Blogger's preface: I came up with what I thought was a catchy little title for this post on the way to the bank, which I talk about in said post. I'm not really unhappy living at home for these few weeks, I just feel that such an inspired title deserves an inspired post to go along with it. So some things may be a bit exaggerated here. Some are not, however, so be on your toes when reading. Re the title, well, I just finished watching the two-part Bob Dylan documentary No Direction Home, by Martin Scorsese, in which they talk about the song, Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again (see! it's catchy!) and am finishing reading a Dave Eggers book, which somehow compels me to become more self-referential in my writing. Although a blog is already pretty self-referential. Some would say solipsistic. But when you realize how bored I am, you'll understand. And you'll realize how bored I am by reading this post. In sum, this preface is pretty useless and I'm sorry you had to read it. Stop being such a lemming! Skip to the good parts. Maybe that's assuming too much here. Better yet, go read a book or browse CNN.com. Plenty of good stuff there. But maybe wait until after you read my blog... It's up to you, really.
Approximately 95% of my fond memories, especially ones that took place, say, from 1990-1997, took place in my hometown of Bloomington, MN. Bloomington is a suburb of Minneapolis and really has no distinguishing characteristic save for the Mall of America and the airport. Both of which, and especially in the former's case, Bloomingtonians (?) would rather not associate with. Maybe it would be better if we gave this "Mega Mall" to Richfield. But the point is that Bloomington is a rather nondescript suburb of a rather nondescript city of Minneapolis (though I'm rather fond of it).
But it was a great place to grow up. We live across the street from Brye Park which was, in the 90's, the outdoor recreation mecca for a youth into sports such as I. In the spring, of course, was baseball. I only played there once with a team, I think, but I likely hold the record for appearances at the baseball diamond there. Every night after dinner, my dad and I were out there, shagging fly balls or taking batting practice (until I began hitting balls into the street and onto peoples' yards). I was the Cal Ripken, Jr. of Brye Park -- any suitable night, I was out there. Baseball occupied my spring, summer, and fall but winter brought something even more magical, if only for its fleeting nature. That's when the city flooded the ice rink. Each December morning as we awoke for school the pump trucks would be out there, dutifully jettisoning their stores onto the frozen gravel. Every afternoon, a thorough inspection of the growing ice was in order and timetables were set and skates were sharpened in anticipation of the skating season. A warm spell or freezing rain was, and still may be, in some quarters, considered a disaster. But we'd usually get a full 6-8 weeks of hockey in before a February warm spell ended the season, always prematurely.
The suburbs were a great place to grow up. They are, I assume, a great place to raise a family. Or to retire. But they are not a great place to live when you're 23. Especially without a car.
Such is my current life. And I can't complain too much (see preface) as I am moving to the city in a few weeks and starting school. But it would absolutely kill me if I was jobless and sitting around here. Due to the family car shortage, the people with jobs get the cars most days. Which makes complete sense. But it doesn't change the fact that suburbs make those without cars feel very, oh, inadequate. In the week I've been home, I've made a few major excursions on foot to destinations near the Vessey Rd. compound. One, a rather fruitless trip to the Movie Gallery store, which was oddly hot and in disrepair. The other, which I will detail now, to the bank, Wells Fargo, up the hill.
I have some stock - no big deal - in a few corporations. No, really, it's no big deal; it's often more of a hassle because I have so little stock that the dividend checks I get in the mail (not direct deposited, mind you) are usually on the order of $0.94 or, if I'm lucky, $3.07. They find themselves all too often wedged between books or at the very bottom of the pile of junk mail that ultimately gets tossed. Yes, I know, money is money, but I feel like such a tool depositing pocket change. "And would you like this in checking or savings?" [snickers] Haha, very funny, Bank Teller. But, um, well how much do I have in checking? "Let me see, looks like, $150- no, $15.05, Mr. Dammel." Let's just do checking, then, I go for the big percentage gains!
But this weekend, I also decided to cash in some bonds I got from my grandparents when I turned 18, so I felt less demoralized when I went to make the deposit. Another personal insight: I was looking forward to making this deposit a little too much. I don't know why, I guess because it gave me some structure in life. I was about to go Saturday afternoon before I was informed by a bemused mother that banks weren't open on Saturday afternoons. Good to know. I did know that banks are closed on the Lord's Day; of course they would be! So it would have to be Monday, then. My date with destiny.
Monday, of course, I was car-less (see title!). And that was fine with me, I do like walking, did a lot of it in Washington, and wanted to keep my walking muscles in fine shape. And it was a sunny day and I hadn't really been outside yet, so I'd make it an event. Maybe get dressed up (like change into shorts with pockets.
After a few hours of sitting in the middle of the living room, listening to LP's (got through Thelonious Monk w./ Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers, Muddy Waters, Led Zeppelin, Bruce Springsteen (of course!), Neutral Milk Hotel, Wilco, and Paul Simon) I decided it was time to start my journey. It was mid-afternoon, around 3:30 when I collected the various checks and bonds, put them in an envelope, and set out to grab a bike to cut down on the time. Well my mountain bike had a leaky tire and my fixie's chain was orange with rust and brittle looking, so I decided to hoof it as I had planned all along.
