An Arc is not a Straight Line

You’ve no doubt heard the notion that the arc of history bends toward justice, whether it be from Martin Luther King, Jr. who proclaimed the ideal throughout his public ministry or Theodore Parker, the abolitionist who first coined the idea in 19^th Century. The idea here is that no matter where we find ourselves and regardless of the situation in which are placed, our trajectory is one that leads us toward ultimate reconciliation and understanding of one another. The beauty in the phrasing is not in its sweeping distillation of our human story, but in the geometry and physics of its imagery: an arc.

An arc is not a straight line. It has two endpoints and, therefore, can be traced from beginning to end. While its beginning and end may lie at the same longitude or latitude, to follow the arc’s course requires moving into other elevations with different coordinates. No amount of methodical plodding in one direction will lead to the end. To trace an arc requires a compass. To figure its length requires calculation and some knowledge of the mathematical constant π. A simple mark of the ruler cannot offer the length or shape of the arc.

An arc may be a portion of a circle, but it must not be confused with the circle itself. In a circle there is no beginning and end. To draw a circle is to start at one point and return home. The purpose of a circle is to be complete, to make beginning and end indistinguishable from one another, to fully enclose. An arc, however, remains open and ensures that beginning and end remain distinct from one another. Following an arc’s path will not take one back to the starting point. It will end up in an entirely different location.

It is also not a winding path. Winding paths, like the courses of rivers, flow wherever the path is easiest. Some paths require switchbacks to make their route palatable while others take travelers far off course in order to avoid obstacles. An arc does not go anywhere it pleases. It goes where the constants that define it lead, regardless of any impediments or inconveniences.

It is fascinating to me, then, that Parker and King use the imagery of the arc. There seems to be a conscious choice in this imagery – one that rings true decades after their introducing the idea to us. If we believe that this point in time that we find ourselves in one within the trajectory of an arc bent toward justice, then there are several things that we can affirm:

1) There must be a constant which guides our path. Our grasp of that constant helps us determine the trajectory of our path and our propensity to ignore that constant fools us into thinking we’re in travelling upon something that is not an arc – a straight line, perhaps.

2) Where we started will not be where we end up. We cannot look backwards to find out where me might end up. Tracing where we’ve been will only leads to where we’ve been before. It will not take us toward our new destination. We can, however, look back to see where we’ve been and use that information to guide us on our way, but in order to do so, again, we must have some understanding of the constant in our midst.

3) We are, and will continue to be, unable to avoid the obstacles in our path. The constant that guides our trajectory will takes us directly through whatever is in front of us no matter our efforts to stray. We may want believe we’re on a winding path that will help us avoid the conflicts in our way, but if we’re truly on an arc we must face them directly.

At any point on the arc, if we are to stop and look straight ahead, we will not see the end. We may see a great deal as we look out, but what we gaze upon now is not the end. If we turn around and look straight behind us, we also cannot see the beginning. If we do not remember where we were, when we look back we can see only the things that are tangential to our path.

From this vantage point on the arc, the view may be bleak. We can feel separated from where we’ve been and the journey we made thus far. It can feel as though we’ve made no progress. The view may also be uncertain. We may be able to hear around the bend, but we may not be able to make out the sounds. From where we are the sounds may seem terrifying only later to learn that those sounds were the sounds of band welcoming us with open arms. They may also be a siren’s song calling us away from our destination.

We are where we are supposed to be. The obstacles in our midst must be dealt with in order to move forward. They may make us feel uncomfortable. They may make us feel disoriented, longing for a previous life. They may seem like ones we’ve already faced and should have dealt with by now, but they are not. They are new and they are the result of our having come further down the arc. Knowledge and experience can make us feel uncomfortable. They can force us to reconsider what we thought we understood to be true. They can also prepare us for the obstacles that lie ahead in the arc of our lives.

Are we where we want to be? No. Do we see the obstacles in front us that block our path toward this destination? Yes. They are standing right in front of us. We may long to go back down the path to a time which we now know and understand in hindsight because it feels safe, but going backward will not help us reach our destination. Neither does going full circle. Both will take us far away from justice, the ultimate end of this arc of our story.

