I'm going to admit it: I *love* to shovel snow

As a matter of fact, I think it's fair to say that shoveling snow is the activity that I find most pleasurable and certainly the most stimulating.  I look forward to snowstorms.

That's probably because I'm so comfortable using a shovel. For the first thirteen winters we spent in New Brunswick, I mucked barn stalls almost daily.  We always had at least six horses (and as many, though never more, than nine).  If each horse ate 25 lbs of dry hay daily, with the water they need to digest it weighing at least twice as much, it is no exaggeration to say that I moved, on average, hundreds of pounds of hay every day.  With a shovel and wheelbarrow.  And if I was forced to skip a day or two, on some weekends I moved a ton.

So, for me, it's not such a big deal to clean my own driveway, sidewalks and decks after every snowstorm, and I look forward to it.

Quite honestly, I'm pretty sick of hearing the advice (if well-meaning) of those who tell me that a snow-shovel is a "widow-maker".

If they find me dead of a massive coronary some morning (we got about 10cm last night), hey ... I'm perfectly ok with that. There are so many ways of dying that are far worse, and far more likely.

Of all the ways to die, face down in snow is certainly not the worst.

At age 62, having seen how time wilts and withers people, how cancer chews up their bodies, how dementia wears down families, a simple cardiac arrest isn't such a bad prospect.



A few photos I took this morning:

The American Dream still exists ... it just emigrated to other countries

The World Economic Forum released a report this week in Davos that ranked the United States 27th in the world for social mobility. 

The top five nations were (of course) Denmark, Norway, Finland. Sweden and Iceland.

FACT: Socioeconomic mobility in the United States is at its most sluggish in history.

The lesson here is very simple.  But it is striking how often it is overlooked.  We are so caught in the myths of the best and the brightest and the self-made that we think outliers spring naturally from the earth.  We look at the young Bill Gates and marvel that our world allowed that thirteen-year-old to become a fabulously successful entrepreneur.  But that's the wrong lesson.  Our world only allowed one thirteen-year-old unlimited access to a time-sharing computer terminal in 1968.  If a million teenagers had been given the same opportunity, how many more Microsofts would we have today?  To build a better world we need to replace the patchwork of lucky breaks and arbitrary advantages that today determine success with a society that provides opportunities for all, multiplying the sudden flowering of talent in every field and profession.  The world could be so much richer than the world we settled for. 

– Malcolm Gladwell, Outliers:The Story of Success (2008)

It's an important lesson, I believe, at a time when Americans are choosing to reduce benefits to society at large in order to preserve the wealth and power of a very small group of corporatists, to perpetuate war and a growing "security state."  Trickle-down was a good idea, people, it just failed.

I think Americans have made their choice.  I also believe the outcome of that choice is quite clear, and inevitable.  Good luck with it.  Just leave me the fuck out of it.

I'm a lot happier in a reality-based world

I've lived in Canada now for 14 years.  I have learned, during that time, that one thing Canadians have going for them is they are not guided by ideology, or dogmatic beliefs.  For that reason, most Canadians have rejected politics and religion in their actual, real-world lives.  Canadians don't allow mere politics or social wedge issues to divide our country.  And, contrary to what a lot of Americans believe about Canada, Canadians don't have strong notions about socialism; particularly not as a mere political system.  Canadians just do what works; and they quickly reject that which doesn't work.

I call it "reality-based" living.  And I am much happier living in a reality-based society.

When I lived in the US (in 6 different Bible Belt states), I was surrounded by people who were driven by irrational fear (I'm a "Cold War" kid, make no mistake), and absolutely committed to beliefs that were illogical and irrational (because they were never founded on reality).  Americans are completely unwilling to consider any challenge to the dogma of their politics or their religion (and, let's face it, for Americans, those have become one and the same).

Examples?  How about the current impeachment fiasco?  On the other side, how about MAGA?  Both are dreams and both are escapes from an uncomfortable reality.

There's nothing wrong with dreaming, and we all do it.  I still have the same dreams I always had; I just no longer live with the false hope of seeing them become reality.  For two long I let mythology guide me and hated any reality that threatened the myths I loved.  Like most Americans.

In 5th period American History class at my high school, I was taught mythology instead of the true history of the United States.  That mythology is still the core of what I believe, and a large part of what I've become.  I treasure those myths because I realized they are what a few men have always dreamed about ... a better world, and I won't discount the value of their dreaming.

But I can't be honest to myself and ignore the huge gulf between the promise of those dreams and reality of America's accomplishments.  That gulf is unavoidable to those with open eyes, that gulf is wide, and it is growing ever wider at an ever-faster pace.

There were men among those early founders of the American state who believed quite fervently in the Enlightenment principles but I think it's a false notion that those men (and the largely intellection and philosophical principles of "Age of Reason") were the force behind the action (and the American Revolution was an action) that led to the end of colonial exploitation of North America.