In cities, it's not weird to walk places - it may be weird not to. Especially to places mundane and ubiquitous as banks. But I felt so odd walking to the bank, which is about a mile from the house, on a busy road (Normandale Blvd). The streets close to home are wide but lacking in sidewalks. And I always veer when I walk, even sober, and so was accordingly afraid of inadvertently playing a game of chicken with oncoming motorists. I was wearing what I thought were pretty normal clothes -- some khaki shorts and a Boston College Law (fittingly ill fitting, I might add) t-shirt with socks and running shoes. Maybe it was the sock/shoe combination that made me feel out of sorts, but I felt like one of those dads, well all dads, really, who seem to go back time and time again to this combination. I admit, they were comfortable, but I prefer sandals. Young people should show their feet, socks and shoes be damned! But, I reminded myself, I was walking, so function over fashion became my mantra.
This self-consciousness was magnified when I started to think about what other people would think when they saw me walking around at 3:30 in the afternoon. Most people my age are working or otherwise preoccupied at this time so I imagine parents, too hardwired to the Dateline mindset, thought I was a molester of some sort and kept their children close at hand. Yard after yard there were toys, some with moving parts still slowly moving, and slammed doors and pairs of eyes about knee height and taller, angrier eyes looking at me as I ambled past. A nameless, senseless danger averted by vigilant action, BRAVO parent or caretaker, BRAVO! Not really, but that's how it felt. Maybe it's because I have an uncle who aimlessly walks around his parents' house, to the mall, to the library, everywhere and nowhere. Maybe that's why I don't like walking in the suburbs, I feel it's the first step towards something much worse. Like marijuana as a gateway drug to heroin. But creepier.
Another thing about walking in the suburbs, now as I turn onto the busy road, is that the car:human ratio is all too askew. I'd say it's close to 300:1. Ridiculous. And the cars all seem so menacing as they fly by just feet from the sidewalk (the crummy, afterthought sidewalk with weeds slowly overtaking the blacktop). I walk up the hill, which seems like it extends forever, and think about life. And exhaust. And apartments with ponds. And how the sky isn't really blue, it's more blueish-gray, as if the contrast was turned up too high and blue was washed out by some giant dial unknown to human intellect.
I finally reached the top and found myself in the strip mall parking lot. My next obstacle, once looming, was now upon me. It was time.
Again, the lack of sidewalks or marked walkways for pedestrians was distressing. I made my way around the back of the bank, by the drive-thru lane. A car was approaching and, since there was no sidewalk, I found myself balancing, arms outstretched, on the curb. I must have looked like an idiot, because what right-minded twentysomething does a thing like that? When I realized this, I promptly (and awkwardly) jogged across the lawn into the bank. So now passers-by thought I was robbing it. Great.
I guess it wasn't as cool outside as I had thought. This, coupled with the fact that I sweat even thinking about sweating made me a mess when I walked into the air conditioned bank. There was a small line, but I loitered by the paperwork desk for a few minutes to stop sweating. There really isn't any reason to sweat when not doing athletic activity, but I manage to find some reason all too often. So, if I didn't look like I was planing to rob this bank when I ran into it, now, I most definitely did. I could see tellers eying one another, with subtle nods, that seemed to say, "Yeah, I see him too. I'm fingering the BIG RED BUTTON if he makes any sudden moves. -Ok, me too"
But soon I stop sweating, put on a smiley face, and deposit my things. As I stood there, an annoying, entitled teen casually approached the teller next to me and said, "Give me all your money, this is a robbery."
Not really, but he just kind of demanded his money to be deposited and I don't believe he had an account there. The teller was more than a little flummoxed when she explained to him that yes, he could open an account, but that it wouldn't be available until the next business day, etc. He just kind of muttered something and then asked for her to make some change. She obliged and then asked in what denomination he would like to receive. "Oh, twenties would be awesome."
Again, after this teen hands her a wad of bills, a flummoxed look crosses the teller's face and she says the best thing I've heard in a while, "Um, sir, it appears as though you only have $19 here. Um, so do you just want a ten, a five, and four ones?" I mean really, how can you be that off in your estimation, kid? Really? Ok, I could understand if we're talking a cash roll here, but he probably had 10 bills in his hand at most. I guess if you assume they're all $100 bills, that's one thing. But that's not going to get you too far in life, I'm afraid.
I smile and, along with the tellers, the other customers, and the bankers who walk out of their offices with this crazy exact timing, as if it was all planned in advance, we all exchange knowing glances, we cock our heads to the side, shake them side-to-side and put our hands on our hips -- tsk, tsk, kids these days, we all say. And we laugh and laugh and even the people in the drive-thru get patched through the intercom and they're laughing too! We're all laughing and having a jolly good time at the expense of this cake eating brat. Hardy har-har.
After many a back-slap and recountings of this hilarous episode in our all too exciting lives, I reluctantly leave, back into the afternoon heat. The walk home is equally mundane as the walk to the bank and doesn't merit the free space of my blog to write about it. Oh, life in the suburbs, I shall miss thee. That is, until I return.
02 August 2009
Wow, has it really been this long?!
I'm in the middle of reading a really great book, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, by Dave Eggers. Its memoir-y accounting of the author's struggle, in his early-20's, to raise his younger brother after losing both parents to cancer. A sad story, obviously, but Eggers brilliantly sidesteps the inherent melancholy by dedicating a good portion to his internal struggles in trying to be there for his brother while still aching for a normal life as a young person in his prime, living in San Francisco.
