Chicken McJesus, or, Why Christianity Has Lost Its Voice in America

So, I’m a little late to the train: I can honestly claim almost complete ignorance about this “Chick-Fil-A Appreciation Day” yesterday. Had a very faint idea of what it was about. Now I know the backstory a bit more, and saw the million-whatever-person result. And I gotta say, wow, yeah, that is a textbook example of First Amendment free-speech rights in action. Kudos. What it also says to me is that those million-whatever evangelical Christians who took part in the exercise are probably better off keeping their faces stuffed with chicken sandwiches, because they basically have nothing good to say about anything anymore.

No, really. Don’t tell me that Jesus loves me, this you know, for the Bible tells you so. Because if you were actually listening to what the Bible tells you is so, you wouldn’t have been standing in line at a chicken shack to spend your hard-earned cash on a double-McWhopperbreast or whatever it is they serve at Chick-fil-A. (I also have to claim almost complete ignorance of their menu; while I’ve had their food and liked it, I don’t live in their market. I live in the godless and healthy state of Minnesota).

I’d really like to think that if you, the millions of Chick-fil-A Christians, were going to decide to do something together to “make a statement” or “take a stand” in the world, it would be to take that four, or five, or six dollars and pool it together to feed some hungry people, like the ones that exist in ever-growing numbers in your own nation. Or maybe you could take the time you’re spending standing in line and go make friends with someone a little different than you? Possibly even of a different sexual orientation than yourself? There are needy, lonely, self-destructing people in this world who need you - yes, YOU - to be their friend. And maybe you’re not the most social type of person; you could at least take a stand for the rights of the downtrodden, the made-fun-of, the ones whose humanity is being stifled. You know, be Jesus to people.

Instead, you’ve truly chosen to put your money where your mouth is. I was taught in church (usually as a come-on to give more money to said church) that you can judge your own values by where you give your money and spend your time. I sort of still believe that. And, by that measure you’ve chosen to give your money to a multi-billion dollar company that specializes in serving food processed in mass quantities that is terrible for yours and the public’s general health, made of meat from a living thing that is usually raised like a crop, treated cruelly and often infected with disease from the aforementioned mistreatment, so that you can support a multi-millionaire who really doesn’t need your money because he said some things about gay people inviting God’s wrath onto our nation. Some things that you happen to agree with, because you feel like God is under attack or whatever.

So, look, I don’t claim to be a Bible expert (I only did one year of Bible school, after all, and that didn’t turn out very well), but I’m pretty sure that God doesn’t feel “under attack” by gay people. I’m reasonably certain that your little “stand” means next to nothing. And I’m completely positive that God has about a million bajillion other things you could do for him in the world besides eating an effing chicken sandwich.

Because really, that’s what your faith has come down to. You no longer believe in the transformational power of reconciliation that this Bible you profess to listen to talks about over. And over. And over. And over. And over. And over. And over again. You have no interest in humanity, no care for “all God’s people,” and no desire to act to improve God’s creation. You are now just willing slaves to a series of cultural precepts and anecdotes, usurped by a social and political agenda that has absolutely zero to do with loving other people and caring for the least among us and more to do with protecting this thing, running afraid from that thing, and making sure that the MOST among us feel well-loved and whose every desire is accommodated as God’s will. You don’t believe in the power of your Christ to heal people; you instead rely on the pre-ordained superiority of your twelve-step plan and the vast, shallow numbers you claim in your ranks to spread its influence with jingoistic zealotry. You would rather tear people down (and in the stupidest of ways, mind you) than be a support system for those without one.

In short, you no longer speak for God. In case there was any question about it, your moral authority flatlined on August 1, 2012. Your heart stopped beating from the self-aggrandizement that clogged your arteries. And your tombstone shall forever read:

“God called me unto the world, and I ate chicken.”

