A new life caring for a new life

It hit me today as I was in the thrift store.

I was going through a rack of t-shirts, looking for blank ones to make into band shirts, when I came across a bundle of shirts about "I love my Daddy" and "World's Best Dad." I'd never really paid attention to them before when they were on other people, but now, they make me look twice. Will I be the kind of father who inspires his little girl to wear such a dorky shirt? I sure hope so. And Father's Day? I suppose it will be different when it roles around next year. Instead of running to the store for the usual last-minute "Dad" gift (A DVD, or some bags of M&Ms), I might actually be on the receieving end this year. A strange thought, I admit.

Life has changed around the house here. Our lives are now devoted to this strangle little creature who plays by her own rules at all hours of the day and gets away with it because she does not understand the concept of good and bad. Yet. She sleeps away most of the day, and spends some hours a night complaining to us in her limited way, about various things that ail her (whatever those could be to a 12-day-old). In her own way, she's already living out the teenaged dream life: sit around, eat, sleep, eat sleep, etc. etc.) The only differences are that she talks less, is smaller, and poops herself more. Other than that, I see a lot of similarities.

Our lives have shifted from "being served" to "serving." In a way, I'm glad. I won't claim to know much about parenting, as I've only been a parent for 12 days, but I've learned the following things so far.

1.) Read the instructions on whatever devices you get for your child. Especially breast pumps. They don't work so well when the gaskets are installed wrong because the directions were translated from French.

2.) Babies don't care what you talk about as long as you talk to them. Use this to your advantage, as the baby is likely far more interested in hearing your theories about Star Trek than your spouse is.

3.) When you air out the baby's bottom, make sure to put a diaper under whatever she is sitting on. What can go wrong usually does.

4.) Don't look at a dirty diaper as an annoyance. Instead, look at it as a minature Picasso (or, in some cases, Pollock) painting on a miniature canvas.

An early Christmas gift to the far-right

It seems George W. has given the far-right an early Christmas gift.

In the waning days of his administration, the president declared that “doctors, hospitals, and even receptionists and volunteers in medical experiments [have the] right to refuse to participate in medical care they find morally objectionable,” according to a Dec. 19 L.A. Times article. This “Conscience Rule” includes, of course, abortion, a hot-button, no-solution issue that has served the G.O.P and the Christian Right very well over the years.
This latest ruling is another example of Bush pandering to the religious right and conservative elements that have put him in office. With his political capital and popularity at low levels, he has nothing to lose, and many seem to dazzled with the prospect of President-Elect Obama’s coming to power that George W. doesn’t get the attention he used to. In fact, I think the last time I saw him on the news was when the White House issued the last “Barney’s Christmas at the White House” video, in which George woodenly recited lines to the black little canine.
What really bothers me about this “conscience” rule is that there isn’t really any other job in the world (as far as I know) where you can decline or refuse to do something simply because it is “against your morals.” This is especially where customer service (which, after all, medicinal practice is to a degree) is concerned. For example, what would happen to me if I refused to serve an obese person at McDonalds? I would be fired. What would happen if I refused too help someone at Toys ‘R Us because my personal belief is that video games will make their kids lazy? I would be fired.
I can appreciate people’s feeling on this polarizing issue. But what I do not condone is a way for people to get out of doing something that is part of their job description simply because it goes against their morals.
And as far as being a “pro-life president,” George W. is a sham. It’s obvious the man doesn’t practice what he preaches. As governor of Texas, Bush pardoned one out of 153 prisoners executed on death row during his time in office. Even if a man is convicted by a jury of his peers and is executed, is it not still death? Has not a life, however much the dark side of the human soul calls for blood, still been taken? Even with terrible things on its conscience, a life is a life.

Perhaps it is just easier to fight for the rights of the cute white babies we see on the pro-life billboards on the sides of the nation’s freeways.
I guess I should not be surprised. Bush’s pro-life (which, in my opinion, should be more accurately termed “anti-choice”) policies seem a simple matter of political pragmatism and nothing more. How many lives will that pragmatism end up affecting?

Happy Birthday, Adolf Hitler Campbell!

Looks like little Adolf Hitler Campbell, 3, will be getting a birthday cake with his name on it after all.

I found an article about this (“Cake request for 3-year-old Hitler namesake denied”) published by the Associated Press recently. The child's father, 35-year-old Heath Campbell of Hunterdon County, N.J, claims that he isn't a racist. I find that difficult to believe considering he named his son after Hitler and named another child JoyceLynn Aryan Nation Campbell.
"They need to accept a name,” Campbell said in the article. “A name's a name. The kid isn't going to grow up and do what (Hitler) did."
Yes, Heath, a true point; but why do I get the feeling he'd be more than happy should this turn out to be the case?
Apparently, Campbell's wife called the local ShopRite with the cake naming request. The supervisor there, in a completely understandable and rational decision, said it was something they wouldn't do. So, the Campbell's went to Wal-Mart, who were of course happy to do it (why am I not surprised?)
Part of the irony of Campbell's complaining about the matter is that he's asking for tolerance towards his son's name - the same tolerance that Adolf Hitler and the Nazi Party withheld when they systematically humiliated and murdered millions of human beings between 1933-1945. Tolerance isn't exactly a Nazi virtue. The fact that his daughter has “Aryan Nation” as part of her name makes me less willing to write him off as a random crank. I think Mr. Campbell is narrow minded, and that his children will suffer for it. The article states:
“[Campbell] said he was raised not to avoid people of other races but not to mix with them socially or romantically. But he said he would try to raise his children differently.
'Say he grows up and hangs out with black people. That's fine, I don't really care," he said. "That's his choice.'”
A choice Mr. Campbell is simply go along with? I doubt that. What makes Mr. Campbell's comments interesting in this article is that they try hard to sound like they are not coming from someone who is an obvious racist. He crouches behind lofty phrases, like “I think people need to take their heads out of the cloud they've been in and start focusing on the future and not on the past," that distract from the issue.
I think what really makes me frown after reading this is that an adorable little boy has been named after one of the most evil and forbidden men from the 20th Century, and he has a father who is bending over backwards to justify that choice.