The American revolution did not result from a fervour in the hearts of men for a protection of those innate rights (self-evident) that were bestowed by God on all human beings and, therefore, off limits to mere "governments" which can neither confer or deny them. No, that's the myth we were taught and, by all that is good in this world, I believe in that myth, and I love it with all my heart, but I have accepted the truth that it wasn't the guiding force for action.

Action comes from darker stronger forces, and that's often missed by true believers.  If I could believe for one instant that the United States, today, in its modern form, was guided by a desire for spreading democracy and bringing peace to a violent world and ensuring the protection of rights to all of God's children (blah blah blah), I might still believe that the American revolution was fought for the liberation of the oppressed and for the advancement of the ideals that ennoble mankind. I'm no longer that 16-year-old in 5th period History class.  Sorry ... I grew up. I tried to prevent it from happening, but it was beyond my control.  I saw too much, too clearly and, quite simply, I can't unsee it.

The American Dream is exactly that ... a dream.  It's a dying dream, most of us know that ... we just deal with it differently; all of us in our own ways.  I'm not condemning anyone's "way" of dealing with it, I'm just saying that I believe reality is a good thing.  I think I'll stick with it. :-)

Be afraid; very very afraid

My personal Terry Fox story

Today is the annual Terry Fox Run here in Canada, which will take place in over 9,000 Canadian communities to commemorate Terry Fox's historic 1980 "Marathon of Hope", his attempt to run across Canada to raise money for cancer research,

Most American (I believe) have never heard of Terry Fox. I certainly hadn't when I immigrated to Canada from the United States in October 2005 at the age of 48. That year, for the 25th anniversary of the "Marathon of Hope", Canada had issued the Terry Fox loonie (Canada's one-dollar coin).  I received a Terry Fox loonie in change one morning at a Tim Horton's in Moncton, and looked at the iconic image of Terry, running on his prosthetic leg and said to my friend, "I don't get it ... is this some kind of bionic man?" Several bystanders turned their heads and my friend, embarrassed, said "Charles ... that's not very funny.."

I didn't intend it as a joke.  I really didn't understand. I certainly didn't recognize the image of a man that is so familiar to every Canadian.

So my friend (Jeff, by name) told me the story of Terry Fox and his historic 1980 "Marathon of Hope"  which started in the neighbouring Atlantic province of Newfoundland and ended 143 days and 5,373 kilometres (3,339 mi) later, when Terry's cancer returned.  Within a year, it had taken his life.  He died at the age of 22.

As Jeff told me the story, some of the bystanders, who were at first shocked and offended at my "joke", which they considered to be in unimaginably poor taste, joined in, each adding some detail or personal remembrance to the story.  When they learned that I was an American, they were glad to share Terry's story with me. They all knew it ... and all could contribute a detail, or a feeling, to it.

It was a wonderful experience, especially for a newcomer to Canada, and I will never forget that moment.

I learned that there is probably no adult in Canada who doesn't know who Terry Fox is, what he looked like, and why he had an artificial leg.

When I learned Terry Fox's story, he became a personal hero to me, and always will be. And I understood a new kind of heroism, of life lived with courage, that most Americans don't understand. Terry Fox may be Canada's greatest hero; certainly the most recognizable, but that is only partly because of what he did.  It's because of who Canadians are. He's a hero here in Canada because of what is special about Canadians. And that's an invaluable trait that I hope I also possess.

Surprisingly, I don't have a Terry Fox commemorative loonie anymore, and I should get one.
___
Charles Aulds
15 September 2019

This photo courtesy of my newfie friend, Derrick.The inscription on the monument reads:  "On April 12, 1980, a curly haired 21-year-old man named Terry Fox began his journey by dipping his artificial leg into the sea near this monument, which was dedicated on April 12, 2012, 32 years later"

Teapot Dome (and a greater scandal, much more recent)

I read a brief account of the so-called “Teapot Dome Scandal” recently.  I learned about it, I’m sure, in high school American History, but I could remember none of the facts about it.  It took place during the Presidency of Warren G. Harding (who died in office in 1923).

I learned three things about the scandal that surprised me, and will probably surprise you, too.

1) A claim of national security was used to sell the scam

2) Oil companies used the US government to make huge profits

3) The oilfields, national assets, were used for corporate profit, in other words, the American people paid the price; it was their wealth that was funneled into the pockets of a few wealthy corporatists.

Compare this to what George W. Bush did in 2002, in the run up to the invasion of Iraq.  He sold that invasion as necessary for national security, defense contractors used the US government to make huge profits, benefiting from no-bid (sole-source) contracts to take hundreds of billions of taxpayer dollars and put it in their own pockets.  It was theft, by government, just like Teapot Dome. And it should’ve been viewed as as such, as a scandal and a disgrace.

So, why wasn’t it?

Teapot Dome, until Watergate, was considered the greatest political scandal in U.S. history. The scandal centered around three oilfields that in 1909 had been legally allocated to the United States Navy—a safeguard against possible shortage of oil in time of emergency. They were Naval Reserve No.1, at Elk Hills, California; No. 2, at Buena Vista, California; and No. 3, at Teapot Dome, Wyoming. As the oil lay dormant underground, there became concerns that adjacent wells would either advertently or inadvertently siphon off the oil. Congress addressed these concerns by giving the secretary of the navy discretion over how best to conserve and utilize the oilfields.