A Few Plain Thoughts on the 5-Year Anniversary of the 35W Bridge Collapse

On the evening of August 1, 2007 I got a call from my brother telling me to turn on my TV, the bridge over the Mississippi just went down. “Which one?” I asked. “Washington Avenue? Not sure.” I turned on the TV to ‘CCO and there before me was the big, green, ugly 35W bridge that I had driven over so many times that it was a mindless exercise.

And it was in the river.

“Holy sh*t... what the hell? What the HELL?? Uhh... I’ll call you back.”

It took me quite awhile to understand what I was seeing. And then I remember starting to cry, watching the people on the bridge, in the water, on the banks, and the smoke pouring out of that school bus, and I remember just saying over and over again “My city... my city...”

I called my wife, who was out on the road at that moment heading to Blaine or something, just to make sure she hadn’t decided to take that way for whatever reason on this evening. Then I called my job to inform them of the incident and see if they’d heard from anyone. I texted all my friends. A few minutes later, my manager called me. Doing a head count of everyone at the store. To make sure no one had died.

And I think we forget all about that. 13 souls died that day. The thing I’ve learned is that Minnesotans sort of have the tendency to internalize painful experiences. The public expression of this, then, is to sweep unpleasant things under the rug, pretend they’re not there. Give them their due moment and then go back to being with family and friends. But don’t dwell; that’s not healthy. Keep it positive. And if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. So we don’t talk about 13 dead humans and put them in their proper context of dying on a bridge that we as a society are charged with upkeeping.

Well, I didn’t grow up here. I’m a dweller, and sometimes I don’t just say nice, positive things.

So I guess I’ll just say it: five years later, I still don’t think we particularly care that 13 people died in the 35W bridge collapse. I think we probably care less. We had a really great memorial service. And then a public processional a year afterward. And then we had a new bridge. (Months early and millions under budget! Taxpayers rejoice!) And then, after a few years of politicking over whether or not we really needed to memorialize this thing further, we finally erected a monument to those 13 people who purposelessly lost their lives in the wreckage. And then a few weeks after it opened, someone vandalized it.

But the real crime? We haven’t invested another dime into our infrastructure. No, seriously: after this all went down, we had to friggin’ fight tooth and nail to invest a NICKEL (a 5% gas tax increase) into our infrastructure. People are dying on our failing bridges and overcrowded highways, and we’re too busy talking about what? What are the new distractions this year? Voter ID? Gay marriage? Arguing over a 3.5% tax hike on people whose net worth increases at such a rate that they could, in the time it would take them to drive across the Mississippi that day, pay for two or three 35W bridge replacements? Oh, and we also just wrapped up the argument over whether or not you and I should spend three times (or four, maybe five?) the cost of that replacement bridge on a shiny new football stadium. For people whose contracts dictate that every time they touch the football, they earn enough money to...

I digress.

But seriously, folks, what gives?

For me, 13 dead people on a bridge made me stop, think, and seriously evaluate what was going on with this whole system. In a very real way, that could have just as easily been ME on that bridge. And it made me want to act, to DO something, because I knew (somewhat cynically but also, in hindsight, sadly true) that basically nobody would do anything about it. I felt moved to get to know the politics, the policies, the environment, and yeah, gain a vision for how on earth we can prevent this sort of thing from happening. The following winter, after a few years of sitting it out, I started to pry myself away from my comfy little coffee shop job and get back to work finishing up school. And five years later, I’ve graduated from the University of Minnesota.

My degree? A Bachelor of Science in Urban Studies, with an emphasis in Infrastructure and Environment. And minors in Political Science, Sustainability Studies, and Geography. To, as they say, boot.

So I feel I’m standing on fairly confident ground when I say, yeah, I care that 13 people died on August 1, 2007. I won’t be so insensitive as to suggest that, somehow, I’ve “honored” each of their deaths by going and getting all learned-up or whatever. There is no fancy, foil-embossed piece of paper on my wall, no policy, no political party that can bring those 13 people back to life for their families and friends. But the barest-minimum, very least thing we can do is try to prevent it from happening again.