I can't relate to him losing his parents and hope never to have to, but, being a young twentysomething myself, I do get what he writes about regarding his struggle to grow into new-found roles and responsibilities while still attempting to forge a unique path in life.
Anyway, the point of this blog is to talk about my friends out there now in the real world. I will excuse myself from currently existing in the real world -- I'm happy with my 3-year law school "real world" pass, thank you very much. But it really is exciting to catch up with old friends. Friends I've known for over half of my life, decades in some cases.
Granted, many, even the most accomplished of the bunch, are still in entry-level jobs or grad school -- but we'll get there one day! It's inspiring and yes, a bit frightening, to realize that the kids I grew up with, had crushes on in school, played baseball with during those eternal summers, rode bikes with on crisp fall mornings, that we are entering this new stage in our lives. Until now, we've all been herded into school each fall, generally complaining, but secretly comforted by another year of brand new Trapper Keepers/messenger bags (depending on the grade and degree of intended irony) and notes/IM's (same; see previous parentheses) secreted to trusting friends behind the back of those omniscient teachers. It sucked, but it was familiar.
But that comfy blanket has been cast aside for many of us and we're faced with things we thought only our parents had to deal with. A real house. Health insurance. Jobs with consequences. You know, responsible, adult-type things (still wondering why I'm delaying this onslaught for another 3 years...). And, to top it off, real life gave us a shitty economy. Or was it the Republicans? Just kidding. (Secretly not, however.)
And while most of us still lack real, pressing responsibility in our lives, this won't be the case for long. It's been five years since high school now and my goofy friends, the same ones who used to dot their "i's" with a heart or attack unsuspecting TV-watchers with a surprise fart (no, not the same person), are turning into real people. The flashes of brilliance or compassion they expressed growing up, which were quickly shooed under the table for fear of humiliating reprisal from the "cool" kids, have had a chance to ferment and grow. They are bravely entering this new world still somewhat recognizable as the awkward youths we all once were but striking now with a self-confidence that was always there, but had to be found.
So, godspeed, keep in touch, and get to working on your heartbreaking work of staggering genius!
I can't relate to him losing his parents and hope never to have to, but, being a young twentysomething myself, I do get what he writes about regarding his struggle to grow into new-found roles and responsibilities while still attempting to forge a unique path in life.
Anyway, the point of this blog is to talk about my friends out there now in the real world. I will excuse myself from currently existing in the real world -- I'm happy with my 3-year law school "real world" pass, thank you very much. But it really is exciting to catch up with old friends. Friends I've known for over half of my life, decades in some cases.
Granted, many, even the most accomplished of the bunch, are still in entry-level jobs or grad school -- but we'll get there one day! It's inspiring and yes, a bit frightening, to realize that the kids I grew up with, had crushes on in school, played baseball with during those eternal summers, rode bikes with on crisp fall mornings, that we are entering this new stage in our lives. Until now, we've all been herded into school each fall, generally complaining, but secretly comforted by another year of brand new Trapper Keepers/messenger bags (depending on the grade and degree of intended irony) and notes/IM's (same; see previous parentheses) secreted to trusting friends behind the back of those omniscient teachers. It sucked, but it was familiar.
But that comfy blanket has been cast aside for many of us and we're faced with things we thought only our parents had to deal with. A real house. Health insurance. Jobs with consequences. You know, responsible, adult-type things (still wondering why I'm delaying this onslaught for another 3 years...). And, to top it off, real life gave us a shitty economy. Or was it the Republicans? Just kidding. (Secretly not, however.)
And while most of us still lack real, pressing responsibility in our lives, this won't be the case for long. It's been five years since high school now and my goofy friends, the same ones who used to dot their "i's" with a heart or attack unsuspecting TV-watchers with a surprise fart (no, not the same person), are turning into real people. The flashes of brilliance or compassion they expressed growing up, which were quickly shooed under the table for fear of humiliating reprisal from the "cool" kids, have had a chance to ferment and grow. They are bravely entering this new world still somewhat recognizable as the awkward youths we all once were but striking now with a self-confidence that was always there, but had to be found.
So, godspeed, keep in touch, and get to working on your heartbreaking work of staggering genius!
19 July 2009
When I walked home after the game
The bus pulled into Union Station and the guy sitting two seats over seemed surprised we were going into the parking ramp instead of circling around front. Forgive him, he was from Chicago. I couldn't figure out if he was with his mom or girlfriend, but he was a big man. Big and sweaty with a Cubs jersey plastered onto his wet back and a bracelet made of baseball stitches on a strip of white leather. I followed the couple and a professorial man, who creepily smiled to himself every few minutes and who wore wide-rimmed glasses without irony and a t-shirt with a Mayan ruin neatly centered on his chest, out of the bus. Everyone exited, save for a group of girls, probably late-teens or early-20's, who inexplicably remained on as the bus idled in the parking garage. Maybe they had plans. But probably not.
Walking through the cavernous, ornate-to-the-point-of-parody great hall in the station - really a glorified mall with trains, I dodged a family whose mom stood taking a long camcorder shot of her husband and son standing disinterested by the sunglasses kiosk. They had a priceless look of ennui and embarrassment. I wonder if they were secretly being ironic and just wanted to go back to the hotel and laugh at the responses of passers-by no doubt looking at the family askance, like me. But probably not. The kid was standing as if praying for some deity to take him out of his misery. Struck down right next to the sunglasses kiosk. A valiant way to die. Actually, I see a lot of teenagers with this look around town. Especially ones on Segways.
