Christmas and Progress

I've decided in my older years that the best part of the season is Christmas Eve. This is the one day when everything is possible. Because it hasn't happened, the next day still holds the potential for a happy day and for gifts that won't leave me scratching my head over what to do with them. On the eve, I can think only positive thoughts about family without having to watch the day deteriorate as someone raises the issue of Health Care or Iraq. Yes, Christmas Eve is lovely. It's the one day that resembles those phony picture of snug sentiment, yule logs, and eggnogs, that we are fed by our media and by our own faulty memories. The reality is something more complex in many fractured families. I've come to the conclusion that whoever hosts a family dinner probably loves the guests best as they leave.

Still, eve or not, I find myself engaged with the idea of progress. This idea did not jump unasked into my mind, as the poets say. I read an article in the latest edition of the Economist, which asked the question about where there had been progress we could point to and how we might measure it if we felt there had been. The essayist went back into history to find examples of what might be considered "progress," and finally identified two areas in our lives where there had been change for the better. These were science and the economy (he was talking about the changes since the Industrial Revolution when there was no real middle class and working conditions were appalling). This being the Economist, the article conluded with a lecture on the need for regulating both science and the economy, with which I heartily agree but would also add on religion.

It's an interesting question about progress and I don't think the Economist essay is anywhere near the last word. For example, xactly what is progress? I've often heard the word coupled with the phrase "you can't stop," as in some juggernaut of change that carries both posiive and decidedly negative outcomes. They put through the high speed railway from London to the south coast, a positive, but threaten one of the most scenic parts of Kent in the process--far beyond negative, I should say, and venturing into lunacy. Yet, none of us would deny the massively positive changes that medicine has brought us, just to use one example. Or the conveniences of travel that we take for granted.

Most of us think of progress as a change that is rational, productive, and helpful. Even if I accept this definition, though, I reserve the right to hedge on whether things that meet this criteria are always beneficial. Keeping someone elderly alive at the cost of their suffering doesn't meet my requirement. Progress in this area would be someone talking wisely to me about end of life issues when I am there rather than assuming that every single day of my life is equally valuable. I shall come back and haunt anyone unwise enough to keep me artificially alive just because the science allows it.

At one point, the essayist admits that many measures of progress are really accounting: how many infants die, how long people live, how much money they earn, and so forth. And I fully agree with him. As I write this and think about this question of progress, I find I would define it another way. I would ask, how more self-aware have we become because of the advances in our world? Are we better people? Are we wiser in setting our standards for our own ethical behavior? Have we learned to accept the responsibility for thinking rather than choosing sides as if we were playing the Super Bowl? Have we asked ourselves not just what we think but why we think it? Have we gone into that journey within to face who we really are and accept that we are not always right and not always nice.

One of the Greek or Roman philosophers (it's late and my Bartlett's is back in Denver) said that the unexamined life is not worth living. Yessss. That's what separates te truly thoughful: they don't spout regurgitated ideas from someone else. They form their own ideas and accept the accountability for them. My idea of progress then is a time when by education and tempermanet we are able to look dispassionately at ourselves. This to me is the real, hard work of living. Until then we are still the same grubby, competitive little animals we ever were no matter how long we keep ourselves alive or flaunt our wealth to our neighbors.

Fairy Tales Our Parents Taught Us

This new business with Tiger Woods has prompted me to revisit the whole concept of relations between men and women and what we think we know about them. In our culture, we expect a monogamous relationship, partly because that’s what our various religions promote but also because, for good or bad, our society has decided the primary beneficiaries of marriage should be the children and children do better, we are told, in stable, two-person relationships.

Obviously, not every culture agrees and there have been and are societies that foster multiple marriages, mostly increasing the number of permitted wives in what seems the idea that if you can afford her, you can have her. Interestingly (to me anyway), examples of marriages with multiple husbands don’t come quickly to mind—mine anyway. I must admit to a bizarre admiration for anyone who can satisfy and keep happy multiple partners; it seems hard enough to maintain a positive relationship with just one, human beings as complex as they are. Again, though, that’s just me.

Still, I found myself thinking about this whole business between men and women and marriage as I watched Tiger Woods venture into the tabloid media and lose forever any semblance of privacy. He’s going to be the Paris Hilton or Brittney Spears of the golf world ever after. I hope he’s got a strategy for dealing with the inevitable heckling when he’s on the golf course again (we do so like to create heroes and then judge them).

The problem is, in my humble view, this culture tries to define the roles of men and women from two conflicting viewpoints, power and so-called “family” values.

