Earlier this week, I attended an event sponsored by UMKC and The Raindrop Turkish House to foster inter-cultural communication and promote the concept of civil servitude. The keynote speaker, Professor James Harrington spoke about the importance of a society that gives back and fosters a moral imperative to improve itself. He quoted many influential leaders from the ages, with striking examples of civil servitude in action.
Toward the end of his speech, he quoted Harry S. Truman in what was the first presidential address ever to be televised. In October of 1947, President Truman went on national television to request the American people eat less. The impetus was war torn Europe, where devastated areas were struggling with famine and poverty. The American government appealed to the people to conserve food to provide more grains for Europe.
“I know every American feels in his heart that we must help to prevent starvation and distress among our fellow men in other countries,” Truman declared. “But more than this, the food-saving program announced tonight offers an opportunity to each of you to make a contribution to the peace. We have dedicated ourselves to the task of securing a just and a lasting peace.”
Can you imagine the response from FoxNews if Obama were to give a similar speech with a similar request today? The idea of a food-saving program seems completely preposterous in modern times, mostly because there's no way the American public would sympathize with such a proposal, or the motivation behind it. The connection to our neighbor and his plights is a tenuous one, and it feels like people are willing to help as long as it doesn't involved any self-sacrifice or personal inconvenience.
“The voluntary program is the best way for us to do the job. We believe that self-control is the best control. From now on, we shall be testing at every meal the degree to which each of us is willing to exercise self-control for the good of all."
Self control is the best control? I can't begin to imagine any public figure uttering these words nowadays- our entire society is based on consumerism and consumption is what America does best. It is baffling that we have changed so much as a society in such a relatively short period of time; we are such a food obsessed nation that not even the president of the United States would dare suggest we cut back in today's age. We value our rights and individual liberties, but the idea of "the good of all" has faded into a school time parable. Our concern for the global community has dwindled away, although we enjoy unprecedented advances in technology that make it easier than ever before to connect with other nations and peoples.
In the age of facebook, twitter, email, and the world wide web, we are more than ever an interconnected world. Despite these technological advances, our civil servitude and global consciousnesses feels weaker than ever. How do we get back to a time when the president could call on everyday Americans to avoid eating eggs, poultry, and meat to help our fellow man? How do we regain the individual participation to maintain "the good of all"?
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
If A Tree Falls in the Forest ...
The newest update to Foursquare is called Radar, and it takes the FS app to its logical next step: a program that alerts you when friends are checked in nearby, and suggests places for you to check into that are in close proximity. The linked article goes through the details, and points out the obvious awkward/stalker vibes emanating from this latest collision of technology and social media.
While the average person's response will undoubtedly be revulsion, I find it inevitable and entertaining. I suppose ignorance is bliss, so that as long as your friends are cavorting behind your back, social norms are preserved and no one's ego is slighted. In our new Foursquare Radar era, there is the potential to be acutely aware of every hang out to which you are not invited to participate. And that's the real crux of the situation- not that you haven't been invited, because no one socializes with all their friends all of the time, but the knowledge of the missed moment, that's it's no longer being done behind your back.
But then there have always been two types of people in our new social media, hyper-connectedness age. The ones who revel in thrusting every detail of ordinary life onto the internet for all who are interested to gawk at, and those who find it all appalling. I happen to fall into the former category, and am generally forgiving of flaws in privacy protection in favor of the opinion that my anonymity protects from identity theft. If someone really wanted to steal my identity, nothing I could do would really be effective in stopping them. And who is that interested in my life anyway?
Blogging, Foursquare, Facebook, and Twitter are all just self-indulgent guilty pleasures. They play as much of a role in keeping people connected as they do in making our lives seem more important than they are, and thereby making humanity happier.
And really, what's wrong with that? In my head, my legions of dedicated followers read every post I write, and marvel at my literary acumen. Reality is, afterall, perception.
While the average person's response will undoubtedly be revulsion, I find it inevitable and entertaining. I suppose ignorance is bliss, so that as long as your friends are cavorting behind your back, social norms are preserved and no one's ego is slighted. In our new Foursquare Radar era, there is the potential to be acutely aware of every hang out to which you are not invited to participate. And that's the real crux of the situation- not that you haven't been invited, because no one socializes with all their friends all of the time, but the knowledge of the missed moment, that's it's no longer being done behind your back.
But then there have always been two types of people in our new social media, hyper-connectedness age. The ones who revel in thrusting every detail of ordinary life onto the internet for all who are interested to gawk at, and those who find it all appalling. I happen to fall into the former category, and am generally forgiving of flaws in privacy protection in favor of the opinion that my anonymity protects from identity theft. If someone really wanted to steal my identity, nothing I could do would really be effective in stopping them. And who is that interested in my life anyway?
Blogging, Foursquare, Facebook, and Twitter are all just self-indulgent guilty pleasures. They play as much of a role in keeping people connected as they do in making our lives seem more important than they are, and thereby making humanity happier.
And really, what's wrong with that? In my head, my legions of dedicated followers read every post I write, and marvel at my literary acumen. Reality is, afterall, perception.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Open Heart
The Stryker hospital bed is the same,
Though it is newer, same buttons.
Do all hospitals use Stryker beds?
Though the bed is familiar,
standing where I am is not.
I know what all the buttons do,
it's familiar but not comforting.