Passing through the front doors and enjoying the same view of the Capitol as Jimmy Stewart in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, I was grateful for the warm temperatures and low humidity that remind me of Minnesota in May. Setting off for the 12-block walk back home, I had the ill fortune of walking behind a gentleman, mid-20's, wearing too short shorts and a t-shirt with an unnecessary undershirt, who began to smoke a cigarette. I don't mind people who smoke - just don't do it when I'm downwind of you. And don't do it jauntily. You look like an asshole.
Soon the unhip smoker was nothing but a distant memory, turning off to ruin other peoples' afternoons with his smoke and white thighs. I had the sun at my back and it felt reassuringly warm on my neck, slow cooking my skin. The sidewalks are brick and it's a nice touch when done right. The sidewalks all start out nice enough, but as you get further and further east, they lurch upward dramatically from tree roots stuck underneath. As if they too want to pull up their roots and move out of the neighborhood. Sometimes I don't blame them.
I try to walk on the right side which is in the shade during late-afternoon, but soon cross to take advantage of a green light. I try to make my walks efficient, though the left side made me sweat. In the distance, a mother and young daughter meander down the undulating sidewalk. A few blocks and I catch up. They walk past two men standing near the sidewalk fence, drinking a beer and enjoying the afternoon. The mother gropes for her offspring's hand and herds her to the far side of the path, away from the "dangerous" men. The men don't seem to mind, if they even notice. They make funny faces and bounce on the balls of their feet as the young girl, as I knew she inevitably would, turns to smile at her fellow afternoon revelers. Her mother shoos her on.
I give a half-smile to the men and the mother and daughter as I walk by. Past the gardener listening to soft ambient electronic music as he tends to his future plentiful bounty. Past the churchgoers dressed in white, but as I realize upon approaching, actually white mixed with vibrant purple and green flower prints. It seems like every Sunday is Easter around here. No one is in jeans or cut-offs like back at home in my lax Catholic church. I continue, past the church still in service - the preacher passionately addressing his flock in gravelly, screeching intonations, met with tired "Amens" and "Yeses." Past everything that makes summer so great in the city.
I leave in less than a week. And as many good memories and times as I've had growing up in suburban Minneapolis, this slice of Americana has been something I'll never forget.
Walking through the cavernous, ornate-to-the-point-of-parody great hall in the station - really a glorified mall with trains, I dodged a family whose mom stood taking a long camcorder shot of her husband and son standing disinterested by the sunglasses kiosk. They had a priceless look of ennui and embarrassment. I wonder if they were secretly being ironic and just wanted to go back to the hotel and laugh at the responses of passers-by no doubt looking at the family askance, like me. But probably not. The kid was standing as if praying for some deity to take him out of his misery. Struck down right next to the sunglasses kiosk. A valiant way to die. Actually, I see a lot of teenagers with this look around town. Especially ones on Segways.
Passing through the front doors and enjoying the same view of the Capitol as Jimmy Stewart in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, I was grateful for the warm temperatures and low humidity that remind me of Minnesota in May. Setting off for the 12-block walk back home, I had the ill fortune of walking behind a gentleman, mid-20's, wearing too short shorts and a t-shirt with an unnecessary undershirt, who began to smoke a cigarette. I don't mind people who smoke - just don't do it when I'm downwind of you. And don't do it jauntily. You look like an asshole.
Soon the unhip smoker was nothing but a distant memory, turning off to ruin other peoples' afternoons with his smoke and white thighs. I had the sun at my back and it felt reassuringly warm on my neck, slow cooking my skin. The sidewalks are brick and it's a nice touch when done right. The sidewalks all start out nice enough, but as you get further and further east, they lurch upward dramatically from tree roots stuck underneath. As if they too want to pull up their roots and move out of the neighborhood. Sometimes I don't blame them.
I try to walk on the right side which is in the shade during late-afternoon, but soon cross to take advantage of a green light. I try to make my walks efficient, though the left side made me sweat. In the distance, a mother and young daughter meander down the undulating sidewalk. A few blocks and I catch up. They walk past two men standing near the sidewalk fence, drinking a beer and enjoying the afternoon. The mother gropes for her offspring's hand and herds her to the far side of the path, away from the "dangerous" men. The men don't seem to mind, if they even notice. They make funny faces and bounce on the balls of their feet as the young girl, as I knew she inevitably would, turns to smile at her fellow afternoon revelers. Her mother shoos her on.
I give a half-smile to the men and the mother and daughter as I walk by. Past the gardener listening to soft ambient electronic music as he tends to his future plentiful bounty. Past the churchgoers dressed in white, but as I realize upon approaching, actually white mixed with vibrant purple and green flower prints. It seems like every Sunday is Easter around here. No one is in jeans or cut-offs like back at home in my lax Catholic church. I continue, past the church still in service - the preacher passionately addressing his flock in gravelly, screeching intonations, met with tired "Amens" and "Yeses." Past everything that makes summer so great in the city.
I leave in less than a week. And as many good memories and times as I've had growing up in suburban Minneapolis, this slice of Americana has been something I'll never forget.
