Three Strange Tales
I still remember the first time I felt uncomfortable about an adult scout leader. At age 14 I was with a group that was spending a week working at a scout camp to get the place ready for the summer camping season. One of the adults, a single guy in his early 20s that had been involved in the organization as a youth, was promoting some activities that I thought were pretty edgy.
It all appeared to be in fun. For example, the man tried to get some of the boys to pretend like they were making out with him as a joke on other scouts. This guy generally related well with the boys and they liked him. But the way the whole episode played out felt creepy to me. I left the area rather than participate in the activity.
This guy wasn't all bad. I heard some shady rumors about him, but I never saw anything happen that would warrant legal or scouting sanction. In fact, as an older teen I occasionally worked for the guy helping with his mobile disco business. (Yeah, that dates me.) He was later excommunicated from the LDS Church for illicit activity (with a female), but he was re-baptized a few years later. I lost track of him after that.
During this same period I knew an older youth through scouting that had a serious problem with pornography. He introduced a friend of mine to porn. It turned into an addiction that he battled for years. The older youth became an adult and then left the area for a couple of years. When he returned, he finished his degree and then got a job working for the BSA as a district executive. It was rumored that he was inviting selected youth to his apartment to view porn. He changed jobs right after that.
Eventually this guy married a woman that was much older than him and had kids that were half this guy's age. They moved out of state. But I ran into the guy on a couple of subsequent occasions. One time he was at a mountain main rendezvous with a handful of 13-year-old boys that were running around in nothing but breech cloths and tennis shoes. I never heard what became of this guy after that.
When I was 17 I spent the summer working at a scout camp. One of the adults on staff was a single man in his mid-20s that related well with the boys. There were a few occasions when he discussed matters that made me feel somewhat uncomfortable, but I never saw anything 'happen.' The following summer while he was working at a different camp, I heard that he was 'kicked out' of the BSA for something that was kept very hush-hush.
A few years later this guy was married and was somehow again involved in scouting. By that time I was an adult and had been through the BSA's youth protection training, which was a fairly new program. From this perspective I noted a number of things about this man that made me uncomfortable, so I kept my eye on him. Somehow it didn't surprise me at all when he was sent to prison for rape of a teenage boy that had been left in his charge by a somewhat dysfunctional family. An acquaintance that had reason to know about the case said that prosecutors had evidence suggesting that this fellow had had well over 100 victims starting from the time he was a young teen.
Pedo-Files
I note these instances in light of the recent release of the older portion of what has become known as the Boy Scout perversion files (click link to search and view actual files). (See the BSA's site that discusses abuse in the organization.) This KSL.com article is similar to hundreds of others that have been published about the release of the files. I checked these files in vain for the names of the men mentioned above, since most of the incidents I cited occurred well before 1985, the last year covered by the current file release. (Files covering recent more cases will be released in the future.) Could some of these guys be involved with the BSA today?
One might think from the stories above that I think of the Boy Scouts as an organization filled with pedophiles. The linked KSL.com article quotes psychiatrist Dr. Jennifer Warren who reviewed the files with a team of graduate students as saying that the files show that the rate of abuse in the BSA was "very low" in comparison with other organizations that deal with youth.
My personal experience as a youth and as a volunteer covering decades of membership in the BSA comports with Dr. Warren's findings. For every child abuser that has wheedled his way into the leadership ranks of the BSA there have been hundreds of other upstanding men and women that have simply been volunteering their time and efforts to improve the lives of boys. The three cases I cited are notable because of their exception from the norm.
Youth Banks
Organizations that serve youth are magnets for pedophiles. The infamous bank robber Willie Sutton wrote in his memoirs after his release from prison that his policy had been to "Go where the money is...and go there often." The reason that schools and youth organizations attract pedophiles is because that's where potential abuse targets can be found in rich abundance. Thus, pedophiles go where the kids are and they go there often.
For this reason, youth centered organizations need to be extra wary and impose protections for youths just as strong as the protections banks employ to prevent theft and robbery. As a scouting leader I have learned to carefully watch the men that relate with boys on a peer-to-peer rather than an adult-to-child basis. The boys like them, but these guys are the most likely to abuse youth. They should never be allowed to be with youth without a trusted adult present.
The Cover Up
The need to protect youth the way a bank protects money is the basis for concerns voiced by some of the BSA's critics. While the rate of abuse has been low in the BSA, the files reveal a clear pattern of covering up crimes involving abuse of youth by scout leaders, as well as a pattern of inadequately protecting youth.
It's not like it was a concerted top-down effort. Rather, the pattern shows up in myriad decisions made by local scout executives, law enforcement, and political leaders that felt that it was more important to maintain the squeaky clean BSA brand rather than see justice done. This flies directly in the face of being true at all times—one of the main values promoted by the BSA.
It is possible that some officials' actions stem from a general poor understanding of child sexual abuse and the discrete manner in which our culture once handled such matters.
The BSA's youth protection policy has evolved slowly during my decades as an adult volunteer. Adult leaders have been required to take youth protection training for nearly three decades. But until recently the requirement has not been rigidly applied. "Two-deep leadership" (having two qualified adults present with youth at all activities) has been required for nearly as long. But leaders still often end up alone with youth due to the challenge of getting enough volunteers to be where and when they are needed.
Going Overboard?
The BSA only began requiring mandatory reporting of suspected child abuse two years ago. I have mixed feelings about this. Right after I was trained on the policy I attended an event where an 18-year-old young man (technically an adult) and a 14-year-old boy acted far more affectionate toward each other than is normal. To me it looked like the older boy was following the standard abuse pattern of grooming the younger boy to be his victim.
Per the reporting policy, I reported what I had seen, being careful not to infer more than I actually knew. An official later contacted me to get more information. I was aware that other adults were also interviewed. Later I was informed that law enforcement officials had been involved but had declined to pursue action. However, the young man was disbarred from the BSA and was informed that he will never be permitted to register with the BSA in the future.
Admittedly, I don't know everything that the investigation revealed. I only know that it didn't rise to the level of legal action. But it almost seems as if the BSA has gone from being careless about abuse to being overly cautious. It may be that any adult that is suspected of abuse or even potential abuse will be permanently booted out of the Boy Scouts to prevent even the appearance of evil.
It's important to protect youth members of the BSA, but is it proper to permanently brand an adult on the basis of very little evidence?
Honesty Is the Best Policy
The Boy Scouts has been under fire for its insistence on banning openly gay activists from its ranks. The revelation that for years the BSA failed to adequately protect youth from abusers in order to protect its reputation adds fuel to the organization's detractors—some of whom would have us believe that Eagle Scouts are one of the greatest threats this nation faces.
It appears to me that the cover up methods employed by the BSA for decades have ultimately led to worse damage to the organization's reputation and brand than would have been the case had instances of abuse been made public when they originally occurred. It is also arguable that keeping abuse quiet likely led to more victims being abused.
Everyone that is interested in the value of the Boy Scouts should also be interested in weeding out the bad apples in the organization. The BSA insists that, despite past failures, it is now handling youth protection seriously and appropriately. But it seems undeniable that the organization's brand has been seriously harmed by its own lack of integrity.
The first point of the Scout Law is trustworthiness. The way to earn trust is to act consistently trustworthy. The BSA has not done so when it comes to child abuse. Trust once broken is not easily regained. You can't just snap your fingers and magically gain the trust of others. It takes time and consistency.
One Bad Apple?
The question is whether the cover up of the abuse (even if it was a low rate of abuse) by the BSA means that the organization is irredeemable. As one that has loved scouting and that benefited much from the program as a youth, I have to say no. This glaring blemish does not counteract all of the good that scouting does.
The high ideals and values promoted by the Boy Scout program are still as valid as ever and are needed by society more than ever. Destruction of the program is not the solution to its flaws. Rather, living true to scouting ideals is the way forward.
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
A Missionary Embarks
I sat in front of my computer at home working on a problem that had stymied me for two days as my eyes shifted from the clock to the phone. How in the world could the optimizer "optimize away" the pointer to the object being executed?
For non-programmers, I'll explain that all computer programs create electronic garbage, which optimizers intermittently remove to maintain efficiency. Unfortunately, in this case the optimizer was identifying the critical element currently being executed as garbage. Perhaps a joke by Microsoft's compiler programmers? If so, their brand of humor eluded me.
Actually, that's not important. My mind wasn't as focused on my work as it should have been anyway. I kept looking away from the center of my screen to the clock in the lower right corner of my computer screen and then to the phone, which maddeningly failed to ring, regardless of how often I repeated this cycle.
The last we had heard, our son was leaving the MTC that morning and planned call us from the airport before winging his way overseas. My boss had graciously allowed me to work from home until after the blessed communication before driving to the office. But we weren't really sure our son was leaving the MTC. Our last communication suggested that he didn't know if his group's visas had arrived. Maybe they would stay at the MTC another week or so.
Finally the phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID. Nope, just a distant out-of-state number—probably either a political or telemarketing call. I let it go to the answering system like I do with all such calls. As usual, no message was left. (It's worse when their insipid technology blathers some message I don't want to hear because it can't detect that it's attached to a machine rather than a human.)
More time. More difficulty focusing on work. I couldn't help but notice that the time we figured our son's flight would leave was rapidly approaching. Wouldn't he have already been at the airport for some time by now and already have had plenty of time to call us? Maybe it wasn't happening that day.
Amid this fog of thought, the phone rang again. The caller ID read "PAY PHONE." I didn't even know such devices still existed. My wife and I answered simultaneously from different rooms. Another son that was at home picked up as well. I was relieved to hear our missionary son's voice on the line along with various background noises. And, whoa, he had ... an accent. Can that even happen when learning a foreign language in Utah?
Our son was happy and excited. He had enjoyed his time at the MTC, but now it was time to go out and do the work for which he had trained for two months. Missionaries headed to several different countries would be on the same flight for many hours before splitting up at an airport on the other side of the globe.
I briefly chatted with our son in his newly learned language, since I am fluent in a variant of that language. I switched to English for the sake of the others on the line. We reported to our son on his girlfriend's efforts to apply to serve as a missionary herself. She may return home before he does. Our son gave some advice to his brother that will soon be entering the MTC.
Six and a half minutes after the phone rang, it was all over. It will likely be the last time we get to chat with him on the phone until Christmas. There will be emails and letters in the meantime. As I drove to work I felt like I should be worried, or concerned, or something. But I felt strangely at ease.
I awoke to my alarm in the wee hours the following morning. My first though upon looking at the time on my alarm clock was that the final leg of my son's flight should just have landed at its destination and that my son would likely soon be enjoying lunch in a foreign land that will be his home for the next 22 months.
At least we suppose this is what happened. I assume that we'd know by now if anything went wrong. We eagerly await our son's first email from abroad, although, we have no idea when that will happen. My mind keeps wondering what he is doing. I am suddenly aware that that the few paragraphs I sent home in weekly letters when I was a missionary many years ago really didn't provide much information about what I was doing as I went through my days.
But that is the way of life. Our children have many experiences when they are away from us in which we can only marginally share—especially as they mature and go out on their own. Though our lives are intertwined with theirs, many things are experienced in a personal way that can never be adequately communicated to others. At this point, the best tools available to me as a parent wishing to help my missionary son are prayer, email, the postal system, and monthly payments. It seems like it's so little, like it's hardly enough. But with proper faith, it will be.
Within days we will begin this process all over again as another son becomes a missionary. We have the potential of repeating this cycle three more times after that in future years. Maybe it gets easier. At least, that's what I plan to tell myself.
For non-programmers, I'll explain that all computer programs create electronic garbage, which optimizers intermittently remove to maintain efficiency. Unfortunately, in this case the optimizer was identifying the critical element currently being executed as garbage. Perhaps a joke by Microsoft's compiler programmers? If so, their brand of humor eluded me.
Actually, that's not important. My mind wasn't as focused on my work as it should have been anyway. I kept looking away from the center of my screen to the clock in the lower right corner of my computer screen and then to the phone, which maddeningly failed to ring, regardless of how often I repeated this cycle.
The last we had heard, our son was leaving the MTC that morning and planned call us from the airport before winging his way overseas. My boss had graciously allowed me to work from home until after the blessed communication before driving to the office. But we weren't really sure our son was leaving the MTC. Our last communication suggested that he didn't know if his group's visas had arrived. Maybe they would stay at the MTC another week or so.
Finally the phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID. Nope, just a distant out-of-state number—probably either a political or telemarketing call. I let it go to the answering system like I do with all such calls. As usual, no message was left. (It's worse when their insipid technology blathers some message I don't want to hear because it can't detect that it's attached to a machine rather than a human.)
More time. More difficulty focusing on work. I couldn't help but notice that the time we figured our son's flight would leave was rapidly approaching. Wouldn't he have already been at the airport for some time by now and already have had plenty of time to call us? Maybe it wasn't happening that day.
Amid this fog of thought, the phone rang again. The caller ID read "PAY PHONE." I didn't even know such devices still existed. My wife and I answered simultaneously from different rooms. Another son that was at home picked up as well. I was relieved to hear our missionary son's voice on the line along with various background noises. And, whoa, he had ... an accent. Can that even happen when learning a foreign language in Utah?
Our son was happy and excited. He had enjoyed his time at the MTC, but now it was time to go out and do the work for which he had trained for two months. Missionaries headed to several different countries would be on the same flight for many hours before splitting up at an airport on the other side of the globe.
I briefly chatted with our son in his newly learned language, since I am fluent in a variant of that language. I switched to English for the sake of the others on the line. We reported to our son on his girlfriend's efforts to apply to serve as a missionary herself. She may return home before he does. Our son gave some advice to his brother that will soon be entering the MTC.
Six and a half minutes after the phone rang, it was all over. It will likely be the last time we get to chat with him on the phone until Christmas. There will be emails and letters in the meantime. As I drove to work I felt like I should be worried, or concerned, or something. But I felt strangely at ease.
