Thursday, October 23, 2008

Politics in the Time of Cholera

Every four years that time in America returns when there are more red faces amongst the masses than would be found at a "ginger" convention in Key West.  The reason for the bursting of capillaries is not born of the increase of alcoholism (during the Great Depression, the two greatest industries were entertainment and alcohol) but of the fiery, rapturous debate induced by the impending presidential election.  

I have found within the last couple months that the main focus of discussion lies in which candidate will more benefit the middle class.  Senator Obama's commercials have advertised tax increases only for those citizens who make over $250,000 a year--what he considers above the majority of the middling/meddling classes.  Honesly, I am not very sure on Senator McCain's policy but following suit with Republicans he most likely favors those above the middle class (help me out if I am wrong).  Either way, there is always an outcry for middle class support/representation during election years.  Senate races are always full of candidates who proclaim their middle status.  In my home town, we always see "John (last name escapes me): Carpenter for Congress." In the south, where Republicans are often a shoe-in for office, democrats are seen with posters and signs reading, "Jesus: Carpenter for Congress."  I'm sure He would make a good democrat (and hippie), asking for peace and love all the time.  But His views on Pro-Choice would probably crucify Him.

But the answer to the under-appreciation and under-representation of middle class, I have learned in the past few days, does not come from politics.  Senators, Representatives, Governors, Presidents, etc., all have their own agendas.  The masses tend to be forgotten (as we complain about decade after decade).  It is simply politicians being politicians.  So, then, what is the answer?  What could possibly shift the attention of Washington to the struggle of the Little Guy and his importance to society?  Has anything ever had that affect?  The answer is, yes, something has.  But what?

Plague.  The Black Plague to be specific.

First arriving in England in 1348, the "Black Death" spread rapidly.  As in most cases with outbreak, the lower classes saw a much higher mortality rate than those of the upper.  Though numbers have been skewed in the past (as with most statistics), based upon Church records of the time, about 30% of the population and 40% of the clergy perished in the overall course of the plague, which did not fully die out until the mid-17th century.  

Though a terrible event in the history of man, The Black Plague did have its benefits.  First and foremost, that most-hated neighbor you had, whose cat and son kept peeing in your yard (though you probably didn't have a yard so I'm not sure what they peed on, maybe your wife), was long gone.  In fact, you were probably dead, too--along with your entire family/neighborhood.  As morbid as this sounds, with the death of so many in the laboring class, those still alive became very valuable--even to the aristocracy.  Their knowledge, craft, and even language became the most important aspects of society.  What most do not know is that English, spoken primarily by the lay people, regained its prominence as the official language in England (of the aristocracy, courts, and church) because of the Plague.  The upper classes, who mainly spoke French and needed to communicate with the remaining laborers, were forced to adapt.  

The middle class in the United States will not see reform at the hands of politicians only.  Representation/relief will come as a result of increased value and this will come with an increase in demand, which comes from a lack of supply.  Neither Barack Obama or John McCain, as great of supporters of the Little Guy as they try to seem, will never have the effect that Nature can.  If we middlers really want to feel important, pray for a plague.  Then, we may have another reason to be red in the face.  

Monday, October 20, 2008

Pregnant I am not

On a smaller note, I could rid my body of TB and never have to worry about it becoming active ever.  But 1, what is the fun in that?  and 2, it would require me to take a powerful antibiotic for nine, count them, NINE months.  Perhaps if I didn't mind destroying my liver or the fact that I could not touch alcohol for almost a year, I would do it.  But, nay, I will leave temperance to the child-bearing women of the world.  And drink so much beer that you would think I was pregnant.

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Somewhere in the Sun

I often think back to one of my favorite lyrics of all time, "And where this road I'm headed down might lead."  Someone once questioned me as to what it meant and I think the only justice I can give is by, instead, writing it like this:

And where this road I'm headed down might lead...

I think most people are looking for an answer, for the place the lyric is going.  But that is the magic of it--the truth buried beneath the layers of melody and background instrumentation.  It's up to you.  Just like life.  No matter what we're doing and when we're doing it, we're all on a path.  We may not know where it's going in the long run but just that it's going.  Somewhere.  

The thing is, at points in our lives, we have to choose a path.  It doesn't matter if we decide later on that we want to go somewhere else, it just matters that we originally decide to go somewhere.  That's the magic of the road.  