15 June 2009
An engineer's perspective on "alleged" global warming
Ninety percent of engineering is an exercise in fact gathering, making assumptions, and defining critical boundaries. The other ten percent probably involve some form of awkward social communication, gadget hunting online, or feet gazing while slowly shuffling about. Kidding. It's really only about five percent of our day. But since our mindset is so fact based, it's hard to turn off that part of our brain in other aspects of our lives.
Take climate change. News stories on the topic, the few that exist before the comics section or at all, still feel compelled to insert words like "alleged" when reporting on the topic. Or they quote quasi-scientists funded by Big Oil or Dirty Coal to provide the opposition view. While I am definitely in support of high caliber journalism, and many big papers (I'm looking at you, Gray Lady) generally write well on climate change, the lack of facts and the abundance of rhetoric is too often unsettling and dangerous. I think if more of the public had the facts in their hands, there would be much less resistance to curbing the climate change activities in our lives. As an engineer who has read many of the reports on the latest climate science, it's sobering to comprehend even the very basic, top-line findings of the reports. It appears that as we learn more about the climate system worldwide, while inputting the latest emissions figures from around the world, that the climate is actually warming at a much faster pace than even the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) predicted in 2007!
How could this be? -- Say many of my friends and family (especially so) back in Minnesota who just experienced a record string of cool temperatures in early June. After a few deep breaths and a slow countdown from 10, I'll say that this brings me to my next point. I don't know if people say this to get me worked up, but to put it in the most basic analogy I can, it's like saying the Lakers aren't a good franchise just because they lost a few games. It's folly to conflate a cool stretch of weather as proof that global climate change is not occurring, or to go a step further, as proof that global cooling is happening. Disregarding the utter lack of scientific integrity in that statement, it's also logically faulty. The next time it's 60 degrees in December in Minnesota, then does that prove that global warming is happening?
I think these examples prove that while weather will be weather will be weather, these extremes in temperature, rainfall, and other phenomena could be strong signals that our climate is changing. But it's important to separate the normal statistical variation from the overall trend which, well whatdya know, is exactly what climate science does! Imagine that.
So while part of me wants to either laugh in disbelief or gouge my eyes out and cut my ears off when I hear these arguments, I think it may be part of something deeper than just wanting to piss me off. I think it's either a general distrust of science or a general illiteracy in it. I'm not saying that these people are stupid. I'm just saying that something in our system, whether it's media, politics, or education -- or a combination of all three -- something in our system must change before we as a society value factual data enough to take stock in it. Even when it's staring us in the face. Especially when it's staring us in the face.
As an engineer, I value facts. As a profession, perhaps we do this at the expense of other important considerations, be they political, economic, or social. But that's why we also have to be so smart in communicating the facts, laying out the impacts, and expressing the dangers of inaction. That's why I'm glad we have some brilliant journalists, honest politicians, and concerned citizens (and scientists!) on our side. But we need to be sure that we don't miss the boat on climate change. While a certain level of understanding exists among that relatively small group, we can't assume that it exists elsewhere, even among friends and family.
Now back to the mumbling awkward hello's while staring at my feet that I need to do to make up my required 5 percent for the day...I love engineering!
Take climate change. News stories on the topic, the few that exist before the comics section or at all, still feel compelled to insert words like "alleged" when reporting on the topic. Or they quote quasi-scientists funded by Big Oil or Dirty Coal to provide the opposition view. While I am definitely in support of high caliber journalism, and many big papers (I'm looking at you, Gray Lady) generally write well on climate change, the lack of facts and the abundance of rhetoric is too often unsettling and dangerous. I think if more of the public had the facts in their hands, there would be much less resistance to curbing the climate change activities in our lives. As an engineer who has read many of the reports on the latest climate science, it's sobering to comprehend even the very basic, top-line findings of the reports. It appears that as we learn more about the climate system worldwide, while inputting the latest emissions figures from around the world, that the climate is actually warming at a much faster pace than even the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) predicted in 2007!
How could this be? -- Say many of my friends and family (especially so) back in Minnesota who just experienced a record string of cool temperatures in early June. After a few deep breaths and a slow countdown from 10, I'll say that this brings me to my next point. I don't know if people say this to get me worked up, but to put it in the most basic analogy I can, it's like saying the Lakers aren't a good franchise just because they lost a few games. It's folly to conflate a cool stretch of weather as proof that global climate change is not occurring, or to go a step further, as proof that global cooling is happening. Disregarding the utter lack of scientific integrity in that statement, it's also logically faulty. The next time it's 60 degrees in December in Minnesota, then does that prove that global warming is happening?
I think these examples prove that while weather will be weather will be weather, these extremes in temperature, rainfall, and other phenomena could be strong signals that our climate is changing. But it's important to separate the normal statistical variation from the overall trend which, well whatdya know, is exactly what climate science does! Imagine that.
So while part of me wants to either laugh in disbelief or gouge my eyes out and cut my ears off when I hear these arguments, I think it may be part of something deeper than just wanting to piss me off. I think it's either a general distrust of science or a general illiteracy in it. I'm not saying that these people are stupid. I'm just saying that something in our system, whether it's media, politics, or education -- or a combination of all three -- something in our system must change before we as a society value factual data enough to take stock in it. Even when it's staring us in the face. Especially when it's staring us in the face.