Mayonnaise, Steeples, and Umbrellas

The experiences that make up our lives make us who we are. Children who are abused are more likely to grow up to be abusers themselves. Those who are raised in a faith tradition tend to adhere to that tradition throughout their lives or, at least, gravitate back toward it later in life if they left it in early adulthood. Republicans beget Republicans. Democrats beget Democrats. Cubs fans spawn Cubs fans who spawn Cubs fans - no streaks or curses can stop it. Some families swear by Hellman’s mayonnaise while others will shun you if you use any spread other than Duke’s. It’s who we are. I’m not surprised when my son parrots the words I use - good and bad alike. The environments in which we are raised are, in many ways, ones we seek to emulate as we grow up, either consciously or subconsciously.
    Why, then, are we surprised when our elected leaders - many of whom were reared in (and often now are lay leaders in) religious institutions that perpetuate sexism, bigotry, division, and (perhaps worst) ambivalence toward social issues - draft and pass legislation that upholds the tenets of the institutions that formed their faith?
    If you’re looking for answers to why our elected leaders find value in certain bills and not in others or why issues of substance often seem secondary to issues of convenience, you need to look no further than, to borrow a phrase from Will Campbell, the steeples on many street corners in towns big and small across our country. If you want to blame someone for HB2 in North Carolina or HB1523 in Mississippi, blame the institutions that that reared the people we’ve elected to serve us in our capitols. Blame the institutions that nominate and elect these same people to serve as their deacons, elders, and committee chairs. You could blame the churches that reared many in the Georgia Legislature too, but Governor Nathan Deal gave witness to another fact about American Christianity: money matters more than anything. Even personal conviction.
    I have a lot of friends and acquaintances who are men and women of the cloth. For the most part they are wonderful people. Many are better, more caring, more devout people than I can claim to be myself. They may take umbrage with my shoveling blame at their institutions’ doorsteps. That’s fine. We’re entitled to our opinions and I’ve been wrong before. I’ll be the first to admit it. I am not blaming them individually for HB2, HB1523, or any other hateful pieces of legislation. I blame the Church for failing to live out its calling and, therefore, for creating environments that nurture the mindsets necessary to believe that such legislation is somehow consistent with the teachings of Jesus.
    A lot of faith leaders have come out to condemn the latest pieces of “religious freedom” legislation. This is good news. My question, however, is: Where were these voices when the people who drafted these bills were learning about the teachings of Jesus, the prophets, the formation of the early church? What were we preaching about as these people grew up in our congregations? How were we responding (or not) to their questions in Sunday school classes or bible studies? As someone who has taught innumerable Sunday school classes preached dozens of sermons in small churches, I have to say it wears on my conscience that I probably allowed some people in these churches to get by without asking hard questions or to feel validated in their more naive interpretations of scripture because I was afraid to question them.
    So then, the question for me turns to why. Why was I afraid? Why are we afraid to stand up when we first hear the rumblings of insensitivity or intolerance in those who claim the good news of Jesus Christ? Why do we remain silent when they keep coming up? I was sitting in a meeting the other day when someone reminded us that the way we ask questions matters because people’s first inclination is to be nice, not to be honest. We would rather not hurt someone feelings than tell them the truth. All I could say in response was a muffled, “Jesus,” because it was so accurate and timely.
    I think we’re also afraid for the same reasons Governor Deal was afraid: our wallets. It goes without saying, but institutions require management. Movements do not. Some refer to the beginnings of the Church as the Jesus Movement, but as the Church grew and gained prestige and power it moved from a movement into an institution. This large institution has split and split and split over two millennia becoming many large and small institutions that have all required management. Management begets maintenance. When you have to manage and maintain, there is inherently less energy or capacity to move. Inertia sets in and transforms a movement into an institution.
    When niceness mixes with maintaining a system or structure, the result is neutrality. To put it another way, that’s how we develop the status quo. We do only what we have to do to keep things where they are. Nothing more, nothing less. When we become neutral, we fool ourselves into believing we can be for something without be against anything. Myles Horton reminds us, ”You have to take sides and know why you're taking sides. There can be no such thing as neutrality.  It's a code word for the existing system,” (We Make the Road by Walking). If there’s one thing Jesus was against, it was the existing system.
    The American Church is really good at being neutral. Sure, some Protestant denominations have taken strides in recent years to get off the fence on issues regarding sexual identity and orientation, but these strides have come after years of silent neutrality not unlike that which led Dr. King to write a letter from a jail cell to white moderate ministers and their approach to the civil rights movement. The Church has tried too long to be for the causes of those seeking to be seen and heard while not being against those who seek to silence and ignore the same people. Why this is, I don’t know. The optimist in me tries to convince me that the hope is for a unified church while the cynic in me reminds me the people who pay the bills and the salaries often have the deepest pockets. Somewhere I remember someone say that no one can serve two masters. I wish I could remember who it was.
    The thing, is the cynic keeps winning. A former teacher of mine once told me that the greatest failure of the Church is its inability to educate its members in age appropriate ways. I thought he was right for a long time. I’ve recently come to believe that its greatest failure is trying to be all things to all people at all times. In trying to accommodate everyone under the guise of an open door policy, the Church has tried to be for a lot of issues without being against much at all.
     Look at the slogs its taken for some Protestant denominations to fully accept and embrace the LGBT community, and to be honest none of them really have. Once proud of their connectional nature, many have opted for local decision making instead so that churches don’t feel forced to do something that would make them feel uncomfortable or, God forbid, drive certain deep pockets away to another church where comfort can be found. We want to be a big umbrella where all voices are welcome, they say. Well, that’s not really consistent with the gospel either and if you’re under an umbrella, chances are you’re against getting wet, so you’ve already made a choice. It just so happens to be a choice that remains harmful and inconsistent with the teaching of Jesus.
    Being for and not against is a logical impossibility that laid the groundwork for the logical fallacies that make up the latest round of hateful legislation in our country. Our legislators want to hide behind the veil of sincerely held religious beliefs, so if you want to lay blame, lay it at the foot of the steeples where the sincerely held religious beliefs were developed. That’s where those beliefs are nurtured. That’s where they’ve verbally or silently been upheld. Until they aren’t nurtured anymore, until the Church starts being for the love and grace it waxes so eloquently about, we can all expect more of the same from the people whom we elected and the Church will continue to be a place for gathering instead of transformation.

