Flags of our Fathers

Lisa, in cleaning out her great grandmother's house, has come across something fun - Better Homes and Gardens from the early 1970s. I know, I'm a history nerd, and this alone would be enough for me. But on the last page of each of them there's a feature called "The Man Next Door." It appears to just be pithy little one-liners and observations of this Burton Hillis fellow. It actually reminds me a lot of a Twitter feed in some ways. But in one issue I noticed he had a slightly longer entry, and I feel I need to reprint it in its entirety and discuss. He writes in the May 1971 issue:

"When I received my bank statement in the mail last week, I noticed that an American flag decal was included in the envelope. An attached note explained it was a gift, given in the hope I'd put it on my car window. At first I was pleased.
"Later, I began wondering if it was really the great idea it seemed to be at first. Showing off the colors on special occasions is something our family has always enjoyed. Yet having the Stars and Stripes constantly displayed on my car seemed somehow out of step with our family's attitude toward the flag.
"And what about the people who didn't have a flag decal? Might I risk implying, however unintentionally, that they were somehow less patriotic than I? I decided against the decal, feeling it was more a sign of current political ferment than an expression of genuine patriotism.
"Then too, it seemed Old Glory deserved something better than being dumped in the same class with billboards and bumper stickers, many of them bearing vaguely ominous messages like 'America, love it or leave it.' Used like this - or as a shirt on a bearded youth - the flag becomes a political football rather than a symbol.
"My family agreed. To us, pride in our country can't be synthesized into a decal. Patriotism, like all ideals, must be something we feel within ourselves."

I wonder what all the people with red, white, and blue ribbons on their trunks would think of this. It appears Mr. Hillis' "Billboard and Bumpersticker" people have won this debate, but I like his reasoning. I've always thought the flag doesn't belong along side "My other car is a _____" or even "God is my copilot." In fact, I have a feeling that a good portion of people who wear Old Glory on a T-Shirt or sport a dirty, salty, and torn flag on a bumper sticker are the same people who support anti flag desecration amendments whenever they come up, but I'm not convinced that many of them are familiar with U.S. Code Title 4, Chapter 1 (U.S. Flag Code), which Cornell Law School has presented very simply and well here. Sections 3 and 7 are especially relevant to the display of the flag. Also, Title 36, Chapter 10 deals with civilian use of the flag as well. Section 176, Respect For The Flag, has some interesting things to say about the Stars and Stripes on clothing, as clothing, as drapery, as napkins, etc. Did you know that politicians wearing lapel pins are arguably breaking the U.S. Flag code?
Much of the ramblings of Mr. Burton Hillis are dated humor and somewhat sexist anecdotes, but I can't help wishing that the country had heeded his advice on flag display. The flags of our fathers would appear to have been flags of discretion, and I can only imagine the pride that would fill my chest if I saw the flag in his patriotic light instead of with the political implications I see it now. Just something to think about, I guess.
More on the old Better Homes and Gardens in the next post - so if you're not a history nerd like me feel free to tune me out for a bit.

All's Fair at the Fair...

Alright, I spent the day at the Minnesota State Fair Saturday. I love that once a year I have to physically prepare myself for a fair. More on that in my Yelp.com review of it here. We hit the Creative Activities building to check out Lisa's award-winning strawberry jelly, we saw the state's biggest boar (testicles the size of my head, no lie), we took a tour of some of the campers that make me celebrate humankind's ability to cram the necessities of life into no more than one hundred square feet, and we also celebrated Michelle Bachmann's craziness immortalized in three, count 'em, three separate seed-art pieces (see below for one of them).

There were the butter heads of Princess Kay of the Milky Way, there were the curds (of course), and there was heritage square. Heritage square is this little area between the Midway and the Grandstand that is a celebration of State Fair history, and Carnival culture in Minnesota. I love the fair because every year I get more disillusioned with public life, but every year there is a place where I can go and be one hundred percent public for a day and no one judges me for it. It is a real, geographical place that we all (200,000 of us) converge on to be swept through the streets by the crowd and be offered so many options of how to spend our precious fair hours, show off our wares, or interact with our elected officials. Or one could watch a parade of costumed llamas, or win a giant stuffed banana, or get scared out of one's wits at the haunted house.

We got to see the Rockabilly show from Deke Dickerson and the Ecco-fonics at one of the free stages (see right), and then we got to wander the midway after dark and take in the lights, the sweat, the carny raconteurs, the fried dough smell, and the awkward teenagers trying to impress one another.

