Liberal vs. Conservative

(Note: I actually wrote this 4 years ago, shortly after George W. Bush began his 2nd term as President of the United States. Now that Obama is in his 2nd week as President, I thought it fitting to repost this)

"CONSERVATIVE, n. A statesman who is enamoured of existing evils, as distinguished from a Liberal who wishes to replace them with others." - Ambrose Bierce, (1842-1914) American satirist

I've heard people (both in private conversation and in public forums, such as the newspaper and television) make a distinction between "Conservative" and "True Conservative" (or "True Conservatism"). I asked several comrades, cohorts, and colleagues some questions regarding the term "True Conservative." I got a different answer from every single person.

But now that the election is over and I witness what appears to be deepening division between Democrats and Republicans, Liberals and Conservatives, Blue States and Red States, I feel myself torn along with the nation.

I always thought I was probably more politically conservative (by the definition I thought I knew of conservatism), contrary to what my family thought. Now, I'm wondering if I am more liberal than I once thought - or if the definition of the word is changing (or being changed). And I feel torn by the divisiveness.

Yet, when I have talked to people on one side or the other, I haven't felt a great divide. Instead, we've connected as human beings. And I am beginning to think that maybe our main division is that we're listening to different people yelling at us. There are certainly fanatics on both sides, and these extremes differ greatly, but for most of us I think our beliefs and values are not nearly so divergent. Am I wrong?

"There is danger in reckless change; but greater danger in blind conservatism." - Henry George (1839-1897), Economist, tax reformist, journalist, author

Growing up, I didn't think of the beliefs and values I learned as either conservative or liberal, really. When I thought of conservative, I thought of caution, as in "conserve your energy" or "conservation of the environment"... and when I thought of liberal, I thought of openness and generosity, as in "liberty" and "liberal portions of food." Neither of them are ugly words.

But I come from what is considered a conservative state, and I felt that I shared in conservative values.

Much of Nebraska still resembles the open frontier, moreso possibly than any other state in the lower forty-eight. Hardly anyone lives there (here in San Francisco, I have more neighbors within seven miles of me than reside in all of Nebraska), and the people who settled there were fiercely independent. At one time, they were the political radicals in this country: the Populist Movement, the Farmers Revolt, The Grange. The defeat of Democratic candidate William Jennings Bryan (a Populist from Nebraska) marked the end of one of the most challenging protest movements in U.S. history. It is part of our heritage, and in our blood, that individual freedom is our most precious right as an American.

And so, I thought it conservative to believe in individual rights, civil rights, and human rights. I still do.

I had family who were farmers and family in the ranching business. I grew up with an enormous respect for the land and for nature. In Nebraska, you can't plan your day without first checking to see what nature has planned for you. And our ranches are in an area known as the Sandhills, an ocean of grass nearly the size of Maine made up of sand dunes hundreds of feet high. If you don't take meticulous care of the grass-covered hills, you'd soon be dealing with 600-ft tall open sand dunes - dunes that blow, and drift, and literally move. If that happens, we're all royally screwed.

So I always thought it was conservative to care about the environment. And I still do.

My sister was born with Spina Bifida. She survived against astronomical odds and is now in her 30s. To this day, it seems like she has an average of one or two surgeries a year. My memory of her first five years are almost entirely memories of hospital rooms. I think my experience growing up with her has shaped my opinion of healthcare.

It may not be the government's job, or responsibility, to provide healthcare for its citizens. But I believe it is an ideal we can strive for. When President Kennedy announced in 1961 that he wanted to put a man on the moon in ten years, it was an idea that seemed so impossible it bordered on lunatic (ooh I love puns!) We did it in eight.

I don't see why we as a society can't put the same determination into healthcare - the idea isn't nearly as crazy. And it may not have been possible in 1776, or even 100 years ago - but we have advanced as a society, culturally and technologically. We are much more sophisticated and compassionate now than we were two-hundred years ago - at least I'd like to think so. As we advance as a society, don't we also want to better ourselves as a people? And when we can achieve better things, for all of us, shouldn't we? Isn't it sometimes good to redefine our society's role, to keep up with our achievements?

And what's not conservative about caring for people who are sick and need help?

So those are my conservative values. Am I a conservative liberal, or a liberal conservative? Is it an oxymoron, or can we get along after all?

"I'm a liberal when it comes to human rights, the poor; so's George Bush. . . . But Liberal and Conservative don't mean much to me anymore. Does that mean we care about people and are interested and want to help? And if that makes you a Liberal, so be it." - Barbara Bush (1925- )

And so what is our big difference? What makes some people red and others blue?

There's a web site circulating where people have posted their pictures, with messages of apology to the world for the outcome of the election. The bulletin board where I first found this site has lots of posts making fun of it.

And yet, I actually got a tear in my eye reading what the kids (mostly kids, it seemed - people who had probably only been voting a few years) were expressing.