And 5 years later, my “expert” opinion? We’re not even willing to do that.

Because it’d be super-expensive. All those bridges to repair and rebuild, roads to maintain, and transit systems to expand. We can’t even begin to imagine the price tag, nor do we want to, because we know it’s super-expensive. And where are we going to get the tax dollars, anyway? Aren’t we busy giving them to “job creators”? This is all too super-expensive and mind-numbing, let’s go talk about voter ID and gay marriage. Those are simpler and don’t cost anything*. (*note: they totally do.)

And I think that’s where the rubber meets the proverbial road: cost. We think things “cost” too much. Roads. Trains. Health care. Social Security. Welfare. We all flip. the heck. out. over some imaginary public purse that we personally put all our hard-earned money into and then self-righteously pontificate when some other person - probably you, you lazy freeloader - takes it all out and spends it on pointless things like Cheetos, cigarettes, and public art. And then we go and vote for people who we believe will “cost” us the least. And usually, they do. Or at least, they don’t raise our taxes. I mean, sure, they give away the taxes we HAVE paid to upper-crust tax cuts, onerous voter identification systems, and millionaire football playgrounds...

Again, digression. Sorry ‘bout that.

So, here’s my simple proposal. We need some other currency with which to calculate the “cost” of everything, ‘cuz this whole argument over money is getting endlessly pointless. In fact, I’ve just given away my proposal: we should calculate the cost of our policies with something NOT endless and NOT pointless.

Like, say, human life.

In the state of Minnesota, by this calculation, our failure to properly maintain our infrastructure has cost us, already, at least 13 human lives. Gone, spent.

Our failure to properly regulate firearms and offer adequate mental health support, among other things?

Why, that cost us 12 lives just a few days ago.

Failure to provide adequate health insurance and medical services to people?

Better go grab a few Wall Street number-crunchers to calculate that one.

Maybe this thought exercise is a teense overwrought, but you get the idea. Policy affects people. I’d go so far as to say that policy IS people. And here comes the SUPER overwrought part, for I wouldn’t be worth my salt as a liberal arts grad if I didn’t dig in to the classical languages: those first four letters - “poli” - are, after all, rooted from the Greek word for “city” or “body of citizens”. Or, my personal favorite, “community”.

Policy is people, my friend.

Surely a word with such ancient roots must have seen a lot of use over the years. My gut feeling - and quite cursory knowledge of history - leads me to believe that over the years, when policy is used for self-focused line items instead of systemic, poli-focused initiatives, these cities, bodies of citizens, communities, whatever... they don’t last long. When people start counting the cost of policies according to, say, money and not human lives, we not only create disintegrative policy, we cheapen life itself through those policies. And right now in Minnesota, as in America, human life can probably be found in the penny section of the Bargain Nook in any number of thrift stores in the shadiest parts of town*. (*note: No thrift stores were offended during the construction of this sentence.*) (*note to the note: I love thrift stores. Shop ‘em all the time.)

If you’ve stayed with me this long, and are familiar with my ranting style, you know I’m going to wrap this up soon and that in the next few sentences there will be some sort of, as they say in the not-for-profit advocacy world, an “action item”. But I’m going to throw a curveball, and say:

By all means, don’t do anything. For real. Carry on. No harm, no foul, right?

Because the more we don’t do anything, the more we believe that policy is pointless, that the government is the problem, that the cost is too high to take care of one another by making sure our bridges don’t fall, the less it will cost us.

And the more people we will drown at the bottom of the Mississippi.

Then we’ll call each other when terrible things happen, watch them unfold on live TV, act all surprised for about a week, maybe build a monument if it was particularly shocking, and then forget about it until the next terrible thing happens.

Sadly, I think we’re totally okay with that.

But please, feel free - since it’s always about freedom - to prove me wrong.

Back to Blogging Again

Well, here we go again. I took a few years off from this thing to focus on school.

