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.
19 July 2009
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)
05 April 2009
The Mall of America in Spring
Today marked the always joyful first day of spring. Not the first day you can plausibly wear less than a jacket or pants, nor the day the first buds appear, nor the vernal equinox - no, today was the first real day you can go outside, feel warm just standing there, and, well, you just get that feeling. This is spring, and it's the best time of year. Not surprisingly, the city of Washington DC and the cherry blossoms also took note of this auspicious date and decided to create a festival (the former) in the blooming (the latter) blossoms' honor. All around the city, the eternal question gets asked by DC newbies like myself: "That's a pretty flower - are they cherry blossoms?"
My stock answer, what I tell myself anyway, is that yes, they are all cherry trees. Because, what's worse than stopping to admire a pretty tree only to find out it's a crab apple tree or something less exotic? (An aside: since I work for a science advocacy group, I wonder if I should feel bad for this alien species achieving a prominent place in our Nation's capital...Oh well, prettiness overrides a lot in life.) Especially popular are the cherry trees lining the Tidal Basin just to the south of the Mall on the Potomac, a pretty backdrop to the Jefferson Memorial that rests majestically across the water. The trees were apparently a gift from the Mayor of Tokyo in the early 1900's and I guess over the years DC needed a proper spring festival/tourist trap and the National Cherry Blossom Festival was born.
The best part of the festival is the flurry of activity around the Mall and Capitol. Families pose for timeless pictures under large, overhanging cherry trees on the front lawn of the Capitol, the blossoms falling like a sweet pink snow as a parent or Good Samaritan takes the picture. Tour groups on Segways (possibly the most ridiculous invention ever created - just the act of standing on, or even by, a Segway makes you an instant turd. Don't get me started on what strapping on a helmet, adjusting your fanny pack, tucking in your ill-fitting polo shirt, and digging for your clip-ons in said fanny pack (or any combination of these that leads to a tour) and taking a tour on one makes you!!) - sorry for the digression, but anyway, tour groups on Segways collect like iron shards to a magnet around some forgotten speck of DC history only to break away like pods from a seed as they migrate to the next designated spot (single file, mind you).
Pasty guys like myself pull the shorts and sandals out of their dusty box and, upon sporting these summery duds, indirectly cause sunglasses vendors to see a short blip in sales due to the garish hue that shines from our legs and feet (note - I got pretty tan this weekend, so put the sunglasses away...). People who took high school (and college, and grad school, and now work) too seriously now bust out the blue cones and rubber balls and claim to dominate yet another facet of their life in that childhood game of kickball. Games on the Mall are apparently a mainstay of DC summers. Unfortunately, so are the serious folks who play; decked out in sporty sunglasses, matching t-shirts, and gym shorts in an almost too calculatedly 'cool' manner - you know the type. Well, they were there in force!
The best part about walking on the Mall, even better than the smugness that being here more than a month entitles you in your attitude towards tourists (kidding!), is the sight of thousands of people coming together to experience this nation's capital city in its finest, least humid, prettiest time of the year. Even the Segway tourists and kickball macho men are at least outdoors enjoying a beautiful spring day. People on the Mall are either on vacation or taking a break from the working life. And it's different than a local park or other leisurely gathering spot. There are no jungle gyms or lakes to boat around - only an old fashioned carousel spinning endlessly cheerful in the shadow of the Smithsonian Castle. Everyone else is there just to enjoy the spectacle, taking in a good book, relaxing with friends and family, walking hand-in-hand with a date, or, yes, playing kickball. People are there for the Mall and the Mall only, the vast expanse of its green (and dusty yellow) space lets you take in the scope of the area, and the bookends of the Capitol and the Washington Monument, not to mention the literally monumental bordering buildings, never let you forget why you decided to take a walk on our nation's park on a beautiful spring day.
31 March 2009
Min Soo-Lee
[I don't think I've ever written about being a Korean adoptee before. I apologize in advance for the muddle of ideas and feelings undoubtedly inherent in writing about this topic.]
A few years back, a Minnesota Monthly article caught my attention. It was an article about Korean adoptees living in the Upper Midwest - mostly Minnesota (there are more Korean adoptees living in Minnesota than there are lakes). I think it was the first time I really thought hard about the other people living in my situation. Sure I knew other Korean adoptees, and had even become good friends with many, but our bond was mostly due to the fact that we got along, not necessarily because of our relatively unique heritage. The article listed a book, The Language of Blood by Jane Jeong Trenka as an especially poignant account of a Korean adoptee growing up in Minnesota.
I admit to being somewhat ambivalent about tracking down this book. On one hand, I yearned to discover an account of childhood I could really relate to. I wanted to hear the stories whose grasping tentacles of details immediately drew me into an episode of my life. On the other, I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to tread down that path, maybe discovering things I didn't want to address or bring to the surface. Really, this subject goes to the core of who I am, what I define myself as, and what others define me as. I love the life I had growing up and the life I'm living now, so why question anything? In the end, I still felt that maybe this book was the thing I was missing, or it could help me find that thing, the thing that could better define for myself who I really was.
It took me two years, but I finally read it.
I'm not sure if I liked it or not. I have to admit, delving into my status as adoptee has never been at the top of my list of things to do. Reading this book (and, um, writing this blog) make me face this reality in my life head on, something I've never been very good at.