I awoke to my alarm in the wee hours the following morning. My first though upon looking at the time on my alarm clock was that the final leg of my son's flight should just have landed at its destination and that my son would likely soon be enjoying lunch in a foreign land that will be his home for the next 22 months.
At least we suppose this is what happened. I assume that we'd know by now if anything went wrong. We eagerly await our son's first email from abroad, although, we have no idea when that will happen. My mind keeps wondering what he is doing. I am suddenly aware that that the few paragraphs I sent home in weekly letters when I was a missionary many years ago really didn't provide much information about what I was doing as I went through my days.
But that is the way of life. Our children have many experiences when they are away from us in which we can only marginally share—especially as they mature and go out on their own. Though our lives are intertwined with theirs, many things are experienced in a personal way that can never be adequately communicated to others. At this point, the best tools available to me as a parent wishing to help my missionary son are prayer, email, the postal system, and monthly payments. It seems like it's so little, like it's hardly enough. But with proper faith, it will be.
Within days we will begin this process all over again as another son becomes a missionary. We have the potential of repeating this cycle three more times after that in future years. Maybe it gets easier. At least, that's what I plan to tell myself.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Grateful for Stress?
I'm not kidding when I say that life has been somewhat stressful lately. While it's a wonderful thing to send a child out as a missionary, it can also provide new challenges. We have been quick to try to respond to our missionary son's requests before he wings his way overseas. There have been many mailings.
Just before this son went into the MTC, his brother received a mission call as well. We anticipated that they would be in the MTC together for a few days. Accordingly, we made preparations for our next missionary son to serve. Three days after our son's farewell, our stake president called late in the evening to tell us that our son had been assigned to a different mission and would be entering the MTC a few weeks later. The stake president had no idea which mission the call entailed; he only knew that a new call would arrive in the mail within a day or two.
Our son had difficulty sleeping that night. My wife noted a blurb in his original call packet that said that his call could be changed at any time to suit current needs and developing conditions. The mail, which is usually delivered early in the afternoon, arrived late in the day. Our son anxiously opened his call, but with considerably less excitement than when he opened his original call. While accepting of his new call, our son wishes that he didn't have to wait any longer to enter the MTC.
My son and I each reviewed Elder Ronald A. Rasband's April 2010 talk about how mission calls are made. I certainly felt better after that, and I believe my son began to feel better about it as well. He still feels like he's in limbo.
In the meantime, we have spent a significant chunk of money getting all of the stuff our sons have needed to prepare for missionary service. This is not an inexpensive process. We have also been chunking in the monthly $400 for each of these sons. We will be forever grateful for the family members that have generously stepped up to cover some of these monthly costs.
Following President Monson's announcement of the changes in ages for missionaries, we have been chatting with a young lady friend of our first missionary. She has met with her bishop and may well serve as a missionary too.
While all of this has been going on, we have been dealing with other new challenges. Our son that grapples with a chemical imbalance has enrolled in a program to help him learn coping skills. Can you say, "Ka-Ching!"? But as a parent, you do whatever you can to help. You work, you pray, you pay, you set aside other things, and you hope it is all worth the investment.
Among all of these stresses, regular life has had to go forward as well. We've tried to help our kids with the subjects with which they are struggling in school. We do our jobs, our church callings, and handle our household and family duties. I try to do my scouting jobs. And we try to get enough sleep.
I must admit that I have always struggled with the scriptural and church leader admonitions to be grateful for all things, including our trials. By reason, I know that I will someday find great value in life's past trials. It's just hard to be grateful when you're in the middle of it all.
But even among trials there are some silver linings. After driving to early church meetings and driving boys around to collect fast offerings on Sunday, the vehicle refused to start when it was time to go to church. The electrical functions seemed to be normal, but the starter motor did nothing whatsoever. While chagrined, I was grateful that the vehicle was parked in our garage at that moment and that we had other vehicles to get us where we needed to go that day.
Yesterday we towed the dead vehicle to an auto mechanic shop. To our great surprise, they reported that the battery had gone bad, and that it was still under warranty. Thank goodness for tender mercies. I don't feel too badly about not detecting the failed battery. The mechanic wasn't able to detect it either until he hooked it up to a computer. The symptoms did not seem to denote a bad battery.
My prospective missionary that is in limbo referred to the copious notes he made of the recent LDS General Conference and suggested that coping with trials was one of the major themes. I remember some of the talks that referenced that subject because I paid fairly close attention during the conference broadcasts. But maybe it wasn't close enough. I am now trying to methodically read through the talks online, although, the time I have available for that task is quite limited at present. Sometimes it's good to sharpen the ax before trying to cut more wood.
Life is not bad right now. It's just somewhat more stressful than usual. And although we are experiencing the discomfort of juggling our finances and changing our priorities, we are also experiencing many wonderful blessings daily. These blessings are easy to see when I take an opportunity to pay attention to them.
Just before this son went into the MTC, his brother received a mission call as well. We anticipated that they would be in the MTC together for a few days. Accordingly, we made preparations for our next missionary son to serve. Three days after our son's farewell, our stake president called late in the evening to tell us that our son had been assigned to a different mission and would be entering the MTC a few weeks later. The stake president had no idea which mission the call entailed; he only knew that a new call would arrive in the mail within a day or two.
Our son had difficulty sleeping that night. My wife noted a blurb in his original call packet that said that his call could be changed at any time to suit current needs and developing conditions. The mail, which is usually delivered early in the afternoon, arrived late in the day. Our son anxiously opened his call, but with considerably less excitement than when he opened his original call. While accepting of his new call, our son wishes that he didn't have to wait any longer to enter the MTC.
My son and I each reviewed Elder Ronald A. Rasband's April 2010 talk about how mission calls are made. I certainly felt better after that, and I believe my son began to feel better about it as well. He still feels like he's in limbo.
In the meantime, we have spent a significant chunk of money getting all of the stuff our sons have needed to prepare for missionary service. This is not an inexpensive process. We have also been chunking in the monthly $400 for each of these sons. We will be forever grateful for the family members that have generously stepped up to cover some of these monthly costs.
Following President Monson's announcement of the changes in ages for missionaries, we have been chatting with a young lady friend of our first missionary. She has met with her bishop and may well serve as a missionary too.
While all of this has been going on, we have been dealing with other new challenges. Our son that grapples with a chemical imbalance has enrolled in a program to help him learn coping skills. Can you say, "Ka-Ching!"? But as a parent, you do whatever you can to help. You work, you pray, you pay, you set aside other things, and you hope it is all worth the investment.
Among all of these stresses, regular life has had to go forward as well. We've tried to help our kids with the subjects with which they are struggling in school. We do our jobs, our church callings, and handle our household and family duties. I try to do my scouting jobs. And we try to get enough sleep.
I must admit that I have always struggled with the scriptural and church leader admonitions to be grateful for all things, including our trials. By reason, I know that I will someday find great value in life's past trials. It's just hard to be grateful when you're in the middle of it all.
But even among trials there are some silver linings. After driving to early church meetings and driving boys around to collect fast offerings on Sunday, the vehicle refused to start when it was time to go to church. The electrical functions seemed to be normal, but the starter motor did nothing whatsoever. While chagrined, I was grateful that the vehicle was parked in our garage at that moment and that we had other vehicles to get us where we needed to go that day.
Yesterday we towed the dead vehicle to an auto mechanic shop. To our great surprise, they reported that the battery had gone bad, and that it was still under warranty. Thank goodness for tender mercies. I don't feel too badly about not detecting the failed battery. The mechanic wasn't able to detect it either until he hooked it up to a computer. The symptoms did not seem to denote a bad battery.
My prospective missionary that is in limbo referred to the copious notes he made of the recent LDS General Conference and suggested that coping with trials was one of the major themes. I remember some of the talks that referenced that subject because I paid fairly close attention during the conference broadcasts. But maybe it wasn't close enough. I am now trying to methodically read through the talks online, although, the time I have available for that task is quite limited at present. Sometimes it's good to sharpen the ax before trying to cut more wood.
Life is not bad right now. It's just somewhat more stressful than usual. And although we are experiencing the discomfort of juggling our finances and changing our priorities, we are also experiencing many wonderful blessings daily. These blessings are easy to see when I take an opportunity to pay attention to them.
Tuesday, October 09, 2012
Dealing With My Unkind Thoughts (About Other Drivers)
Let me first stipulate that I am not a perfect driver. I like to think that I'm fairly alert while driving. But occasionally I notice another car while doing a routine mirror check and I realize that I have no idea where that car came from. I certainly should have seen it during the previous mirror check, but I didn't. That kind of thing humbles me.
I also know I have some bad habits, like calmly hurling sarcastic invective at other drivers. "It's the long narrow pedal on the right, ma'am. I'm sure your car has one. Do you need instruction on how to use it? Or maybe instruction on how to use the gray matter between your ears?" "Look at how high he has that truck jacked up. You think he's trying to compensate for something?" "There's an idiotmobile. Some people are content to let others wonder whether they're idiots. Others have to broadcast it with their subwoofers." The other drivers can't hear me and have no idea that I'm addressing them.
I do have to be careful with my wisecracks, though. One day I was in the passenger seat as my son came up behind another vehicle. The back window of the Jeep ahead of us carried various pirate insignia. The rear wheel cover declared, "Pirate Gal." I remarked, "I wonder if that means she has a sunken chest." My son nearly lost control of the car.
My wife knows that I also generally consider the number on any speed limit sign to be the minimum speed limit. I'm pretty cautious about not going so fast that I'm likely to be pulled over. But if I'm at or below the speed limit, I feel like I'm going too slow.
Most drivers have pet peeves about other drivers and I am no exception. There are a series of driving habits that bug me. One of the biggest is the phenomenon known as rubbernecking. Why in the world is it necessary to slow down to look at the aftermath of an accident or even just a car that has been pulled over by law enforcement, especially when everything is already being handled by professionals? You can't help at that point.
My personal policy on rubbernecking is simply, DON'T. My driver education teacher (a retired cop) many years ago taught that the safest thing to do is to let the passengers ogle the scene while the driver studiously pays attention to the task of driving. That's what I try to do. It's not going to kill me if I keep my eyes on the road ahead of me instead of looking at the tragedy. But some (many) people seem to never have learned this simple lesson.
Last Friday afternoon we left the house in plenty of time to arrive at an engagement. But the freeway traffic seemed much heavier than is normal for a Friday afternoon. Not being a sports fan, I hadn't realized that many college football fans would be headed to the USU-BYU game. (Note to self: check with sports fans before planning to drive on the freeway in the evening.)
Before long we came to a stop in a long line of traffic. Then the traffic started moving bit by bit. Eventually I could see flashing lights on the other side of the road, across two dividers. Traffic on our side of the road flowed freely after that point. When we got up there I kept my attention on traffic. The riders in my car informed me that there was a minor rear end accident on the other side of the freeway. In other words, hundreds of cars had to slow down for nearly ten minutes simply so that some drivers could look at the minor accident on the other side of the freeway. Totally idiotic.
People tell me that Utah drivers are the worst. Oddly enough, I've heard that local drivers are the worst from people just about everywhere I have driven. I've seen those studies that purport to rank the relative badness of drivers in various areas. I think they're pretty much bunk because there are too many factors involved to arrive at an objective conclusion. And besides, the margin between the best and the worst is probably so small as to make the measurement meaningless anyway. The fact is that drivers everywhere have a pretty low opinion of other drivers around them.
As I teach my children to drive I tell them that they will not find in any manual the #1 rule of the road that they must absolutely obey in order to be safe. That #1 rule is that the idiot ALWAYS has right of way. I teach my children to ALWAYS yield to the driver doing something stupid. Upon learning this, one son opined, "That means that if I drive like an idiot ...." To which I replied, "Then you lose your driving privileges."
It's a fact that if there are vehicles driving on the road, there will be drivers doing idiotic things, like driving with a live animal on their lap. (See John Branyan's take on this in the following video clip.) Why not learn to deal with this inevitability?
Yielding to the idiot does not mean confronting the idiot. I explain to my kids that while it might be necessary to report a dangerous driver, it is not their job to enforce the traffic laws or road etiquette rules. There are crazy people out there that have no problem pulling out a firearm if they feel that you have insulted them on the roadway. It isn't worth taking that risk to satisfy your ego or sense of justice.
After all, since none of us is a perfect driver, we sometimes play the part of the idiot driver too. Hopefully this leads to humility and self correction rather than more stupidity.
Now, I don't think of myself as unkind when I insist that people sometimes drive like idiots. That's simply reality. It's good to learn to deal with reality in a healthy manner. Where I could use improvement is in the cutting remarks I privately make about other drivers. It's OK to note driving mistakes. But I doubt Jesus would take guilty pleasure in employing sarcastic wit or character assassination while doing so.
I also know I have some bad habits, like calmly hurling sarcastic invective at other drivers. "It's the long narrow pedal on the right, ma'am. I'm sure your car has one. Do you need instruction on how to use it? Or maybe instruction on how to use the gray matter between your ears?" "Look at how high he has that truck jacked up. You think he's trying to compensate for something?" "There's an idiotmobile. Some people are content to let others wonder whether they're idiots. Others have to broadcast it with their subwoofers." The other drivers can't hear me and have no idea that I'm addressing them.
I do have to be careful with my wisecracks, though. One day I was in the passenger seat as my son came up behind another vehicle. The back window of the Jeep ahead of us carried various pirate insignia. The rear wheel cover declared, "Pirate Gal." I remarked, "I wonder if that means she has a sunken chest." My son nearly lost control of the car.
My wife knows that I also generally consider the number on any speed limit sign to be the minimum speed limit. I'm pretty cautious about not going so fast that I'm likely to be pulled over. But if I'm at or below the speed limit, I feel like I'm going too slow.
