A year ago, we had just got home from a long day at the hospital in Santa Barbara, and we got a call that we needed to come back. She was on the verge. I was exhausted from commuting an hour each way to school, then an hour each way to the hospital--in different directions. Dad was too shaken up do drive, and it was too dark for him to see. So Kat drove us. Grandma stayed home; I think it was all she could do just to exist after everything she'd been through. And now this.
We piled in the Neon my Grandma had bought (she had given it to me; that is, my parents bought it from her for about $100) and made the familiar trip down the coast, but this time it was to say goodbye. Dad wanted the back seat. He was emotional, but not too much, yet. I was staring in the side mirror from the passenger's seat, stuck somewhere between empty exhaustion and welled up with tears. Kat drove well. I could never thank her enough for what she willingly went through. We listened to Graceland on the drive.
We spent the night in and out of her room in the ICU. I played music I had been working on for her from my IPhone. We told her about how things were at home. There were close calls and small signs of hope. At one point late in the night, the chaplain came in and prayed for her when we knew she was slipping away. That was so hard. I remember thinking that I could never cry enough for what was happening to her. We ended up sleeping the early morning hours away in a waiting room. Finally, we went in, and we had to make a choice.
It was unclear what Mom wanted. We didn't know what to do. We wanted to give her a chance to fight back, but her body was failing. We talked, we prayed. It fell on Dad's head. He walks every day with that decision. We wept bitterly and said goodbye as they disconnected the respirator. All I could think of was regret. I think I said, "I'm sorry. We love you. We'll see you again." At that moment, I kept thinking about a specific time I knew I disappointed her. Dad and Kat were crying. We watched her body loose its last breath. It didn't take long. The doctor leaned over with his stethoscope: "I'm sorry."
We cried our final tears and left so they could clean her up. I remember feeling very hungry. I was craving a cheeseburger. We went down to the hospital cafeteria, but we decided it was better to head home. We ended up stopping at an IHOP. Kat got pancakes. Dad got onion rings. I don't remember what I ate. But that didn't matter. There we were: me with my fiance and my dad who just had to watch his wife die two hours earlier. But those distinctions didn't matter that morning. We were just family; worse for the wear, and empty from loss.
A few days later, two of my sisters--her daughters--flew in to see her body, say goodbye, and spend some time with us. They were a blessing. We let them go in first. They're both in medical fields, but I'm sure that didn't change a thing. When I was in there, I felt faithless. I wanted so badly to take her hand and say "get up!" But another part of me questioned why I would want to bring her back in to this world. A smaller part feared what she would think of the decision we had made.
We left. She was cremated. Her ashes are on the mantle at Grandma's in a wooden box with a hand-carved scene on it. Dad still lives there. He tells me on the phone how hard it is to look out into that room and see her there. I'm half a country away, married with a dog and working full time.
It's been a year. On the anniversary, I listened to Graceland while I was driving to work and driving between guitar lessons. My eyes were stinging the whole time. I was exhausted at the end of the day. That's the thing about this kind of loss; sometimes it's historical fact, sometimes it's as fresh as the moment after it happened. It hurts, but she's worth the pain of remembering.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
On Education
From what I've seen, there's been a shift in our national opinion about education. It used to be that some kids didn't graduate High School, some did, some got Associates Degrees, others went to trade school or technical school, some graduated college, some got a Master's Degree and a few got Doctorates. All of them had a place in the workforce. Now, it seems that graduating college (that is, earning a four-year degree) holds the same merit as graduating High School did one or two generations ago. No college means no job security (not in all cases, but more than before to be sure).
Why the shift? Education has been subsidized more by government to raise our national level of education that we might compete more on an international scale. In order to stay on top, we need to be smarter. One problem is that as education becomes more available, its value diminishes (as stated earlier). Another problem that we assume education will make us smarter.
My dad is from the "old school." One of the terms he uses with increasing frequency is "educated idiot." What he means is that even though college students are becoming more cosmopolitan reading Wollstonecraft and Marx, they have no idea of the practical implications of such work. They can ace a test, but they're not smart enough to keep a budget and live within (or God forbid, under) their means. In short, college students don't learn common sense.
As our education level rises, the number of manual labor jobs done by Americans decreases (hence the argument about "jobs Americans just won't do"). As education becomes more available, it comes closer to becoming a "right" and is viewed less and less as the privilege that it is. Finally, the motivation to self-educate is diminished when someone can just "take a class." The result is a state-run education system that holds the keys to knowledge and taxes the people more and more as the burden to educate increases. Because education will have become an official right rather than a privilege, it will be a program that the government cannot cut when economic times go lean. Because [nearly] everyone will be educated, either the country will rely on foreign production (again, "jobs Americans just won't do") or else the head janitor at the university will have to have at least a Master's degree to hold the position.
Hyperbole aside, this is a possibility we face: as education becomes more available, its value diminishes. That means students will spend more time in school to be competitive in the job market. The more time a student spends in school, the less time he or she spends working and accumulating wealth. Less time at work and less wealth accumulation means a lower GDP and lower tax revenues. A lower GDP means being less competitive in the "global market," and lower tax revenues means either cutting programs (yeah, right), or increasing state and national debt. As state and national debt increase, taxes go up. As taxes increase, wealth accumulation decreases further until one generation can't afford to educate the next. What's left is an uneducated generation that has to either leave the country to find work, lower their standards for quality of life and quality of work, or rebuild the system from the ground up.
