the line.