Blog

Budget Truth – Will We Finally Care?

For those who are highly partisan one way or the other politically, My comments are likely to upset you again. Notice how I said that – folks on both sides are equally pissed off.

I’ve said before in my blogs that although I’m registered as a Republican, most modern Republicans don’t like me saying that – I’m not “their brand” of Republican.

I think for myself rather than blindly following the orders given by the elite masters in charge of the party. Lest someone think I’m picking on Republicans, the Democrats have their own version of elite masters telling Democrats what to think and say as well. Everybody nice and pissed off already?

I want to talk about the budget today, in terms simple enough for me to understand. Those who are zombified by their party elite will spout whatever trash they’ve been fed, but the reality of federal budgets is a lot less partisan than the elite would like us to believe.

There are several good sites out there that a person can use to explore what really makes up the budget, and how we might re-prioritize how we spend our federal dollars. This is the part we need to focus on – the spending side. Here are a couple sites where you can try your hand at it:

Center for Economic and Policy Research

NY Times site

Baltimore Sun site

The Committee for a Responsible Federal Budget

Budget Hero Site

What you’ll find is that depending on which site you use, there are some constraints on what your options are. I found that in some cases, I wanted to do parts of some options rather than the whole thing. That’s OK – you can still get the message.

And the message is this: We’re in deep dodo. All those partisan talking points about getting rid of one program or the other have almost no real impact on the budget as a whole. To have any real impact on the budget as a whole, our options really come down to these:

  • Dramatically revamp how we spend money providing physical defense of our borders, in order to bring significant reductions in defense spending.
  • Dramatically revamp how we spend money providing social defense within our borders on what are called “entitlement programs”, in order to bring significant reductions in entitlement spending.
  • Return our federal income tax structure to something that looks more like the tax structure that we had in place during the 50’s and 60’s in our country.

There are two sides to the budget – money coming in and money going out, right? Just like our household budget. Congress is in complete control of whether or not we need to go into debt each year, because they decide how much we spend, and how much we take in.

As you look historically at the debt in our nation, remember that the debt is really very simple – the President works to set an agenda, and may propose a budget, then the President and Congress negotiate to arrive at spending priorities. This defines how much gets spent. The income side is even more simple – tax legislation defines how much revenue the government takes in to fund these things we’ve decided we want to spend money on.

Congress and the President work together, and they decide whether or not they want to plunge the country deeper in debt. Every year.

Starting in around 1980, Congress and the President started to get the notion that higher debt was really more OK than it had been in the past. As a Republican this makes me very ashamed, because this precedent began under Republican leadership. Of course, Reagan had the help of Democrats who let him set this agenda – an agenda based on this newly coined “Trickle Down Economics” notion. (A notion that George Bush senior described as Voodoo Economics).

History has proven George Bush senior right on this. Our country was in stagnation caused by the efforts of the Fed to curb inflation. When I bought my first home back in 1979 or 1980, my interest rate was something like 10% or 12%. Rates like that would plunge our country today into receivership. Thank goodness that at the time, our economy was strong enough to withstand such pressure.

At the time, folks were living pretty well. Wages were high, and unemployment was fairly low (by today’s standards). But our leaders were terrified of inflation, and in the latter part of the Carter administration, The Fed attacked inflation with a vengeance, driving interest rates up to those crippling rates.

During the Reagan administration, when the Fed began to lower interest rates, the economy picked up again. Just like today – look around at what has kept our nose above water for the last decade – incredibly low interest rates.

That part’s real simple. But then, while we were digging out of the mess that the Fed created, the neoliberals decided to try selling us the great fiction of the 20th century. They pedaled this notion that by lowering tax rates on the wealthiest Americans, you’d stimulate the economy. They timed it perfectly, because as the economy picked up as a result of falling interest rates, folks started to buy into the Voodoo Economics that they’d been sold.

In reality, while you can always get someone in the scientific or economic community to agree with nearly any wacko theory, the preponderance of credible economists will agree that tax rates have far less effect on economic stimulation than we were led to believe.

Use common sense to think about it. During the 1950’s, the American economy was booming and growing. Most folks see it as the real heyday of our “American Dream”. Underneath that robust and expanding economy were federal income tax rates as high as 94%. That’s right – the highest tax rates in our history correspond with the best economic growth in our history.

Not to say one caused the other – quite the opposite – the two things simply have little or no impact on one another. You don’t need an overpaid economist to use common sense and look at real history.

But the neoliberals did a great job of selling this myth to a public all too willing to gobble it up. After all, their myth included lower taxes – who doesn’t want to pay lower taxes? Why on earth wouldn’t we want to believe that?

Why does this matter? Because lowering the tax rates caused the debt to explode. Cut your revenue stream, increase your spending, and the result is very predictable. Exploding debt. We were increasing defense spending like crazy, and cutting the revenue we have to pay for that increased spending.

Folks, fairy tale time is over. It’s time for us to finally grow up and take responsibility and accountability for how we’re running the country. It’s unfortunate that for the past 30 years, we’ve been electing folks who seem bound and determined to run us into bankruptcy, but let’s put that in the past. Let’s be big boys and girls, and refuse to listen to the partisan pranks and dribble that will continue from both parties.

Can anyone who really looks at the numbers think we don’t need to raise taxes? For the past 30 years, the tax breaks we keep giving ourselves have proven to be nothing but a way of running up credit card debt. We were fools. George Bush senior was right – it’s all been voodoo economics. We’re going to have to be careful how we do it, but if you think we can avoid it, you need to go on back and sit down in the fairy tale circle with the other little ones, and look forward to milk and cookies and a nap. And the tooth fairy will be here soon.