what's for dinner?

first off, happy thanksgiving to everyone. at least everyone reading this who's of the american persuasion. should you be from suriname or bosnia-herzegovina, i hope you've enjoyed celebrating your countries on this, your day of independence. and to those from moquegua, peru, i bid a happy anniversary to your city.

i learned something else this week that has nothing to do with holidays. i live in one of 803 food deserts in the united states. i can't think of a better fact to learn during the week of thanksgiving when all that's on many of our minds is, well, food.

so what exactly is a food desert, you ask?

a food desert, according to lois morton and troy blanchard, is a county or parish (don't want to leave the louisianans out) in which more than 50% of the residents live 10 or more miles from a full-service grocery store. you may not have believed me when i said that we live god knows where, but here is scientific proof. the closest full-service grocery store to me is 21.9 miles away.

within those 21.9 miles are the following "food" outlets:

- bennie's food mart and chinese/fast food take out
it sometimes results in barbecue chicken lo mein, but the egg rolls are out of this world.

- the webb diner
ms. vera cooks up delicious breakfasts and lunches six days a week.

- the bayou bend country club
morgan freeman's a member, the fried chicken's good, but alas i am not a member.

- three gas stations with plate lunch options
probably delicious, but i've seen too much horrible gas station cuisine to dive in.

- the lunchbox
think all your favorite fried foods, served with your favorite sides, and sweet tea.