(I can hear Hank Williams croonin' already: "You're Bleedin' Heart!!!!") but I digress...

There was an honest sense of failure - personal failure, disenchantment, and powerlessness. I think people were feeling a sense of responsibility to the rest of the world, but that they had dropped the ball.

Of course, I can only truly speak for myself. But that was my biggest motivator, when deciding how to cast my vote. My domestic issues can and will be dealt with, if not now, in a few years. Even though I believe Bush is a tax and spend Republican - none of my reasons, really, for opposing him are "life or death" to us, and therefore nothing to move to Canada over, except, maybe, the path he is taking our nation down as a world leader, as the last remaining Superpower.

Liberals aren't alone in thinking our president is failing when it comes to foreign affairs. Even among Bush supporters, there are a lot of people who believe that our foreign policy is embarrassing, if not shameful. But to me, personally, this is the big issue. And, again, personally, I do believe he has led us horribly astray.

And no matter how we differ, as Americans, on this point - there is a growing distaste (to put it mildly - hatred, to put it more accurately perhaps) for Americans and America, in the rest of the world. I think that was the despair behind these apologies.

Every human on this planet who is born an American is a lottery winner. I don't think, for us, it is even possible to imagine our privilege (don't take this as braggadocio; it is a humble acknowledgement of a very real truth). Most of us can go about our daily lives without giving a thought to a single foreign nation, not even a fleeting thought to a single thing that is happening outside our safe bubble full of comfortable houses, spacious shopping malls, restaurants, clubs, and theaters. That's fortune.

It's not true of a single person who lives in any country besides ours, because the United States, for better or for worse, is a major player in the lives of every single person on the planet, every single day. Luckily for us, that's US!

But that makes me feel responsible, when I vote for the person to lead this nation, to vote for a person who will lead the WORLD wisely, carefully, and morally. I feel responsible to choose a person who values the environment, and values human life, not just the lives of Americans. I feel responsible to choose a person I think is honorable, and worthy of respect - a person who cares about our planet, and wants the world to be a good place for everyone, not just America.

America has assumed a role among the nations of Earth - kind of like, we're the president. And that gives us Americans a lot of privilege, and also the responsibility to do right by the world. I'm happy to take on that responsibility - the privilege is more than worth it.

And that's why I was moved, when i looked through the apologies on that web site. Because I shared in the sense of failure to that responsibility. And I saw also the smatterings of forgiveness from other nations - also from very young people. And I thought that there was hope and optimism there. And connection.

But again, many conservatives agree that our foreign policy is failing. Many Republicans have acknowledged that we've made a mess in Iraq. Even people who continue to maintain that invading Iraq was the right decision will admit that something needs to change. (And to be fair, a lot of liberals (like me) didn't like Kerry that much. A lot of Democrats still question what he really stood for.) I think that most of us have some common ground here.

It seems to me, once again, that the divisiveness among most of us lies more in our perception of the "other" than anything else. And perpetuating that perception is who we are listening to. It's the Limbaughs, Novaks, Carlsons, Hannitys, Begalas, Carvilles, et. al. driving a wedge between us. Perhaps I'm just a hopeless optimist, but I think we'd all come together, at least in some ways, if we stopped listening to them, and started listening to each other.

Slow Death of a Hospital

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The Public Health Service Hospital
San Francisco, CA

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Built in 1931.

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Abandoned in 1981.

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Today, Monday, July 21, 2008, work begins on its "rehabilitation."

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Good news for this old building. But also a bit sad, because there is twenty-year's of graffiti art covering the walls of every room inside that will be lost.

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I had to be happy with just photographing the outside of the building one last time before construction begins.

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Click the image below to see more of my photos of the Public Health Service Hospital.


Unfortunately, security wouldn't allow me to go inside. Luckily, someone else already did...

Another photographer was fortunate enough to get inside the hospital a few years ago. Take a look.

Of Light and Height

Images from Ocean Beach and Twin Peaks, San Francisco, California, 12 July 2008

A Walk Around My Block

I
walked
out
my
front
door
and
around
my
block.

I didn't cross any streets with traffic signals.

This
allowed
me
to
explore
only
four
streets
and
two
alleys.

See what I saw...>

Hasten to Hesitate

The following is a "magnetic poem" - which gets its name from the word magnets you may have seen on refrigerators. In this case, a magnetic poem is a poetry game between several players. Each round, one player is the host. The host selects an existing, published poem, arranges all of the words in alphabetical order, and gives the alphabetical list of words to the other players as a challenge. Then, the other players, individually, write their own poems using only the words in the list (or try to come close as possible). After a specified time frame, the players all submit their entries and cast votes. The winner gets to be the host for the next round. This magnetic poem won me the round. I'll post the original poem in a comment.

