Wednesday, October 24, 2007

With a week to go until Halloween, just about all the leaves have fallen from most of the trees. I think I raked up the last twenty bushels or so from the front lawn yesterday, as night fell.


Mdog waits for a leafy walk.

I had the big cottonwood pruned of deadwood, and two sizable branches removed to let more light into the back yard so we can plant more trees and shrubs. It was a pretty harsh shock for me to see the difference, but I hope this was the right thing to do.


Men in trees...

The cottonwood minus a few branches.

I harvested the meager remainder of my garden a couple of nights ago, before the first hard frost of the season. It really knocked things back out there - lots of wiped out plants to remove and cart to the new compost piles.




Sunday, October 14, 2007

Today, Monday, October 15, is Blog Action Day, when thousands of blogs all devote their content to environmental concerns. For me, this provides an opportunity to celebrate the discovery of a new hero, who brings into focus a number of my evolving perceptions about the economy, the environment, and politics.



James Howard Kunstler is around my age. He began working as a reporter and feature writer for a variety of newspapers, eventually becoming a Rolling Stone staff writer. Later, and in more recent years, he has become an independent author of books examining issues of land use, environmental sustainability, and the perils of an economy dependent on cheap abundant oil.

I discovered Mr. Kunstler when I recently viewed The End of Suburbia: Oil Depletion and the Collapse of the American Dream (available from NetFlix), which has a substantial amount of interview footage with him. He is bluntly outspoken and articulate, and his message is often alarming.

We are near or at the end of the era of cheap abundant oil. There is a school of thought about this fact known as Peak Oil. The majority of the oil deposits that are exploitable have been discovered, and production may have already peaked. Meanwhile, as the supply of refined oil begins to decline, demand is accelerating as emerging industrial culture in places like China caters to a populace eager to emulate the grotesque over-consumption of our Western ways.



In the usual dynamic of commodity supply and demand, the price of oil and its derivatives will relentlessly increase. One of Kunstler's key warnings is that our model of urban/suburban development is unsustainable in a world of scarce and expensive oil. And yet that model continues to be the way a growing population is accommodated. Then there is the urgent matter of global warming, to which oil consumption is a major contributor.

I'm going to select a few common Kunstler themes for a list here, and encourage you to discover him for yourself and consider buying or checking one or more of his books out of the library if you are interested. I also recommend viewing End of Suburbia, which encapsulates a lot of his thinking and that of other thoughtful observers, and is quite entertaining, if a little scary.

In no particular order, here are a few places where it seems my own thoughts overlap with Mr. Kunstler's on the state of things...

Auto, oil, and tire, interests systematically bought up and dismantled America's existing urban rail systems to encourage consumption of their products as the suburban development mistake gathered momentum in the post-war years. The passenger rail system (local and long distance) in the US needs to be resurrected and sustained. Air travel will one day be prohibitively expensive, and rail systems ae far more efficient and environmentally friendly. In a new era of scarce and expensive oil, the US will be at a huge disadvantage to Europe, which has dazzling highly evolved and well preserved mass transit infrastructure.

People need to live near (walking or bicycle distance ideally) where they work and shop. Food production needs to be brought closer to where the people are. As I become increasingly aware of the 'carbon cost' of things I buy, I note that much of what my local grocery sells is imported from India, Italy, or other ridiculously distant places. Pickles from India? Grapes from Chile? In addition to issues of quality, local production will support community interests and avoid the environmental and dollar cost of ludicrous transportation logistics.

Under relentless assault from the scourge of globalization, the US economy seems to have degenerated from one of investment in the production of valuable goods to a sort of sleazy ponzi scheme, where exotic financial products are circulated from one player to another, as a bigger fool is perpetually sought for the next guy upstream to unload and profit from his little collection of paper or bits on a computer disk. It seems to many that the vast new export markets that globalization promised are actually just opportunities to export as many formerly decent-paying US jobs as possible, along with most of our manufacturing capacity. Great if you are a multi-national corporate CEO or stock shareholder, not so much if you are an assembly-line schlub.

The housing bubble fiasco and related financial machinations have yet to play out on the economy. As Kunstler has pointed out more than once, "...The housing bubble has virtually become our economy. Subtract it from everything else and there's not much left besides haircutting, fried chicken, and open heart surgery." A bit overstated perhaps, but combined with the off-shoring of most of the good employment opportunities to low-wage countries, one does have to ponder whether we will all end up flipping burgers or pulling espressos for each other at some point. Adding to the current real estate miseries at some point down the road will be a more massive devaluation of suburban property as oil scarcity and price make life there unsustainable.

Alternative fuels are a pipe dream, in any reasonable time frame. Ethanol is looming as a real horror, as corn for its production consumes disproportionate amounts of farmland, and there is a net-increase in pollution and cost when all stages of producing it are factored in. Ethanol corn production is also driving up the prices of other food products that are dependent on corn, or the land being turned over to it. What is really required is a substantial shift in the patterns of living, working, production, and transportation - not exotic alternate fuel strategies with decades-out practicality. Buying a Prius is no real solution either. Our current system of transportation is not sustainable using ANY combination of alternative fuels for the foreseeable future.