- dollar general
good for dried goods, notebook paper, and the occasional gag gift, but not a lot else.

there you have it. the culinary options of west tallahatchie and east coahoma counties outside my kitchen.

sure i can get great egg rolls, grits, fried chicken, and catfish whenever i want - provided that whenever i want takes place between 7am and 6pm - but there are only so many combinations you can make from those ingredients before you end up 37 pounds the wider and in much need of those things called vitamins that often show up in vegetables. plus, who wants to live like man v. food everyday?

learning about the sheer absence of full-service grocery store is one thing when you're just living it. sure, it's been a hassle to make the 40+ mile round trip to go to the store, but it's what everyone around us does. you just learn to plan ahead...or at least you try.

but seeing it on a map is entirely different.

the dark areas are the food deserts. whenever i look at a map i always try to find me. sometimes i'm pleasantly surprised like when i looked at the electoral map of 2008 and saw that my county in north carolina went for barack obama and helped carry the state. other times, a stark realization hits like when i saw this map. but then i said to myself, "hey, at least i don't live in south dakota."

i find it interesting that the predominance of these deserts occur in the breadbox of our wonderful country, those midwestern states known for their fields of grain, corn, and other staple crops. that seems to be the definition of irony. it's like the quip that people who build big houses don't live in them. well, people who grow great amounts of country's food supply can't get an apple with out burning up a couple gallons of gas either.

we've all heard about this push for local food. it's healthier. it's better for the local economy. yada yada yada. it seems like it's going to be necessary for folks in rural america. some folks are already on the boat (or should i say farm). there are csa's and co-ops popping up all over the place. hell, my uncle in brooklyn even has a garden in the alley behind his apartment. if he can grow tomatoes, potatoes, and other staples in an alley in a city 12 million strong, i think we can figure out how to do it reliably across rural america.

many already have, but i also know that there are a great many who live in rural areas, especially the mississippi delta and appalachia, who haven't and need to do because while they may be overweight and on the short track to diabetes and other health problems, they're also malnourished.

i can't forget the kids i saw on tv last summer who, when asked to name certain vegetables, might as well have been blurting out their favorite justin bieber songs. they had no clue. they didn't even know that french fries came from potatoes. we've come a long way to a place where we think food comes from a store and not from the ground or from an animal that actually lived somewhere before we ate it in nugget form.

there are many reasons for this shift, but i'm firmly on the local food bandwagon now. with the local groceries that used to dot small communities around our country being driven out of business by larger conglomerate stores and more people moving to urban areas, those who remain in rural america will continue to have the quality of their food dictated by elements outside their control.

i'm not exactly sure where this is headed for me personally, but i'll keep you posted on life on the bandwagon as long as i'm on it. and i'll stay on it if for no other reason than i'd rather pick a small bunch of tomatoes out of my backyard than drive forty miles to buy them from walmart.

photos from here, here, and here.

animal hijinx

it's been about two weeks since i heard what was indeed the most disconcerting noise i've ever heard come from the mouth of a living creature. i was sitting at my kitchen table a few days before halloween working when, from what sounded like it was just outside the window of the pantry, there came a scream that sounded like a cat running over an electric fence line while a bear clubbed it with a salmon it had just caught out of the river; the animal was simultaneously fearful and befuddled.

when i got up to see what i expected to be carnage in my backyard, there was nothing. no trace of anything. no animal limping away in pain. no other animal enjoying its place in the food chain. no phone calls for me to make to my neighbors about how their precious little mittens or tess or fill in your favorite southern author's name here was in my yard motionless of no fault of my own, but rather something resembling manbearpig.

now i know what you're thinking. you're thinking, "dude/broseph/sir/beardy, no animal makes that noise you described so eloquently and then vanishes without a trace in a manner of seconds. you, dude/broseph/sir/beardy are a liar."

well sir or madam, you haven't seen many horror movies, have you? this was textbook thriller cinema minus the fact that i didn't run into the attic or take an impromptu shower in the middle of the day or go looking for the 1/2 bear, 1/2 man, 1/2 pig that certainly just ate a cat in my backyard. yes, aside from my brilliance, this was halloween 13 quality horror: noise. fear. silence. return to normalcy. continued fear. continued silence. extended fear.

