The Middle Way

And Now, A Word From Our Sponsors...

I guess I’m not done yet with this topic of the Corporate States of America.

As we move corporate political donations from behind the (thin) curtain that maintained an appearance of fair play (if not the reality), what might we look forward to? Brand placements in political ads – “Vote No on Issue 1, brought to you by Buy N Large” (nods to WALL-E and my son)? How about in the chambers of Congress?  Whole state delegations could compete for sponsorship dollars! Imagine Congressional seats decked out with decals, a la NASCAR (thanks, Stan!). And why stop at the Halls of Congress? There’s a whole White House to conquer!

Yep – we’ll finally get this country running like a well-oiled machine. Of course, not everyone is up to the task of being a worthy denizen, but I’m sure our corporate-led government will find ways to maximize profits through strategic outsourcing, “rightsizing” and other corporate efficiency programs. Imagine – an entire nation in transition! Generous outplacement and philanthropic programs will handle the deserving hard cases; religious and other not-for-profit organizations can manage the rest.

<irony off>

We’re at another moment in U.S. history where greed and righteous indignation are tearing us apart. We have tone-deaf bankers who can’t understand why million dollar bonuses are morally and ethically wrong; legislators and political parties who can think no further than the next election cycle; and strident media voices stirring up populist anger to accept no negotiation or compromise on any issue. Differences of opinion become chasms no one is willing or able to bridge. And now the highest court in the land has ruled it’s acceptable to give the largest “haves” in our country the unlimited ability to buy the power they seek.

What price victory? In the words of one of our country’s original sponsors:

"Much indeed to be regretted, party disputes are now carried to such a length, and truth is so enveloped in mist and false representation, that it is extremely difficult to know through what channel to seek it. This difficulty to one who is of no party, and whose sole wish is to pursue with undeviating steps a path which would lead this country to respectability, wealth, and happiness, is exceedingly to be lamented. But such, for wise purposes, it is presumed, is the turbulence of human passions in party disputes, when victory more than truth is the palm contended for." -- George Washington, in a letter to Timothy Pickering, July 27, 1795

The Best That Money Can Buy

Coming on the heels of dire warnings that a 41st Republican Senator would most certainly derail health care reform, the Supreme Court -- acting against 100 years of precedent –- ruled that the government cannot ban political spending by corporations in candidate elections.

As I posited on Facebook, “does anyone else wonder, with yesterday's Supreme Court ruling granting corporations First Amendment Rights, whether we've officially ceded the US government to corporate interests?”

It’s impossible to predict how this will play out but no one doubts it will create major political consequences.  Almost certainly, we’ll be in for a slug fest of attack ads from outside interest groups at a level far beyond what we’ve seen before.

I’m having trouble understanding how ordinary citizens benefit from this ruling. While I can’t see many companies rushing to directly finance campaign ads because of public relations concerns, I can see a steep increase in activity by industry groups, funded by these very companies.  And it’s not at all unrealistic to envision a future where lobbyists essentially hold legislators hostage by giving them a glimpse of what they have in store for them should they vote against the corporate interest.

I don’t believe corporations are evil. I worked for one for most of my adult life. That said, what’s in the best interest of the corporation is not always what’s in the best interest of the people. Money has, does and always will talk –- but until yesterday’s ruling, there was at least a semblance of government of, by and for the people.  

Are we approaching a time when citizens must band together and incorporate in order to be heard and have influence with their elected representatives?

"Everything will be okay in the end.  If it's not okay, it's not the end." -- Unknown

Reading those words this morning was the equivalent of stopping and taking a deep breath. And reminding myself that the media and blogosphere feed on all the “ain’t it awful” drama. I can choose to get caught up in their chatter or -- pay attention to other things going on in the world around me.

I think I’m going to spend some time on those other things.

A Poignant Lesson on Attachment and Loss

This past Monday, I left my bracelet in the locker at my gym. Taking it off in the first place was a hard habit to get into; I never remove it except when I must -- my few hospital stays, airport security checkpoints and now, when I swim.

But that day I left it behind when I gathered my things. I realized it was missing about an hour after I got home, and rushed back to retrieve it. It was gone: whoever found it did not turn it in, nor has it shown up in the days since.

There’s a story behind this bracelet, and a story behind that story. The story is this: it belonged to my grandmother, who bought it from a Native American on the side of a dirt road somewhere in New Mexico or Arizona in the 1940’s. She and her husband had moved to Colorado after the war and explored much of the American southwest and Mexico by car, camping by roadsides. The bracelet is sand-cast silver and has the signature of its maker – a small bird – on the inside.

Like me, my grandmother always wore it.  It’s one of my earliest memories of her. She gave it to me during a last, long visit I made to see her – another in a series of solace-seeking trips for some trouble or another I was going through. The bracelet had begun bruising her thinning skin and she felt it was time to pass it on. Among all her granddaughters, she chose me: the one she always felt was most like her.

The story behind the story is that of my grandmother. Born at the end of the 19^th century, she lived a fascinating life. From her early days of privilege to the cash-strapped years of her teens, she had a fierce intelligence and independence.  Before her marriage in 1918, she was a dancer in Greenwich Village and acted in plays written for her by a doting playwright. She was also a member of the Socialist Club, best known today from Warren Beatty’s film, Reds, about one of its more famous members, John Reed.

Her marriage ended abruptly in 1929 when the car she was driving collided with a train at a crossing in Nyack, New York, on a foggy April night. My grandfather and another couple were killed; my grandmother spent 3 months recuperating in the hospital. She never walked properly again.

She remarried in the 1940’s and moved to Colorado. Max was Swiss and had also lived in South Africa before moving to the U.S., and he and my grandmother took many trips together. Often their transportation was as exotic as the trips themselves – tramp steamers and cargo planes, a reflection of Max’s thriftiness. I always loved to visit them; their home was filled with African masks, Peruvian pottery, Indian cloth and Chinese paper paintings, and smelled of spices and faraway places.

Now I’ve lost the most visible connection to the grandmother I admired and adored. It’s a visible, visceral loss and I feel tears pricking my eyelids every time I think about it.

The bracelet may yet turn up. Whether it does or doesn’t, I’ve been thinking a lot about the Buddhist concept of attachment.

It’s a complex concept that’s often misinterpreted, but the explanation in this article does a reasonable job of summarizing: “Attachments are sim­ple beliefs … that have become solidified as ‘truth’ in our minds. They also partake of the energy of desire, which is based on the underlying belief that without some par­ticular person or thing, we can never be free from suffering.”

My attachment comes in equating this bracelet to my grandmother, and feeling like I’ve lost a part of myself in losing it. It comes in giving up the warm fantasy of passing it on to my own granddaughter someday, along with the stories that accompany it – my grandmother’s and my own.

In the end, it's just a thing, not a substitute for my life memories of my grandmother. I'll always carry those with me. Or so I remind myself as I once again unconsciously reach over to adjust the bracelet that's no longer around my wrist.