Mr. Kunstler makes these and a lot of other points far better than I can - I encourage you to have a look. His writing is entertaining as well as informative. I will leave this you with this exerpt from an October 5, 2005 talk at a New York conference on the perils of oil dependency;

...Americans were once a brave and forward-looking people, willing to face the facts, willing to work hard, to acknowledge the common good and contribute to it, willing to make difficult choices. We've become a nation of overfed clowns and crybabies, afraid of the truth, indifferent to the common good, hardly even a common culture, selfish, belligerent, narcissistic whiners seeking every means possible to live outside a reality-based community.

These are the consequences of a value system that puts comfort, convenience, and leisure above all other considerations. These are not enough to hold a civilization together...


Remarks by James Howard Kunstler
Author of The Long Emergency

In various ways, explicitly or implied, Bushes Sr. and Jr., Mr. Cheney, and others have stated that the American way of life, with a guarantee that we may forever each consume the resources of four or more of our global peers, is not negotiable. Given the fact that our way of life in terms of consumption is also clearly unsustainable, this attitude of indisputable entitlement at the expense of the environment and the vast majority of the world's people not privileged to live within our borders could produce some interesting challenges in the years ahead.

***

For a weekly commentary (published Mondays) on current issues, check out Jim Kunstler's blog.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

I listen to the financial news every day. No baseball or football for me (big yawn), but market and economic stuff. Today, there was a lot of executive branch braying about how marverlously low ($163,000,000,000 mas o menos) the annual deficit numbers were. Well, I couldn't let all that self-congratulatory blather go unchallenged.



Here's the scoop - the numbers touted were the annual deficit numbers. The amount that gets added to the national debt for the current year. Reductions in the annual deficit only reduce the rate of increase of the national debt. The spin from the Casa Blanca was that if we keep up the good work, in another five years the amount of tax revenue collected will equal spending. Uh, gee, isn't that something that should have been true from the first year and every year thereafter? Didn't Clinton run a big account surplus every year toward the end?

For perspective (I know, you must be LOVING this...), look at this chart of annual account deficits, back to the Kennedy years. It speaks for itself.

Then, just to keep the BIG picture in focus, have a peek at this explanation and tally for the national debt, that is an accumulation of all the fiscal irresponsibility to date. That would be about 9 trillion dollars, or about $30,000 of debt for every hapless citizen in the country. Multiply by the number in your household for your share - or just send your kids (and grand-kids) a good-luck card.

When inevitable Medicare and Social Security (and the so-far off-book bazillions for the would-be oil siphon in Iraq) spending increases hit, the numbers will increment so fast they will be a blur...




The Gross National Debt



Tuesday, October 09, 2007



It's been quite a week for the performing arts here in Fort Collins. I've been to three theatre pieces - on the Holocaust, death squads, and the evil banality of state-sponsored torture. Wheee!



First, about a week ago, I went to a unique staging of Samuel Beckette's Catastrophe. It is a short piece, inspired by the plight of Czech playwright Vaclav Havel, who was imprisoned by the Soviet bloc puppet government in the early 80's. For its 15 minutes or so, the staging consists of a prisoner poised on a platform and manipulated for the desired appearance by an officious bureaucrat and his fawning assistant.

The unique aspect of this production was the immediate re-enactment in Spanish, with mostly different cast members, and subltly different nuances.

The net effect of all this was multifold; first, it got across the idea that such abuses of degradation and torment could occur any time and any place. There was an inescapable parallel with the shame of Abu Graib that marked our own national descent into the realm of the despotism and wholesale discarding of our previous lofty and precious ideals. Remember the Civics Lesson post a while back?



Then, last night, I went to a one-person show staged by 'gender-jamming' thespian S. Bear Bergman. Called Monday Night in Westerbork, it is focuses on the time spent in a Dutch concentration camp by performer Max Ehrlich. Along with other Jewish or gay perfomers who had been rounded up to await processing at Westerbork for subsequent shipping to Auschwitz and extermination, Max created Monday night stage shows that pleased the camp commandant, and perhaps delayed some performers' departure for oblivion in the Polish death camp. Arbeit Mach Frei!



Finally, tonight, I had to choose between a lecture by S. Bear (from last night's performance), a talent show fund raiser in a beer hall, or an elaborate staging (with music) of vignettes from the live of three prominent Latinas. All of this was taking place in various parts of the University student union complex.

I chose Tres Vidas, the stage piece. A good choice it was, with a rousing portrayal of Frida Kahlo that made me nostalgic (again) for Mexican life, a piece on an Argentinian poet, and a most disturbing segment on Rufina Amaya, a Salvadoran villager who in 1981 witnessed a U.S. trained death squad murder every one of the 800+ inhabitants of her village of El Mozote, including her husband and four children. Somehow, she alone among them escaped attention of the soldiers for long enough to run and hide among some trees.