Most drivers have pet peeves about other drivers and I am no exception. There are a series of driving habits that bug me. One of the biggest is the phenomenon known as rubbernecking. Why in the world is it necessary to slow down to look at the aftermath of an accident or even just a car that has been pulled over by law enforcement, especially when everything is already being handled by professionals? You can't help at that point.
My personal policy on rubbernecking is simply, DON'T. My driver education teacher (a retired cop) many years ago taught that the safest thing to do is to let the passengers ogle the scene while the driver studiously pays attention to the task of driving. That's what I try to do. It's not going to kill me if I keep my eyes on the road ahead of me instead of looking at the tragedy. But some (many) people seem to never have learned this simple lesson.
Last Friday afternoon we left the house in plenty of time to arrive at an engagement. But the freeway traffic seemed much heavier than is normal for a Friday afternoon. Not being a sports fan, I hadn't realized that many college football fans would be headed to the USU-BYU game. (Note to self: check with sports fans before planning to drive on the freeway in the evening.)
Before long we came to a stop in a long line of traffic. Then the traffic started moving bit by bit. Eventually I could see flashing lights on the other side of the road, across two dividers. Traffic on our side of the road flowed freely after that point. When we got up there I kept my attention on traffic. The riders in my car informed me that there was a minor rear end accident on the other side of the freeway. In other words, hundreds of cars had to slow down for nearly ten minutes simply so that some drivers could look at the minor accident on the other side of the freeway. Totally idiotic.
People tell me that Utah drivers are the worst. Oddly enough, I've heard that local drivers are the worst from people just about everywhere I have driven. I've seen those studies that purport to rank the relative badness of drivers in various areas. I think they're pretty much bunk because there are too many factors involved to arrive at an objective conclusion. And besides, the margin between the best and the worst is probably so small as to make the measurement meaningless anyway. The fact is that drivers everywhere have a pretty low opinion of other drivers around them.
As I teach my children to drive I tell them that they will not find in any manual the #1 rule of the road that they must absolutely obey in order to be safe. That #1 rule is that the idiot ALWAYS has right of way. I teach my children to ALWAYS yield to the driver doing something stupid. Upon learning this, one son opined, "That means that if I drive like an idiot ...." To which I replied, "Then you lose your driving privileges."
It's a fact that if there are vehicles driving on the road, there will be drivers doing idiotic things, like driving with a live animal on their lap. (See John Branyan's take on this in the following video clip.) Why not learn to deal with this inevitability?
Yielding to the idiot does not mean confronting the idiot. I explain to my kids that while it might be necessary to report a dangerous driver, it is not their job to enforce the traffic laws or road etiquette rules. There are crazy people out there that have no problem pulling out a firearm if they feel that you have insulted them on the roadway. It isn't worth taking that risk to satisfy your ego or sense of justice.
After all, since none of us is a perfect driver, we sometimes play the part of the idiot driver too. Hopefully this leads to humility and self correction rather than more stupidity.
Now, I don't think of myself as unkind when I insist that people sometimes drive like idiots. That's simply reality. It's good to learn to deal with reality in a healthy manner. Where I could use improvement is in the cutting remarks I privately make about other drivers. It's OK to note driving mistakes. But I doubt Jesus would take guilty pleasure in employing sarcastic wit or character assassination while doing so.
Thursday, October 04, 2012
Dealing With My Child's Suicidal Thoughts
I saw one of my former Boy Scouts a few months ago at an event that involved our kids. He is an engineer and a fine family man. It's difficult to describe how good it made me feel to see him doing well.
Back when this man was one of my scouts, I knew that he took medication for bipolar disorder, a problem that was common to several members of his family. His case was somewhat mild, but he admitted that his medication helped him cope. He could get by OK if he missed his meds for a day or two. Another member of his family, however, became utterly dysfunctional if she missed a single dose.
A couple of my children have been notoriously moody. They probably come by it honestly, because I was a moody child. Just ask my Mom. (For that matter, my wife might tell you that I've been a moody adult.) The older of my moody children eventually seemed to even out, gaining some mastery of his emotions. (Or at least their public display.)
I have been long aware that the other child of which I speak has had mood swings. But I really didn't think the problem was too far out of the ordinary until the day told me that he wasn't sure that he could bear to continue living.
My son had been having a pretty good day, I thought. He had been playing with friends and seemed happy. After a lot of jumping and running around, he came in the house and lay on the couch to relax. After a while he made some kind of expression that made me think he was tired. He explained that it was more than that. He just didn't feel like living any longer. No, it had nothing to do with his friends. He said that he just sometimes felt that way.
I sat down and tried to do the calm dad thing on the outside while freaking out on the inside. I gently tried to get my son to tell me when he first noticed such a feeling and how often he felt that way. His answers gave me to understand that it was a relatively recent development.
Before long my son met with a psychologist and then a psychiatrist. (No, they're not the same thing. The former focuses on counseling, while the latter diagnoses and treats mental conditions.) The consensus was that my son had bipolar disorder that required both counseling and drug therapy.
Bipolar disorder seems to have genetic, physiological, and environmental roots, impacts, and/or effects. The drugs that help are aimed at controlling the physiological aspects of the condition, which can help mitigate the impact of social and emotional triggers. Counseling is designed to help patients develop coping mechanisms for dealing with a permanent condition.
I was initially quite opposed to drug therapy. We have too many kids doped up on drugs in an effort to force them to fit well within our increasingly sit-down-shut-up-memorize-and-regurgitate school system. (Don't be too surprised when this methodology fails to turn out the next generation of highly skilled engineers and innovators—or even capable clerks, for that matter.)
Despite my reluctance, my son began taking the prescribed medication. It took several weeks, but it clearly helped. After a while, however, he experienced stomach problems, which are a common side effect of the drug he was taking. He had to be weaned from the drug and then remain unmedicated for several weeks. Those were tough weeks. He eventually started on another drug. It has some side effects too, but it seems to work to a degree.
It's difficult to effectively regulate drug dosages for growing youngsters. They can have growth spurts seemingly overnight that can leave them undermedicated. Vigilance is required.
Even with drug treatment, my son's case presents challenges. Since a significant portion of the underlying cause appears to be structural, the condition can only be managed, not cured. Thus, my son will face challenges throughout life.
My son can actually be quite entertaining during manic episodes. During recovery following a recent surgery he had my wife and the recovery nurse in stitches. The nurse, who sees many recovering patients daily, said she'd never seen anyone talk that humorously in recovery. Unfortunately, my son can also be obnoxious during manic episodes. Sometimes he becomes chatty and just won't shut up. This causes problems at home and at school.
My wonderful wife has done the lion's share of dealing with my son's condition. It's not uncommon for our son to slide back and forth between mania and depression several times each day. To me, the depressive episodes seem worse than the manic episodes. "Feelings of sadness, anxiety, guilt, anger, isolation, or hopelessness" as well as "problems concentrating; loneliness, self-loathing, apathy or indifference; depersonalization" are common during these times.
Dealing with my son's bipolar condition is challenging for us as parents. When he is belligerent about doing his homework, for example, where does the malady end and his controllable will kick in? To complicate matters, this line of demarcation differs from episode to episode.
I recently accompanied my son on a two-mile hike with his scout troop. I went along because my son was being belligerent about hiking. He dislikes hiking, probably even more than I did when I was a kid. But I felt it was important for him to support the troop. Besides, I know from my current perspective that hiking builds character and helps youth develop resilience.
During the hike my son's bellicosity crossed the boundaries of the tolerable. I let him know in very clear terms that he had crossed that line. He took off and soon surpassed the foremost hikers. But after we rounded a bend in the trail, he was nowhere to be seen. I discovered him behind a stand of scrub oak after a few minutes of panic and searching by the four adults on the hike. By then he realized that he had done a very dangerous and foolish thing. He was surprisingly cooperative the rest of the evening.
I wondered before and during the hike whether making my so go on the hike was the right thing to do. Was I helping him develop useful skills or was I being a tyrannical parent? In hindsight, I still think my wife and I were right when we insisted that my son go on the hike. But exactly what the correct approach is in any given situation with my son is far from clear. Do we have to continually walk on eggshells? With how much do we let him get away?
Going back to the initial symptom that started us on the path to diagnosis, it is chilling to note that one-third of those diagnosed with bipolar disorder attempt (or complete) suicide. I occasionally had suicidal thoughts in my youth. But I never got to the point that I could have actually done something about it. Some people that deal with depressive disorders clearly can get to that point. Family members are left wondering what they could have done differently that might have prevented such an outcome.
Seeing my former scout as an adult that has thus far successfully dealt with his bipolar condition gives me hope for my son's future. At present it's just really hard for us as parents, as I'm sure it is for my son. It's very challenging to help him progress in positive ways while swimming in a sea of negative emotions and behaviors that impact the whole family. It will take a lot of years before we know how well we have done.
Back when this man was one of my scouts, I knew that he took medication for bipolar disorder, a problem that was common to several members of his family. His case was somewhat mild, but he admitted that his medication helped him cope. He could get by OK if he missed his meds for a day or two. Another member of his family, however, became utterly dysfunctional if she missed a single dose.
A couple of my children have been notoriously moody. They probably come by it honestly, because I was a moody child. Just ask my Mom. (For that matter, my wife might tell you that I've been a moody adult.) The older of my moody children eventually seemed to even out, gaining some mastery of his emotions. (Or at least their public display.)
I have been long aware that the other child of which I speak has had mood swings. But I really didn't think the problem was too far out of the ordinary until the day told me that he wasn't sure that he could bear to continue living.
My son had been having a pretty good day, I thought. He had been playing with friends and seemed happy. After a lot of jumping and running around, he came in the house and lay on the couch to relax. After a while he made some kind of expression that made me think he was tired. He explained that it was more than that. He just didn't feel like living any longer. No, it had nothing to do with his friends. He said that he just sometimes felt that way.
I sat down and tried to do the calm dad thing on the outside while freaking out on the inside. I gently tried to get my son to tell me when he first noticed such a feeling and how often he felt that way. His answers gave me to understand that it was a relatively recent development.
Before long my son met with a psychologist and then a psychiatrist. (No, they're not the same thing. The former focuses on counseling, while the latter diagnoses and treats mental conditions.) The consensus was that my son had bipolar disorder that required both counseling and drug therapy.
Bipolar disorder seems to have genetic, physiological, and environmental roots, impacts, and/or effects. The drugs that help are aimed at controlling the physiological aspects of the condition, which can help mitigate the impact of social and emotional triggers. Counseling is designed to help patients develop coping mechanisms for dealing with a permanent condition.
I was initially quite opposed to drug therapy. We have too many kids doped up on drugs in an effort to force them to fit well within our increasingly sit-down-shut-up-memorize-and-regurgitate school system. (Don't be too surprised when this methodology fails to turn out the next generation of highly skilled engineers and innovators—or even capable clerks, for that matter.)
Despite my reluctance, my son began taking the prescribed medication. It took several weeks, but it clearly helped. After a while, however, he experienced stomach problems, which are a common side effect of the drug he was taking. He had to be weaned from the drug and then remain unmedicated for several weeks. Those were tough weeks. He eventually started on another drug. It has some side effects too, but it seems to work to a degree.
It's difficult to effectively regulate drug dosages for growing youngsters. They can have growth spurts seemingly overnight that can leave them undermedicated. Vigilance is required.
Even with drug treatment, my son's case presents challenges. Since a significant portion of the underlying cause appears to be structural, the condition can only be managed, not cured. Thus, my son will face challenges throughout life.
My son can actually be quite entertaining during manic episodes. During recovery following a recent surgery he had my wife and the recovery nurse in stitches. The nurse, who sees many recovering patients daily, said she'd never seen anyone talk that humorously in recovery. Unfortunately, my son can also be obnoxious during manic episodes. Sometimes he becomes chatty and just won't shut up. This causes problems at home and at school.
My wonderful wife has done the lion's share of dealing with my son's condition. It's not uncommon for our son to slide back and forth between mania and depression several times each day. To me, the depressive episodes seem worse than the manic episodes. "Feelings of sadness, anxiety, guilt, anger, isolation, or hopelessness" as well as "problems concentrating; loneliness, self-loathing, apathy or indifference; depersonalization" are common during these times.
Dealing with my son's bipolar condition is challenging for us as parents. When he is belligerent about doing his homework, for example, where does the malady end and his controllable will kick in? To complicate matters, this line of demarcation differs from episode to episode.
I recently accompanied my son on a two-mile hike with his scout troop. I went along because my son was being belligerent about hiking. He dislikes hiking, probably even more than I did when I was a kid. But I felt it was important for him to support the troop. Besides, I know from my current perspective that hiking builds character and helps youth develop resilience.
During the hike my son's bellicosity crossed the boundaries of the tolerable. I let him know in very clear terms that he had crossed that line. He took off and soon surpassed the foremost hikers. But after we rounded a bend in the trail, he was nowhere to be seen. I discovered him behind a stand of scrub oak after a few minutes of panic and searching by the four adults on the hike. By then he realized that he had done a very dangerous and foolish thing. He was surprisingly cooperative the rest of the evening.
I wondered before and during the hike whether making my so go on the hike was the right thing to do. Was I helping him develop useful skills or was I being a tyrannical parent? In hindsight, I still think my wife and I were right when we insisted that my son go on the hike. But exactly what the correct approach is in any given situation with my son is far from clear. Do we have to continually walk on eggshells? With how much do we let him get away?
Going back to the initial symptom that started us on the path to diagnosis, it is chilling to note that one-third of those diagnosed with bipolar disorder attempt (or complete) suicide. I occasionally had suicidal thoughts in my youth. But I never got to the point that I could have actually done something about it. Some people that deal with depressive disorders clearly can get to that point. Family members are left wondering what they could have done differently that might have prevented such an outcome.