As an engineer, I value facts. As a profession, perhaps we do this at the expense of other important considerations, be they political, economic, or social. But that's why we also have to be so smart in communicating the facts, laying out the impacts, and expressing the dangers of inaction. That's why I'm glad we have some brilliant journalists, honest politicians, and concerned citizens (and scientists!) on our side. But we need to be sure that we don't miss the boat on climate change. While a certain level of understanding exists among that relatively small group, we can't assume that it exists elsewhere, even among friends and family.
Now back to the mumbling awkward hello's while staring at my feet that I need to do to make up my required 5 percent for the day...I love engineering!
08 June 2009
Fight global warming? Why?
Disclaimer: I don't try to be preachy, sometimes it just happens ;o)
My experience thus far in our nation's capital has been one of the best of my life. I've gotten to know a lot of smart, ambitious people who are working for the 'good' side. And by the 'good side' I mean the objectively good side -- not the relatively good side, dependent on the whims of industry or commerce to tell us what to view, but that really special good side, where you can actually believe in what you're working towards. Good for the Earth, for the plants and animals, and good for us people. I'm talking about all of us and everything. Even Dick Cheney. Sorta.
So yes, I'll always hold a special place in my heart for DC. I'll hopefully keep in contact with my new friends and follow their exciting careers. I'll be proud of the work I've done. But there's one giant 'if' to this equation. And that's the climate bill.
Since I work in a giant bubble/echo chamber/circular firing squad, I'm not entirely sure how much mainstream publicity this bill has gotten. Here's a quick summary. It's officially known as the American Clean Energy and Security Act, colloquially as the Waxman-Markey climate bill, after its chief architects, Henry 'The Wiz' Waxman of California and Ed 'Wunderkid' Markey of Massachusetts, both Democrats. It's a whale of a bill, even for, I think, DC standards -- hundreds of pages in its current incarnation. Though it's officially billed as an energy bill, it's much more. Energy bills get passed in Congress all the time (though none as far reaching as this). This is also the first climate change bill to get out of committee with a fighting chance to pass the full chamber. So not only is it the strongest energy bill, the first climate bill, it also has provisions for energy efficiency, electricity transmission, tropical forests, you name it. Along with the good provisions, it also has its fair share of industry-friendly ones, so it's far from perfect.
The Energy and Commerce committee in the House of Representatives, as I mentioned, passed it out of their committee a few weeks ago. It's now being referred to other committees in the House, where they will take a look at it and hopefully not water it down even more. After that, it arrives on the full floor of the House. So, while getting the bill out of committee was a giant step, it's only the first in a series of even gianter steps! And I haven't even started to talk about the Senate (well, they (the Senate) haven't really started talking about it either, so I'm not slacking...).
Republicans are good at making good things seem bad. Un-American. As if the slobbering, tax-happy, pansy, treehugging Democrats were in need of a major tea-bagging. No doubt if you've heard one thing about this bill, it came from a Republican talking head or industry ad that calls it an energy tax. Or a light switch tax. It's sad, but not surprising since industry does outspend environmental groups by an outrageous sum on ads. What else do they have but opposition? A solution? Haven't seen one. The environmental community prefers to spend its money on analyses, grassroots organizing, and concrete solutions. So, before this post slips even further into a rant, I'll come back to why I wanted to write it in the first place.
Some people in the environmental community would rather see this bill fail than see it passed in what they view as a weakened, 'don't even bother with it' state. What they fail to realize is that their opposition is just the ticket for conservative opposition. "Look," Rush Limbaugh will say, "Even the environmental groups oppose this energy tax." It will fail and decades of hard work will be lost for perhaps another decade. This isn't like March Madness; we can't just wait until next year to do this climate thing. Or the next.
If only for the political calculus, we can't wait. Midterm elections are in a year and a half. If the climate bill fails this year, a handful of Senators and the entire House will be up for reelection. Do you think they would tackle such a hot-button issue during an election year? The climate champions will tell their constituents, "Well, I tried my darndest to get a climate bill passed, but it was too damned hard. [pregnant pause] But, if you reelect me, I'll definitely get it done next session." The opposition will tell their voters, "You had a champion in me, fighting against those East and West Coast liberals who wanted to take your money -- your money -- to invest in renewable energy and to protect our climate. Can you believe that? Your money! [Another pregnant pause] And if you reelect me this year, I promise, I'll tell those limo liberals what's what and keep your money in your pocket." In other words, a climate bill is not happening next year. Maybe it would happen in Obama's second term, but that's of course assuming, well, you know.
But maybe not even then -- second terms are usually for cementing legacies, not making them.
Meanwhile, the international community, without guidance from the U.S. during what should've been our shining moment, our chance at redemption on the international stage, will have abandoned any hope of a climate treaty with any teeth. And climate change will keep getting worse.
Science is not the roadblock, either. While I don't believe that science, in isolation, should tell policymakers what to do (it should inform policy, along with a suite of other considerations), science doesn't need to inform us of the urgency of this situation. Every government agency, independent research center (no, Heritage Foundation doesn't count), and international research group has produced conclusive evidence that climate change is occurring and that humans contribute to it through burning fossil fuels, deforestation, etc. We still need scientists to work on refining our picture of the future, of giving us high water marks with which our legislation and other actions can hope to achieve in time, but we don't need scientists to tell us that it's happening anymore. That ship has sailed.