Many young women—I’ll start with them since I know them better—have all too often been encouraged to look on marriage as salvation. The myth of Snow White says it all. The man is supposed to be rich and powerful to deserve her. All she has to be is beautiful. Through her husband, she can enter a world of power (his) and comfort (provided by him) and all she has to do is have children (to cement her position in his life and his bank account), maintain a household, and keep herself in shape.

Unfortunately, this world outlook has a lot of pitfalls and a great many drawbacks. For one thing, it makes the woman/wife completely dependent. It also makes her vulnerable to other marauding women who envy her lifestyle and would like to replace her. This is particularly the case when the husband is famous and wealthy. I’d say attractive, but that doesn’t seem to be a requirement as long as the bank account is.

I’ve been watching a marriage here in Colorado where this pattern plays out. Not that he’s rich and attractive, but he is the breadwinner and she’s never worked. She is completely dependent on him and he doesn’t try to hide his contempt for her. Of course, this is the failing of both parties, but because she doesn’t want to work she’s made a deal with the devil in order to be kept. He derives pleasure from the feeling of power over her lack of power. A sick example of this pattern, but I think it makes my point.

Many young men, on the other hand, seem to be socialized to compete for the trappings of power. Cars, boats, technology—all are advertised with pictures of provocative models—young women who fit the culture’s idea of beauty. The message is clear: earn big bucks and you’re entitled to the benefits. It doesn’t matter if your breath melts plastic or your stomach pours over your belt, you’re entitled to all your money can buy. Unfortunately, there are any number of women only too willing to be bought.

Hence Tiger Woods’ problem. He has a gorgeous wife and gorgeous children and “family values” say that should be enough. But at the same time he’s wealthy and operating in the world of power, best exemplified by Bill Clinton who answered “Because I could” when asked why he’d strayed..

When men stray, there are the inevitable defenses and accusations. I read in somebody’s blog that it must be Woods’ wife’s fault since she must not have been giving him enough sex. Don’t ask me how the blogger came to that conclusion since she’s had a child recently and they must have had sex sometime. Someone else I know said straying is built in to the entire male sex since they would all do it given the opportunity. Well, I don’t see where that is true either.

So I think we need to take a look at the fairy tales we’ve been force fed, particularly about marrying princes and princesses or even, in this case, contracting celebrity weddings. Being the best golfer in the world doesn’t really mean Tiger can have every bimbo and gold digger on the planet without having his business sold to the National Enquirer. Nor does being married to power and money really mean that the happy-ever-after and the prince of his wife’s dreams were ever guaranteed.

Ms. Palin's Cheesecake

I never thought I’d say thank heavens for Sarah Palin. I finally see some use for her beside (dangerous) comic relief. She's a glorious side street to national affairs. What’s really tickling me is how her calculated self-promotion makes amazing study in contrasts with the serious business being done quietly in the nation.

What has prompted my reconsideration of her is the cheesecake photo on the cover of Newsweek. There she is in shorts, making the most of her trim figure and posing like a swimsuit model. I found myself saying to her, “Wow—go for it. You’re the best diversion the nation could have because while we’re watching your narcissistic nonsense, the government can go on about its quiet and needed reforms.”

Talk about bread and circuses to keep the crowd roaring. She does it all by herself.

Thousands of lobbyists ferreted out of advisory committees:. Has she noticed? Does she care? Ms. Palin dons her shorts and does a perfect imitation of a gold digger: I’ve got it, baby, I’m flaunting it, and I’m gonna get rich.”

Parts of health care reform squeak through in the senate: Our Sarah does a book tour through the small towns where her adoring fans are more likely to be found than in the more educated and cynical cities, the very places she would have to carry if she were a serious presidential candidate.

Careful calculation and risk assessment start to reduce unemployment: little Miss Nike tries stir up the birther theory that Obama isn’t US born, an idea thoroughly discredited by Hawaii, the Hawaii newspapers, and ME (I saw his mother pregnant with him).

A weary Obama authorizes more American troops to Afghanistan: Ms. Palin announces a new political theory of tit for tat. “I was swiftboated over my son, Trig; therefore, it is an acceptable strategy. Let the dirt begin, it’s all fair in the political process.”

Ms. Palin never found a fork in the road let alone took the high one.

But, as I said, I have a new appreciation of her role in the world. While the emotion-driving, fearful, credulous among us have found their heroine, she is busy focusing their attention on her. I can envision Ms. Palin in shorts and provocative smile on a campaign poster for one of her opponents. Presidential? Hardly.

I had been worried that some populist swell would put her into contention for 2012. Oh she’ll be around and she’ll make a lot of noise and she’ll undoubtedly come out with some advantage for herself—but, baby, as all the aging bimbos can tell you, enjoy the ride because it doesn’t last longer than you’ll be able to pose in shorts for Newsweek. .
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