Harding’s interior secretary, Albert Fall, had his own plan. Rather than receive competing bids for the leases of the reserves, he would sole-source the leases under a national security justification. He would then lease the three reserves to three separate friends with terms that were disproportionately favorable to the oil companies. The punch line of Fall’s scheme was that by making the oil companies richer, he would earn kickbacks in the form of no-interest loans, Liberty Bonds, livestock, and cash that would make him a very rich man. Fall would then retire from government and use the money to build out his Three Rivers Ranch in New Mexico. This would include adding 9,500 acres of land through two separate transactions, a home renovation, the purchase and installation of a new hydroelectric plant, paying off his back taxes, and what must have been a massive landscaping project. All he had to do was get the president to transfer the three reserves from the Department of the Navy to the Department of the Interior.

With his cabinet seemingly in agreement, Harding, in one of his first acts as president, authorized the transfer through his May 31 issuing of executive order No. 3474. President Harding had immolated himself, committing to pen and paper his complicity in the Teapot Dome scandal.

With the executive order in place, Fall spent the following year orchestrating the leases as planned, which he consummated at Teapot Dome on April 7, 1922, and at Elk Hills on December 11 that same year. On January 2, 1923, less than one month after the Elk Hills deal, Fall had completed his mission and retired a wealthy man.

Six years later, Albert Fall earned the distinction of being the first cabinet secretary in U.S. history to serve prison time.  [ more ]

From: Jared Cohen’s Accidental Presidents: Eight Men Who Changed America (Pub. 2009)

Woodstock '69, the day after (CBS news coverage)

Woodstock CBS coverage for Monday, August 18, 1969, the day after the Woodstock festival ended:

https://youtu.be/WehjMZcQqPA

CBS news anchor, Walter Cronkite, and veteran war reporter John Laurence (who is still living, by the way), both expressed positive opinions about the three day festival.  Laurence's comments were quite favourable about the people who attended.

It was not because either man respected the hippies, but because both realized that they could not, themselves, claim to be men of honour if they did not publicly oppose the nation's pathological pursuit, in Vietnam, of an atrocity of immense proportions.

At that point, the Vietnam war was over.  I believe Woodstock marked the end of it.

Max Yasgur speaks at Woodstock '69 (17 August 1969)

Max Yasgur (1919-1973)

Max Yasgur was 49 years old, a thin man with a heart condition, when he heard that concert organizers had been tossed off the site of a three-day outdoor concert they were trying to organize which they were calling "Woodstock" near Bethel, New York. They were in trouble, they had just 30 days before the concert date to find a new venue. Max approached the four young organizers with an offer; he had a dairy farm nearby, he had land, he wanted to help. And Max Yasgur became an American counterculture icon, a part of history, his name will live forever. For what? For standing up for the rights of "hippies," for the "others," for the rights of people he didn't know, for the rights of people with whom he had almost nothing in common. Although the short hairs in his community reviled him for it, and threatened him anonymously, he was a champion for the rights of Americans to assemble, and their rights of free speech. For hippies.

And that's why Max Yasgur was a great American, a courageous man, and my hero. He stood for the rights and the dignity of others, at a time when intolerance and bigotry and hatred were tearing his nation apart. You know, like today.

When his neighbors found out that Yasgur was planning to lease land to the Woodstock organizers, they did all they could to stop him. His wife Miriam described later how they put up a sign along the road that said "Don't buy Yasgur's milk - he loves the hippies." When Max and Miriam drove by the sign, she said later, "I thought, 'You don't know Max. Now it's going to happen. The sign did it. When Max saw that, I knew darned well he was going to let them have their festival. You didn't do that to Max. He just turned to me and said, 'Is it alright with you?' ... I knew he was not going to get past this sign, so I said, 'I guess we're gonna have a festival." And he said, 'Yup, we're gonna have a festival.' And that was it."

At a town meeting, Yasgur addressed the entire assembly saying: "So the only objection to having a festival here is to keep longhairs out of town? Well, you can all go pound salt up your ass, because come August 15, we're going to have a festival!"

And that's what happened.

On the afternoon of the final scheduled day of the festival, Sunday August 17, 1969, just before Joe Cocker took the stage, Max Yasgur addressed a crowd of half a million people. Max said:

I'm a farmer, I don't know how to speak to twenty people at one time, let alone a crowd like this. But I think you people have proven something to the world - that a half a million kids - and I call you kids because I have children that are older than you are - a half million young people can get together and have three days of fun and music and have nothing but fun and music, and I God Bless You for it!
___
Max Yasgur, Woodstock, early afternoon, August 17, 1969 (just before Joe Cocker performed)
Video of the "I'm a farmer" speech (it's short, 2 minutes long)

Less than four years later, on 9 February 1973, after having retiring to his winter home in Marathon, Florida, Max Yasgur died. He was only 53 years old.

Thank you, Max.
___
Charles Aulds

August 17, 2019