Living in a mostly black neighborhood, I've seen firsthand the pride that Obama's victory has engendered. It's really quite moving to behold. The president-elect may have touched the nerve of a wide swath of Americans, but it is the African-Americans who seem to have been the most spirited in claiming him as theirs. (Remember when there was talk that this wouldn't happen because Obama wasn't "black enough"?) And in his breakthrough victory, black people have rejoiced in their own breakthrough.
The fact of the matter is that race still matters. Most people who voted for Obama did not vote for him because of his race, and most people who voted against him did so not because of his race. But race still matters. We can celebrate this election as a milestone in race in America. And we can agree that we still have a long way to go, personally and corporately. We can talk about race, celebrate how far we've come, lament where we're still in the wrong, give the topic its proper place in practically any discussion we could possibly have. And that's a good thing. It's what makes our nation unique, what makes us special in the world. Let's not be ashamed to say so.
11.05.2008
TO MY ELECTED OFFICIALS
Every six months or so, I try to write something to my two senators and one congressman. (You can go here to see what topics I've covered since I started this habit eight years ago.) With most results in from yesterday, here's what I had to say to Congressman Fattah and to Senators Casey and Specter:
"Now that the presidency and both houses of Congress belong to the Democrats, I urge you to do your part to rein in any protectionist sentiment in upcoming legislation and trade policies. I agree with Henry Paulson that free trade is good for poorer countries, who would suffer the most under restrictions. There's been a lot of populist talk about reining in free trade, and now that the elections are over, I hope you'll consider making sound decisions that best ensure prosperity for us all, and at the least do not do harm to the poorest among us."
THE BIG SORT
Remarkable: this site shows results by ward, and it says Obama won 96.6 percent of the votes in our ward. I haven't read "The Big Sort" yet, but intuitively, I know that we Americans are clustering with others of our political persuasion as never before. And I think that's a shame, because there's a lot to be gained from a situation like ours, where one's own convictions are challenged (sometimes hardened, sometimes changed) by constantly hearing the positions and passions of other perspectives. Here's hoping that Americans who aren't in our situation will not become lazy in their thinking, but will ever challenge their own positions as well as their counterparts'.
THE BEST OF AMERICA
Classy speeches by both Obama and McCain. As noted previously, the competition may be over but the work has just begun. Here's hoping both sides can continue to call all Americans to the best of what we all have to offer. The best of America can be yet to come, if we will stay informed, stay involved, stay inspired.
I've dutifully taken my kids to every Election Day since we've gotten them, but this was their first presidential election. Not surprisingly, since we are a swing state, turnout was high. In fact, we arrived at the polling places right as they opened at 7, and didn't actually vote until an hour later, as there were a good 50 to 60 people ahead of us. By then, Jada and Aaron had burned through their school snack and were really antsy. But we pulled our levers and headed off to school before any major meltdowns occurred.
This has been a particularly exhausting presidential campaign. Hundreds of millions of dollars have been spent, streets have been pounded and doorbells rung, and tempers flared. Not a few people are vocalizing their relief that it all ends on November 4.
Only it doesn't. Unless you think that this whole thing is about who wins. Or you are a campaign pundit, and so the campaign itself is your reality.
But for the rest of us, this is about the political process, hopefully fairly yielding a candidate who will then in two months be inaugurated as the nation's 44th president. And that very political process, however much you do or don't like it, having yielded a winner, now requires us to stay involved, stay informed, stay vocal.
If your side wins, good luck to you; you've made some lofty promises and you have the harder task, having rallied half the nation, to rally the whole nation behind getting some of it done. If you side loses, stay in the game; you are a "check" in the ever-important checks and balances that makes our nation so great.
It will annoy me to no great end if the major tenor of post-election expression is to gloat over victory or complain about defeat. And yet I fear this will be the overriding temptation, especially after a campaign as long and hard-fought as this one. If you win, remember what you've won: the right to lead, a sober responsibility if there ever was one. And if you lose, remember the bigger picture: our democracy is the world's best in part because we lose graciously and non-violently.