She believed she survived to tell the story of what had happened, and although for years the right-wing Salvadoran government and their American administration friends denied the truth of her testimony (claiming only armed leftists had been exterminated), thanks to the work of investigative reporting by New Yorker reporter Mark Danner, which led to the exhumation of the many hundreds - including bayonetted infants who were presumably not the enemy combatants the POTUS said they were - the world learned the truth.

Sra. Amaya died March 6th of this year, at the age of 64.


There is a line in the S. Bear show, where Max gazes out over his camp audience (us), and asks, "What, all the plays about the plague were sold out?"

Indeed.



For about a month now, there have been nice tomatoes available from the garden, and an occasional squash, cucumber, or jalapeno pepper. Thanks to Mona for most of the plant starters when I was so busy from moving in that I wouldn't have gotten around to planting anything otherwise...

Friday, October 05, 2007

A brief update on the new tree we were planning on...decided to put in a Canada Red Cherry (Chokecherry, variety Schubert) by the shed.


Already losing a bunch of leaves...


Before


After

Thursday, October 04, 2007

This morning I needed something of substance to read, so I picked up a book by the Dalai Lama that has been sitting half-read on the shelf for a while. The bookmark where I left off was in a chapter called Reflecting on Impermanence:

We are under the illusion of permanence, so we always think there is a lot of time remaining. This mistaken belief puts us in great danger of wasting our lives in procrastination...we become fixated on superficialities - material possessions and temporary friends and situations. To overcome this ignorance, you need to reflect on the fact that a day is coming when you will not be here.

Even though there is no certainty that you will die tonight, when you cultivate an awareness of death, you appreciate that you could die tonight...




Let me back up three days, to Monday evening...

Pat was out of town, on the East Coast. I was on a ladder in the living room, measuring and marking the high vaulted ceiling for an additional skylight to be installed the next morning. To extend my reach, I placed a foot off the lader on the back of a big leather upholstered chair. It tipped back unexpectedly, and I lost my balance. Falling forward onto the chair, my left lower ribs contacted an arm of the chair, with the rest of my two hundred pounds arriving on top of that point, tipping the chair over from the force, and leaving me feeling for the extent of the damage as I arose from the floor. Fairly certain no ribs were broken, I thought for a short time that my wounded dignity and revealed incompetency would be the worst consequences of my error.

But as I grew increasingly uncomfortable, I did a quick mental inventory of the underlying physiology of that spot. Spleen - I was pretty sure it was right under those ribs, or close by. I called Becky, who has certainly witnessed a few of these spongy vascular organs in various states of distress among the bushels of innards she routinely deals with in her OR activities. She confirmed my fears about proximity - and risk for trauma. We discussed symptoms of a ruptured spleen - the consequences (of rapid blood loss into the abdominal cavity) were self-evident.

I had to decide whether to stay put for the night, or go in for a proper evaluation - since the time was after 9pm any medical oversight would have to come from an ER. I was usure if I could drive as I the discomfort increased. I decided to take a calculated risk and stay put for the night. I wrote Pat's cell number and Mona's home phone number on a piece of paper, labeled it EMERGENCY NUMBERS, and placed it in my shirt pocket. My wallet and cell phone went into a bag on the desk. I left the front porch light on, and the front door unlocked, and took the phone to bed with me, where I lay under a blanket, clothes on. If there was bleeding from a damaged spleen, I wondered if I would wake up able to dial 911 for transport to have the leaky thing removed. Or even wake up.

An hour or so later I fell asleep, then awoke an hour after that. I did a little mental exercise with numbers and letters to see if I was alert. Reassured that I was, I lay there for a while, fully appreciating the presence of the gentle Mdog and her soft cheek on my hand. I wondered how the remaining hours to dawn would unfold, and pondering the potential consequences of avoiding a trip to the ER. Unable to roll over or get up to pee without a painful struggle, I considered calling Becky again (now about 4am) and asking her about getting Mona out of bed for the almost 2-hour drive down here. I thought at least she might drive me to the hospital, and avoid the spectacle of an ambulance arriving here, with the Mdog barking hysterically and then left alone as I was carted off...

But I dozed off again, and didn't call anyone until later in the morning, as my gamble seemed to not yet have cost me the farm I had bet. For the next two days, I struggled with the pain of the bruised ribs, and gradually began to hope that whatever damage had occured was reversible. Mona and Becky both checked in with me regularly, which I was grateful for. As I told Mona this morning, three days of this episode was like three months of daily meditation on impermanence. Hah - like I'd know about three months of daily meditation on anything.

View things compounded from causes
To be like twinkling stars, figments seen with an eye disease,
The flickering light of a butter lamp, magical illusions,
Dew, bubbles, dreams, lightning, and clouds.


You and I, and all that we experience, are things compounded from causes.

Despite our indulgence in the fantasy of permanence, we will all die. We do not know when or how. Could we live our lives in such a way that we might have fewer or no regrets when that time arrives? To use our time wisely may be as close to the Buddhist ideal as many of us can aspire to.