On the spending side, we need to attack the big dollar items in our budget. That means entitlements and defense. And let’s face it, our defense spending is beyond absurd. We spend almost as much on defense as the rest of the world combined. Think about that. Staggering and absurd. Why couldn’t we figure out a way to spend twice as much as the next country on the list – who happens to be China? If we did that, we could cut our military spending down to less than a third of what we spend today – almost down to a fourth!

Wow! Just make our military spending twice what the next biggest spender in the world spends, and we save 600 or 700 BILLION DOLLARS A YEAR! Cutting that kind of spending out of the economy will have lots of consequence, as it will no matter where you cut if.

For example, most folks would like to see entitlements cut. But let’s open up the concept of entitlements to include all government giveaways – not just the giveaways to poor folks or old folks. Let’s not leave out cut to poor folks or old folks – but lets make sure we’re cutting all across the board – poor folks and rich folks and everything in-between. I say that, and it makes me wonder why on earth I as a taxpayer would be handing out giveaways to rich and middle-class folks anyway. I guess I get why we’d be helping poor folks and old folks – agree or not with the concept these are folks who need help. But why are middle-class and rich folks on the dole?

Fodder for another post, but just keep in mind, as with military spending cuts, cutting here is going to reduce jobs that people have, and will reduce money that’s currently part of the spending cycle of our economy.

Bottom line – I’m hoping more people will turn off the absurd partisan talking heads that run our media this coming election cycle, and think for themselves. We spent 30 years digging a deep hole of debt. Both Democrats and Republicans had shovels in their hands. But We The People bear the ultimate responsibility for the fact that we sat around in the fairytale circle and let the neoliberals play pranks with our economy, and shuffle vast sums of our nations wealth into the pockets of the wealthy elite on the world stage.

As a Republican, I’m ashamed that my party has been the biggest supported of this neoliberal crap, but we’ve needed the help of Democrats to get it done.

Will we fall for that same old line of crap again? My hope and prayer is that real voters in both parties expel the neoliberals and neoconservatives, and let’s get back to real conservative, progressive, and liberal foundations.

 

 

The Shape Of Help – 101

I suspect most folks have the same kind of angst that I’ve had lately about the disaster in Japan. We see folks in great need, and there’s something deep inside us that wants to reach out and help in some way.

There are lots of relief agencies who will supply resources as they can, and we can surely contribute resources to these sorts of agencies. Generally when this sort of disaster happens, resources pour into relief agencies, but there’s always the logistical bottleneck at the point of disaster – trying to find a way to get the resources to the point where they can really help.

For those of us who give the resources, we have some feeling that we’ve done something to help, albeit a distant hand offered through many brokers in-between. Detached.

I knew someone once who would get wild hairs to “help someone”. Once, at the end of a dinner among several people, she insisted we box up the many leftovers and give them to homeless folks someplace. We were in a town none of us knew, but we boxed up leftovers and ended up somewhere we probably shouldn’t have been, finding a way to share the leftovers with folks who seemed to want them.

At the time, I thought the exercise silly and of little value. It seemed to me that all we were doing was soothing someone’s guilty conscience about being more well-off than others, but we weren’t really doing anything effective to solve the problem of homelessness or feeding people. We all humored her, and she got to feel warm and fuzzy inside, like she’d really done something.

That’s how I felt at the time.

Looking back, I still see some amount of silliness in what we did that evening. But far less than I did at the time. She did, after all, reach out with real help to someone who needed it. She looked them in the eye and food went from her hand to theirs. Well actually, it was me looking them in the eye, and my hand doing the handoff, since it was clear we were not in the safest place in town. But still…

It was a true gesture of of personal help to someone. Did we spend more in gas delivering the help than the help was worth? Maybe, but I doubt the guy who ate well that night as a result of the gesture thought much about it. Or cared.

Our world is so fractured these days, and people are so insulated from each other. True interactions of deep engagement between one human and another are becoming more rare all across the globe. We see someone who needs help, but the only “reasonable” way we can offer help is to send a check to some relief agency, and hope a reasonable portion of the money is used in a wise way.

Mind you, I’m not arguing against relief agencies in any way – these folks do excellent work all across the globe, and the world needs them to continue their excellent missions.

What I think I’m arguing for is something extremely personal. True compassion and true giving come from the most personal and deep place in our heart. Most of us can’t really give that sort of help across the Pacific. Those opportunities for real and personal giving are much closer to us every single day.

I write a lot about the “circle of giving” thing. It’s different than a “ledger”, which is very binary and linear. In a ledger, I give a thing, and I get a checkmark for something I receive in return. It’s scorekeeping. When you keep score, it’s a transaction that ends as soon as the box in the ledger sheet is filled in.

The Giving Circle isn’t a ledger, but only works at a very personal level. Inside each of us is a deep and abiding compassion for others. At its most powerful, this compassion emerges as I reach my hand out to help someone else. As they reach their hand back to me, and accept the help, the circle becomes complete and grows. Their acceptance of my help “gives back” to me as a deep fulfillment of that desire within my heart to help others.

No ledger. No scorekeeping. Pure and simple sharing of compassion and gratitude, each feeding the other. A complete circle of giving.

Compassion that keeps a ledger feeds the ego. It’s a sense of pity for others who might have less good fortune.

Compassion that builds a Giving Circle is born of humility. Understanding the suffering of another allows the voice of our desire to give, and opens the heart to receive the gift of acceptance and gratitude in return. Giving becomes a privilege, and honor, and a gift received.

I’m a reasonable and practical person. There’s both good and bad in that. When it comes to “giving”, maybe it’s time we looked for “unreasonable” ways to help. Maybe we should look for opportunities to get in the car and deliver some food to somebody who needs it.

There’s nothing reasonable about true compassion.