Who wants to be friends with Hitler? How will that work on the playground?

Stirring the Pot

One of the things that bothers me most about the whole idea of the "New Media" isn't that the formula puts more power in the hands of users to generate both content and comment, but that the current format really allows very little control over what those "outside of the box" provide. Here's one example. In a story in today's Pioneer Press about poor people getting medical help at the Minneapolis convention center, one commenter offered his/her/its two-cents on the matter (note: the following comment is unaltered) on the story's comment board.
"This is communissm. If people want things like this then they should get jobs and pay for them. This is the kind of thing what is going to happen more and more and take money from good Christian folks what work for a living now that we have a socialism president like Barak Hussein Obamma."
This isn't the best example I've seen from the half-cocked netherworld, but it ranks up there. Before I get into further detail, let me say this: I'm all for people expressing a rational, well-argued point of view. But whenever stories with any sort of poor people getting help or immigrants convicted of crimes pop up, it's the last thing we get. Instead of nuanced debate, forums like the one on twincities.com (and others) turn from public discussions into bastions of name-calling and pettiness spiced up with views best left hidden behind cutesy (and unrevealing) monikers.
I know my days of working at a publication that publishes an actual tangible product (how 20th century of us) are numbered. I lament this, not because of the format itself, but because of the controls (on our part) that go along with it. There is no sort of vetting when it comes to a comment board. Part of me thinks this is by design. If you can find a way to bring people to your website by any means, you would be a fool not to take it. However, this isn't most professions. This is history. This is what people look back on when they want a mostly-accurate picture of what happened when. It's one thing to write an angry letter to a newspaper, where there is some checking and accountability involved in getting it printed. It's quite another to fire off half-baked theory on a comment board under an assumed name with the desire of stirring the pot.
The New Media is a field worth exploring if you are brave enough, but I wish there was some way of weeding out the cowards who have A.) little to add to any debate or conversation, of B.) the lack of courage to reveal their true identity to stand by their words.
As a reporter, as a professional, I have to cite sources in stories and use my own name. I do not have the luxury of hiding behind a veil of Internet anonymity. I have to be able to justify those words and my conduct with not only my readers, but also my superiors. If one has the power to impact lives with words, this is the way it should be.

Count, count, count again

A quick note here:
I had a thought while watching the news tonight that the 2008 election is 99 percent over, with the exception being the Coleman/Franken race here in my home state of Minnesota. It's strange to think of it this way, but it's the last permeable link we have to the spirit of partisan rhetoric, half-truth and exagerration that are the hallmarks of any down and dirty election season. I get the feeling the many people were exhausted by the intensity of the two-year campaign leading up to the election, with those final weeks in front of the TV set being the worst of all. When the election was (mostly) over, the tentacles of partisan rhetoric, as they usually do, relinquished and receeded, and people regained their senses.
Those connected with the Coleman/Franken recount don't have this sort of luxury. For them, it's Nov. 4 times infinity until the electoral limbo is over. It's the last living vestige of the very worst that politics can out in the human spirit. It's the last living link to "terrorist fist jabs" and "Drill, baby, Drill!" It's the last living link to the sort of maddened frenzy John McCain supporters (sometimes to the dismay of the candidate, as witnessed personally by myself when he visited Lakeville) were able to whip themselves into at the thought of the "socialist" and "Muslim" Barack Obama taking the White House.
At this point, I've been so ground down by years of campaigning that I don't even really care who wins the Franken/Coleman race. I just want it to all be over - to let the past be the past, and to let barking dogs lull themselves to sleep for the time being, until the first faint whisps of an upcoming campaign rouses their animalistic passions again.

Collect Them All

The Facebook notice came in the e-mail, as all of them innocuously do. Upon opening it, I was startled to see a name of a high school classmate I'd not seen (or thought about) in a long, long time. She ran in different circles than I did, had different friends than I did, and generally had nothing in common with me then other than the fact we were both well-cared for (as private school students usually are)carbon based life forms.
"SO-AND-SO wants to be your friend!" the message cheerfully told me.
I opened the e-mail. I went to my Facebook account, and looked at the former classmate's profile. With the exception of the general flabbiness that the past decade has given to nearly all of us, she looked very much as I remembered.
My eyes narrowed.
I moved my mouse over to the "deny" button near a small picture of her vacant, smiling face. I clicked without thinking twice.

I am not to be collected.

Social media is an interesting thing. When MySpace first came out, there were no real rules when it came to deciding which people made the cut and which didn't. With Facebook, the criteria has narrowed. A lot. Thanks to Facebook, I've been able to skip all of my reunions because I've found out who got fat, who failed and who turned out to be the diamond in the rough we'd never imagined. I've been able to reconnect with old friends, amend old injuries, and find that I didn't turn out so badly after all. It's been a mostly positive experience.
However, in moments of weakness, e-mails from those I call "collectors" still bring me down. It's enough to make me ask - you didn't like me then, so why are you bothering now? Now it's OK that we have an association? Now, when we're on an equal digital playing field, you want to be my friend? No thanks. You missed your chance. Most anything connected with that time in my life (which I've written enough about) is something I'd like to forget. I'll put it this way - I like the way I turned out, but I would never want to put anyone else on the road that lead to this point in time.
So, to all the collectors out there, save your mouse moves; I'm not a name on a list, a flag on a map, or piece of the puzzle. If we weren't friends before, don't expect us to be now. It's just easier that way.