It's impossible for me to point to the moment I realized that I was adopted - it feels like I've always known. It's also impossible for me to place a finger on how my life would have been different in Korea. People always ask me that, but to me, it's kind of like asking them how life would've been if they had grown up where their distant ancestors did. "So, Johnny, do you ever think of how your life would have turned out had your ancestors never came over the drink 200 years ago?"
I'm happy with the life I've had in America. I honestly know no other way. But I do know that I've never been treated by anyone in my family as anything but their own flesh and blood. Truthfully, my mom and dad raised me with more love and caring than many of my friends who live with their biological parents. I'm a strong believer that it's nurture, not nature, that carries the load in childhood development.
Still, seemingly innocuous comments cut the sharpest sometimes. It probably comes up most often with people I don't know very well and it's never malicious, but it always makes me want to quickly change the subject. People will make offhand comments about adoptive parents somehow not caring as much for or having some sort of distant or neglectful relationship with their children. That hurts. Or when someone proclaims, usually in some fit of self righteousness, that they're not going to have children - they're going to adopt from some third world country. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for that! But again, the implication is that somehow we needed saving and we should be eternally grateful for our adoptive parents for plucking us out of some sort of hellhole, the life of the orphan who appears nightly on television, picking through garbage as the seagulls circle while the benevolent old white man idly strokes the child's mangy head as he implores the developed world to send "Just a dollar a week."
There's nothing wrong with charity. What is wrong is the notion that a single act, adopting a child, can define an entire life. If he succeeds, then, "Bravo! he would've never done that in his home country." If he fails, then, "Well, at least he's not living in Country XX." Good parents are good parents regardless of whether they gave birth to their children. That's only part of the equation - the initial condition as we say in engineering. But its not by any means the most important. It's how that child is raised and the person he becomes that should be the true test of merit or good parenting.
It's hard to parse out my true feelings or to reflect on the person I've become through the filter of being an adoptee. Would my life be different if I lived in Korea? Of course, but different doesn't imply that it would be worse, it would just be different. Someday I will travel to my motherland in search of my biological family and my lost culture, but my roots are and will always be back at home in Minnesota, and that's where I'll return.
A few years back, a Minnesota Monthly article caught my attention. It was an article about Korean adoptees living in the Upper Midwest - mostly Minnesota (there are more Korean adoptees living in Minnesota than there are lakes). I think it was the first time I really thought hard about the other people living in my situation. Sure I knew other Korean adoptees, and had even become good friends with many, but our bond was mostly due to the fact that we got along, not necessarily because of our relatively unique heritage. The article listed a book, The Language of Blood by Jane Jeong Trenka as an especially poignant account of a Korean adoptee growing up in Minnesota.
I admit to being somewhat ambivalent about tracking down this book. On one hand, I yearned to discover an account of childhood I could really relate to. I wanted to hear the stories whose grasping tentacles of details immediately drew me into an episode of my life. On the other, I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to tread down that path, maybe discovering things I didn't want to address or bring to the surface. Really, this subject goes to the core of who I am, what I define myself as, and what others define me as. I love the life I had growing up and the life I'm living now, so why question anything? In the end, I still felt that maybe this book was the thing I was missing, or it could help me find that thing, the thing that could better define for myself who I really was.
It took me two years, but I finally read it.
I'm not sure if I liked it or not. I have to admit, delving into my status as adoptee has never been at the top of my list of things to do. Reading this book (and, um, writing this blog) make me face this reality in my life head on, something I've never been very good at.
It's impossible for me to point to the moment I realized that I was adopted - it feels like I've always known. It's also impossible for me to place a finger on how my life would have been different in Korea. People always ask me that, but to me, it's kind of like asking them how life would've been if they had grown up where their distant ancestors did. "So, Johnny, do you ever think of how your life would have turned out had your ancestors never came over the drink 200 years ago?"
I'm happy with the life I've had in America. I honestly know no other way. But I do know that I've never been treated by anyone in my family as anything but their own flesh and blood. Truthfully, my mom and dad raised me with more love and caring than many of my friends who live with their biological parents. I'm a strong believer that it's nurture, not nature, that carries the load in childhood development.
Still, seemingly innocuous comments cut the sharpest sometimes. It probably comes up most often with people I don't know very well and it's never malicious, but it always makes me want to quickly change the subject. People will make offhand comments about adoptive parents somehow not caring as much for or having some sort of distant or neglectful relationship with their children. That hurts. Or when someone proclaims, usually in some fit of self righteousness, that they're not going to have children - they're going to adopt from some third world country. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for that! But again, the implication is that somehow we needed saving and we should be eternally grateful for our adoptive parents for plucking us out of some sort of hellhole, the life of the orphan who appears nightly on television, picking through garbage as the seagulls circle while the benevolent old white man idly strokes the child's mangy head as he implores the developed world to send "Just a dollar a week."
There's nothing wrong with charity. What is wrong is the notion that a single act, adopting a child, can define an entire life. If he succeeds, then, "Bravo! he would've never done that in his home country." If he fails, then, "Well, at least he's not living in Country XX." Good parents are good parents regardless of whether they gave birth to their children. That's only part of the equation - the initial condition as we say in engineering. But its not by any means the most important. It's how that child is raised and the person he becomes that should be the true test of merit or good parenting.
It's hard to parse out my true feelings or to reflect on the person I've become through the filter of being an adoptee. Would my life be different if I lived in Korea? Of course, but different doesn't imply that it would be worse, it would just be different. Someday I will travel to my motherland in search of my biological family and my lost culture, but my roots are and will always be back at home in Minnesota, and that's where I'll return.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)