Okay, that's not entirely true. I didn't actually make a conscious decision NOT to write here these past three-plus years, it's just that when you are taking 15-17 credits per semester, acting as the president of your student group, bringing a baby into the world, working an internship, hunting for a job, and going through the arduous process of buying a home, in addition to all the other things that happen in life on a daily basis, you just don't have the luxury of writing your thoughts down on paper. Or e-per, whatever this is.

But that doesn't mean the thoughts haven't stopped. So here, today, I'm re-booting. Politics, policy, religion, silly things, random observations... it'll be just like old times!

Hard Times, eh?

Things really suck right now. Millions are losing their jobs, banks are tanking, the stock market is on a toboggan ride to hell, and Starbucks is releasing a brand of instant coffee. (Seriously? This is what closing 800 retail stores and laying-off thousands of employees gets you? A fancy cup of Taster’s Choice? Lord help us all…)

But in the midst of this deep, dark Doomsday, there is a beacon of Hope (a place where President Obama’s approval rating stands at eighty-two percent), a knight in bright shining armor (not the least because it’s wrapped in a blanket of snow two-thirds of the year), a place where a party not-so-subtly named Liberal held power for a total of 69 years of the 20th century (more than any other political party in the developed world).

This place is called Canada. And they must be doing something right.

I came across this article posted on a friend’s Facebook page, and immediately began daydreaming of Tim Horton’s coffee, and of sipping a Molson Canadian lager, eating poutine and watching CFL football games at Don Cherry’s Sports Grill on Rideau Street at the base of Parliament Hill in downtown Ottawa… like I did last summer. You see, I am a Canadiophile. I love the country, love the people, and think (with a few exceptions) that their governmental system gets it in a way that America's doesn’t. We could learn a lot from our northern neighbors.

Some of my favorite bits from the article:

Guess which country, alone in the industrialized world, has not faced a single bank failure, calls for bailouts or government intervention in the financial or mortgage sectors. Yup, it's Canada. In 2008, the World Economic Forum ranked Canada's banking system the healthiest in the world. America's ranked 40th, Britain's 44th.

Okay, they’ve got good banks. So what? Ha, they’d better! They’ve got that friggin’ expensive national pension and GOVERNMENT health care system to pay for!

Canada has been remarkably responsible over the past decade or so. It has had 12 years of budget surpluses, and can now spend money to fuel a recovery from a strong position. The government has restructured the national pension system, placing it on a firm fiscal footing, unlike our own insolvent Social Security. Its health-care system is cheaper than America's by far (accounting for 9.7 percent of GDP, versus 15.2 percent here), and yet does better on all major indexes. Life expectancy in Canada is 81 years, versus 78 in the United States…

Whatever. We know how to work harder in our shorter years! And our greatest resource is our vast pool of the most talented workforce on Earth! And the world is just BUSTING our doors down to get in on the economic action!

We issue a small number of work visas and green cards, turning away from our shores thousands of talented students who want to stay and work here. Canada, by contrast, has no limit on the number of skilled migrants who can move to the country … Companies are noticing. In 2007 Microsoft, frustrated by its inability to hire foreign graduate students in the United States, decided to open a research center in Vancouver. The company's announcement noted that it would staff the center with "highly skilled people affected by immigration issues in the U.S." So the brightest Chinese and Indian software engineers are attracted to the United States, trained by American universities, then thrown out of the country and picked up by Canada—where most of them will work, innovate and pay taxes for the rest of their lives.

Yeah, well, Canada only has one-tenth the population of the United States! They have a much easier time, seeing as they don’t have as many people.

Well, it is true. Canada has a population of 33 million, to our 300(ish) million. So naturally, our government will have far more people to deal with than the Canadian government. But from my rudimentary understanding of economics, a country with more people should produce more goods to operate a larger economy to sustain a larger population. In other words, the gross domestic product of a country of 300 million people can sustain 300 million people just as that of 33 million people can sustain 33 million people. A slightly more accurate way to measure these production values would be to look at the approximate monetary value in goods and services that each individual citizen produces, or GDP per capita. According to this measure, the United States produces approximately $48,000 per capita; in Canada, it’s $40,000. That means that for every dollar the U.S. produces, Canada produces 83 cents.