Here's why fairs like this are still relevant in the twenty-first century: They are the last remaining vestige of original festival Americana. They are the only place one can still see the Family Farm in all its glory. They are one of the rare spots where all the pretense is thrown out the window and buyers aren't afraid to haggle and hawkers aren't modest. They are one of the only places left where everybody in the community comes together with all our diverse interests and ideas and we just exist together, and if we don't like someone we meet, to hell with it, we'll spend some time chatting anyway - we're at the Fair after all. It's the only place I've ever bummed a smoke from a guy and spent the next twenty minutes talking (as a city boy) to him about crop yield. It's the only place I've ever had a political debate with someone I don't agree with not devolve into either a shouting match or quiet resentment (because at least we could agree on the cheese curds, maybe).

I know the festival of the harvest goes all the way back to pagan times, but there's just something so quintessentially American about it in my mind - maybe instilled by the Pilgrim Thanksgiving stories from my elementary school days, but I think it's more than that. As I said in my review on Yelp (not to plug that again), it is a bacchanal of proportions that match our wide horizons. As Midwesterners, we in Minnesota are part of one of the largest and most productive agricultural regions on the planet, and as such whether one lives in the city or the country or a small town one has a basic connection to the land and its offerings that makes us respect the end of summer and the onset of autumn. That is why State Fairs are still relevant in our culture, and I am thankful to my state for putting on the best damn one there is (see below).

Requiem for a Lion

Well, it finally happened. Teddy is gone. God bless him, and God speed. He will be missed. I cannot think of anyone in Congress who had more friends on the other side of the aisle. I was actually trying to conjure someone with similar bipartisan respect, and as much as I love calling Al Franken my U.S. Senator, the only other person I can come up with is Paul Wellstone. God only knows where we'd be if that blessed man were still alive and in the senate. We were robbed of the next generation's Liberal Lion by that plane crash. But as for the original Lion, Edward, let's state the obvious: He was the only Kennedy brother who lived long enough to see his hair turn white, and arguably the one who made the most difference in American life, just given the length of his political tenure. He was a Kennedy, to be sure, and as such he was dogged by allegations of all kinds, from unseemly partying to the Chappaquiddick incident. But at heart, he was a liberal senator capable of building the kind of consensus with conservatives we can't even imagine in today's politically charged arena.
So now we're left with Patrick, a Congressional Kennedy without the charisma of a Jack or a Bobby or even his late father Ted. I say that without venom - I really like Pat Kennedy (and his unlikely friendship with our own Minnesotan Jim Ramstad), but it would appear that the dynastic days have finally drawn to a close, and this Mayo Clinic rehab alum will be content to quietly champion his causes without meriting undue spotlight. For that I commend him, and as a Midwesterner I respect his humility. From what I can tell, it seems that the story of the greatest generation Kennedy brothers has been one of failure to live up to expectations, and I salute Patrick for moving past that. Tonight on PBS they had a special highlighting the Joe Jr. through Ted generation and they kept mentioning the onus that was put on the survivors. When John died Bobby had to live up. When Bobby died Ted had to live up. It appears that the next generation of Kennedys is over that particular pressure. RFK Jr or Pat Kennedy aren't running for national office any time soon, and that is to their credit. And so with the passing of a lion, an entire coat of arms fades into American political history. We'll miss you, Edward.

Why we should argue with our dining room tables:

So, I'm frightened. I'm frightened of what might be happening in America this summer, and that some of our elected officials are complicit, if not actively supportive, in its institution. The now famous Barney Frank video is quite funny, if only because, as Jon Stewart pointed out in his commentary of it, this woman lives "on a planet where a mixed-race president and a gay Jew are considered Nazis." But what deeply disturbs me, and is so eloquently discussed by Frank Rich in this past Sunday's New York Times, is the specter of underlying violence the tone of the discourse about health care has begun to exhibit.
When a large group of Americans (quite frankly three is large enough) begin to come to town hall discussions with their elected officials brandishing guns (guns! I can't believe I just used the word in the same sentence as 'discussion'!) this country is reaching dangerously toward the realm of Simpsons mob parody.
Quite a few years ago, I was at a house party in LaCrosse WI. It was after a rock'n'roll show, and there were many people there whom I knew. There were also, however, quite a few whom I did not. One of the former, a laid back guy I had known for some time who wouldn't hurt a fly, apparently offended one of the latter with an off-hand remark. This dude had come to this jovial house party brandishing a freakin' bowie knife strapped to his belt, and now he was starting shit with my friend. I distinctly remember the sentence, "Where I come from if you say something like that you either put up or shut up," being spoken. At one point someone went downstairs to get the host and I found myself alone with these two guys, standing in between them (both at least six inches taller and of considerably bulkier builds than I). At no point did the guy in the Arctic Cat baseball cap reach for his knife, but at no point did anyone in the room forget it was there.
That is what I mean when I say the armed citizenry at the town hall meetings frightens me. One does not need to use a gun for people to be intimidated by it. In situations where tempers flare and emotions run high, it is awfully easy for judgment to become clouded and everyone is aware of the firearm's presence.
I do believe in the second amendment. I would be the last person to say guns should be banned from American life. I love venison. But having said that, I don't think a tool designed expressly to kill what it comes into contact with has any place at an event that is intended to be a civil discussion of issues vitally important to all members of a community. To introduce a firearm at a meeting with a member of the U.S. Congress is reckless at best, criminal at worst. How are rational people to see this behavior but as a threat to our and our elected officials' safety?
One thing Rich mentioned in his commentary was OK Sen. Tom Coburn's blaming of the government for this outpouring of intimidation. He quoted Coburn as saying on Meet The Press "Well, I'm troubled any time when we stop having confidence in our government, but we've earned it." This is the junior senator from a state that witnessed one of the most atrocious anti-government attacks in recent memory. How can he implicitly validate the mob mentality that threatens violence in one our most sacred institutions of the democratic process, the town hall?!
This is why we must argue with our dining room tables. Dining room tables are heavy, and can crush good legislation, taking cousin Barney or uncle Joe with them. We must get them to understand the actual language of the bill and the actual intention of the government. We must dispel any rumors of Nazi death panels or any other absurdity these people believe may be in this bill. Why can't we counter the bureaucrat argument with a simple explanation: "The government bureaucrat doesn't stand between you and your doctor - s/he pushes the insurance company bureaucrat out from between you and your doctor."? I hope we can get past this feeling that right-wingers have that government is trying to put their grandparents down, and start having a reasonable discussion about the very real and very important issue of health care, because it's about damn time we did.

Brother, can you spare nineteen million dimes?

I know I'm late writing about this three-week-old story, but here it is:
Jammie Thomas-Rasset has lost her case against the record industry. She's been ordered to pay them (record companies, not artists) $1.92M for the 24 songs she downloaded. $80K per song. I understand. She broke the law (or a jury found that she did, anyway). Here's my question: If those same songs are for sale for $1 a piece at the iTunes store, how is eighty grand even remotely commensurate with the offense she committed? She sought no profit from her actions, as noted in the original ruling from Judge Michael Davis, declaring her first trial a mistrial and noting that the original award of $222,000 was more than five hundred times the cost of buying each of the songs on individual CDs. Read the ruling here (specifically, section K: Need for Congressional Action, from the bottom of page 40 through page 42).
I guess my real beef with this case is that it is the record companies that are suing. I personally don't think anything is wrong with enjoying music for free if one is not seeking any personal gain beyond the good feeling one gets while listening to it. The New York Times Magazine this week has a really great brief interview with Jeff Tweedy of Wilco that touches on this subject. Deborah Solomon asked Tweedy about the decision to voluntarily stream Wilco's new album online for free after the tracks had surfaced illegally on the internet in May. Tweedy responded with what I think is a great mantra against anti-piracy laws:
"As a musician, I don’t want to expend any energy whatsoever preventing people from hearing our music. I think that’s antithetical to the idea of making it. Yes, we streamed it. Basically we set it up so people who felt guilty about stealing our music could donate some money to our favorite charity." (It's a great Q&A... take a look at it here.)
I agree. No artist should ever expend energy preventing people from experiencing his or her art. I would even take it one step further and say that the record companies, in suing for their own financial interests in the music, have betrayed their commitment to the artists. If someone hears for free a good song by a group or artist they are unfamiliar with, they are that much more likely to go out and seek more from that artist - becoming a fan and a regular purchaser of albums and concert tickets. Punishing Jammie Thomas-Rassett for downloading these songs with a judgment that will likely financially cripple her for the rest of her life serves no good for the artists promoted by the industry.
One final note: I was curious, so I wikipedia'd the Capitol v. Thomas case, and found out what the actual 24 songs were... I think of all the indignities this poor woman has endured, by far the worst might be that she is now liable for almost two million dollars for this particular playlist:

Aerosmith	"Cryin'"
Bryan Adams	"Somebody"
Def Leppard	"Pour Some Sugar on Me"
Destiny’s Child	"Bills, Bills, Bills"
Gloria Estefan	"Here We Are"; "Coming Out of the Dark"; "Rhythm Is Gonna Get You"
Goo Goo Dolls	"Iris"
Green Day	"Basket Case"
Guns N' Roses	"Welcome to the Jungle"; "November Rain"
Janet Jackson	"Let's Wait Awhile"
Journey	"Faithfully"; "Don't Stop Believing"
Linkin Park	"One Step Closer"
No Doubt	"Bathwater"; "Hella Good"; "Different People"
Reba McEntire	"One Honest Heart"
Richard Marx	"Now and Forever"
Sarah McLachlan	"Possession"; "Building a Mystery"
Sheryl Crow	"Run Baby Run"
Vanessa L. Williams	"Save the Best for Last"

I don't want to judge, but that's what one does in a trial situation. With a couple of exceptions for the classics on the list (see lines 8 and 10), I'd say this list is worth all of 38 cents and an MTC bus transfer.