It's been a long haul. On November 4, we will have made it. To the starting line. Where the real work truly begins. Let's act like it.
People often tease today's big-league pitchers for being sissies compared to their counterparts from past generations. Barely a generation ago, throwing a complete game was a common occurrence, young hands weren't kept on a tight pitch count, and there was no market for a LOOGY ("lefty one out guy"). Be a man, the critics cackle.
They don't realize that today's pitchers compete in a setting in which every hitter is a home run threat, and any pitch can turn into an instant run. You could go nine innings back then because you could coast in the early innings and against certain hitters; no more. Hence, every pitch is fraught with stress, both in terms of the game situation as well as in terms of what it takes out of a pitcher.
Why do I bring this up? I'm convinced parenting has evolved in a similar fashion. For better or for worse (and there are good things and bad things about this development), life is more complicated and people more independent than even just a generation ago. Not to denigrate the challenges our parents faced, but they would probably be the first to agree if you asserted that raising a kid today is fraught with all sorts of pressures that didn't exist to the same degree when they were the ones doing the parenting. Moms juggling work and home responsibilities, keeping an eye out for child predators, having less family nearby, the proliferation of information available on the Internet . . . the list could go on and on, but it all points to today's parent having to be always on, always vigilant.
Now, there are two sides to every story. And just like today's pitchers have unprecedented access to resources to take care of their bodies, plus the modern comforts of chartered flights and generous contracts, we modern parents have vastly superior products and services with which to do battle as parents. Believe me when I say I would never for one day trade my situation for my parents' - I like not having to worry about rubella, and being able to order a stroller online and have it delivered within a week is a wonderful convenience, thank you very much. Parenting is, for the most part, vastly easier today than it has ever been in the history of mankind. But the flip side is that, metaphorically speaking, every hitter is now a home run threat.
11.01.2008
EVERYBODY LOVES A WINNER
In this morning's Inquirer, Chris Satullo ("A Civics Lesson from the Phils") wonders if "Maybe the Fightin's can teach us all how to expect, recognize, and cheer success as ardently as we have feared and booed defeat." There is something to be said about Jimmy Rollins' steady diet of optimism: the recognition that there is more to sports than the on-field athletic part, that winning isn't just for the players but for the fans, and that even if a city doesn't believe yet a team can still will itself to a different legacy than its past versions.
The battle for Philadelphia's future will be as fierce as anything the Phillies, Eagles, 76ers, and Flyers have to face night in and night out. Why, on the very same page as Satullo's column were two other stories - one good ("Another World Championship in Phila. Sudoku 2010") and one bad ("Transit Overflows with Parade-Goers"). Of course, the bad news made the masthead - how original to bash on SEPTA. And the good news was on the bottom of the page - because, you know, even though it's not every day a major cultural phenomenon decides to have its biggest gathering in our town, bashing on SEPTA and running a photo of people waiting is more what we're used to.
I was once flipping through a corporate relocation magazine and I noticed that one of San Antonio's selling points was the many championships the Spurs had won. Look at any major college brochure, and if they have good sports, you'll know it right away. Look, I get that everybody loves a winner. The Phils have proven that a team rolling at the right time can lift the spirits of an entire city - and generate lots of merchandising. No knock on sports, which is just as much a part of any city as any other part, but let's hope we can build off the success of the Phillies and learn to celebrate other successes that don't involve athletic conquest but that do involve building businesses and celebrating culture and saving schools. Now that's a winning streak I'd like to be part of.
I AGREE WITH THE CANADIANS AND WITH MILTON FRIEDMAN
It appears that a number of Canadian economics professors agree with Stephane Dion, who proposed an unpopular carbon tax during his run for prime minister: "An Open Letter to the Leaders of Canada’s Federal Political Parties." [Linked to from Greg Mankiw's blog.] These sensible arguments are almost identical to ones put forth by none other than Milton Friedman in his seminal book, "Free to Choose." It's a shame that neither US presidential candidate is willing to go this route, pandering to our addiction to cheap oil rather than proclaiming we need to radically change our ways or die.