Like a lot of things I know:
the feel of the sternal saw,
the perils of anesthesia,
the blue angel hairs of 6-0 prolene suture.
Familiar, and shockingly not comforting.
For all the things I know,
I am still not prepared
when the orderly stops us,
"time for last minute hugs and kisses."
Not prepared to lean over my dad,
not quite Dad without his glasses,
and say goodbye and good luck.
Not prepared for the break in his voice
as he says he loves me and he'll see me soon.
I know what transpired
behind those automated doors,
but how they cut him open,
and made him whole again,
back to bespectacled Dad,
that I will never understand.
16 October 2011
2343
Though it is newer, same buttons.
Do all hospitals use Stryker beds?
Though the bed is familiar,
standing where I am is not.
I know what all the buttons do,
it's familiar but not comforting.
Like a lot of things I know:
the feel of the sternal saw,
the perils of anesthesia,
the blue angel hairs of 6-0 prolene suture.
Familiar, and shockingly not comforting.
For all the things I know,
I am still not prepared
when the orderly stops us,
"time for last minute hugs and kisses."
Not prepared to lean over my dad,
not quite Dad without his glasses,
and say goodbye and good luck.
Not prepared for the break in his voice
as he says he loves me and he'll see me soon.
I know what transpired
behind those automated doors,
but how they cut him open,
and made him whole again,
back to bespectacled Dad,
that I will never understand.
16 October 2011
2343
To Infinity and Beyond
The 10 Year Starship Study Symposium took place in Orlando, Florida in early October, an event that slipped by me in obscurity until Ira Glass brought its idiosyncratic dreaming to my attention today.
The convention featured scientists from NASA, DARPA (a specialized advanced research arm of the Defense Department), science fiction writers, and the public. It tackled with laughable gravity the quandary of interstellar travel- the stuff of my favorite science fiction shows and novels.
For example, the nearest star to the sun is 4 lightyears away, which would currently take us approximately 10,000 years to traverse.
Ten thousand years.
Despite the seemingly insurmountable hurdles obstructing our trekkie dreams, the panels hashed out viable options for sustaining travel across such distances, coming up with options like light sails that harvest the energy of the sun. They discussed plasma shields, like a cosmic windshield to protect starships from the missile like qualities of space dust, encountered at light speed.
The 100 YSS Symposium gives me goosebumps like the first time I read Ender's Game. This was the first annual convention of its kind, and when Ira Glass supposed that future generations of space travelers will laud 2011 as the initial trailblazing of a new frontier, I imagined the future. The gossamer dreams of scienc fiction seem to have inched infinitesimally closer to the everyday fabric of this American life.
The convention featured scientists from NASA, DARPA (a specialized advanced research arm of the Defense Department), science fiction writers, and the public. It tackled with laughable gravity the quandary of interstellar travel- the stuff of my favorite science fiction shows and novels.
For example, the nearest star to the sun is 4 lightyears away, which would currently take us approximately 10,000 years to traverse.
Ten thousand years.
Despite the seemingly insurmountable hurdles obstructing our trekkie dreams, the panels hashed out viable options for sustaining travel across such distances, coming up with options like light sails that harvest the energy of the sun. They discussed plasma shields, like a cosmic windshield to protect starships from the missile like qualities of space dust, encountered at light speed.
The 100 YSS Symposium gives me goosebumps like the first time I read Ender's Game. This was the first annual convention of its kind, and when Ira Glass supposed that future generations of space travelers will laud 2011 as the initial trailblazing of a new frontier, I imagined the future. The gossamer dreams of scienc fiction seem to have inched infinitesimally closer to the everyday fabric of this American life.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Zeenat, Like the TV
I used to blog a lot.
But it's been years, and I hadn't felt that self-indulgent itch for some time. That finally, inevitably, changed as I was driving my rental car down I-5N one recent weeknight, forcing myself to keep my eyes on the road and away from the city lights of the Seattle skyline. Although I nearly always carry my camera, I refrained from snapping away at 75 mph on the highway. This stock google photo suffices in lieu of reckless driving.
But it's been years, and I hadn't felt that self-indulgent itch for some time. That finally, inevitably, changed as I was driving my rental car down I-5N one recent weeknight, forcing myself to keep my eyes on the road and away from the city lights of the Seattle skyline. Although I nearly always carry my camera, I refrained from snapping away at 75 mph on the highway. This stock google photo suffices in lieu of reckless driving.
I've had a stretch of several unruly weeks, and today marks the end of what has turned out to be quite a spirited run. Lately the commotion has revolved around interviews for a minimally invasive surgery fellowship. Seattle and San Antonio were the sole outliers as the majority have been in Northern California. The best-in-show routine grows arduous quickly, so maybe the urge to return to routine writing is a response to an SOS from my stifled creative mind.
An interesting facet to West Coasters is the lack of a response to foreign names; although I never thought of it as unique to the Midwest, folks in the heart of the country tend to struggle with anything but the traditional Anglo-Saxon name. Although my name was uniformly butchered by the interviewees, receptionists, and peers I encountered, there was no hesitation to tackle my titular conundrum and ask the source directly for help in navigating its tricky syllables. It was refreshingly unexpected, a subtle departure from the personal apology I unknowingly issue every time I introduce myself- "It's pronounced Zenith, like the TV".
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