I'm well, thanks.

I got called off of work today, and was a little bitter about it. Lisa came home and I walked up to the market for milk. There was, as always, some idiot in front of me buying seven thousand candy bars with her EBT food-stamp card. I was in a foul mood standing there with my purchase, waiting to set down my two freaking dollars and go home, and the woman behind me said, "How you doin' today?" I assumed she was talking to someone else in the store until she came around my left side and repeated herself with eye contact, verbatim, with the exact same cadence: "How you doin' today?" I was a little taken aback, and then answered, "Very well, you?" She said she was well too. So all is well.
What she probably doesn't know, though, is that this turned my whole day around. when I left for the store I was a much maligned proletariat denied a day's work and forced to spend more on milk. I had to put up with the riff-raff of the neighborhood in front of me in line and was feeling surly about everything. As soon as this woman asked me how I was, though, I thought for half a second and said "very well, you?" I guess I hadn't thought about it, but in the grand scheme my life is pretty decent, and I'm lucky that the worst thing I can complain about is some trashy shit in front of me buying junk food using state funds. That's really not that bad. That's just living in this neighborhood. So when she asked that innocent question (twice), she brought to my attention the fact that I really am, in fact, quite well. I could gripe, but overall things are pretty okay. I assume that's what she meant when she replied with the same answer - she's probably got a mortgage or rent payment she's worried about, and maybe the house next door is vacant and haven to unsavories, but damnit, she lives here and cares about who else does. She genuinely wanted to know if I was doing alright, and genuinely wanted me to know that she was too.
So thank you, Quick Stop lady, for some much needed perspective on my day. I am very well, thank you, and I hope you can say the same. Let's do this again sometime soon.

Foreclosure Blues

Well, the house next door to me has been condemned. On the south side of my house, there was a foreclosure about two years ago. It finally sold last month, and the guy is treating it as a flip-job. I hope he does good work on it and sells it to a nice young family, but who knows? On the north side there was a rental that was owned by a man who also owned half a dozen or so other properties in the neighborhood, and rented them all. Apparently (according to officer Jackson of the distressed properties division of the MPD) he lost all of his rentals to foreclosure. This particular one was peopled with a large family of many children who would spend afternoons out playing in the back yard. I once fell off a ladder saving their cat, who'd gotten stuck on the roof above their porch in the January chill. They seemed like decent people.
The big orange placard on the plywood over the front door says the reason for condemnation was "lack of required utility water." So from what I can gather, the renters (the decent people) must have left on the first of the month, when I was out of town and Lisa was at work all day. Since that day, we've seen people in the yard poking around the house on several occasions. We assumed they were employed by the owner to fix it up for the next renters. However, they were apparently looting the house for its copper pipes coming in from the street.
Such is life in 2009 on the North Side of Minneapolis. Yesterday there was a garbage truck that came down the alley and idled for a while. Its occupants spent the better part of an hour collecting the detritus from a family hastily vacated and carting it all off to a dump in some unknown and distant suburb. I can only hope the bulldozers are not close behind.
Over the past year or so I've watched as at least twelve homes in my neighborhood have been quickly leveled after default. Perfectly good, sturdy homes that have stood for decades erased from the landscape because the owners couldn't make the payments and the banks that owned the mortgages didn't want them. As nice as it would be to buy the vacated lot and plant my neighbor's yard into a giant vegetable garden, I really hope someone steps up to restore this house. When I drive down West Broadway I see homes that are surrounded by six, sometimes ten vacant lots, and all I can think is that it looks a lot like the farm houses you see in rural Minnesota. Enveloped by naked ground, these homes don't belong in the city. We live in a community that is defined by density. If we can't pack people into a city block, we don't deserve to be classified as an Urban Area. The answer to this housing crisis is not to push more people into the few apartment buildings on Penn Ave, but to allow a giant family of many children and an errant cat to inhabit a perfectly good house a block off the main drag that is solid and unwanted, except by said family. Good luck to whomever owns it now, in getting the copper replaced, and in selling it I hope to a couple of people who will love it for what it is: the beginning of a spectacular life. We don't need more flat vacant ground on the North Side.