Environmental legislation of the kind that shakes the foundations of the status quo is a rare beast. The 1990 Clean Air Act Amendments took almost a decade to pass (thanks to the hard work of, guess who, Henry Waxman). Industry is the rock pushing the man (probably a scrawny environmentalist, but for this example, the environment in general) down the hill of 'Business as Usual.' The climate bill is orders of magnitude more difficult to pass than the CAA Amendments were, according to someone I know who worked on them. And we don't have a decade to vacillate between having a bill and not.
Because in a decade, we may be too late. True, we could be too late right now, but I think the people working on this issue care too much to stand by idly and watch the very thing they fought for go down an even more uncertain path. Even if it is a relatively weak bill, it at least lays a framework, a structure, that a truly visionary climate change fighting scheme requires to stand. The alternative is nothing. Nothing to show the world when it gathers in Copenhagen later this year to discuss a worldwide climate treaty. Nothing to show when rising sea levels displace even more people, likely in already vulnerable parts of the world. Nothing to leave as a legacy for the future.
I'm still getting started in this field, just a lowly intern working amongst thousands of other lowly interns in Washington. True, I haven't had a lot of life experience in my 23 years -- I don't know the real world. But I do know that I will continue to fight for climate action because I've been inspired by the people I've met who have almost been drawn to tears when they begin to feel their life's work slipping away, getting watered down. They are setting the bar high -- to them it's not just a job, it's a calling, and I'm not going to abandon them.
My experience thus far in our nation's capital has been one of the best of my life. I've gotten to know a lot of smart, ambitious people who are working for the 'good' side. And by the 'good side' I mean the objectively good side -- not the relatively good side, dependent on the whims of industry or commerce to tell us what to view, but that really special good side, where you can actually believe in what you're working towards. Good for the Earth, for the plants and animals, and good for us people. I'm talking about all of us and everything. Even Dick Cheney. Sorta.
So yes, I'll always hold a special place in my heart for DC. I'll hopefully keep in contact with my new friends and follow their exciting careers. I'll be proud of the work I've done. But there's one giant 'if' to this equation. And that's the climate bill.
Since I work in a giant bubble/echo chamber/circular firing squad, I'm not entirely sure how much mainstream publicity this bill has gotten. Here's a quick summary. It's officially known as the American Clean Energy and Security Act, colloquially as the Waxman-Markey climate bill, after its chief architects, Henry 'The Wiz' Waxman of California and Ed 'Wunderkid' Markey of Massachusetts, both Democrats. It's a whale of a bill, even for, I think, DC standards -- hundreds of pages in its current incarnation. Though it's officially billed as an energy bill, it's much more. Energy bills get passed in Congress all the time (though none as far reaching as this). This is also the first climate change bill to get out of committee with a fighting chance to pass the full chamber. So not only is it the strongest energy bill, the first climate bill, it also has provisions for energy efficiency, electricity transmission, tropical forests, you name it. Along with the good provisions, it also has its fair share of industry-friendly ones, so it's far from perfect.
The Energy and Commerce committee in the House of Representatives, as I mentioned, passed it out of their committee a few weeks ago. It's now being referred to other committees in the House, where they will take a look at it and hopefully not water it down even more. After that, it arrives on the full floor of the House. So, while getting the bill out of committee was a giant step, it's only the first in a series of even gianter steps! And I haven't even started to talk about the Senate (well, they (the Senate) haven't really started talking about it either, so I'm not slacking...).
Republicans are good at making good things seem bad. Un-American. As if the slobbering, tax-happy, pansy, treehugging Democrats were in need of a major tea-bagging. No doubt if you've heard one thing about this bill, it came from a Republican talking head or industry ad that calls it an energy tax. Or a light switch tax. It's sad, but not surprising since industry does outspend environmental groups by an outrageous sum on ads. What else do they have but opposition? A solution? Haven't seen one. The environmental community prefers to spend its money on analyses, grassroots organizing, and concrete solutions. So, before this post slips even further into a rant, I'll come back to why I wanted to write it in the first place.
Some people in the environmental community would rather see this bill fail than see it passed in what they view as a weakened, 'don't even bother with it' state. What they fail to realize is that their opposition is just the ticket for conservative opposition. "Look," Rush Limbaugh will say, "Even the environmental groups oppose this energy tax." It will fail and decades of hard work will be lost for perhaps another decade. This isn't like March Madness; we can't just wait until next year to do this climate thing. Or the next.
If only for the political calculus, we can't wait. Midterm elections are in a year and a half. If the climate bill fails this year, a handful of Senators and the entire House will be up for reelection. Do you think they would tackle such a hot-button issue during an election year? The climate champions will tell their constituents, "Well, I tried my darndest to get a climate bill passed, but it was too damned hard. [pregnant pause] But, if you reelect me, I'll definitely get it done next session." The opposition will tell their voters, "You had a champion in me, fighting against those East and West Coast liberals who wanted to take your money -- your money -- to invest in renewable energy and to protect our climate. Can you believe that? Your money! [Another pregnant pause] And if you reelect me this year, I promise, I'll tell those limo liberals what's what and keep your money in your pocket." In other words, a climate bill is not happening next year. Maybe it would happen in Obama's second term, but that's of course assuming, well, you know.
But maybe not even then -- second terms are usually for cementing legacies, not making them.
Meanwhile, the international community, without guidance from the U.S. during what should've been our shining moment, our chance at redemption on the international stage, will have abandoned any hope of a climate treaty with any teeth. And climate change will keep getting worse.
