Neither Here Nor There

This week boasted its fair share of good cheer, good food and good company — but it was another tough one, nevertheless, and it’s left me in tatters.  Remember the American flags that were raised after 9/11, then disrespectfully left hanging until their colors faded, their edges frayed, and time and weather wore them thin?  That’s me… only I’m flying over a combat zone.  I’ve got flak and shrapnel to contend with.  I’m shredded.  I’m burnt.  The winter wind’s ripping through holes in my heart, my confidence and my self-esteem.

 

If all that sounds like a complaint about hard times, it’s not.  Nobody’s got it easy these days.  Global economic crises don’t slip by anybody’s radar.  Neither do climate changes or war.  The general planetary circumstances are surely giving even the more enlightened among us cause to frown and reflect, whether or not they’re beyond worrying about petty problems and personal circumstances.

 

If  I’m still weeping and wailing, ranting, fuming and caviling about domestic policies and international affairs, fact is, I’m not fretting about the world the way I did even a month ago.  For the nonce, and till I’ve concrete reasons to alter my optimistic attitude, I’ve jumped on the Hope Bandwagon.  I’m on board with the “historic moment” scenario.  I think Pluto’s transit of Capricorn over the next 19 years means the regeneration and transformation of existing forms of government — a new world order, as it were.  True, Plutonian change does tend to manifest in an utter-destruction, complete-devastation kind of way.  I welcome it, nonetheless. 

 

I’m not feeling ragged and because the world’s going to hell in a hand-basket, I’m saying.  And while I am the sort who allows petty worries and personal circumstances to absorb an ego-centrically large part of my attention, it’s not the relative difficulty or ease of my circumstances I blame for my fried state of mind.  For emotionally intense, not-terribly evolved souls like me, tough goes with the territory.

 

But after 55 years of it, you’d think I’d have developed some techniques for handling it.  You’d think I’d notice when there were too many balls being thrown at me, and just flat refuse to juggle them all.  But, no.  I grope for the incoming orbs, pick up my tempo, and end up dropping the lot of them.  You’d think I’d have alarm bells hard-wired by now, to warn me when my circuits are getting overloaded.  But, no.  All I hear are shrieking loud cries of “Emergency!” from everyone around me, until anything anyone says sound like, “Emergency!” and the echoes keep me sleepless at night.  You’d think I’d recognize the symptoms by now, that the pattern would be familiar enough that I’d know when to stop trusting my instincts.  But, no.  I don’t stop responding in kind to the intensity around me until my perceptions are shot, my sense of proportion is gone.  I keep rushing in rashly, recklessly and, in the end, inappropriately to douse the flames, not realizing I’ve lost the ability to tell a real fire from an imaginary one.

 

It’s been a week like that.  But after 55 years of it, I have learned one thing.  I’ve learned to cop to it.  I don’t explain why, I don’t ask that others own up to their role in the fiasco, I don’t expect anyone to see my side of it.  I say I’m sorry.  I say it well.  I mean what I say.

 

I’ve got dear friends and loved ones scrabbling around on the battlefield right now, trying to get their bearings, crawl to safety, find what they need to survive.  Look up.  Take heart.  Tattered and torn, I’m still flying.

 

I want to talk about honor.

 

It’s a common word, right?  We don’t need to consult the dictionary; we all know what it means.  It means a good name, a sound reputation.  Public esteem.  Personal worth that garners recognition and fame.  It’s evidence of distinction — an exalted title, a badge of merit, a symbol of academic superiority or military achievement — or a ceremonial rite, a show of deserved respect.

 

Historically, “honor” has been defined differently for women (chastity, purity) than for men (privilege, rank).  But the connotation that inexplicably and regrettably has become truly archaic is, to my mind, the essential meaning of the word from which these myriad permutations have arisen.  “Honor” refers to a person’s moral center and sense of ethical conduct.  It means integrity.

 

Last week, when Alaska Senator (exalted title) Ted Stevens made his final appearance on the Senate floor before returning home, his colleagues suspended all legislative business to laud his many years of political service (a show of deserved respect).

 

The thing is, Stevens was leaving the Senate a convicted felon and returning to Alaska to face the legal consequences of his seven felonious acts.  In clear condemnation of his illegal actions, his constituents had just stripped him of his exalted title.  And surely, a record of service tainted by prolonged and repeated use of rank and privilege for personal gain deserves no show of respect.