Arguing With The Rock

As a teenager, I remember a friend commenting to me that he’d never met anyone who liked to argue as much as my dad did. He was sure, in fact, that if you put a rock down in front of my dad, he’d find something to argue with it about.

I’d never thought about it. I never really thought of the discussions my dad liked to have as “arguments”. We were taught from an early age that understanding was important, and that one of the most important tools in understanding was discussion. Real discussion – none of this “polite company” stuff. A discussion meant getting deep into the meat of an issue, and tearing it apart, and coming up with real understanding.

It wasn’t arguing really. It was exploration. Those who weren’t around my dad a lot didn’t realize that when a discussion opened up, he’d argue either side of the issue. If someone seemed to be taking “side a” in a discussion, my dad would strongly represent “side b”. If you were only around him occasionally, it was easy to think he was opinionated, and that you understood his positions. But when you knew him well, you knew that he could defend many different sides of an issue equally well.

In fact, that was an early lesson to me. Dad was insistent that hard discussion was critical to good and deep understanding, and that you should only enter into hard discussion if you could argue both sides of an issue equally well. If you could only argue one side, it only meant that you didn’t understand the other side, and only a fool argues against something he doesn’t understand.

There was great love and camaraderie in those heated discussions that we’d have as I was growing up. What felt at the time like stubborn resistance to ideas that seemed perfectly logical to me was actually relentless nudging toward the center of an issue – the only place that real truth and understanding could happen.

There were folks who would get frustrated with Dad, as he rarely let snide political comments pass unchallenged. Regardless of whether he agreed with the sentiment or not, (and you rarely knew if he did), he couldn’t abide the dishonesty that pervaded when you only presented one side of something.

The art of discussion is something I fear we’ve lost today. Few people are willing to invest the energy necessary to really understand an issue – they’d rather be told what to think by some idiot on the television screen. In an argument, folks have a set position, and victory means making a fool out of the other position, or talking over them, or bullying them. In Dad’s eyes, victory only happened when both people came away better able to argue the other side of the issue.

A good and dear friend got mad at me not long ago. His ideas seem strongly aligned with the extreme right or the extreme left politically – for this article it doesn’t really matter which it is. He’d gotten into the habit of including me in the never-ending emails produced by propaganda masters in the places where the extremes live, and forwarded to the party faithful for endless subsequent forwarding. This isn’t one side or the other – both extremes do the same thing.

The emails are generally mostly blather, with maybe the tiniest dose of the shadow of a true fact in there someplace. They’re targeted directly at the “party faithful”, to try and whip up the anti-whatever-they’re-against sentiment. They cater to those who don’t want to think for themselves.

Most of the time when I get these, I just push ‘em off to the trash can without even reading them. Now and again, I might read enough to rest assured that it’s just more blather. On one occasion, I read the blather, and was shocked at the complete lack of any fact or truth in what was being said. I shouldn’t be shocked, I know, because this is business as usual for the extremists – make stuff up and say it enough, and it no longer matters that it’s a lie.

On this occasion, though, I felt compelled to write back to my good friend, and correct some portion of the complete fiction that was in the email. My hope was to engage him in an actual discussion – really digging down into a particular issue. The result, however, was that I raised his anger at me – why couldn’t I just enjoy a little “humor”? He’s just sending this along to me in fun for crying out loud!

After a couple emails, I think we agreed that if he sent the political tripe to me, he should expect that I’d respond as-if he were looking for dialogue. (Sending an email is, after all, a form of opening a dialogue in my estimation…) I haven’t gotten any more emails…

I guess I’m glad to have less tripe in my inbox, but I’m sad that there’s now more distance between me and a friend of many years. If people have true affection and respect for one another, one of the most powerful demonstrations of that affection and respect is their ability to disagree with one another, and to explore the disagreement, and to learn from the position the other person is defending.

Or at least that’s what Dad taught us. Maybe that’s an ethic for a bygone era. Maybe today our culture teaches us we only want to engage with people who see things exactly as we see them. Maybe today, our hearts aren’t big enough for those who aren’t clones of us.Have our minds really shriveled and closed up to the point where they can only accept opinions and points of view that are already in there?

In the olden days of my father, “character” meant having the strength of ego to be wrong, the intelligence and understanding to defend many sides of an issue, and the heart to care more for friends than their opinions.
I fear our egos have become fragile and weak, our minds have become slaves to idiots on TV screens, and our hearts have shriveled to the point where we sometimes can’t see the difference between our opinions and our friends.

And I miss my friend…

The Wrecker by Clive Cussler

Placeholder Image for Reviews Page

The Wrecker

This is the second in the Isaac Bell series that Cussler recently introduced with co-author Justin Scott. I’m guessing that it’s really the second author who actually writes the book, and they just use Cussler’s name because it sells. I have no problem with that if Mr. Scott doesn’t. I’ve learned that I need to look at the second (real) author rather than just the Cussler name. In the case of the Isaac Bell series, I have to say I’m a real fan of Justin Scott – I absolutely love these novels – they’re by far my favorites from the Cussler stable. Set in the early 20th century, they have some really good historical aspects wound into them, and they don’t have the little political jabs and tripe that some of Cussler’s stable authors add to the story. Like The Chase, this one is centered around the railroad world of that era, and has not only excellent history, but really lets you “feel” that world in the characters.

My Rating

Author: Clive Cussler and Justin Scott
Category: Books
Genre: Adventure

Hanoi

1 Feb 2011 – The day before Tet.

I’d been looking forward for many hours and many days to seeing my son. He’d been working in Vietnam, away from family, for months. He was homesick, and I was homesick for him as well.

The last leg of flying happened at night, from Tokyo to Hanoi, and I slept on and off most of the flight. Arriving at the airport in Hanoi, we spent a bit of time working our way through the visa and entry process, then went and claimed our luggage, and headed out toward the public area.