Seeing my former scout as an adult that has thus far successfully dealt with his bipolar condition gives me hope for my son's future. At present it's just really hard for us as parents, as I'm sure it is for my son. It's very challenging to help him progress in positive ways while swimming in a sea of negative emotions and behaviors that impact the whole family. It will take a lot of years before we know how well we have done.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
There Goes the Neighborhood
"Lots of people are moving in and out of our neighborhood," my daughter observed last night. I'm not sure that the present turnover rate is much different than the average rate over the 2+ decades we have lived in our home. Maybe it's just that some of the recent moves have directly impacted our daughter. Or maybe she's just now at an age where she is recognizing this kind of thing.
Then my daughter said something that surprised me. "It was kind of sad when the Browns* moved away." (*Names changed to protect the innocent.) I immediately understood that she was talking about our former neighbors of more than six years. But that was not their surname. It was the surname of our neighbors' step-grandchild who lived with them only temporarily. I realized that this connection was the context through which my daughter interpreted the entire family.
My mind jumped back to my childhood neighborhood and I understood that kids see neighbors and neighborhoods differently than do adults. Although I had interacted with many of my neighbors for most of my life, I didn't even know the surnames of many families in the neighborhood until I became a newspaper carrier and had to collect subscription fees from these people each month.
Nor did I have any clue what most of these people did for a living. I knew that one friend's dad worked for the U.S. Forest Service because he drove an agency truck. I knew that one lady down the street worked at a local pharmacy because we'd see her working when we went there. I knew that one guy worked for the local Wonder Bread bakery franchise because his mailbox was painted like a loaf of Wonder Bread and his family gave out miniature Wonder Bread loaves for Halloween treats. My scoutmaster worked as an engineer at a firm that did some kind of high tech stuff. But I had no idea what that meant.
Most of the adults in the neighborhood were only relevant if I had a connection with one of their children. Or if they were known to be prone to getting after kids that happened to wander across their yards. Or if they taught us at church. Even then I usually didn't know what they did outside of that context. People went to work. People came home from work. As a kid, it made little difference to me whether they were accountants, clerks, maintenance workers, bureaucrats, entrepreneurs, or just about anything else.
School teachers were a rare departure from this paradigm. I was shocked the first time I understood that one lady in our neighborhood was a school teacher. The idea that the teachers and administrators at our school existed as normal human beings with families and normal life concerns boggled my mind. We considered them akin to some kind of alien breed that existed only within the context of school. When I understood that some of them had kids my age that had ordinary struggles with schoolwork, I thought, "Whoa! Is that even possible?"
Adults and children tend to view the neighborhood culture somewhat differently as well. By my count, about 42% of the homes in our current neighborhood are inhabited by their original owners (or at least the owner that lived there when we first moved in). Some homes have turned over only once over the space of many years. Others have turned over frequently.
These transitions, as well as normal aging, can gradually change a neighborhood's personality as residents come and go. Our neighborhood now has mature trees. It is still filled with children, but there are far fewer of them than there were during the first decade we lived there.
People that don't feel like they 'fit' a neighborhood's personality tend to move out before long. That was the case with the neighborhood where we lived when we first got married. It wasn't a bad place. We just felt like we belonged somewhere else.
Kids that have lived in one neighborhood during most of their formative years tend to see the place with a certain sense of permanency. Our kids are sometimes shocked when we tell them that we plan to move when we are empty nesters. (That's still a long way away.)
The thought that we would sell our children's childhood home, which seems at their current stages of life to be the main repository of everything they hold dear, comes across as jarring to them. But we won't need all of the bedrooms and stairs when we reach that phase of our lives. And I suppose our kids will eventually come to realize that the structure is not as important as the unseen ties that bind us together.
My travels regularly take me past the home in which I grew up. I have mixed emotions each time I drive past the place. The adult in me says, "Good riddance." I took on significant property care responsibilities during the last five years my parents lived there. I'm glad that Mom lives in a more manageable home now.
But the child in me feels certain pangs every time I see the old family homestead. Illogical as I know it is, it's as if the physical place somehow actually contains countless priceless memories. I'm not sure this will ever be fully resolved in this lifetime.
Then my daughter said something that surprised me. "It was kind of sad when the Browns* moved away." (*Names changed to protect the innocent.) I immediately understood that she was talking about our former neighbors of more than six years. But that was not their surname. It was the surname of our neighbors' step-grandchild who lived with them only temporarily. I realized that this connection was the context through which my daughter interpreted the entire family.
My mind jumped back to my childhood neighborhood and I understood that kids see neighbors and neighborhoods differently than do adults. Although I had interacted with many of my neighbors for most of my life, I didn't even know the surnames of many families in the neighborhood until I became a newspaper carrier and had to collect subscription fees from these people each month.
Nor did I have any clue what most of these people did for a living. I knew that one friend's dad worked for the U.S. Forest Service because he drove an agency truck. I knew that one lady down the street worked at a local pharmacy because we'd see her working when we went there. I knew that one guy worked for the local Wonder Bread bakery franchise because his mailbox was painted like a loaf of Wonder Bread and his family gave out miniature Wonder Bread loaves for Halloween treats. My scoutmaster worked as an engineer at a firm that did some kind of high tech stuff. But I had no idea what that meant.
Most of the adults in the neighborhood were only relevant if I had a connection with one of their children. Or if they were known to be prone to getting after kids that happened to wander across their yards. Or if they taught us at church. Even then I usually didn't know what they did outside of that context. People went to work. People came home from work. As a kid, it made little difference to me whether they were accountants, clerks, maintenance workers, bureaucrats, entrepreneurs, or just about anything else.
School teachers were a rare departure from this paradigm. I was shocked the first time I understood that one lady in our neighborhood was a school teacher. The idea that the teachers and administrators at our school existed as normal human beings with families and normal life concerns boggled my mind. We considered them akin to some kind of alien breed that existed only within the context of school. When I understood that some of them had kids my age that had ordinary struggles with schoolwork, I thought, "Whoa! Is that even possible?"
Adults and children tend to view the neighborhood culture somewhat differently as well. By my count, about 42% of the homes in our current neighborhood are inhabited by their original owners (or at least the owner that lived there when we first moved in). Some homes have turned over only once over the space of many years. Others have turned over frequently.
These transitions, as well as normal aging, can gradually change a neighborhood's personality as residents come and go. Our neighborhood now has mature trees. It is still filled with children, but there are far fewer of them than there were during the first decade we lived there.
People that don't feel like they 'fit' a neighborhood's personality tend to move out before long. That was the case with the neighborhood where we lived when we first got married. It wasn't a bad place. We just felt like we belonged somewhere else.
Kids that have lived in one neighborhood during most of their formative years tend to see the place with a certain sense of permanency. Our kids are sometimes shocked when we tell them that we plan to move when we are empty nesters. (That's still a long way away.)
The thought that we would sell our children's childhood home, which seems at their current stages of life to be the main repository of everything they hold dear, comes across as jarring to them. But we won't need all of the bedrooms and stairs when we reach that phase of our lives. And I suppose our kids will eventually come to realize that the structure is not as important as the unseen ties that bind us together.
My travels regularly take me past the home in which I grew up. I have mixed emotions each time I drive past the place. The adult in me says, "Good riddance." I took on significant property care responsibilities during the last five years my parents lived there. I'm glad that Mom lives in a more manageable home now.
But the child in me feels certain pangs every time I see the old family homestead. Illogical as I know it is, it's as if the physical place somehow actually contains countless priceless memories. I'm not sure this will ever be fully resolved in this lifetime.
Monday, September 24, 2012
How Would You Like a Driverless Car?
Senior Wall Street Journal Editor Dan Neil predicts in this op-ed that the robo car (i.e. no human driver) is on the cusp of going mainstream. He predicts nearly 100% adoption within 25 years. While the praises Mr. Neil sings of this coming paradigm shift are alluring, I'm somewhat skeptical. After all, I've been hearing about the near future self driving car and flying car my whole life.
Mr. Neil begins his article by describing the flawless execution of an automated BMW on a challenging California race track. This seems odd because it is obviously a highly controlled environment and the car is merely 'replaying' the driving previously done by a professional human driver. This seems a long way from being ready for operating in real time traffic. Why not showcase the Google driverless car that has already completed nearly half a million accident free miles in real traffic and is already legal to operate in Nevada?
Neil spends much of the article working to disabuse readers of the "myth" of "the American Romance with the Automobile," which he chalks up to little more than an effective marketing campaign that is actually "a massive, crushing lie." Neil is wrong.
Marketing campaigns are only successful when the broad customer experience somewhat resembles the campaign's claims. Everyone understands that marketing emphasizes the positive while de-emphasizing the negative. But campaigns that go too far afield from reality fail. By Neil's own admission, this campaign has succeeded for more than a century, so it can't really be as big of a lie as he claims. Still, even the automobile romance could be overcome by vehicles that offer greater freedom than the current system.
The big advantage of driverless cars, claims Neil, is the immense productivity jump people will experience by being freed from operating a vehicle while commuting. Maybe some people will just waste time, but Neil says that work addicted Americans will use their commuting time to unleash one of the greatest waves of productivity the world has ever known. Frankly, this sounds more like evangelizing than reporting.
Many readers have responded to Neil's article with observations of their own. Most seem to accept the proposition that the driverless car is on its way. Some relish the thought. Some think adoption will take far longer than suggested. Some doubt the proposed 100% adoption rate.
Some readers think the driverless car will be slowly adopted like most other mass market products. It will initially be expensive and will be used only by high end buyers. Many bugs will be worked out of the system as competitors find better and cheaper ways to build driverless cars that work. It will take a long time before people at the lower end get such cars.
Several readers suggest that the trucking industry will likely be an early adopter, with private vehicles coming on board later. One reader imagines huge savings and safety improvements from getting sleepy (druggy), error prone human truck drivers off the road and off tucking company payrolls. Others suggest that it will be a long time before a truck can drive itself very far without having a qualified human ready to take over operation in the event of a situation the automated system can't handle.
A commercial airline pilot friend recently regaled me with descriptions of the marvels of automated flight. He said that pilots joke that cockpits will eventually have only instruments, a pilot, and a dog. The pilot will be there to take the instruments in case of autopilot failure. The dog will be there to bite the pilot if he tries to otherwise touch the instruments.
In a more serious tone my friend wonders whether the pilot will still have the necessary skills if he has to take the controls. The same could be true of autopilot cars. At first they would only operate with a qualified driver at the wheel—someone that would have to be sufficiently alert and trained to handle system failures. Perhaps over time, as systems improve, the human copilot will become superfluous and people will lose the skills necessary to respond to a driving emergency.
Then some of the scenarios imagined by various readers might become reality: cars that ferry elderly and handicapped people wherever they need to go, RVs that drive you to your destination while you sleep or watch TV, and the like. Maybe even teens that make out without ever 'parking.' But we're likely a very long way from that point.
Many readers point out technical and non-technical problems with Neil's driverless utopia. Who, for example, is liable in the event of an accident; the non-driving car 'operator' or the car company? I personally wonder about being able to go off the beaten track; something I do on a fairly regular basis. I suppose that most of these issues would be worked out bit by bit in an evolutionary process throughout the extensive adoption period.
Maybe Neil is right when he suggests that a quarter century from now self driven motor vehicles will be a distant memory and we will engage in all kinds of tasks while buzzing about in our autopilot cars. Or maybe, as has been the case with some hybrid and electric vehicles, people will still be wondering years from now why autopilot cars are so slow to catch on.
Mr. Neil begins his article by describing the flawless execution of an automated BMW on a challenging California race track. This seems odd because it is obviously a highly controlled environment and the car is merely 'replaying' the driving previously done by a professional human driver. This seems a long way from being ready for operating in real time traffic. Why not showcase the Google driverless car that has already completed nearly half a million accident free miles in real traffic and is already legal to operate in Nevada?
Neil spends much of the article working to disabuse readers of the "myth" of "the American Romance with the Automobile," which he chalks up to little more than an effective marketing campaign that is actually "a massive, crushing lie." Neil is wrong.
Marketing campaigns are only successful when the broad customer experience somewhat resembles the campaign's claims. Everyone understands that marketing emphasizes the positive while de-emphasizing the negative. But campaigns that go too far afield from reality fail. By Neil's own admission, this campaign has succeeded for more than a century, so it can't really be as big of a lie as he claims. Still, even the automobile romance could be overcome by vehicles that offer greater freedom than the current system.
The big advantage of driverless cars, claims Neil, is the immense productivity jump people will experience by being freed from operating a vehicle while commuting. Maybe some people will just waste time, but Neil says that work addicted Americans will use their commuting time to unleash one of the greatest waves of productivity the world has ever known. Frankly, this sounds more like evangelizing than reporting.
Many readers have responded to Neil's article with observations of their own. Most seem to accept the proposition that the driverless car is on its way. Some relish the thought. Some think adoption will take far longer than suggested. Some doubt the proposed 100% adoption rate.
Some readers think the driverless car will be slowly adopted like most other mass market products. It will initially be expensive and will be used only by high end buyers. Many bugs will be worked out of the system as competitors find better and cheaper ways to build driverless cars that work. It will take a long time before people at the lower end get such cars.
Several readers suggest that the trucking industry will likely be an early adopter, with private vehicles coming on board later. One reader imagines huge savings and safety improvements from getting sleepy (druggy), error prone human truck drivers off the road and off tucking company payrolls. Others suggest that it will be a long time before a truck can drive itself very far without having a qualified human ready to take over operation in the event of a situation the automated system can't handle.
A commercial airline pilot friend recently regaled me with descriptions of the marvels of automated flight. He said that pilots joke that cockpits will eventually have only instruments, a pilot, and a dog. The pilot will be there to take the instruments in case of autopilot failure. The dog will be there to bite the pilot if he tries to otherwise touch the instruments.
In a more serious tone my friend wonders whether the pilot will still have the necessary skills if he has to take the controls. The same could be true of autopilot cars. At first they would only operate with a qualified driver at the wheel—someone that would have to be sufficiently alert and trained to handle system failures. Perhaps over time, as systems improve, the human copilot will become superfluous and people will lose the skills necessary to respond to a driving emergency.