Science is not the roadblock, either. While I don't believe that science, in isolation, should tell policymakers what to do (it should inform policy, along with a suite of other considerations), science doesn't need to inform us of the urgency of this situation. Every government agency, independent research center (no, Heritage Foundation doesn't count), and international research group has produced conclusive evidence that climate change is occurring and that humans contribute to it through burning fossil fuels, deforestation, etc. We still need scientists to work on refining our picture of the future, of giving us high water marks with which our legislation and other actions can hope to achieve in time, but we don't need scientists to tell us that it's happening anymore. That ship has sailed.
Environmental legislation of the kind that shakes the foundations of the status quo is a rare beast. The 1990 Clean Air Act Amendments took almost a decade to pass (thanks to the hard work of, guess who, Henry Waxman). Industry is the rock pushing the man (probably a scrawny environmentalist, but for this example, the environment in general) down the hill of 'Business as Usual.' The climate bill is orders of magnitude more difficult to pass than the CAA Amendments were, according to someone I know who worked on them. And we don't have a decade to vacillate between having a bill and not.
Because in a decade, we may be too late. True, we could be too late right now, but I think the people working on this issue care too much to stand by idly and watch the very thing they fought for go down an even more uncertain path. Even if it is a relatively weak bill, it at least lays a framework, a structure, that a truly visionary climate change fighting scheme requires to stand. The alternative is nothing. Nothing to show the world when it gathers in Copenhagen later this year to discuss a worldwide climate treaty. Nothing to show when rising sea levels displace even more people, likely in already vulnerable parts of the world. Nothing to leave as a legacy for the future.
I'm still getting started in this field, just a lowly intern working amongst thousands of other lowly interns in Washington. True, I haven't had a lot of life experience in my 23 years -- I don't know the real world. But I do know that I will continue to fight for climate action because I've been inspired by the people I've met who have almost been drawn to tears when they begin to feel their life's work slipping away, getting watered down. They are setting the bar high -- to them it's not just a job, it's a calling, and I'm not going to abandon them.
25 May 2009
M-I-N-N-E-S-O-T-A, Minnesota, Minnesota, Yeah Gophers!
So I'll be a Gopher next fall!
Choosing the hometown law school, though it seems a no-brainer now, was a difficult choice. The 'finalists' were: Boston College, CU Boulder, and the University of Washington. For a few weeks, I thought I was headed to Colorado, but Minnesota came a-calling when I was home for my birthday a few weeks ago. I thought at first, as I spoke with the admissions person on the phone while sitting on my couch listening to my favorite Elvis Costello vinyl, that I couldn't possibly choose Minnesota over the other schools; it would be a cop-out, the predictable decision.
I didn't want nostalgia or family or friends or familiarity to get in the way of my law school decision. I wanted to stretch my legs and see what the world had to offer. Boulder, Boston, Seattle, Portland -- these were prime destinations. Each school had their own mix of favorable attributes, too, each different than the other, and difficult to choose between. Minnesota was the boring choice (and not even a choice until they admitted me!); I knew the city, knew people, had roots there, but it didn't seem like a daring choice.
I'm realizing now that what seems like the safe bet is sometimes the right one. While it would be fun to live in another city, law school will be so foreign and stressful, why not be surrounded by familiar things in a familiar city? Plus, I've lived in Bloomington my whole life -- not exactly the most culturally vibrant area, so actually living in Minneapolis city proper will be a new experience without the hassle of moving cross country.
Although the more diplomatic version of me would say that school rankings don't matter, they do to a lot of other people in the legal community. These people not coincidentally will be hiring me in three years, so it would be in my best interest to attend the highest ranked school I could. Minnesota is a perennial top-20 law school according to USNEWS rankings. Despite two other quality schools (and a more mediocre one) within ten miles of UMN, it is undisputedly the best school in the state, and even the Upper Midwest. Employers will look at the school I attended for the rest of my life, why not make sure their eyebrows raise for the right reasons. (For those curious, according to USNEWS rankings, CU Boulder is 45th, UW is 30th, BC is 26th)
Environmental law is undoubtedly my career path and UMN is not known for this discipline, at least not as much as CU Boulder (6th in Env. Law) and Lewis and Clark (2nd) are. They have a wide breadth to their environmental law curriculum that is very appealing. I'd love to go there. But just because they have a lot of opportunities doesn't mean that I could take advantage of all of them. The U has quality environmental law classes, professors, and clinics that I see myself becoming involved in. There are also a few dual degree options in natural resources science and management or public policy where I could earn a masters degree in an extra year to supplement my environmental policy education. But one UMN professor told me that first you must be a good lawyer to be a good environmental lawyer. Minnesota will make me a good lawyer.
So, in late-July, when I pack up my belongings and head home from DC, I'll be staying. I couldn't be happier and more excited for my decision and the new adventure I'm about to embark upon.
17 May 2009
Sorry for the long hiatus. I'm back.
But not so much tonight. I'm tired! But, here's a teaser for my next post.
vs
After I thought that I was Boulder-bound in the fall for law school, I got into the University of Minnesota, the hometown school. So, now the question becomes, do I want mountains or homecooking for the next 3 years... (p.s. don't worry, I'm not planning on living at home)
vs
After I thought that I was Boulder-bound in the fall for law school, I got into the University of Minnesota, the hometown school. So, now the question becomes, do I want mountains or homecooking for the next 3 years... (p.s. don't worry, I'm not planning on living at home)
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