It’s funny how – when you’ve been separated from someone for a while – your mind creates its own image of that person. I didn’t really think about that as we were headed toward Hanoi, I just knew I was looking forward to seeing Jesse. Frankly, I was really working hard to suppress any potential that my eyes would tear up when I saw him.

Walking out into the public area, it was impossible to miss Jesse. In a country and a region where most folks are short and slim, a six foot tall broad-shouldered American towers over everyone around. Add to that our habit of big bear hugs with loud back-slapping, and I suspect our greeting drew some attention.

Not that I noticed – I was focused on Jesse, and how different he looked to me. Different from what? I wasn’t sure. I suppose different from the image that my mind had been creating over the past days and weeks as I’d looked forward to seeing him.

The difference, I’m just now realizing a month later, was how much man I saw in him. Oh, he’s been a man for a good long time now. At 29, he’s been on his own for a lot of years.

But it’s a long process to start seeing a son as a man, and to let go of the image of the little boy you raised. I had no idea that I still held on to scraps of that little boy image in my mind. But looking back on that moment, and realizing how much I was surprised by something I was seeing in him, I’m thinking it was grandfather time resting his elbow on my shoulder, and showing me a strong and intelligent man who just happened to have been a little boy in my house many years ago. It was a new lens grandfather time was allowing me to look through.

The next day was “New Years Eve” in Hanoi, and preparations for the Tet holiday were in full swing. We spent the day walking all around Hanoi. I lingered often, taking pictures and marveling at a culture so dramatically different from my own. But only part of my lingering was to take pictures. I also found that I liked hanging back, and watching Jesse walking Peggy around the town. I’m not sure what it was that I found so touching about that, but I marveled at it many times.

Traffic in Vietnam (as in most places in the world) is far less “orderly” than it is here in the states, or in Western Europe. To a westerner, the traffic looks completely chaotic and terrifying, with folks just going in and out and left and right with no real order. But under the terror there really is sense to what’s happening, and you just have to play by their rules. You start in a direction, and you keep going in that direction, and you make no sudden changes. Traffic around you adapts.

I watched as Jesse offered Peggy his arm, and walked across the street with her. It was a five-points intersection, and the traffic was absolutely crazy. But they walked slowly and calmly across the craziness, looking ahead, keeping the same pace and direction. The traffic moved around them seamlessly. I was sure this would terrify Peggy, and watching her be so calm while she held Jesse’s arm was a real marvel for me.

The day was full of great sites – we were quite lucky to be there on the day of preparation for Tet – the Chinese New Year. All day, Jesse was the perfect guide, helping us understand the culture and how things worked. He fit in like it was home for him, and he navigated his way around town like it was his own town. It might have been the first time in my life that I felt completely dependent on him. I trusted his judgement and guidance completely.

I’m learning that some of the most arresting moments in life happen when you open your eyes and see the kids you raised in a whole new light. We’re always evolving and reinventing ourselves, aren’t we? It makes sense that as we do this, the folks who’ll be most taken and shaken as we grow and evolve and reinvent ourselves are our parents.

As the parent, I love the shakes and jolts my kids give me as they grow. Keep it up kids!

 

Khmer Beauty

Every glimpse happens through a lens. We see the life we live, and the world around us through the lens we’ve spent our life building. For a week in early 2011 – just after the Chinese New Year but before the Khmer New Year – we were given the chance to glimpse a different lens into the world.

Through this lens, the world is a colorful place of great beauty despite violent history. It’s a serene place of exquisite manners and hospitality. It’s a place that was once exceedingly wealthy, but is now desperately poor.

Out of this poverty rises stunning ingenuity, where a small motorbike becomes a tractor for a trailer-load of goods,

bicycles transport entire businesses, and impoverished orphans come together to build a silk manufacturing “mini-empire” using discarded wheels and components.

While we can’t change the fact that the lens through which we see the world was built by our Western upbringing, we were fortunate to allow a little distortion to that lens while we were guests. Through that modified lens we saw the tremendous beauty, kindness, and ingenuity that is Khmer.

 

Oh yea, and Math Season begins today…

Life After Mangos

On one of our last days in Cambodia, I mentioned to my son that it would be hard for me to get used to “life after mangos”. The comment came as I was scarfing down fresh fruit (including mangos) and fresh-squeezed mango juice for breakfast. We agreed it would make a great book title – for now it’ll just have to be the title of a post…

Vacationing in southern Cambodia puts you up close and personal with poverty and tragedy. The country has been racked by civil war, genocide, and bombing for my entire adult life. (And that’s a LOT!) The countryside is still riddled with land mines put down by many countries throughout that period. Every day, men, women and children in the countryside risk (and often lose) a game of hoping they aren’t maimed by a hidden mine.

Their government is far better than it’s been in the past, but is still a totalitarian regime. They have elections, but all the people know it’s just a sham. The best people can hope for is enough freedom and mercy from the government to allow them to live a life and make a living.

One of the wonderful things about travel to places like this is the reminder of just how easy and wonderful my life is in America. Sure we have a Congress that’s bought and paid for by big corporate donors, and our economy is on the brink of bankruptcy. But compared to much of the rest of the world – places like Cambodia – the least of us live a life of unfathomable luxury. Being there reminds me of that on a daily basis.

But there are some amazing bright lights in the darkness of a place like Cambodia.

Like mangos for breakfast every day. And lunch. And dinner. We had some mediocre fare, but we also had some amazing good food. More fascinating to me is the ingenuity of the human mind and spirit. Their life and economy runs on stuff that we’d throw away in our economy. Representing this wonderful spirit most clearly is the amazing motorbike.

In our country, a small motorcycle is seen as a plaything for young children. An adult male in American requires a Harley, with a big look and a big sound. A vespa is seen in some circles as a symbol of whimpism.