THE CURSE OF AARON HUANG
When I heard there might be as many as 2 million (!) people at the Phillies' championship parade, and that even the Market Frankford Line would be hitting its upper bound of passenger capacity and then some, I decided that this was going to have to be a "Dada and Jada" excursion. No way this was going to work with a stroller; and Amy confirmed things when she said she was still wiped out from her illness, and that Aaron probably was going to want to stay home with her.
So I grabbed Jada from school and we popped underground at the subway stop right at her day care. If the cars were packed like sardines, there was literally one sardines' worth of space left in one of the cars. A crowd of people milling outside the subway didn't feel like squeezing into it, so I took it.
The three-minute ride was painful, since I had to hold Jada with one arm and a pole with another, trying not to thrash the people all around me too hard with every jolt of the train. At the next stop, the people between me and the door got pushed into me, as a new rush of passengers tried to board. One yelled back, "Hey, careful - there's little kids in here!" I appreciated that people were looking at for us.
We emerged at 13th Street, as police ordered no stopping at 15th due to way too much volume. Good for us, because the parade hadn't officially started, and I had a hankering for lunch at Reading Terminal Market. It was surprisingly not crowded there, anymore than the usual lunch rush, so thankfully we were able to find a table to scarf down a $4.75 plate of dumplings, egg rolls, and fried rice.
Then we headed back into the fray, and quickly hit a wall of people. We tried pinching closer to Broad Street via Chestnut, but we didn't get anywhere near the parade line. So we doubled back to Market near Juniper, where we had a pretty good sight line to where the parade was bending from eastbound on Market to southbound on Broad.
It was quite a scene. With every car, there were waves of roars, confetti everywhere, and red as far as the eye could see: red shirts, red caps, red face painting. I tried to squeeze in some footage, even as Jada was dangling on my neck. The Phanatic was the only member of the Phillies that I could pick out; it helps when you're larger than life and bright green. I'm pretty sure we saw players; we just couldn't make out which ones they were.
After the floats passed us, the problem presented us was that we were on the wrong side of the line, and would have to cross the line to get back to West Philadelphia. We made a circuitous route around the north side of City Hall, and I grabbed some more footage there, as the post-parade scene included all sorts of revelry and costumes. It was like it was Halloween; oh wait, it was.
West of City Hall, on Market Street, were tell-tale signs of a ticker tape parade: colored confetti and trash and people everywhere. We finally decided to walk all the way to 19th and try the trolleys there. There was no room on the first three but we scored a space on the fourth, made the transfer at 30th Street, and were safely back to West Philadelphia within minutes.
I bumped into a few familiar faces while we were down there – don't worry, guys, I'm not going to rat you out to your bosses, teachers, or parents – but otherwise it was Jada and me in a sea of strangers. And yet, we all shared in the love for one gloriously red afternoon.
Of course, the littlest resident of my house did not get baptized into this dizzying celebration. I'm trying not to think the thought, "Well, it's OK, there'll be another opportunity soon." The Curse of Aaron Huang? Nah.
Kids – A bonanza of kid-friendly outings, from two birthday parties to two Halloween-themed trips to the aquarium; we celebrated Jada's Gotcha Day, too. Of course, the most memorable outing was to South Broad, where Dada and Jada were among hundreds of thousands cheering on the 2008 World Series champion Phillies. Aaron stayed home for that but then joined in on the Halloween parade and party that followed. All throughout the month, both kids battled illness: Aaron had strep throat and two ear infections (so tube surgery here we come), and even indestructible Jada spend much of the month coughing and sniffling.
Adults – Lee slogged through his work and other projects, coughing all the way and even having to take a sick day in the middle of all that when the 24-hour flu bug hit him. Amy diligently hit the books for her boards whenever she had a spare moment, which, with all the medical ailments this month, she didn't have many of.