Then some of the scenarios imagined by various readers might become reality: cars that ferry elderly and handicapped people wherever they need to go, RVs that drive you to your destination while you sleep or watch TV, and the like. Maybe even teens that make out without ever 'parking.' But we're likely a very long way from that point.
Many readers point out technical and non-technical problems with Neil's driverless utopia. Who, for example, is liable in the event of an accident; the non-driving car 'operator' or the car company? I personally wonder about being able to go off the beaten track; something I do on a fairly regular basis. I suppose that most of these issues would be worked out bit by bit in an evolutionary process throughout the extensive adoption period.
Maybe Neil is right when he suggests that a quarter century from now self driven motor vehicles will be a distant memory and we will engage in all kinds of tasks while buzzing about in our autopilot cars. Or maybe, as has been the case with some hybrid and electric vehicles, people will still be wondering years from now why autopilot cars are so slow to catch on.
Friday, September 21, 2012
When Cartoons Were Good
I grew up watching cartoons on TV—a black and white TV until I was a teenager. While I would watch any cartoon, it didn't take me long to decide that Looney Tunes cartoons were on average a cut above the rest, at least when it came to cartoons developed after the early 1940s. The quality of the story lines, dialogue, humor, hand drawn art, vocal talents, and music put these cartoons in a class of their own.
I very much liked other cartoons as well, especially the original Jonny Quest series. I was a fan of the original Scooby Doo series too; although, both of these were in different genres than Looney Tunes. But most of the cartoons in the broad Hanna-Barbera universe were, at least to me, of decidedly inferior quality to Looney Tunes. I frankly never cared for Tom & Jerry. And the 1973 Yogi's Gang series was among the most awful things ever done. Ditto with the addition of the Scrappy Doo character to Scooby Doo.
We own a lot of Scooby Doo DVDs, mainly because my younger kids quite like them. I think you could go on buying these things forever, since the franchise has spawned 11 series and some live action movies. We own a lot of other DVDs as well. Most of them are aimed at kids—Disney, DreamWorks, and the like. (Yeah, I know that actual ownership of video disks is destined to go the way of VHS tapes.)
I have a handful of DVDs in my personal collection—mostly history documentaries and a few 'classics' that were popular in my teen and young adult years. But I own some cartoon DVDs as well: all six of the Looney Tunes Golden Edition collections (yes, that's 24 full length DVDs), another Looney Tunes disk, and the entire original Jonny Quest series.
I know that the shorts made during the Looney Tunes golden era are full of material that is horridly politically incorrect nowadays. As noted by Wikipedia, these shorts are filled with violent gags, "racial and ethnic caricatures," and "questionable vices." It isn't possible to remove insensitive factors without destroying the original art. It should be understood when watching these cartoons that some elements are clearly offensive by modern standards. Other material that today's professional victimology industry considers taboo is still funny and still offers valuable cultural and social commentary.
You can see a lot of different cartoons on TV and on the Internet nowadays. Some of the offerings are pretty good. But others are pure garbage. Some of the so-called art (computer enhanced, no less) looks like it was drawn by Kindergartners on drugs. And I have yet to understand how infusing cartoons with endless streams of body function gags, potty humor, and all things icky offers a moral improvement over Elmer Fudd shooting Daffy Duck in the head in a slapstick scene.
The 1990s the Animaniacs and Tiny Toon Adventures series tried to recapture some of the magic of the classic Looney Tunes while modernizing and taking it to a new level. Although not devoid of decent humor, the delivery was choppy and often annoying. The shows' frenetic paces frequently suppressed the magic rather than enhancing it. More recent offerings featuring the classic Looney Tunes stars don't quite capture the magic of the originals either.
I don't often sit down to watch the cartoon DVDs I own. My kids watched them a lot when we first got them. But not so much any more. Still, the classic Looney Tunes shorts comprise a unique artistic and entertainment achievement that will probably never be repeated.
I very much liked other cartoons as well, especially the original Jonny Quest series. I was a fan of the original Scooby Doo series too; although, both of these were in different genres than Looney Tunes. But most of the cartoons in the broad Hanna-Barbera universe were, at least to me, of decidedly inferior quality to Looney Tunes. I frankly never cared for Tom & Jerry. And the 1973 Yogi's Gang series was among the most awful things ever done. Ditto with the addition of the Scrappy Doo character to Scooby Doo.
We own a lot of Scooby Doo DVDs, mainly because my younger kids quite like them. I think you could go on buying these things forever, since the franchise has spawned 11 series and some live action movies. We own a lot of other DVDs as well. Most of them are aimed at kids—Disney, DreamWorks, and the like. (Yeah, I know that actual ownership of video disks is destined to go the way of VHS tapes.)
I have a handful of DVDs in my personal collection—mostly history documentaries and a few 'classics' that were popular in my teen and young adult years. But I own some cartoon DVDs as well: all six of the Looney Tunes Golden Edition collections (yes, that's 24 full length DVDs), another Looney Tunes disk, and the entire original Jonny Quest series.
I know that the shorts made during the Looney Tunes golden era are full of material that is horridly politically incorrect nowadays. As noted by Wikipedia, these shorts are filled with violent gags, "racial and ethnic caricatures," and "questionable vices." It isn't possible to remove insensitive factors without destroying the original art. It should be understood when watching these cartoons that some elements are clearly offensive by modern standards. Other material that today's professional victimology industry considers taboo is still funny and still offers valuable cultural and social commentary.
You can see a lot of different cartoons on TV and on the Internet nowadays. Some of the offerings are pretty good. But others are pure garbage. Some of the so-called art (computer enhanced, no less) looks like it was drawn by Kindergartners on drugs. And I have yet to understand how infusing cartoons with endless streams of body function gags, potty humor, and all things icky offers a moral improvement over Elmer Fudd shooting Daffy Duck in the head in a slapstick scene.
The 1990s the Animaniacs and Tiny Toon Adventures series tried to recapture some of the magic of the classic Looney Tunes while modernizing and taking it to a new level. Although not devoid of decent humor, the delivery was choppy and often annoying. The shows' frenetic paces frequently suppressed the magic rather than enhancing it. More recent offerings featuring the classic Looney Tunes stars don't quite capture the magic of the originals either.
I don't often sit down to watch the cartoon DVDs I own. My kids watched them a lot when we first got them. But not so much any more. Still, the classic Looney Tunes shorts comprise a unique artistic and entertainment achievement that will probably never be repeated.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Hummingbirds, Gratitude, and Service
A recent weekend found me doing work projects at a Boy Scout camp, something I have done regularly since age 13. The camp was relatively quiet compared to my visits during the summer when it was filled with several hundred excited campers. Our small crew worked outside between rainstorms. Unlike my father, I'm not particularly handy. I'm usually relegated to doing grunt work under the direction of people that actually know what they're doing. Yet I persist.
In the evening we gathered around the hearth in the lodge. The camp director, who was an important mentor to me in my youth, told of filling the hummingbird feeder on the deck of the lodge a few weeks earlier and then watching the beautiful tiny birds take their fill of the abundant nectar he had provided.
In his mind's eye my friend could imagine the hummingbirds thinking that they had found the most beautiful and wonderful flower ever formed as they gloriously drank from its abundant supply. He didn't mind that they seemed oblivious to the fact that he had worked to provide that resource. Just the joy of watching the minuscule fowl enjoying the nectar was thanks enough for him.
The camp director then turned his gaze toward an open area of the camp that he could see from the lodge. At that moment boys were streaming to and from activities; some of them flitting about almost like little birds. It dawned on my friend that most of these boys were blissfully unaware of the vast effort that went into providing the experience they were enjoying. But the joy of just watching them enjoy the camp was thanks enough.
My first family vacation I can remember happened when I was about four years old. We went to Yellowstone. I remember seeing bears at the roadside and being upset that I didn't get a pocketknife as did my older brothers. I got a stuffed toy bear instead, that I played with for years until much of the sawdust stuffing leaked out. (And anyway, both of my brothers cut their thumbs within minutes of getting their knives.)
When I was about nine we went to Disneyland. We went there again when I was about 13. My parents mostly spent their time shepherding and keeping track of us kids. They rarely rode rides unless we made them. There were other family vacations over the years. Most of them seemed designed to cater to us kids.
When I was a sophomore in college my parents shocked us kids by installing a real in-ground swimming pool in their back yard, complete with diving board. Dad had loved swimming in his youth and my parents figured that a pool would be a good attraction for bringing kids and grandkids to their home as they aged.
They were right about that. But I rarely saw my parents swim during the decades that they owned their pool. They worked tirelessly on cleaning and maintaining the pool, and doing all of the work of hosting frequent formal and informal family swimming parties. They put a lot of money into that pool over the years. But they almost never swam in it themselves.
This puzzled me for a long time. But I now realize that those family vacations and that swimming pool were, for my parents, much like the hummingbird feeder was for my camp director friend. They were willing to put in the effort and expense for the sheer enjoyment of watching us enjoy these offerings, even if we seemed as heedless as the hummingbirds.
I think that's what our Heavenly Father is like too. He knows that we can't adequately thank him for everything he does for and offers to us. Even the most aware among us is likely ignorant of many of the blessings God grants us daily out of his tremendous love for us. But God continues to bless us abundantly for the joy of watching us enjoy his blessings.
I guess that's why I do a lot of the service that I do in my family and community. Despite my inadequacies in serving, I still relish seeing my children and others garner some benefit and even some enjoyment as a result of what I do, even if they don't comprehend the effort involved. Just watching them is thanks enough.
In the evening we gathered around the hearth in the lodge. The camp director, who was an important mentor to me in my youth, told of filling the hummingbird feeder on the deck of the lodge a few weeks earlier and then watching the beautiful tiny birds take their fill of the abundant nectar he had provided.
In his mind's eye my friend could imagine the hummingbirds thinking that they had found the most beautiful and wonderful flower ever formed as they gloriously drank from its abundant supply. He didn't mind that they seemed oblivious to the fact that he had worked to provide that resource. Just the joy of watching the minuscule fowl enjoying the nectar was thanks enough for him.
The camp director then turned his gaze toward an open area of the camp that he could see from the lodge. At that moment boys were streaming to and from activities; some of them flitting about almost like little birds. It dawned on my friend that most of these boys were blissfully unaware of the vast effort that went into providing the experience they were enjoying. But the joy of just watching them enjoy the camp was thanks enough.
My first family vacation I can remember happened when I was about four years old. We went to Yellowstone. I remember seeing bears at the roadside and being upset that I didn't get a pocketknife as did my older brothers. I got a stuffed toy bear instead, that I played with for years until much of the sawdust stuffing leaked out. (And anyway, both of my brothers cut their thumbs within minutes of getting their knives.)
When I was about nine we went to Disneyland. We went there again when I was about 13. My parents mostly spent their time shepherding and keeping track of us kids. They rarely rode rides unless we made them. There were other family vacations over the years. Most of them seemed designed to cater to us kids.
When I was a sophomore in college my parents shocked us kids by installing a real in-ground swimming pool in their back yard, complete with diving board. Dad had loved swimming in his youth and my parents figured that a pool would be a good attraction for bringing kids and grandkids to their home as they aged.
They were right about that. But I rarely saw my parents swim during the decades that they owned their pool. They worked tirelessly on cleaning and maintaining the pool, and doing all of the work of hosting frequent formal and informal family swimming parties. They put a lot of money into that pool over the years. But they almost never swam in it themselves.
This puzzled me for a long time. But I now realize that those family vacations and that swimming pool were, for my parents, much like the hummingbird feeder was for my camp director friend. They were willing to put in the effort and expense for the sheer enjoyment of watching us enjoy these offerings, even if we seemed as heedless as the hummingbirds.
I think that's what our Heavenly Father is like too. He knows that we can't adequately thank him for everything he does for and offers to us. Even the most aware among us is likely ignorant of many of the blessings God grants us daily out of his tremendous love for us. But God continues to bless us abundantly for the joy of watching us enjoy his blessings.
I guess that's why I do a lot of the service that I do in my family and community. Despite my inadequacies in serving, I still relish seeing my children and others garner some benefit and even some enjoyment as a result of what I do, even if they don't comprehend the effort involved. Just watching them is thanks enough.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
High IQ <> Success; Overcoming Adversity = Success
There is a scene in the Disney animated feature Meet the Robinsons where the main character makes a spectacular mistake. Actually it's a repeat of a previous faux pas, but it impacts more people. As he begins to grovel and apologize, the boy's hosts begin cheering his failure. One character informs the confused boy that much is learned from failure, but "from success, not so much."
The aptly named Paul Tough discusses precisely this point this Wall Street Journal article. American culture, says Tough, has for the past few decades been fixated on the idea that a higher IQ naturally leads to success. Vast resources are committed to enhancing intelligence in children in the hope of ensuring greater success, despite the fact that such approaches rarely produce lasting gains.
Tough writes that "in the past few years, a disparate group of economists, educators, psychologists and neuroscientists has begun to produce evidence that calls into question many of the assumptions behind the cognitive hypothesis." These people assert that the most important childhood learning is not cognitive, but rather the development of "noncongnitive skills" such as "persistence, self-control, curiosity, conscientiousness, grit and self-confidence."
A common term for these conglomerated noncognitive skills is character. "And character, even more than IQ," asserts Tough, "is what leads to real and lasting success." Of particular significance to the development of character is learning to overcome adversity. This means that success actually does begin with failure. Success is achieved in the overcoming of those failures.
This calls to mind a joke about a young man that is struggling to get his start in life trying to find out how to succeed by interviewing a seasoned successful man. When asked how he became successful, the older man answers, "Good judgement." When asked how he developed good judgment he responds, "Experience." When asked how he developed experience, he replies, "Poor judgment."
The development of character is an individual process that cannot be charitably distributed. Success can be had by anybody, but each must fashion his own by treading a road that includes many hardships.