 

To add injury to insult, the suspension of governmental business-as-usual came at a time when business is pressing.  The financial stability and economic survival of our nation is the matter at hand — and was on the day that our highest, most powerful legislative body halted normal proceedings to fondly recall the decades Stevens had flaunted the laws of the land while holding public office, to celebrate the many years they’d countenanced a covert criminal in their midst, and to mourn the felon’s departure.  They set their sworn duties to and the desperate needs of their country aside to honor a dishonorable man.

 

Did they praise and applaud Stevens because they’re as guilty as he is?  Were they afraid to cast him out with boos and jeers, lest their own crimes someday be revealed and their own dismissals from the hallowed halls of government prove equally embarrassing?  Was the whole charade a pathetic attempt to ensure they’d receive a similarly pretentious display of unwarranted pomp and oratory on their way out the door, rather than ninety-nine fully warranted kicks in the ass?

 

Or does their behavior represent more than a lack of individual moral fiber?  “Honor sinks where commerce long prevails,” Oliver Goldsmith wrote in “The Traveller” (1764).  Are Stevens’ reprehensible morals widely shared among his congressional colleagues because the system is, in itself, antithetical to ethical conduct?  And has the system been in place so long that even the idea of honor is passé?  How else to explain that the senators made no effort to even appear outraged or offended that one of their own had strayed from the straight and narrow?

 

Yes, it’s true, the American people are little surprised when our elected representatives behave in immoral, unethical or criminal ways — but we’re still dismayed by it!  We still expect those who’ve won our votes to pretend to value honesty, to respect the law, and to disapprove of bribery, favoritism, larceny, treason….

 

Would our leaders cared to heed Socrates’ advice:  “The greatest way to live with honor in this world is to be what we pretend to be.”

 

 

(this post’s title is a definition of “honor” from Sir William D’Avenant  — playwright, poet, masquer, theatre director and theatre manager — born 1606, died 1668.)

About a week ago, a friend sent me a “health-alert” type email about plastics and cancer.

 

There was a “pop” quality to the message’s polished format, slick graphics and blanket-statement style delivery.  It was the sort of email I generally ignore, but this one hit home.  So, I didn’t ignore it.  I forwarded it.  To everybody.  And boy, did I get slammed.

 

Ok.  Not slammed.  Three knuckle-raps don’t constitute a slam, I suppose.  But as the first “rap” I received was vehement and personal, I was already nursing bruises by the time the much nicer, “just fyi” notes arrived.

 

The harsh rebuke and gentler admonishments were justified, entirely.  The email’s bona fides were bogus.  According to Snopes.com and other hoax-watch orgs, the Johns Hopkins study it cites as its primary source is spurious.  The other verification it offers (Sheryl Crow’s assertion that plastic water bottles caused her breast cancer) was flimsy, at best.

 

The email hit a raw nerve in at least one of my friends – and for that I’m sorry.  Truly.  But I’m not sorry I sent it.

 

Hopkins never conducted a study; I get that.  I’m aware that Sheryl wasn’t quoting her doctor, but her nutritionist when she cast aspersions on water bottles.  I recognized the note’s dubious trappings from the outset, but I believed the heart of the message — don’t ingest food or drink from plastic containers if they’ve been sitting around for a while or been heated — was sound.  I believe that, still.

 

Before I’ll mass-forward an email, it has to have something special to recommend it.  The joke has to make me laugh aloud.  The essay has to dazzle, the report must astound, the news item should be both rare and relevant.

 

The plastics/cancer email didn’t exactly meet those criteria, but its point, I thought, was well taken, and the fact that it made its point simply, clearly and with appropriate visual aids seemed to me to override its weaknesses.  No, I didn’t investigate to see if it was hoax before I hit “send,” because I was under the impression that the core info of the message was common knowledge.

 

I thought it was common knowledge that of the many plastics in use, some have been labeled “safe,” and others definitely contain carcinogens.  I thought it was common knowledge that some of the not-safe plastics are used to make baby bottles and multi-gallon water jugs.  I thought it was common knowledge that chemicals leach from plastics over time and that heat promotes the process.

 

In this sort of context, what does “safe” mean, anyway?  Safe in low doses?  Safe for adults?  Safe if you’re not exposed to any other plastics, ever?  Even if you buy the idea that some plastics really and truly are safe, can you name (or even pronounce) the various plastics currently in use for food storage and preparation?  Do you bother to check the number stamped in the center of the recycle symbol on the bottom of your water bottle before you drink?  If you do, do you know that #7 is warning you that the bottle contains a dangerous polycarbonate, but #5 is assuring you the bottle is constructed from a much less toxic polypropylene?