Family of 4 on a bike

Not in Cambodia. A Vespa type motorbike is a family vehicle – literally. Look at any street at any time, and every 5th or 6th bike has a family of 4 riding on it. Really. Mom, Dad, and 2 kids on a Vespa. Here in America, a refrigerator requires a big pickup truck, but in Cambodia, it goes on the back of a motorbike. Really – I saw small refrigerators on the back of bikes more than once. And pigs on their way to market. The list goes on and on.

Refrigerators on bikes were not an uncommon site
That's right - a pig on it's way to market on the back of the bike

But the really cool thing is the use of the motorcycle as the tractor part of a tractor trailer rig. These aren’t Vespa-type bikes, but they’re still small by American standards. 125cc or 250cc bikes have their seats removed, and a makeshift 5th wheel arrangement welded onto the frame.

The 5th wheel arrangement they used

In most cases, some form of a seat pad sits in front of this 5th wheel. Attached to the 5th wheel can be any form of trailer, but there was a common trailer configuration that seemed to be used often. Just looking at the rigs, I’d guess the trailers weigh in at something around 500# – 1000#, and I saw some loads on those trailers that I’d guess to be well over 5000# gross. All pulled by a little motorbike.

Waiting their turn for a load

Brakes you ask? I saw no electric connections that would indicate any braking arrangements on these trailers. But then, in Cambodia, you live life lots closer to the edge…

Gives a good sense of the chaos at any intersection as well - but it works...

In many ways, the ingenuity of these people, and their ability to make pretty darned good lemonade out of lemons blew my mind. While I felt grateful for all I have in America, I also sometimes felt shamed that we might have lost some of that spirit of innovation. I wonder how we can recapture some of that? Not that we’ve lost it all – just seeing it so strong and prominent in a place driven by such need seemed to highlight some complacence in my culture.

As for the lemonade, it was pretty darned good – as was the mango juice! Maybe mango juice is one of the keys to creativity and ingenuity?

Who needs a pickup truck, when you've got a Vespa...

Labor Pains in Wisconsin

Is it union-busting or responsible fiscal management?

It’s been really interesting to me to watch as the Wisconsin labor issues have been unfolding this week. It’s become a battle between wage-earners and those with all the power and money, and who knows how it will lay when its all unfolded.

My formative years growing up were spent in a blue-collar neighborhood. My buddies when I was growing up had dads who were carpenters and truck-drivers. Most were part of a union – at least the lucky ones were. While in my house and around the dinner table, unions were something spoken of in negative tones, it was a very different picture I got from the kids I hung out with.

It wasn’t that my dad was harshly anti-union, it’s just that his perspective was that the unions had too much power, and could influence the running of a company to a degree he didn’t like. I think that as the years went by, he became more anti-union.

Intellectually, all the arguments I was armed with were anti-union. The focus was on the corruption and greed. That’s the side of organized labor that I saw. This came to a head in my mid-20’s, when I had a job as a truck driver in a union shop. It was a good job, but after a short initial period, it would require that I join the union. Once I joined the union, then union dues would start coming from my paycheck, and I felt like I might fall off the dark side of an issue.

Then, one morning, I was headed to a job with one of the senior drivers. While he wasn’t the shop steward, he was clearly a senior member of the crew. I could tell that it was his intent this morning to make sure I understood that I’d need to go down and join the union, and he was looking to find out where I stood on things.

Bill Shelley was his name, (spelled like the poet, I recall him telling me), and I can remember the conversation like it was yesterday. Bill was a big burly fella. On our drive, I spoke honestly to him about my problem with unions as a whole, and my discomfort with the fact that I now would need to join one. Bill’s response floored me. While I expected a harsh confrontation from this big burly guy, what I got was a sensitive and understanding response.

He understood clearly how I could feel this way. He understood that the press painted organized labor in a negative light, so it would be pretty hard for anyone to feel positive without first-hand experience. There was no option for me to continue to work there without joining the union, but there was great understanding on Bill’s part regarding how I might feel like I did.

Bill talked a lot that morning about how organized labor in general had benefited his family, and most of the folks that he lived and worked around. He had some truly inspiring first-hand stories that he shared with me. It was one of those moments when my world-view was shifting dramatically – I was being forced to see things from a different perspective than I’d seen them before.

Bill helped me see that the only reason decent blue-collar neighborhoods existed was because organized labor kept wages high enough to allow a middle class to exist. Take that away, destroy the blue-collar working class in this country who makes enough to live a decent life, and how long can the country last without beginning to look like the feudal economies our forefathers ran from when they built this country?

“Class” is a concept Bill was comfortable talking about. He had no problem with the idea that “class” was alive and well in the country. In fact, it was a person’s ability to identify strongly with a “class” that was a critical component to a healthy society in his opinion. He was proud to be part of a “working class”, and was willing to fight to make sure that his working class didn’t get pushed into the sewers by those with all the power and money.

Corruption? Sure there was corruption in organized labor. There’s corruption in any large organization. It’s part and parcel to the human condition. There’s nothing unique to the concept of organized labor that makes it any more or less corrupt than AIG, Enron, or Congress to use examples from today. Does the media attack the concept of government or the concept of “corporate america” as bad ideas just because corruption exists within their walls?

Fast-forward.

Everything Bill talked about has come to pass. The press has continued for decades to paint organized labor in a negative light. Those with the power and money have continued to bust unions and weaken organized labor for 30 years. The watershed event was when Reagan busted the Air Traffic Controller’s union, signaling a brand new era when it’s OK to bust labor, because the press will support you.