Unfortunately, American culture has worked to streamline the childhood development experience to the point that "American children, especially those who grow up in relative comfort, are, more than ever, shielded from failure as they grow up. They certainly work hard; they often experience a great deal of pressure and stress; but in reality, their path through the education system is easier and smoother than it was for any previous generation. Many of them are able to graduate from college without facing any significant challenges."
Thus, a college degree does not guarantee success, even if it's earned from a top flight university.
So how do we instill character in our kids? Tough says that "the most valuable thing that parents can do to help their children develop noncognitive skills—which is to say, to develop their character—may be to do nothing. To back off a bit. To let our children face some adversity on their own, to fall down and not be helped back up." Let kids struggle through failure instead of rushing to rescue them from it.
In recent years LDS Church leaders for youth have undertaken the mantra, "You can do hard things." Programs have evolved to reflect this concept. While Tough's tough love approach is undoubtedly necessary, the church clearly takes the view that it's not enough to just let character development happen. A purposeful approach is required.
This past summer, my middle child went on a seriously challenging pioneer trek. A hardy group of souls donned mid-19th Century trail attire and pushed fully laden hand carts up and down hills across many miles of the old Pioneer Trail on the barren Wyoming prairie, camping along the way. They endured harsh weather conditions, blisters, and sore muscles. One leader said, "Trek wasn't fun. But it was worth it. It doesn't have to be fun to be worthwhile."
A few weeks later, this same child went backpacking with his scouting group in the High Uintas. Heavy rain toward the end of the week prevented them from achieving their goal of hiking a full 50 miles. But they put in a lot of miles with full packs on their backs. Having done a fair amount of backpacking in my time, I sought my son's opinion of the activity. I chuckled when he said that backpacking "is probably an activity for other people and not so much for me."
Having been involved with youth groups for most of my life, I can say from a leader perspective that it's a lot easier to do fun and easy activities. It's hard to get youth to come to service projects where real work is involved. But that's often where a sense of fulfillment is found.
Even with opportunities for youth to engage in challenging activities, I suspect that much of the real growth that leads to success comes from battling one's private failures. It is through these struggles that we discover our potential for excellence.
As a kid I keenly felt the humiliation that resulted from always being the last one selected for any kind of athletic contest. I frankly would have preferred to avoid such activities, but sometimes it was either required at school or it was the only way to hang out with friends. I'm still lousy at team sports and I avoid them if possible. But failure at sports helped me discover potential for excellence in other arenas, many of which I still enjoy.
I am reminded of the essay by author Lee Pitts titled, These Things I Wish for You that Paul Harvey popularized on his radio show. Pitts starts off by saying, "We tried so hard to make things better for our kids that we made them worse." He wishes for his grandchildren something better: "tough times and disappointment, hard work and happiness." It may well be that the only way to get the happiness result is to have the inputs of tough times, disappointment, and hard work.
But how many of us are really willing to let our kids grapple with their own challenges? The natural parental instinct seems to be to swoop down and save them from what they most need, especially when we can afford to do so. Unless we resist this urge, we may end up with kids that have their heads jammed full of information but that are denied what we really wish we could give them: happiness and success.
The aptly named Paul Tough discusses precisely this point this Wall Street Journal article. American culture, says Tough, has for the past few decades been fixated on the idea that a higher IQ naturally leads to success. Vast resources are committed to enhancing intelligence in children in the hope of ensuring greater success, despite the fact that such approaches rarely produce lasting gains.
Tough writes that "in the past few years, a disparate group of economists, educators, psychologists and neuroscientists has begun to produce evidence that calls into question many of the assumptions behind the cognitive hypothesis." These people assert that the most important childhood learning is not cognitive, but rather the development of "noncongnitive skills" such as "persistence, self-control, curiosity, conscientiousness, grit and self-confidence."
A common term for these conglomerated noncognitive skills is character. "And character, even more than IQ," asserts Tough, "is what leads to real and lasting success." Of particular significance to the development of character is learning to overcome adversity. This means that success actually does begin with failure. Success is achieved in the overcoming of those failures.
This calls to mind a joke about a young man that is struggling to get his start in life trying to find out how to succeed by interviewing a seasoned successful man. When asked how he became successful, the older man answers, "Good judgement." When asked how he developed good judgment he responds, "Experience." When asked how he developed experience, he replies, "Poor judgment."
The development of character is an individual process that cannot be charitably distributed. Success can be had by anybody, but each must fashion his own by treading a road that includes many hardships.
Unfortunately, American culture has worked to streamline the childhood development experience to the point that "American children, especially those who grow up in relative comfort, are, more than ever, shielded from failure as they grow up. They certainly work hard; they often experience a great deal of pressure and stress; but in reality, their path through the education system is easier and smoother than it was for any previous generation. Many of them are able to graduate from college without facing any significant challenges."
Thus, a college degree does not guarantee success, even if it's earned from a top flight university.
So how do we instill character in our kids? Tough says that "the most valuable thing that parents can do to help their children develop noncognitive skills—which is to say, to develop their character—may be to do nothing. To back off a bit. To let our children face some adversity on their own, to fall down and not be helped back up." Let kids struggle through failure instead of rushing to rescue them from it.
In recent years LDS Church leaders for youth have undertaken the mantra, "You can do hard things." Programs have evolved to reflect this concept. While Tough's tough love approach is undoubtedly necessary, the church clearly takes the view that it's not enough to just let character development happen. A purposeful approach is required.
This past summer, my middle child went on a seriously challenging pioneer trek. A hardy group of souls donned mid-19th Century trail attire and pushed fully laden hand carts up and down hills across many miles of the old Pioneer Trail on the barren Wyoming prairie, camping along the way. They endured harsh weather conditions, blisters, and sore muscles. One leader said, "Trek wasn't fun. But it was worth it. It doesn't have to be fun to be worthwhile."
A few weeks later, this same child went backpacking with his scouting group in the High Uintas. Heavy rain toward the end of the week prevented them from achieving their goal of hiking a full 50 miles. But they put in a lot of miles with full packs on their backs. Having done a fair amount of backpacking in my time, I sought my son's opinion of the activity. I chuckled when he said that backpacking "is probably an activity for other people and not so much for me."
Having been involved with youth groups for most of my life, I can say from a leader perspective that it's a lot easier to do fun and easy activities. It's hard to get youth to come to service projects where real work is involved. But that's often where a sense of fulfillment is found.
Even with opportunities for youth to engage in challenging activities, I suspect that much of the real growth that leads to success comes from battling one's private failures. It is through these struggles that we discover our potential for excellence.
As a kid I keenly felt the humiliation that resulted from always being the last one selected for any kind of athletic contest. I frankly would have preferred to avoid such activities, but sometimes it was either required at school or it was the only way to hang out with friends. I'm still lousy at team sports and I avoid them if possible. But failure at sports helped me discover potential for excellence in other arenas, many of which I still enjoy.
I am reminded of the essay by author Lee Pitts titled, These Things I Wish for You that Paul Harvey popularized on his radio show. Pitts starts off by saying, "We tried so hard to make things better for our kids that we made them worse." He wishes for his grandchildren something better: "tough times and disappointment, hard work and happiness." It may well be that the only way to get the happiness result is to have the inputs of tough times, disappointment, and hard work.
But how many of us are really willing to let our kids grapple with their own challenges? The natural parental instinct seems to be to swoop down and save them from what they most need, especially when we can afford to do so. Unless we resist this urge, we may end up with kids that have their heads jammed full of information but that are denied what we really wish we could give them: happiness and success.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Eleven Years
As we prepared to fetch flags for my Boy Scout son to put up throughout the neighborhood this morning in commemoration of Patriot Day, he asked why we were celebrating terrorist attacks that killed thousands of people.
Having been a baby on 9/11/01, my son has no memory of life before the attacks. He doesn't remember a time when we were not at war in Afghanistan. He knows nothing of air travel without the indignity of being treated as a suspected terrorist.
My wife explained that we were not 'celebrating' the terrorist attacks but commemorating our response to the attacks. We are remembering the victims and the horror, not to think of ourselves as victims, but to bolster our resolve to maintain the cause of liberty. We are reminding ourselves that liberty doesn't just happen; it is a task that requires a purposeful approach. Because there are people out there that hate liberty.
I thought about my son's question as I drove to work. A program on the radio was replaying snippets from that day of infamy 11 years ago. Suddenly I was caught up in the odd mix of emotions I felt on that day, experiencing them anew for a brief time.
9/11/01 was a nationally defining moment. The now well-known photo of firefighters raising the American Flag amid the debris of the fallen towers became a defining symbol of the day.
Many artists created works in the wake of 9/11. As I again felt the pervasive somberness of that day, I thought of Exhibit 13, one of the more poignant of these works. Oddly enough, it is by the Blue Man Group, which is more known for its clownishness than for its serious acts. Free of political commentary, Exhibit 13 evokes the memory of those ordinary people that died in the 9/11 attacks.
Having been a baby on 9/11/01, my son has no memory of life before the attacks. He doesn't remember a time when we were not at war in Afghanistan. He knows nothing of air travel without the indignity of being treated as a suspected terrorist.
My wife explained that we were not 'celebrating' the terrorist attacks but commemorating our response to the attacks. We are remembering the victims and the horror, not to think of ourselves as victims, but to bolster our resolve to maintain the cause of liberty. We are reminding ourselves that liberty doesn't just happen; it is a task that requires a purposeful approach. Because there are people out there that hate liberty.
I thought about my son's question as I drove to work. A program on the radio was replaying snippets from that day of infamy 11 years ago. Suddenly I was caught up in the odd mix of emotions I felt on that day, experiencing them anew for a brief time.
9/11/01 was a nationally defining moment. The now well-known photo of firefighters raising the American Flag amid the debris of the fallen towers became a defining symbol of the day.
Many artists created works in the wake of 9/11. As I again felt the pervasive somberness of that day, I thought of Exhibit 13, one of the more poignant of these works. Oddly enough, it is by the Blue Man Group, which is more known for its clownishness than for its serious acts. Free of political commentary, Exhibit 13 evokes the memory of those ordinary people that died in the 9/11 attacks.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Using Mined Data for Security Questions
You're familiar with the drill. When you create an online account for just about any service you end up creating several security questions to which hopefully only you know the answer. This adds a layer of security to the standard user name and password employed for logging on. Then hopefully you remember the answers you selected the next time you have to answer one or more of those questions.
No security paradigm is foolproof. Every layer of security adds a layer of inconvenience. Service providers constantly walk a narrow line between making you secure and making you frustrated. Security experts know that users frequently choose convenience over security. The higher the level of potential frustration, the higher the chance that the user will compromise his own security.
Take the ubiquitous password, for example. The most common passwords in the world include 1234, 12345, and password, all of which are easily guessed by humans and computers alike. Frankly, people are frustrated by the number of varied passwords they must remember. Different sites have different password requirements and even experts disagree on what makes for a secure password. Password vaults are often cumbersome enough to render them as inconvenient as remembering multiple passwords.
Some service providers are now using data mining to provide more security. When my wife recently accessed an online account she was presented with a series of questions she didn't choose. For example, she was asked to select from from a list a street name with which she had been associated. None seemed familiar until she dug through old files and discovered an address at which we had briefly lived years ago when we first married. A couple of other questions were obscure enough to require research as well.
The other day I was helping my mother-in-law with her bank account. We reached a point where she had to call customer service. The service rep asked her a fairly long series of questions. I heard my mom-in-law answer, "None of the above" to several. After completing the list, the service rep informed Mom that she had answered too many questions incorrectly and that they could only help her if she appeared at a branch in person to verify her identity.
On the one hand, I was pleased that the bank was serious about verifying Mom's identity before discussing account details. When the attempt failed, they implemented procedures designed to protect Mom's account.
On the other hand, I was immediately unimpressed with the data mining security question process. If this method produces questions of such a recondite nature that the answers are not immediately discerned by the people that experienced the activities that gave rise to the data, how effective is it really?
And how secure is it really? The data used for the questions that both my wife and my mom-in-law faced came from publicly available records. How long will it take before the bad guys figure out which questions are likely to be asked? How hard will it be for them to derive the answers from a few Google searches? They might actually be better at answering these questions than the real account holders.
We all want our personal data to be secure online. But I think this new data mining security question method can safely be scored as a customer relationship and security failure. It is cumbersome enough to drive customers away, especially when it prevents them from legitimately using the services it is designed to protect. And, as mentioned above, it is likely only a matter of time until the bad guys overcome the protective wall that frustrates regular customers anyway.
Wednesday, September 05, 2012
The Taker Mentality Bankrupts Character
As a teen I heard a Soviet defector talk about life in the USSR. I was somewhat mystified when he explained that many people in his home country were afraid of liberty. Why would anybody not want liberty? Although liberty offered more affluence, these people feared the unknown and personal accountability. Despite their dismal circumstances, they were addicted to benefits offered by the state. Their dependency culture had bankrupted their moral character, robbed them of initiative, and turned them into willing serfs.
Political economist Nicholas Eberstadt in this WSJ op-ed provides some rather stunning evidence to bolster his claim that Americans are well on their way to the kind of character debauchery that was endemic to Soviet life a few decades ago. "The growth of entitlement payments over the past half-century" he writes, "has been breathtaking. ... Even after adjusting for inflation and population growth, entitlement transfers to individuals have grown 727% over the past half-century...."
Even after all of the New Deal programs, federal spending was mainly concentrated on "limited public services and infrastructure investments and ... defending the republic against enemies foreign and domestic" as late as 1960. Now transfer payments to individuals comprise two-thirds of all federal spending.
The terms "entitlements" and "transfer payments" are far too antiseptic. What these terms mean is taking property from someone and giving it to someone else using the coercive power of government—activities that bear more than a passing resemblance to behavior proscribed by the 8th and 10th Commandments.
We should be careful about being hoodwinked by cleverly sanitized terms used by the political class. When they say "invest" they mean increased government spending. When they say "ask" they mean increased taxation and/or regulation under threat of force—asking in the same way that a mugger asks for you wallet.