 

Most of us have no idea if we’re drinking from a “safe” or unsafe plastic bottle.  We trust the plastics industry and highly de-regulated government agencies to protect us, though it’s surely not in the former’s interest to do so, and not within the latter’s capabilities.

 

If you find a #1 on the bottom of your plastic container, it means the container’s made of polyethylene terephthalate (PET or PETE).  PET is rated the most common, most easily recycled, and the safest plastic for bottled water and soft drinks.  Yet a 2003 Italian study found the amount of DEHP in bottled spring water increased significantly after 9 months in a PET bottle.

 

What’s DEHP?  It’s a chemical that leaches out of PVC.  Yes, like the PVC pipe you use for your garden’s drip-system.  Deemed “safe” in low doses, animals given higher doses of DEHP ended up with damaged livers and kidneys and had difficulty reproducing; it was particularly suspect in incidences of testicular cancer.

 

BPA is another “safe” plastic.  But according to a study done in April, 2008 (on rats) by the National Toxicology Program (NTP), there may be cause for concern.  NTP urges more research on the effects of BPA, particularly on breast and prostate tissue.

(NPT Brief on Bisphenol A [CAS no. 80-05-7].  Published April 14, 2008) [http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2008/04/080422114734.htm]

 

Way back in the ‘70s, environmentalists tried to warn us about global warming.  The dangers were dismissed as “myths,” until about a year ago — and now it’s too late.  The glaciers won’t refreeze; the release of methane can’t be stopped.  Storms, droughts, floods and the de-salinization of the oceans are inevitable.

 

The current environmentalist-wisdom is that excessive exposure to plastics is dangerous and that people should avoid heating plastic, reusing plastic and ingesting products that have been stored for a long period of time in plastic.  Snopes says plastics are safe.  Johns Hopkins has done no studies.

 

Dartmouth has (http://thedartmouth.com/2008/10/01/news/nalgene/).  The issue is clearly debatable, which, to my mind, means consumers should be cautious.  That’s why I sent the email to everyone I know and love, and that’s why I don’t care if Snopes backs me on it.

 

Here’s my advice:

 

-         Check the bottom of your plastic containers for #7 (polycarbonate – BPA)

-         Don’t microwave food in a polycarbonate container.  Over time or at high temperatures, it may break down.

-         Keep bottled water away from heat and out of the sun.

-         Find out from your retailers how long the water has been on their shelves.  Don’t buy it, if it’s been there for months.

-         Don’t re-use single-use plastic bottles.

-         If you smell or taste plastic in your water, don’t drink it.

-         Store consumables in glass, porcelain or stainless steel, especially if they’re hot foods or liquids.

-         Use less canned food products.

-         Make sure your baby bottles are BPA free.

 

Risa’s celebrating Samhain this week. Back 11/16. Happy New Year

I alluded to the election in last night’s post, but this one’s too important, and voter fraud is too rampant for subtlety.  So, here’s my special, once-only, off-day blog with info I hope you’ll pass on.

 

Vigilance is the key.

 

If you live in a “swing state,” and you’ve already voted, go to the polls, anyway — just to be there, present and observant.  It’s harder to steal things when people are watching.

 

If you find yourself disenfranchised at the polls — by a police presence, an electronic ballot that switches your vote, a provisional ballot that may not be counted, insufficient paper ballots, impossibly long lines, long waits, broken machines, or by misinformation (“You’re not registered,” though you know you are, or “Democrat voting day is Wednesday”) — REPORT IT.  Report it to voting commission officials on-site and visit the No More Stolen Elections website (address below) for a one-click “Report A Violation” link.

 

In 2000, the abrogation of voter rights in Florida brought Bush — by Supreme Court mandate — into the White House.  In 2004, voting rights violations in Ohio may be the reason he was returned to office.  Like you, I’m hoping tomorrow’s election will be a fair one.  But if, at the end of the day, it appears that the process has been rigged, that the election has been stolen, that our will has once again been usurped by election thieves, we must not return to business-as-usual.  Non-violently and in unison, we must demand reforms, a complete recount, or a new and honest election.

 

Assemblies will be held no matter the election outcome.  Whether they’re celebrations or protests, time will tell.  Visit these sites, sign the Pledge of Action, share this info with everyone you know.

 

http://www.nomorestolenelections.org

 

http://www.libertytreefdr.org

 

Peace.