As Bill predicted, wages in America have plummeted as organized labor has diminished. In the late 70’s, I was an independent businessman who hired casual labor. Generally, I paid about $10/hr for casual labor. Sometimes I could get by for $8/hr. Today, I’m an independent businessman who hires casual labor. I still pay about $10/hr for casual labor. With inflation, that’s probably about equal to paying $3/hr or so back when Bill Shelley and I were having our conversations.

Sure I like that my labor cost is low. But keeping that labor cost low in this country has resulted in the loss of a viable and strong working middle class. The folks I hired back in the 70’s had families, and they supported those families with their hard work. The folks I hire today couldn’t possible support a family on wages. Moms and dads work multiple jobs just to try and pay the rent. Discretionary money for “nice things” is a myth they’ve heard about.

While all this has been happening, the wealthy classes in America have Congress bought and paid for. Firmly in their pocket, they’ve assured that we’ve lowered their taxes, regardless of the fact that doing so has driven the nation to the brink of bankruptcy. Unlike the average American family, Congress seems to believe that you can cut your revenue without reducing expense, and there will be no consequence to pay.

The result? We’re broke. We didn’t just dig this hole this year or last year – we’ve been digging it for 30 years. The hole we dug happened because we took money from our budget, and gave it to the taxpayers. Sure everyone benefited from those lower taxes, but those who benefited the most were those with the most money. I’m a taxpayer – I like paying lower taxes. But the cost of those lower taxes has been this deep financial hole we’ve dug for ourselves.

I’ve know folks who’ve learned how to manage money from Congress. They go out and spend lots of money on things they want, and just charge it to the credit card. I watch it happen, knowing full well where it leads. It takes a while, but eventually the chickens come home to roost, and they wake up in bankruptcy. They rarely understand how they really got there – they always want to blame some recent event – look for something that caused this to happen to them. They hardly ever take real accountability and make the lifestyle changes required to dig out of the hole – a hole that will probably take them a lifetime to dig back out of.

That’s where we are right now. We’ve spent 30 years digging this hole by spending more money than we take in. As a behavioral scientist would predict, we’re not taking accountability for our actions – accepting that all those tax cuts we bought year after year on the credit card is what’s put us in a place where we can barely service our debt. Instead, we’re looking for someone to blame for our problems.

And in Wisconsin, the governor has found someone he wants to blame. Working folks. He figures that the media has done such a great job of denigrating organized labor that there just won’t be many folks who’ll sympathize with them, and that in the end, this is his chance to bust the unions. Apparently he’s said as much on a phone call.

There aren’t many bastions of organized labor left in our nation. There’s no doubt that busting this union will save the state some money, and there’s no doubt that this is a great time to attack organized labor if that’s what you want to do. But, I suspect that there’s been no real and genuine attempt to take the money first from all the places that need it less than working men and women.

Trying to balance budgets on the backs of working men and women might reap some short-term gains for folks with power and money, but in the long run, it’s bad policy for the nation. Keep taking away from that big middle of America, and who’s left to buy all the crap we want to import from China and sell from the shelves of Walmart?

Bill Shelley was right-on. I feel fortunate to have gotten some insight from him 35 years ago. I only wish his wisdom could be heard over the din of the media elite.

I want to point out that there’s no mention of Democrat or Republican in this post. This isn’t an issue of Democrats or Republicans, Left or Right, Conservative or Liberal. This is an issue of supporting working men and women in our country, and looking for ways to strengthen our economy. Our economy gets strong again when we revitalize that vast working middle class in the country. Slashing wages and the ability of those workers to organize does the opposite – it continues down the path of destruction of our vital working class.

Ascending Dragons, Descending Dragons

Enjoying Ha Long Bay, vs “Doing” Ha Long Bay

We went all-out on our cruise of Ha Long Bay (in Vietnam). We figured it’s once in our life, and the difference between all-out and just OK was less than a hundred dollars a day for 3 days. In the scheme of my life, there are lots of places I waste that and don’t even notice.

All-out meant the one upper floor cabin on a 5 cabin Junk. Big suite with jacuzzi, rain-shower, big bedroom. A wall full of windows. The works. Really top shelf. Probably the only time in my life I’ll be so extravagant, and I thoroughly enjoyed it! (Fortunately, these sorts of extravagant excesses don’t creep into my life often, so I don’t need to worry much about falling into a life of decadence…)

We used a line called Indochina Sails. Our son in Ha Long Bay said they were considered one of the best lines and had a good reputation. We chose to go on their smaller (of 3) boats – one with 5 cabins called the Valentine. As I said, we booked their best cabin on that boat, for less than a hundred dollars a day more than the other cabins. When we set the cruise up, I wondered how they worked out the logistics of having folks onboard who were 2-day guests and some who were 3-day guests.

Here’s what they do: All three boats make the same exact “turn” every day. They go out into the bay in the afternoon, and they return the next morning. The 2-day guests stay on their boat, and slog through the throngs of hundreds (probably thousands) of other tourists from countless cruise lines slogging through those same sights each afternoon and each morning. However, the 3-day guests get off the boat and spend day 2 on a nice day boat, sharing the boat with the other 3-day guests from the other 2 boats. Then in the afternoon, the day boat meets up again with the 3 big boats, and you get back on your own boat.

This works really well. Without going into more detail than needed here, let me say that I didn’t understand it well, and complained loudly when I heard about this boat shuffling that was going to happen. I felt like I paid to be on this boat, and I didn’t want to be shuffled around. I ended up on a cell phone with the director of the cruise line, whose name is Jerry. Jerry heard my complaint, was the perfect customer service gentleman, and wanted to do whatever he could to make things right with me. In the end, he persuaded me that I was likely to enjoy the second day if I did things their way.

He was right. Like I said before, that middle day is when you get away from the crowds, relax, and see the things that the other thousands are missing. Admittedly, if more people did the 3 day cruise, this would not be the case. But at least for now, hardly anyone stays for all 3 days.