(okay maybe there was a little less fear on my end. maybe, but i'd like sasha mitchell of kickboxer 4 fame to play me in the movie version given his acting chops and ability to bring a series to a screeching halt.)

this, however, was not the last strange encounter with rural fauna that i've had since then. a couple of days later, biz and i took an early morning walk through town. there are about three ways to walk through town, and luckily enough for us we chose the path littered with dogs, many of whom were homeless or at least appeared so and in dire need of attention.

at one point, i counted 14 dogs on all sides of us, some ferocious 7 pound dogs with more bark than bite, some dumb chocolate labs who don't understand anything but their need to retrieve something even if they already have it, and one overfed basset hound bringing up the rear.

if you've ever been surrounded by 14 dogs, it's not exactly easy to move quickly. if you've ever been surrounded by 14 dogs with an combined iq of 14, it's nearly impossible to move. and if you live out in the boonies like us, then you know that at least half of them are strays. they just wander wherever, so they might as well follow you. oh, and they probably have a cocktail of diseases streaming through their veins. the joy of rural life.

as we walked i could only think of two things: 1) how i wished i'd had a stick of some sort to shew them away and 2) will ferrell and john c. reilly's psa in talladega nights about the packs of wild dogs that were taking over america's cities and how it had only taken them four years, but they had started to take over rural america as well.

not to be outdone by stray dogs and disappearing, cat-eating predators, though are the chickens. that's right i said it. chickens. our neighbors have chickens. they had four until sometime friday when that lovely pudgy basset hound and his west highland terrier friends broke into their coop and snatched two of them away, leaving me to transfer the other two to another coop while the neighbors were out of town.*

let's be clear about one thing. chickens are wily. in the midst of the transfer one decided she didn't really want to move so she just flew out into the yard and ran around, wings tucked in, head bobbing away, making me look almost as graceful as the llama at right as i chased her into and out of the bramble, the coop, and the yard.

i kept running over the joke my dad used to play on me about catching birds in my head as i panted across my neighbor's yard. he said all you have to do is get really close and pour a little salt on their tail. while that's an absurd task, after about ten minutes of chasing that wonderful, beautiful member of creation in and around the yard, i began to wonder if wouldn't be such a bad idea. about that time it ran into the hole and got trapped, so i guess we'll never know.sometimes it's better to be lucky than good.

animals of all kinds are on the brink of absolute freedom out here, and sometimes when they walk that line between freedom and the domestic life, they add a little flavor to life even if it's not always the one i'm craving.
__________

*after much consideration and moderately scientific research, i have a working hypothesis that the pudgy basset hound and the terriers fashioned themselves into a sort of three headed trojan horse that struck both fear and wonder into the cat outside my pantry just before halloween causing the scream heard 'round my kitchen. i also think such a plan would work well the theatrical stylings of sasha mitchell, allowing him to be both kickboxing "stud" and lovable idiot cody all while searching for this mythical beast.

photos from here, here and here.

what do you think?

got your own thoughts on rural life?

certain aspects of it you'd like me to explore?

people you'd like me to interview?

i want to write what you'll want to read, so leave me a comment, shoot me an email, or drop me a line on facebook.

but please, no pokes. they hurt and they are confusing. unless you're poking the queen. then they are hilarious. and while i may be a jack of anywhere from a few to some trades and master of a handful, i am also not a figurtive head of state and thus am ineligible for hilarity-induced poking.

proceed with your thoughts and enjoy the stories and somewhat aimless wanderings of life in god knows where.

america's pastime

if you've spent any time watching sports in the last fifteen years, then you know one thing is certain. baseball is no longer america's pastime. i guess people got tired of watching wwe stars jack homers instead of actual baseball players. sure it's been around longer than basketball and football, and there are few things more american than going to the ballpark on a summer afternoon, enjoying a hot dog and some peanuts, but now football is king.