At some point, the system either changes or collapses.
Why the shift? Education has been subsidized more by government to raise our national level of education that we might compete more on an international scale. In order to stay on top, we need to be smarter. One problem is that as education becomes more available, its value diminishes (as stated earlier). Another problem that we assume education will make us smarter.
My dad is from the "old school." One of the terms he uses with increasing frequency is "educated idiot." What he means is that even though college students are becoming more cosmopolitan reading Wollstonecraft and Marx, they have no idea of the practical implications of such work. They can ace a test, but they're not smart enough to keep a budget and live within (or God forbid, under) their means. In short, college students don't learn common sense.
As our education level rises, the number of manual labor jobs done by Americans decreases (hence the argument about "jobs Americans just won't do"). As education becomes more available, it comes closer to becoming a "right" and is viewed less and less as the privilege that it is. Finally, the motivation to self-educate is diminished when someone can just "take a class." The result is a state-run education system that holds the keys to knowledge and taxes the people more and more as the burden to educate increases. Because education will have become an official right rather than a privilege, it will be a program that the government cannot cut when economic times go lean. Because [nearly] everyone will be educated, either the country will rely on foreign production (again, "jobs Americans just won't do") or else the head janitor at the university will have to have at least a Master's degree to hold the position.
Hyperbole aside, this is a possibility we face: as education becomes more available, its value diminishes. That means students will spend more time in school to be competitive in the job market. The more time a student spends in school, the less time he or she spends working and accumulating wealth. Less time at work and less wealth accumulation means a lower GDP and lower tax revenues. A lower GDP means being less competitive in the "global market," and lower tax revenues means either cutting programs (yeah, right), or increasing state and national debt. As state and national debt increase, taxes go up. As taxes increase, wealth accumulation decreases further until one generation can't afford to educate the next. What's left is an uneducated generation that has to either leave the country to find work, lower their standards for quality of life and quality of work, or rebuild the system from the ground up.
At some point, the system either changes or collapses.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
The Great Prop 8 Debate
On the Left we have the argument that if the California courts allow Proposition 8, a dangerous precedent will be set that allows the voting majority to oppress a minority by amending the constitution to bar them from exercising their rights.
On the Right we have the argument that if the California courts deny Proposition 8, a dangerous precedent will be set that allows the courts to dictate to the people what can be written into their constitution which begins "We the People . . . ," leaving residents to wonder what happened to the notion of a government "of the People, by the People, for the People."
As a Christian, I face a different internal dialogue.
On the one hand, I think the Bible is clear that homosexuality is a violation of God's standards for righteousness. As a Christian with a vote, I supported Proposition 8 at the ballot box because I know that one day I will have to explain to my children why some of their friends have to mommies or two daddies. How am I to explain to my child that in this great country that we are to love and support, we sometimes have laws that contradict what God wants us to do? Moreover, how am I to ensure that my children understand that their rights come from God and not the government when the government is inventing new rights that directly contradict the word of God?
On the other hand, I think the Bible is clear that as a Christian, my life is to be different from that of the world at large. As the world rejects God's standards more, Christianity will be more distinct and therefore each believer will be a stronger witness of Christ. What the world does or what the government does should have little effect on me, my family, or the Church as a whole. Christians are to win hearts, minds, and souls, not elections. Should I not allow people so adamant about legitimizing this lifestyle live out their experiment and have the results visible to the whole world for better or worse? How long before we simply shake the dust from our feet and focus on keeping ourselves from being corrupted by the world?
I suppose that in the end, the mentality by which I will live is up to the courts.
On the Right we have the argument that if the California courts deny Proposition 8, a dangerous precedent will be set that allows the courts to dictate to the people what can be written into their constitution which begins "We the People . . . ," leaving residents to wonder what happened to the notion of a government "of the People, by the People, for the People."
As a Christian, I face a different internal dialogue.
On the one hand, I think the Bible is clear that homosexuality is a violation of God's standards for righteousness. As a Christian with a vote, I supported Proposition 8 at the ballot box because I know that one day I will have to explain to my children why some of their friends have to mommies or two daddies. How am I to explain to my child that in this great country that we are to love and support, we sometimes have laws that contradict what God wants us to do? Moreover, how am I to ensure that my children understand that their rights come from God and not the government when the government is inventing new rights that directly contradict the word of God?
On the other hand, I think the Bible is clear that as a Christian, my life is to be different from that of the world at large. As the world rejects God's standards more, Christianity will be more distinct and therefore each believer will be a stronger witness of Christ. What the world does or what the government does should have little effect on me, my family, or the Church as a whole. Christians are to win hearts, minds, and souls, not elections. Should I not allow people so adamant about legitimizing this lifestyle live out their experiment and have the results visible to the whole world for better or worse? How long before we simply shake the dust from our feet and focus on keeping ourselves from being corrupted by the world?
I suppose that in the end, the mentality by which I will live is up to the courts.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)