That middle day on the day boat, we had the best “guide” we’d had for the whole trip. He was relaxed, down to earth, and a lot of fun to be around. We also shared the boat with 2 other English-speaking westerners, so it was good to have familiar conversation. One couple was from Australia, and one was from England. Our conversations were truly a delight, and it was really interesting to talk things like politics with folks who have such a different perspective from my own.

The best part of the day – for me at least – was after we got to our own boat. While the newly arrived 2-dayers departed the boat to go visit the fishing village, (which we had already done the day before), I stayed back and hung out down below at waterline. This is where folks come and go on the tender. It’s also the place where the local fishing village folks sell stuff to you. These are folks who live on the water their entire lives. Their houses float, their school floats, and their church floats. The cruise boats have become a way to suck money from the tourism industry into their village. If I’m gonna have a beer anyway in the evening, I’d rather buy if from the local mom selling them out of her little boat than from the cruise line anyway – she needs it more than they do.

So I spent a couple bucks, then sat down in the hatch, and enjoyed one of the beers. Three boats filled with little girls from the village came over to sell me shells. They were savvy merchants no doubt, and I admired their entrepreneurial spirit and spunk. I bought a few shells from them after some hard negotiations. Once they figured out that I was done buying stuff, the fun really started.

I was different from most of the tourists they were used to seeing – I wasn’t rushing past looking to “do” their village. I was just sitting in the afternoon sun, enjoying the ocean. I was someone fun to try out their English on. They were laughing and teasing and giggling – making all sorts of fun jokes at my expense I have no doubt. They were being just exactly like little girls all over the world. And I was in heaven.

3 boats, 3 families. I learned who was sisters to whom, though their names were tough for me. I learned how old they each were – ranging from 14 (nearly ready for marriage by their village standards as I understand), down to 5. The 5 year-old amazed me with her agility as she climbed from boat to boat as-if she were playing on a jungle-gym.

We laughed and joked and learned and had a great time. Until one of the boat crew came down, and the spirit of the encounter changed. They were obviously careful about how the boat crews viewed them, and the all jumped back in their own boat once the crew member was around. It didn’t take long until they decided they needed to head off to different pastures to see if they could sell some shells.

My heart was more than a little sad to lose my new friends. Our visit had been the perfect highlight to a wonderful middle day. We’d spent time in a kayak, had monkey throw rocks at us, visited one of the thousands of caves in the area – just the six of us and our guide, and got a great education at a local pearl farm. Our lunch was outstanding, and the boat was every bit as pleasant and enjoyable as the Valentine. Everyone on-board agreed this must be the best part of the cruise – this middle day.

So I ask myself: If this middle day is the enjoyable one, why is it that the vast majority of people only take the 2 day cruise?

Local Vietnamese folks certainly can’t afford a cruise like this. The majority of people I observed seemed to be from Korea, probably some Chinese as well. Maybe 1 in 4 were Westerners like us. It was the Tet holiday, which may have increased the percentage of Asian tourists since it is their big holiday. So maybe in normal times there are 50% Westerners? Just guessing. In any case, the point is that folks are on this cruise as only one part of a vacation – they’re not here “just for the cruise”.

Ha Long Bay is one of the checkmarks they have on their list of things to do in Vietnam or SE Asia. As such, their travel agent packed as much as possible into their 2-week trip. They wanted to “do Ha Long Bay”, and why spend 3 days of the vacation “doing” Ha Long Bay when you can get the job done in 2?

I get this, I really do. Under different circumstances, and at a different point in my life, I have no doubt I would have done the same thing. Pack as much in as you can. “Do” as many sites as possible.

But when I spend my vacation like this, it’s just a big blur with a bunch of checkmarks at the end. I followed the throngs from one obligatory overlook to the next, and snapped the obligatory snapshot at each to prove I was there, but I missed the guts of all the places I went.

I got the checkmark, but I missed the good day. I missed meeting people of real interest, and enjoying a delightful meal on a beautiful woodenm deck dappled with sunlight glinting off the calm water around. I missed the gecko and the crab deep in the isolated cave. I missed the young woman who reminded me of my daughter trying to teach me about pearl cultivation through the few dozen words of English that we had in common. I missed monkeys throwing rocks at my kayak, and Peggy learning to paddle a kayak all by herself.

I got the checkmark, but I missed the heart and soul of the place.

I’m glad I’ve learned and matured a bit in this way, and changed the way I look at traveling. The number of checkmarks I make on a list might be fewer than it would have been in the past, but my enjoyment, fascination, of love of each of the places I visit is far greater.

If you read my blog, you know that the concept of “place” and the concept of “journey” are important to me. When it comes to a vacation, we need to ask ourselves why it is that we go to a “place”, and why it is that we take a “journey”. If a “place” is nothing more than a checkmark on a list of sites to “do”, I might as well buy a good video and “do” the place in HD in the comfort of my couch. If a “journey” is nothing more than a series of crowded flights and passport stamps, does it really matter where the plane lands?

As I keep evolving, I’m pretty sure vacations are going to become less and less cluttered. It’s those middle days of a visit to a place where I really learn to feel and see the place – where I can really start to let it seep into me. It’s that slow boat ride in the sun where the journey takes place, or lazily sitting in the back of the kayak while Peggy learns to paddle it, not on an airplane at 35,000 feet.

Jerry was right.

Oh, and the whole ascending and descending dragon thing? It’s how the bay was formed. The dragons created the unique islands that the bay is famous for out of jade as they were ascending and descending, in order to give the people protection from invaders and from weather. Watching the light grow as I sat on the top deck of our boat and marveled at the beauty shimmering on the calm ocean of early dawn, seeing these eerie stacks of egg-shaped green islands emerged from the bay all around me, the legend made perfect sense to me.