Despite current partisan rhetoric, Eberstadt notes that "the explosion of entitlement spending" has been a bi-partisan affair. "Between 1960 and 2010, the growth of entitlement spending was exponential, but in any given year, it was on the whole roughly 8% higher if the president happened to be a Republican rather than a Democrat." A politician is a politician regardless of party.
There is no shortage of those that suggest that our bloated entitlement spending is exactly the right thing for America—the perfect prescription for assuaging the evils of the days when people actually had to worry about how they would get their next meal. They bandy about terms like "community" and "social justice" to justify programs that turn sovereign citizens into government subjects that can more easily be controlled by their government masters.
The reordering of federal priorities has completely altered the face of our political system, as well as the way that Americans think about and approach life. Eberstadt writes:
It would be easy to blame all of this on the political class. But that would be like blaming the whole problem of drug addiction on the pushers without respect to their addicted clients that demand the drugs. Pushers would not exist without junkies.
Ah, but amid the sounds of Americans gorging themselves at the government trough one occasionally hears someone impertinently asking how we're going to pay for this feast. Some pause momentarily to consider this before shrugging it off and figuring that the same political class that brought the swill will somehow figure out how to keep the supply coming.
Our national addiction to government supplied benefits has dulled our moral and ethical sensibilities. Not only is there decreasing aversion to dependency; benefits are actively sought regardless of impending fiscal and moral bankruptcy. Eberstadt writes:
Unfortunately, many of those unborn on whose labor we are banking may never be born. It has been shown over and over again that populations that devolve into dependency on social programs lose their desire to bear and raise children. Combining decreasing population with the time value of money means that every dollar we steal from children of the future will amount to many dollars in their lifetimes, dooming them to a lifetime of servitude to pay for our excesses.
While some citizens and even some politicians are working to draw attention to America's impending fiscal disaster, a greater concern, suggests Eberstadt, is a "possibility [that] is even more frightening—namely, that the present course may in fact be sustainable for far longer than most people today might imagine." The nation still "has vast resources to squander."
Eberstadt chillingly opines, "Such devices might well postpone the day of fiscal judgment: not so the day of reckoning for American character, which may be sacrificed long before the credibility of the U.S. economy."
Is it already too late?
Political economist Nicholas Eberstadt in this WSJ op-ed provides some rather stunning evidence to bolster his claim that Americans are well on their way to the kind of character debauchery that was endemic to Soviet life a few decades ago. "The growth of entitlement payments over the past half-century" he writes, "has been breathtaking. ... Even after adjusting for inflation and population growth, entitlement transfers to individuals have grown 727% over the past half-century...."
Even after all of the New Deal programs, federal spending was mainly concentrated on "limited public services and infrastructure investments and ... defending the republic against enemies foreign and domestic" as late as 1960. Now transfer payments to individuals comprise two-thirds of all federal spending.
The terms "entitlements" and "transfer payments" are far too antiseptic. What these terms mean is taking property from someone and giving it to someone else using the coercive power of government—activities that bear more than a passing resemblance to behavior proscribed by the 8th and 10th Commandments.
We should be careful about being hoodwinked by cleverly sanitized terms used by the political class. When they say "invest" they mean increased government spending. When they say "ask" they mean increased taxation and/or regulation under threat of force—asking in the same way that a mugger asks for you wallet.
Despite current partisan rhetoric, Eberstadt notes that "the explosion of entitlement spending" has been a bi-partisan affair. "Between 1960 and 2010, the growth of entitlement spending was exponential, but in any given year, it was on the whole roughly 8% higher if the president happened to be a Republican rather than a Democrat." A politician is a politician regardless of party.
There is no shortage of those that suggest that our bloated entitlement spending is exactly the right thing for America—the perfect prescription for assuaging the evils of the days when people actually had to worry about how they would get their next meal. They bandy about terms like "community" and "social justice" to justify programs that turn sovereign citizens into government subjects that can more easily be controlled by their government masters.
The reordering of federal priorities has completely altered the face of our political system, as well as the way that Americans think about and approach life. Eberstadt writes:
"From the founding of our nation until quite recently, the U.S. and its citizens were regarded, at home and abroad, as exceptional in a number of deep and important respects. One of these was their fierce and principled independence, which informed not only the design of the political experiment that is the U.S. Constitution but also their approach to everyday affairs."
"The corollaries of this American ethos were, on the one hand, an affinity for personal enterprise and industry and, on the other, a horror of dependency and contempt for anything that smacked of a mendicant mentality. Although many Americans in earlier times were poor, even people in fairly desperate circumstances were known to refuse help or handouts as an affront to their dignity and independence. People who subsisted on public resources were known as "paupers," and provision for them was a local undertaking. Neither beneficiaries nor recipients held the condition of pauperism in high regard."Entitlement spending is swamping this old system of ethics. In fact, Eberstadt notes, "The U.S. is now on the verge of a symbolic threshold: the point at which more than half of all American households receive and accept transfer benefits from the government. From cradle to grave, a treasure chest of government-supplied benefits is there for the taking for every American citizen—and exercising one's legal rights to these many blandishments is now part of the American way of life."
It would be easy to blame all of this on the political class. But that would be like blaming the whole problem of drug addiction on the pushers without respect to their addicted clients that demand the drugs. Pushers would not exist without junkies.
Ah, but amid the sounds of Americans gorging themselves at the government trough one occasionally hears someone impertinently asking how we're going to pay for this feast. Some pause momentarily to consider this before shrugging it off and figuring that the same political class that brought the swill will somehow figure out how to keep the supply coming.
Our national addiction to government supplied benefits has dulled our moral and ethical sensibilities. Not only is there decreasing aversion to dependency; benefits are actively sought regardless of impending fiscal and moral bankruptcy. Eberstadt writes:
"As Americans opt to reward themselves ever more lavishly with entitlement benefits, the question of how to pay for these government transfers inescapably comes to the fore. Citizens have become ever more broad-minded about the propriety of tapping new sources of finance for supporting their appetite for more entitlements. The taker mentality has thus ineluctably gravitated toward taking from a pool of citizens who can offer no resistance to such schemes: the unborn descendants of today's entitlement-seeking population."It's worse than taking candy from babies. We are taking from pre-babies and even the babies of those pre-babies—the unborn that have no vote, no lobbyists, and no voice in government. And we somehow find this morally acceptable.
Unfortunately, many of those unborn on whose labor we are banking may never be born. It has been shown over and over again that populations that devolve into dependency on social programs lose their desire to bear and raise children. Combining decreasing population with the time value of money means that every dollar we steal from children of the future will amount to many dollars in their lifetimes, dooming them to a lifetime of servitude to pay for our excesses.
While some citizens and even some politicians are working to draw attention to America's impending fiscal disaster, a greater concern, suggests Eberstadt, is a "possibility [that] is even more frightening—namely, that the present course may in fact be sustainable for far longer than most people today might imagine." The nation still "has vast resources to squander."
Eberstadt chillingly opines, "Such devices might well postpone the day of fiscal judgment: not so the day of reckoning for American character, which may be sacrificed long before the credibility of the U.S. economy."
Is it already too late?
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Me As Editor and Publisher
I never imagined that I'd edit or publish a book. But circumstances have rendered me both an editor and a publisher.
Last autumn as I was driving my son back to his university dorm after he spent a weekend at our home, he told me all about a novel he wanted to write. His story line, which had been formulating in his head for some three years, sounded quite innovative. He seemed to have a strong grasp of plot development and details.
Before long my son had produced the first chapter. He eventually wrote an outline for the book. But real life often gets in the way of pet projects, so months went by with little progress.
My son had hoped to leave on his mission late last spring. Alas, that was not to be. Although he started on his missionary application during the holidays and had it ready to submit by mid-January, a number of roadblocks popped up.
My son's ward was split and it took several weeks before his new bishop could access the application system and schedule an interview. Then the church missionary department had additional questions about my son's knee surgery. Eventually he had to meet with one of the church's specialists to resolve concerns. When my son's mission call finally arrived in early April we were surprised to see that his mission wouldn't begin for another 4½ months.
My son came home at the end of spring semester. But given the unexpected extra time he had, he pursued a full load of online courses during summer semester. He also got serious about writing his novel. He shared each newly completed chapter with certain family members and close friends. Many responded to his invitation for input. These suggestions helped refine the work.
As the time for my son's mission approached I wondered how he would complete his book. But he managed to pull it off with a few days to spare. I am certainly biased, but I believe that my son is a pretty good author. He has a captivating style of writing. The book is filled with innovative adventures.
Then with less than 48 hours before my son was to leave on his mission, he decided that he wanted to publish his book. I did a little research and realized that this was not really possible, given everything else that needed to happen in that short time period. I promised my son that his mother and I would do what it took to get the book e-published.
It turns out that self publishing is easier than ever. But there are so many options available that it's hard for a novice to know which course to pursue. CNET writer David Carnoy maintains a very good regularly updated article about self publishing. The upshot is that, while self publishing is not terribly difficult, actually selling books is more challenging than most authors imagine.
There are several reasons for this. One is that while almost all authors find fulfillment in writing, few of them enjoy or even know the first thing about marketing. To top it off, it is almost impossible to successfully market self published fiction books because supply outstrips demand.
My son has done a good job of formatting his book for e-publishing. But he left us the tasks of editing, getting cover art, and publishing the book. Without him to consult on changes, I am limiting my editing to obvious spelling errors—words that have passed spell check but that are still wrong—and egregious grammar mistakes (of which there are very few). I don't want to do anything that changes the author's style. We're going to have to find someone to develop cover art.
I don't foresee us doing much marketing once the book is published. I think the main goal is to make the book available to family and friends, at least for now. Besides, the book is the first of a two-book series. My son has uncharitably left his readers hanging with the book's tantalizing conclusion. He knows what he wants to write in the second book, but how long will it take him to write it once he returns from his mission two years from now? We will just have to wait.
Last autumn as I was driving my son back to his university dorm after he spent a weekend at our home, he told me all about a novel he wanted to write. His story line, which had been formulating in his head for some three years, sounded quite innovative. He seemed to have a strong grasp of plot development and details.
Before long my son had produced the first chapter. He eventually wrote an outline for the book. But real life often gets in the way of pet projects, so months went by with little progress.
My son had hoped to leave on his mission late last spring. Alas, that was not to be. Although he started on his missionary application during the holidays and had it ready to submit by mid-January, a number of roadblocks popped up.
My son's ward was split and it took several weeks before his new bishop could access the application system and schedule an interview. Then the church missionary department had additional questions about my son's knee surgery. Eventually he had to meet with one of the church's specialists to resolve concerns. When my son's mission call finally arrived in early April we were surprised to see that his mission wouldn't begin for another 4½ months.
My son came home at the end of spring semester. But given the unexpected extra time he had, he pursued a full load of online courses during summer semester. He also got serious about writing his novel. He shared each newly completed chapter with certain family members and close friends. Many responded to his invitation for input. These suggestions helped refine the work.
As the time for my son's mission approached I wondered how he would complete his book. But he managed to pull it off with a few days to spare. I am certainly biased, but I believe that my son is a pretty good author. He has a captivating style of writing. The book is filled with innovative adventures.
Then with less than 48 hours before my son was to leave on his mission, he decided that he wanted to publish his book. I did a little research and realized that this was not really possible, given everything else that needed to happen in that short time period. I promised my son that his mother and I would do what it took to get the book e-published.
It turns out that self publishing is easier than ever. But there are so many options available that it's hard for a novice to know which course to pursue. CNET writer David Carnoy maintains a very good regularly updated article about self publishing. The upshot is that, while self publishing is not terribly difficult, actually selling books is more challenging than most authors imagine.
There are several reasons for this. One is that while almost all authors find fulfillment in writing, few of them enjoy or even know the first thing about marketing. To top it off, it is almost impossible to successfully market self published fiction books because supply outstrips demand.
My son has done a good job of formatting his book for e-publishing. But he left us the tasks of editing, getting cover art, and publishing the book. Without him to consult on changes, I am limiting my editing to obvious spelling errors—words that have passed spell check but that are still wrong—and egregious grammar mistakes (of which there are very few). I don't want to do anything that changes the author's style. We're going to have to find someone to develop cover art.
I don't foresee us doing much marketing once the book is published. I think the main goal is to make the book available to family and friends, at least for now. Besides, the book is the first of a two-book series. My son has uncharitably left his readers hanging with the book's tantalizing conclusion. He knows what he wants to write in the second book, but how long will it take him to write it once he returns from his mission two years from now? We will just have to wait.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Sending Off Our First Missionary
The atmosphere in the car was subdued as we drove toward the MTC in Provo. We all knew that a couple of hours later we'd exchange an embrace with our son/brother, and then we wouldn't see him for two years.
I thought back to a similar trip that had occurred many years earlier. I recalled being quite anxious as my parents drove toward Provo. But I also recalled that it didn't take long for me to settle into the work and develop new friendships. I tried to lighten the mood of the family members by recounting some funny experiences from my mission.
There was the time that Elder G. decided to return to his room at the MTC solo. (Missionaries are supposed to stay with their companions.) He thought it was odd that the entire floor seemed vacant when it was usually busy following lunch. He sat in the room wondering why the rest of us didn't return. Elder G. wasn't there when we got to our rooms. About 20 minutes later he showed up, explaining that he had sat in the silent room of the adjacent dorm (all of the dorms are nearly exact replicas) for a long time until he realized that it wasn't his room.
It was not uncommon for the missionaries on my MTC dorm floor to sing religious songs while showering in the communal showers each morning. But on one occasion we somehow started singing theme songs from various cartoons with which we had all grown up. We were in the middle of a rousing chorus of the Flintstones when a fully clothed elder walked in and issued a deeply self righteous scathing rebuke for our frivolity.