Since deciding to go back into medicine last March, I have never felt better about the road I am on.  Each week it brings new and exciting things.  Like this one for example:

I found out I have tuberculosis.  

Amidst my plannings to erect a giant bubble for my habitation for the next ninth months, I was relieved to find out that I only had dormant Tuberculosis.  This meant that someone, at some point, had spread TB to my body.  But my immune system, instead of fully terminating it, wrapped it up in a sheath, disallowing growth.    So there it is, TB floating around in my body.  No worries though, I'm not contagious and you will not have to arrange visiting hours in order to speak with me.  

Even with the scare, I have had the best week of my life.  Here is why:

97 on second Pre Calc exam.
95 on American Lit Mid Term and A- on first paper
96 on Organic chemistry test and brought my grade up from a B to an A- in the class
Red Sox rallied, with 7 outs remaining, from a 7-0 deficit to win game 5 of the ALCS and eventually force a game 7 (which they are winning 1-0 right now).
My couch came to my apartment, finally, and it looks/is perfect.  I'm sitting on it now, actually.
I don't have active TB.
I got an volunteer/job shadowing position at St. Thomas Hospital--working within the ER and hopefully getting to know some Plastic Surgeons.
I read "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" by Washington Irving.  He's a fantastic writer, read it if you get a chance.
I got a great pair of red, corduroy pants.  Read for fall, now.
The weather finally cooled off.  
Last, and of the utmost importance, I spent time with the woman I'm crazy about--the love of my life.  That will always be my favorite.

I guess what I'm saying, all in all, is that I feel like the road I'm headed down is where I belong.  I feel great.  I've got great friends and I'm surrounded by great strangers.  And where this road I'm headed down might lead?  I have no, definite, idea.  I just keep steering myself towards my dreams, towards that place far off.  Hoping and wishing to end up Somewhere in the Sun.

May your wanderings find beauty on this path we call life. 

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Raisin McCain (These Colors Don't Run?)

Disclaimer:  This piece is by no means a reflection of political views of the author.  

The importance of proper punctuation is often underestimated.  A misplaced comma here, a missing apostrophe there--these mistakes can drastically change the meaning of a sentence.  Most recently this has been made aware by Lynne Truss in Eats, Shoots and Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Puncuation.  Though I have never read the book, I do know that the title stemmed from the old joke about the Panda shooting a waiter after finishing a delectable sangwich (He eats, shoots and leaves).  And the joke, I'm sure, stems from some zoologist who meant to write that a Panda eats shoots and leaves (minus the comma).  

But the other day I witnessed a particular punctuation problem that, for once, I agreed with.  Because it reflected my view of John McCain. 

While watching the CBS Morning Show live on Belmont's campus (which I was very proud of),  I had to laugh when John Rich appeared singing "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy".  What a fitting song for a debate, I thought.  A song that opens with, "Well I don't give a dang about nothing, I'm just singing and bling-blinging."  Rather ironic, too, I must say, in light of recent CEOs taking a $400,000 vacation and ruining the economy.  

But even that wasn't what bothered me.

After a brief and awkward discussion with Harry Smith, Rich explained that he was going to do a song he wrote for his favorite candidate, John McCain.  The song, he said, was called "Raisin' McCain"--a clever, country-esque pun on the old saying, "Raisin' Cain (or Hell)."  However, as he was describing Senator McCain's great admiration for the tune, a little banner came across the bottom of the screen displaying the title of it.  "Raisin McCain," it said.  To the non-English major eye, this may seem completely normal.  But let me tell you my non-sweater-vest-wearing friends, it is not.  Instead of being an abbreviated form of the verb "Raising" (Raisin') using an apostrophe to punctuate it, the guy (I paid off) at CBS left off the apostrophe giving that old sun-dried grape of a candidate a new nickname:  Raisin McCain.


 

  (Above: John McCain at the Townhall Debate at Belmont University on Tuesday. AP)

Don't get me wrong, John McCain is a great guy.  He survived years in a Prisoner of War camp and I know that is where all his funny limps come from.  But he still looks so old.  Too old.  Especially for a country that needs a jump start.  Something like JFK.  Who cares if they nearly start WWIII, at least they look strong (and good) doing it.  My only question is:  How are we supposed to threaten other nations with nuclear holocaust when our Commander and Chief looks like the favorite snack of a hundred, hungry kindergartners?