Ha Long Bay Cruise Junks

There are places you can end up in the world where you can’t seem to get your eyes to close for fear you’ll miss the next spectacular turn. Halong Bay in Vietnam is one of those places.

A couple days ago, a boat sunk there in the bay, killing a number of people. They call this type of boat a “cruise junk”, and they’re quite common in parts of the bay. We took a 3 day cruise on one of these “junks” last week, so I’d like to talk a little about the junks themselves and what the tours typically look like. Then in my next post I’d like to talk about my experience on the tour last week, and what the bay left behind in my heart and mind after the 3 day tour.

The Ha Long Bay Cruise

There are several “piers” in both Ha Long City and Hai Phong city where junk cruises depart from. The two cities seem to have the bay “divided up”, so that they stay out of each other’s territory. While I’m sure there are “day cruises” as well, it seemed to me that the overnight cruise was what nearly everyone purchased. The level of “luxury” seemed to be widely varied, though generally the price for a 2 day, 1 night cruise seemed to run from $200 – $500 per person.

Regarding safety precautions and western style public safety, you’ve to to realize that this is Vietnam, not the West. In the West our judicial systems seem less corrupt than those in countries like Vietnam, and we have judicial codes that hold parties responsible for damage to other parties. This doesn’t seem to be the case in Vietnam. Compounding this is the “value” that we seem to put on human life in the west, vs the value in countries like Vietnam. Keep in mind that if you’re a lucky average worker in Vietnam, you’ll earn $5/day. If they lose a worker on a job site – through poor practice or just plain accident – there’s another one ready to take the job, and I suspect there’s little (if any) inquiry into the loss of life, assuming the right bribes are placed.

On our 3 day tour, I saw nothing that made me want to return to shore in terms of safety. However, I also lived on the “passenger” side of the boat, so have no idea what the engine room or other areas “below” looked like. In fact, after spending several days on the streets of both Ha Long City and Ha Noi, the boat seemed relatively safe. That’s more a statement, by the way, of the streets and traffic than of the boat. That’s another post…

Regarding general “maritime safety”, I’m no expert, and my opinion is given for free – take it for what it’s worth. That said, it seemed to me that there was a reasonable degree of “maritime professionalism” on the bay and between boats – at least as it relates to interacting with one another, and maintaining safety between each other.

It seemed that the cruise lines had all agreed on a few “highlight spots”, where they would all stop for passengers to visit. These spots varied from fishing villages to beaches to caves. At each of these “stops” it can be madness, as hundreds of tourists from various boats all clamor ashore to enjoy the remote beauty amid the throngs of others enjoying the remote beauty.

In this respect, western style tourism has arrived in full force in Vietnam…

Having offered this critical little quip, I have to say that even amid the throngs, the beauty of the places the cruises took you to was breathtaking.

While English is accepted as the Lingua Franca in Vietnam as in most of the world today, the English spoken by most in the tourist industry there is very limited. For those accustomed to traveling, and accustomed to finding ways to communicate with limited overlapping language, the language is not an issue really – you can figure it out. However, most folks in the US have never had to deal with this, and really struggle when someone speaks only a little English.

In Vietnam, (as in most of SE Asia), Western tourism dollars have become absolutely critical to government coffers, local economies, and local workers. Most of the individual workers that we interfaced with – once you asked and learned a bit more about their life – considered tourists to be the delivers of manna in an economic blight. One of our “guides”, for example, grew up in a coal mining town close by. His father is 60, and sounds close to death with lung issues. He felt lucky that his father got him a job at the coal mine, but was able to leave that job to work as a tour boat guide, where he earns much more without the health risk.

So, while my Western eye might look at this guy, and feel bad at the long hours he works and the poor working conditions, this job is almost the lap of luxury to him, compared to the life he’d have without the tourism industry. This is important perspective for the Western observer, because it underpins an extreme dedication on the part of the people in the area to make sure their Western visitors are pleased.

There are no surly waiters in Vietnam…

In fact, it’s almost embarrassing sometimes how much folks fawn over tourists. I particularly enjoyed how they had adapted what they believed to be humor. They would tell jokes or word-plays that could probably have been carried off within the context of a Western conversation, but that was comically flat when they said it. Of course, once the tourists realized that this was an attempt at humor, most would laugh dutifully. I found this particularly enjoyable to observe, and you could see the keen eye of the worker watching the crowd to see how well he was learning the language.

Which brings me to my final observation – the dedication and hard work of the people of that area. During the civil war of the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s – the one that America participated in – this area was bombed repeatedly. It’s likely that millions of people died as a result of the bombing. Cities and culture were destroyed. To survive, people hid in the many limestone caves that riddle the small islands of the area.

The region survived that brutality, and they continue to survive under the yoke of totalitarian style government. Yet, my interactions with individuals never left me with a feeling that there was resentment of the US for the bombs we dropped or the people we killed. I was always left with a feeling of welcome and genuine personal friendliness. People there often work much harder than we in the West can imagine, and make far less than we can fathom. If I were in their shoes, I would feel great resentment toward Westerners – especially in light of the propaganda I am sure the Communist regime feeds them.

Yet, I never saw that or felt it from anyone. Surely it must exist, but must remain hidden. Even with the incentive that Western tourism dollars represents for folks to hide their resentment, I would still have expected to see some of it exposed. Perhaps with enough time in the right places I would see it, but based on what I saw, these people seem among the hardest working, most dedicated, and friendliest in the world.

Next, my own personal experiences on a Junk Cruise last week…

Keyword Search Paragraph: Halong Bay Cruise, Ha Long Bay, cruise ship sinks in Halong Bay, cruise junk sinks in vietnam, cruise junk safety