We stood silently in our showers as the angry young man stomped out of the bathroom. One of our group contritely said, "I'm not sure what to say." Elder M., a calm, level headed guy said, "I do." And then he belted out at the top of his lungs, "Flintstones, meet the Flintstones!" We all joined in and had a good laugh.
There was the time that my mission president downed an entire glass of beer at a restaurant, thinking that the waitress had brought him Vørterøl, a Norwegian soft drink promoted as a health beverage. (Mormons are supposed to abstain from drinking alcohol.) We thought that was pretty funny.
Our family members were somewhat less anxious as we drove into Provo. My son wanted to eat lunch at a particular Mexican fast food place of which he is fond. Using my phone he found an outlet near our route. The place looked kind of seedy from the outside. It looked even seedier on the inside. The bright orange paint on the walls couldn't make up for the devastated ceiling tiles, worn floor, aged furniture, and equipment that had seen better days. But my son enjoyed his lunch.
As we were dining, another family that was obviously on their way to the MTC came in. My son introduced himself to the missionary in the family and they discovered that they were heading to the same mission. That's kind of surprising, given the number of new missionaries that arrive at the MTC each week. "I guess I'll see you in a few minutes," my son called out as we left.
I haven't driven around Provo much in recent years. I was stunned by how heavy the traffic was. Having had the MTC drop-off protocol explained to us, we first drove to a lot across the street from the entrance. We got out and took a few pictures. None of them turned out very good. But it gave us an opportunity to say our goodbyes.
We then got back in the car and drove through the MTC entrance. We were guided to a spot in the drop-off zone. We quickly jumped out and retrieved my son's luggage from the car trunk as an escorting missionary greeted my son.
Our newly minted missionary exchanged a special embrace with our son that just recently received his mission call and will enter the MTC in a few weeks, shortly before his brother departs the MTC for his field of labor. My son, who outweighs me by about 30 lbs, picked me up from the ground and hugged me so firmly that my back cracked. It felt good—in more ways than one.
And then we were on our way back to the freeway as our son and his missionary escort walked away hauling the luggage and talking enthusiastically. Two years will pass before we see him in person again.
I expected to feel somewhat melancholy as we drove homeward. But instead I felt a warm glow inside—a sensation that told me that everything was alright and that all would be well. Instead of feeling sad because of my son's departure, I felt very happy for him. But I have to admit that I do look forward to the first email we will get from him.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Making it simple to enjoy your missionary's farewell or homecoming
Many members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints look forward to the day when their son or daughter will serve as a missionary. Then they anxiously await the day 18 or 24 months later when their precious child will return. Near these bookend events the missionary usually speaks in a Sacrament meeting.
The missionary's family often invites guests to their home following the meeting to celebrate the departure or return. These gatherings can be burdensome for the family. When hosting such a function there are some things you can do to lighten the load and make your get-together more enjoyable.
Simplify the menu
The number one rule is to keep it simple.
Some serve a broad variety of foods to try to satisfy everyone that might attend. They worry that they might be considered ungracious if they offer too few choices. Remember that simply offering refreshments to guests shows hospitality. Overly picky guests are themselves ungracious and can choose to go hungry. Most will survive just fine. After all, we are constantly reminded that most Americans carry plenty of reserve weight.
Offering a broad assortment of foods also encourages guests to linger longer and to overeat. It's nice to have guests visit. But it's also nice for them to go home before they've outworn their welcome. It would be even nicer if they could depart without taking indigestion along for the trip.
Another reason for expanding food selection is to "keep up with the Joneses." It's tempting to feel obligated to do at least what others have done at similar gatherings. This leads to a culinary arms race that can't be good for the church. Do not feel in any way inferior to Sister So-and-so if you choose to be simple on the Sabbath rather than turning your home into the local Glutton Town Buffet franchise.
Following are some ideas for serving simple but sufficient refreshments for your missionary's homecoming or farewell.
Go for less mess
Serve only foods that are easy for guests to manage and that are easy to clean up. Let's face it; there will be spills, crumbs, smears, etc. You can limit these by making food easy for diners to handle and by reducing overt liquid content. The more fluid your dishes are—think Jell-O salads, soups, sauces, puddings, dips—the more messes you will have to clean up.
Some have found that finger foods and sandwiches work well. But keep diners' food management in mind. Corn on the cob sounds fun, but it's messy for diners to handle. Everyone loves ice cream treats, but they melt easily and tend to be an abundant source of sticky drips.
Serve only ice water to drink. Your guests won't die without punch, juice, or soda. Use disposable plates, cups, flatwear, etc. These produce trash, so keep trash containers readily accessible. In fact, set them out before going to church. A family member that needs to be useful can be assigned to make sure that these containers don't get too full during the gathering.
Satisfy the masses, not the individual
Serve only foods that are likely to be enjoyed by at least half of your guests. You are setting up a limited buffet, not a specialty diner. If only a few of your guests will touch a given food, it's probably too specialized.
Resist the urge to cook
Refrain from cooking or even warming up any food on the day of the event. The only exception to this might be something that could be warming in a crock pot while you are at church—think pork and beans or cocktail weenies. But only serve something like this if most guests will eat it.
Go cheap
This might sound uncharitable, but maximize foods that are rich in dense carbohydrates and fats while minimizing foods that are high in protein. Restaurateurs have long known this trick. Meats and cheeses are expensive. Breads, pastas, chips, cookies, cakes, and the like are cheap by comparison. People like them too. You can make it look like you splurged by serving real butter for the bread. While you need to make sure that you have enough of the pricier dishes you serve, you can reduce expenses by offering fewer varieties of these.
If you're concerned about the healthiness of this approach, consider the advice of one dietary expert who says that there are no truly unhealthy foods; only unhealthy diets. After all, this is only one meal, and it's supposed to be a party.
Proper planning and preparation prevents problems
Prepare everything in advance. Before going to church put out everything needed for the gathering except for the foods that must be kept cold until being served. That way you can come home, quickly put out the cold foods, and immediately begin eating.
It would be nice if every guest could dine while seated at a table. But this depends on how much room you have and how many tables and chairs you can get. You may end up with most diners just sitting on the furniture with plates in their laps. Also, consider the fact that the more comfortable guests are, the longer they will linger and the more they will eat. Remember that you're being a conscientious host, not driving guests away.
Keep it moving
Keep the serving line moving. You will need to use the limited space in your home as best you can unless conditions allow you to serve the buffet outside. Set up the serving line long before going to church. Try to foresee and mitigate bottlenecks. You might need to portion out some dishes and spread them out to allow better access.
Put the plates at the start of the line. The drinks, napkins, and utensils go at the end so that people don't have to juggle these while serving themselves. Between starting and ending points, place the main dish items, followed by side dishes, and finally the desserts. The fewer varieties of food you offer, the faster the line will move. Waiting to set out desserts until most guests have been through the line also significantly speeds up the process, but it means that you have to watch and work while people are eating.
Taking tips from the fast food industry can also be helpful. When serving foods that allow diners to add sauces or spreads, the line will move more efficiently if these condiments are located away from the serving table and closer to where the guests dine; maybe even on their tables.
Too much beats too little
Don't run out of food. It's difficult to know how many people will show up and how much food they will eat. Even consulting with friends and neighbors may not help, due to the uniqueness of your family dynamics and your child's popularity. Also, competing events of the day differ from occasion to occasion. Use your best guess. But remember that it's better to have leftovers than to turn guests away unsatisfied.
And finally, RELAX!
It would be nice to relax in Sacrament meeting and enjoy your child's talk. But the reality is that you may be too frazzled for that kind of calmness. Still, your day will be easier and Sacrament meeting will be more enjoyable if you keep the food and preparations for your gathering simple. (See D&C 59:12-13) Just keep thinking to yourself, "This too shall pass." And no matter how it turns out, try to enjoy interacting with your guests. These relationships are more important than any of the food you will serve.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Food for Missionary Farewell Gatherings
This past weekend our son spoke in Sacrament meeting prior to beginning two years of service as a missionary for our church. Per the accepted cultural pattern in our area, we hosted a gathering at our home following the meeting.
Years ago when I left on my mission it was common in these parts for the families of departing missionaries to host something more akin to an open house or a reception. Ward members dropping by with well wishes were offered refreshments. This was repeated upon the missionary's return. These gatherings could be fun, but they resulted in unnecessary expense and social pressure. Gatherings are still held in my area, but they are mostly limited to family and close friends.
Still, our son is a very popular guy. Since he is one of the younger members of his class, many of his friends and acquaintances are already serving missions. We had some idea of how many family members would show up to our event, but we had absolutely no idea how many friends (especially voracious 19- and 20-year-old young men) would put in an appearance. So planning was difficult.
One of the primary rules of hosting a gathering where food is served is to avoid running out. Having enough is more important than having a variety. While families may feel like they are in a culinary arms race to offer wider varieties of fancier foods, simplicity is your friend. We choose to narrow our focus and to have plenty of the items we were going to serve.
We decided to go with sandwiches, chips, salads, cookies, and water. We bought loaves of high quality (sliced) bread from a local bakery. These loaves were only slightly more expensive than rolls, but they were more compact. This allowed us to buy them early and then store them in the freezer until the day before the party. We sliced each loaf so that the square-ish pieces of bread ended up as triangles. As I predicted, this reduced the amount of bread used. The dense texture of the bread probably worked to our advantage as well.
We bought 10 lbs of sliced roast beef and 10 lbs of sliced roast turkey breast. Per my observation, the beef was preferred by guests more than two-to-one over the turkey. Next time we will try to balance that better. We put the condiments on the dining tables so that people didn't gum up the serving line preparing their sandwiches. We served American and Provolone cheese. We also put out peanut butter and jelly. I was surprised at how many guests opted for PBJ sandwiches.
Putting the water cooler, cups, napkins, and flatwear on a different table also sped up the serving line. Speaking of water, it's a lot cheaper than sweetened and/or flavored drinks. It's also colorless and not sticky. No one complained. We put a 5-lb block of ice in the water cooler on Saturday evening and filled the container with water on Sunday morning.
Our town has a commercial cookie bakery outlet store where we picked up a number of frosted and sprinkled sugar cookies for cheap. My wife baked three batches of brownies in advance and froze them. She likes baking brownies using a mix because it is such a simple process. We also baked up a load of chocolate chip cookies using store-bought dough. How can you go wrong with chocolate chip and sugar cookies, along with brownies?
We bought four large bags of plain potato chips and four large bags of Doritos. We had three bags of each left over. Family members that wanted to help were asked to bring various salads and relish trays. We cut up a watermelon and a cantaloupe as well. For dessert we had frozen Otter Pops in a cooler.
There are lots of other possibilities that we considered when it came to serving food. But we had read an article that suggested that the more varieties of foods you offer, the slower your serving line will move. It also suggested refraining from cooking anything on the day of the event. After all, you're offering simple refreshments to guests, not setting up a buffet restaurant. I figured that any guest that couldn't find enough to eat among our offerings was just too darn picky. And at any rate, most of us Americans carry enough excess weight that missing a meal wouldn't hurt us.
We prepared everything we could in advance. We staged most things on Saturday evening so that food could be quickly set out after our church meetings on Sunday.
We were also gambling with the weather. Since it is summer, we planned to hold the gathering outside. This would minimize impact on the inside of the home. No one cares much when a drink gets spilled on the lawn as opposed to the carpet. Hosting the event outside also meant that we didn't have to worry as much about perfecting the cleaning and presentation of our home.
We own three banquet tables. We borrowed three others. We have about a dozen folding chairs and a handful of lawn chairs. We borrowed another dozen chairs and used our dining table chairs. After my morning meetings on Sunday, I came home and set up all of the tables and chairs. I hoped that the wind would die down, that the overcast skies would refrain from dropping rain, and that our setup would not be disturbed while we spent more than three hours away at church.
Our son delivered one of the finest outgoing missionary addresses I have ever heard in a church meeting. OK, so I'm biased.
We rushed home from our church meetings (except for our son who was greeting well wishers after church) to set up our feast. The wind had thankfully died down and the overcast skies took the edge off the heat just enough to make it relatively pleasant. By the time our son arrived, we had about two dozen of his friends along with a number of our extended family members. We blessed the food and then let people dig in. I spent much of the time taking video and photos.
Guests eventually started to say their goodbyes. An hour after we started, about half the guests had finished and left. Another half hour later, all but my son's buddies (his girlfriend called them his "bros") were all that were left of our guests. We hauled food into the house, put chairs and tables away, and returned borrowed items. The sun came out, driving our son and his buddies into the house. The friends all went home after a while and we finally relaxed.
Some of the lessons we learned from our missionary farewell party include the following:
- We had nearly twice the amount of every kind of food as was actually used; more than twice enough of turkey, chips, and cheese. It's better to have more than enough than not enough. But if you're going to have a lot extra of something, it's better if it's something that can be easily stored.
- Sandwiches are a good option for this type of gathering. But we could get more beef and less turkey, as well as less cheese. Setting out peanut butter and jelly was a good idea.
- It's not a good idea to freeze thinly sliced meat in large blocks. I think this would be more successful if the meats were split out into 1-lb or even ½-lb bags. Or else buy the meat the day before the event and refrigerate it instead of freezing it.
- Moving condiments and items that slow the serving line off to another location worked well.
- Although we didn't have an extremely broad selection, the selection we offered was just fine. Limiting selection and not cooking on the day of the gathering constituted a good plan.
- It's nice to hold the event outdoors if conditions permit.
- Guests like to dine at tables. We had 50 chairs, but table seating for only half that many. It would have been nice to have more tables.
- Serving only ice water to drink worked well.
- Otter Pops were a decent outdoor summer treat. Maybe not so good for indoors or for colder weather.
Of course, these parties are merely social formalities. They are nowhere near as important as the work these young men are undertaking. Still, if we're going to hold gatherings like this anyway, it makes sense to try to make them as good as we can. Please feel free to post your suggestions for good missionary farewell/homecoming gatherings in the comments.
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