Both legends and theory are quite strewn
with such units of time.
Each event runs by
as in a low ditch that partly led to yourself,
but rather, on the second hand,
will not.
You’re not blind: these are visible but not seen.

The clock's third hand points directly at you,
holds you perilously, infinitely,
until you snag the laundry (the garters, rather) of time
and find yourself on the rabbit, running, entirely out of oxygen,
with a leap through unanticipated architecture -
the chutes, holes and firehouse poles -
among faces, undead and cardinal red, that become
a Stag's crowd gathered at the corpse of cake
where, smelling the sweet icing of you, human delight,
all is as they expect.

You've been surprised
on the very last birthday.
It marks a nice occasion
to plunge between your breasts
through the yielding strata,
transecting flesh and flower,
and dine on your small, ticking viscera -
on the sticky sugar tassels that will also be delicious.
Will it though?

There are two sides, as correct as not.

OK! OK! I'll Talk!

So I found out yesterday that I am not cut out to be a spy, work in the intelligence community, or generally be trusted with any information that could be considered "top secret," "valuable," or even "juicy." You might want to keep that in mind the next time you're considering divulging anything to me that you want me to guard with my life.

You see, yesterday I went to a podiatrist for the first time because - well, because I could not put it off any longer. For the past six months, or maybe a year, I have been dealing with four ingrown toenails - both of my big toes and both of my 2nd toes. The 2nd toe on my right foot was actually growing like a straw - the kind you drink out of - forming an almost-complete circle so the left and right edges of the toenail were all but touching. And yes, there was a ball of skin being pinched inside this ring. Last week it was finally too much to bear, so I trimmed it, knowing this brief remedy would actually make things much worse - and soon.

So I sucked it up and went to the doctor yesterday to have my toes repaired. The podiatrist, who I will call Dr. Payne, winced when she saw the straw growing out of my toe. "That's what we call a pincher!" she declared. "Don't worry, we'll take care of ya. I'll go get loaded up."

I pondered what that meant while she was gone. She returned with acid, a syringe, a long, sharp skewer, something that looked to me like a lopper, and I don't know what else because she was trying to conceal everything from me.

I'm pretty sure that over the course of the next hour, the Geneva Conventions were violated more than a couple times. She began plunging sharp skewers deep beneath my toenails, laterally splitting the full length of my toenails along the edges, gripping the split pieces and yanking them out (with all her might) at the root, and then dripping acid onto the exposed nail bed - all while cheerfully and casually asking me questions. It was as though Alice had quit her job as the Brady's housekeeper and become an interrogator for al Qaeda.

I asked her, "Are you a sadist who just loves working on toes?" She laughed and shook her head, which I took as a yes.

I said, "This would make a great scene in a horror movie."

"Or a YouTube video!" she added.

When she was done, I looked down at her handiwork: four toes wrapped snugly in blood-red bandages. "Am I bleeding that much?" I asked.

"No no! I used red bandages!" she said. "I'm sorry, I scared you!"

"No," I said. "I'm not squeamish about blood. Just about people touching my toes."

And it's true, I thought later that evening as I lay on my back trying not to think about the pulsating pain coming from the opposite end of my body. Had she been trying to get information out of me, she would not have gotten to rip out four of my toenails. I would have been singing like a bird before she ever touched the first one.

P.S. All joking aside, I want to give my highest recommendation to The Financial District Foot And Ankle Center and the very qualified podiatrist who has saved my toes (whose real name is Dr. Park and who is young, quite lovely, and bears absolutely no resemblance to Ann B. Davis nor a housekeeper circa 1972). I felt nothing but confidence that I was in the most capable hands to be found in the City. And you know what? Jeremy, the office administrator, is pretty awesome too.

If my above story has left you less than convinced, check out their reviews on Yelp - nothing but 5 stars and glowing accolades. That's how I found these great people.

Now, on to the gore:


My bandaged toes... (click image to enlarge)

TMI Alert!!!!


Dr. Payne's handiwork... the "pincher" is the 2nd toe on the right foot. (click image to enlarge)

Record Rainfall in San Francisco

July 18, 2007 - San Francisco (Parallaxis)

Record amounts of rain fell in San Francisco today. The official reporting station recorded .01 inches of precipitation, the first time it has ever rained on this date in San Francisco since record-keeping began in 1849.

The moisture caused widespread street-dampness and made many residents look askance at their umbrellas for a moment before heading out the door. Some even paused briefly to re-think their afternoon plans.

"I can't believe it's raining," said Linda, an employee of StubHub in downtown San Francisco. "I wanted to go jogging this afternoon."

By noon, the sun was back out and the good citizens of San Francisco breathed a sigh of relief that they could finally get on with their lives.

It was a different story in the East Bay, where the trace amount of rain moistened dusty power lines, causing more than 80 power outages to over 17,000 customers.

Related article: Slightly Rainy Day Makes History