despite the love/hate relationship between the press and brett favre and the unending saga that is the impropriety of heisman trophy winners/candidates, football reigns supreme across america - from the plains of kansas where they still play 8-on-8 to the deep south where football fans are just soccer hooligans with a different accent and from texas's friday night lights to the little schools all over the map who just want to play the game. sure maryland's got it's crabcakes and lacrosse (sorry carson elrod) and southern california digs the beach volleyball (see what i did there?), but they can't hold a candle to the overwhelming hold football has on america... especially small town america.

how can you not love a sport where something like this takes place:



contrary to the overwhelming similarity of most towns in america these days, every town doesn't have a walmart or a target or even an institution of higher learning. we don't all live in city x, but what every town in america (and if not town, county or parish) does have is a high school. and that high school serves as the locus point for much of life in rural communities. as i've said before most rural communities are made of folks whose families have been there literally since they first walked up a decided to stake their claim there. there's a deep investment in the community and all it offers.

furthermore, the alliance for excellent education says that rural high school graduates are half as likely to complete a post-secondary degree than others. so while college grads will hoot and holler for their team on saturdays, those who ended their schooling a little earlier turn their attention to fall friday nights.

on those friday nights across america, stadiums are filled with parents supporting their kids, younger children dreaming of one day being the one to catch the pass that wins the big game, and a lot of teenagers texting one another while they pretend to watch the game they paid 5 bucks to see. the wins and losses are tallied and often used as a barometer for the health and well-being of the community. apparently to some, the success of a group of 15-18 year olds playing a game can be a determining factor in how one community perceives itself. that's almost as crazy as thinking that a group of 435 adults of various persuasions can have lucid discussions and make policy decisions.

and from saturday to thursday the highlights are recounted not just from the last game, but from games years ago when something similar happened (only better and in spite of more difficult circumstances).

there are also lots of uncle rico's out there claiming that they'd have won state if their coach had just played them, and blaming him that they're now selling tupperware and breast enhancements instead of playing in the nfl.

despite the exaggerated expectations put on high school football and the overblown inferences of success or failure, high school football really is a beautiful thing when seen in person. a few weeks ago we went to a local school's homecoming game. unbelievable.

there was a sea of people in the stands and around the field. the stands were packed with parents, alumni, children, students, everybody. it's safe to assume that the entire county was in attendance for at least part of the game. there was an alumni dance team, an alumni band, and enough stories going around about how "back in my day..." to fill a book. the lights on the field were just powerful enough so the kids could play at night, but dim enough to give the view that vhs feel, nostalgic and a little out of focus. it was truly a community event like nothing i've seen before.

i also heard that another school in the area, if their team won the state title, school would be canceled for a couple of days. really? i thought those privileges were left for the men of troy, free shoes u, and the u itself. i guess not.

elizabeth hates football, but there's something about high school football - knowing the kids who play on the team, in the band, or on the cheerleading and dance teams, having relationships with them, and wanting them to succeed - that gets her. it's that sense of community, that sense that we know each other and see each other around that appeals to her, i think, and i have to agree.

do i wish this was the case? do i wish sports were the common rallying point for small communities? despite my love of sports, no. and there are some who agree with this notion and are doing something to shift the rallying point to something a little more constructive. i sincerely hope they can.

for now, all i know is that you can walk into just about any small, rural town in america, ask about the high school football team(s), have a conversation that goes on for hours, and perhaps even leave with a few new friends. maybe one day the conversation will revolve around something else, but until then rural communities will continue to talk about sweeps, options, and the occasional flea flicker executed by a group of teenagers. it's true wherever you go.

photos and video from here, here, and here.

two steps forward, one step back

let's get one thing straight. no one has ever said to
me, "hey, you know who always seem to be on the cutting edge of technology? you."

i was easily one of the last five people i know to get a cell phone (and that includes a slew of folks at least a decade younger than me), we didn't have internet access at my parents' house until i was in high school, and while my friends milked their parents for the newest video game craze every christmas during our childhood, mine could not be milked, so i saved some of my spending money from an eighth grade trip and some allowance and bought my own nintendo 64 only to promptly sell it to a friend's younger brother about a year later.

i even prefer to write with a pen and paper, though i fully realize that were i to write this blog with pen and paper it would a) not be a blog, b) take an immense amount of postage and stationery to deliver to you, the readers, and c) give you one less thing to read during your "breaks" from work. for all my slowness (you may read: unwillingness) to incorporate technology into my life, it is clear that certain changes are inevitable, even beneficial to life in the twenty-first century.

it is also clear that the more rural parts of our world have yet to incorporate the totality of twenty-first century technology. in some cases this happens willingly and in others it stems from being ignored by those of the urban persuasion.

where it happens willingly, it is surprisingly refreshing.

there's a man here in town who swears by his blackberry, a worn out and warped pocket notebook that holds all his contacts, upcoming meetings, and notes in a space smaller, cheaper, and a lot less radioactive than its electronic namesake.

the best source of local information remains the local paper, still available only in print form and only delivered weekly. that's right, one paper per week. on the brightside it's better than the deal my parents have in the mountains of north carolina. their paper prints monday, wednesday, and friday, but gets delivered tuesday, thursday, and friday. logic abounds.

people even use phonebooks, and not as paperweights or props for feats of strength. they actually use them to find numbers, because a lot of people in rural america still have something called a "land line."

whatever that is.

maybe the most endearing, though somewhat financially confusing, case of the willing indifference to technological advances is the use of the postal service for in-town correspondence. while no one this side of scrooge can complain about getting something in the mail that is not a bill, credit card application, or catalogue, it is mildly troubling to think someone went to the trouble to stamp a number of envelopes, hand them to the postmistress, and have her walk twelve feet to put them in everyone's post office box. at nearly 3 2/3 cents per foot, it doesn't seem like a great deal, but somehow it actually is.

however, where the failure to embrace technology happens out of omission, it's depressing at best.

the most recent episode of radio lab, reminded me that for the last two years, we've been living in unprecedented territory: more than half of all people in the world live in cities and not in rural communities. we now live in a decidedly urban world. instead of living in a world dominated by the minority who live in cities, we now live in a world dominated by a majority who call the "metro-area" home. while this is not news to anyone, it does pose some interesting questions. especially ones about how we get our news.

jon stewart said it well at the rally to restore sanity and/or fear when he remarked that the news media are based in cities across the nation and that they reflect back to americans a world that is not always true to every viewer's life experience. it's almost as if we live in one world all day and, if it turns out that we don't actually live at cnn, fox, or msnbc, we see a different one on the television when we come home.

in smaller cities and larger towns this might not necessarily be the case since the chances of having a reputable local news channel is greater, but out in the middle of nowhere where most folks rely on satellite tv which provides them with roughly 8 bravos, 9 discovery channels, 10 qvcs, and perhaps even a channel looping images of a partridge in a pear tree, local programming is virtually non-existent or inaccessible. (when it is accessible it's reminiscent of that attempt your high school made at doing the news: grainy, slightly entertaining, and less than informative.) so, the world that comes through the wire is in fact not reflective of the life lived by those of us in middle-of-nowhere america.

furthermore, great efforts like the one laptop per child program, led by nicholas negroponte, try to connect every child in the world living in a rural place with a laptop computer so that they can get up to speed with their more privileged, urban peers. every child, that is, except poor, undereducated ones in rural america. apparently, they aren't in need of catching up to those with more opportunities, especially those in their own country.

so while, it's refreshing to know that out here some folks still carry a pen and a notebook around, and prefer a face-to-face meeting to an email chain on a smartphone, it's only refreshing when we have the choice to remain several steps behind everyone else. there's little refreshing about being left several steps behind or kept out of the discussion entirely.

we all know what happens when we get left behind. we start listening for the loudest familiar noise, and when we hear it, we start following. and not because it's telling us the truth, but simply because its noise and it could lead us somewhere, despite the fact that while "somewhere" might be the nearest town, it might also be a campsite full of crazies smoking peyote and getting ready to drink some kool-aid under the spell of the snuggie.



photos from here, boone, and here.