Those lazy Canadians! Why can’t they work hard like us Americans?!

Oh, we work hard all right. And what does it get us? A few very rich individuals that we’re all told we can be like when we grow up. And a broken, expensive health care system. And taxpayer-funded bank bailouts. And a pension plan (aka Social Security) that’s on the verge of going belly-up. And did somebody say the economy sucks right now, and we’re about to pour a last-ditch-effort trillion dollars into it? Sure hope it works.

So in other words, we are basically doing less with more.

I hate using such a cliché illustration like this, but it fits: it’s like running a marathon. We’re racing along, downing energy drinks and shooting steroids (ironic, huh?) telling ourselves we’re the best, and now we’re so used to running on those things that they no longer make us run fast anymore. And we’re starting to lose. And countries like Canada who have been keeping it steady- occasionally running hard, but just enough to keep pace- are now pulling ahead.

I’m not saying we need to become South Canada or anything. But we sure can learn from them. While I was in Ottawa, I picked up two books in a little hole-in-the-wall bookstore downtown. The first one that I’ve been reading is called The Polite Revolution: Perfecting The Canadian Dream. It’s mainly about what’s wrong with Canada and how to fix it, and believe me, there is a lot that’s wrong with the Canadian system that needs fixing. But the second book, called At Home In The World: Canada’s Global Vision For The 21st Century, is the one I’m really looking forward to reading. As much as I love America, (and could probably never truly fit in as a Canadian!) there’s a lot that’s wrong with this country. A lot. And if fixing it means taking notes from our neighbor to the north, then so be it.

But if it all goes to hell, let’s hold out hope that Canada doesn’t decide to erect a wall along their southern border...

The $160 Million Question

First of all, a disclaimer: I am hardly a bastion of fiscal restraint. Spare dollars spill from my pockets like bold-roast from the nozzle of a Bunn machine; the irony being, of course, that many of my spare dollars are poured into my coffee-drinking habit. And I also want a MacBook. One of those shiny new aluminum ones that if they were any smaller… sleeker… thinner… they would probably be considered a concealed weapon by the Department of Homeland Security. I want one so badly, in fact, I almost told myself that I wasn’t going to write this bloggie-post until I was typing it in Pages, in my new iWork ’09 suite, on the crisp, back-lit keyboard of the aforementioned shiny Apple thing. I went so far as to imagine myself withholding any further creative contribution to the bloggie-thing lest I was given a small, user-financed stipend with which to purchase a MacBook, in return for more bloggie-posts from yours truly. (And, by default, more chances for me to look way-cool sitting in coffee shops tapping away on my aluminum slate, that Glowing Apple Symbol exuding my Ultimate Hipness as I sip away my last simoleons… sigh…)

But I digress. My frumpy blue Dell will do. Why? Because I don’t need a MacBook. And I can’t afford one, anyway, because the economy is in tough shape. And because the economy is in tough shape, my place of employment could no longer offer me enough hours to stay financially afloat in my current position. I’ve stepped down to a lower position for more hours, but less pay, and also because keeping that position would have cost my coworkers precious hours that they needed, too. You may have heard me mentioned in Barack Obama’s inaugural address today. He knows what position I’m in.

So why the hell did he shell out $160 million of taxpayer funds to throw himself a housewarming party?

Naturally, I was a bit shocked to hear this number. But the knowledge came to me not from hearing it verbatim, but hearing about people who were angry about hearing about that figure, which I shall heretofore refer to as The Number. Someone had written an angry-sounding status post on Facebook which, some sources say, is a Very Effing Accurate indication of when something truly touches a nerve. And another someone was overheard to be angry about it, too. Another, and then another. Pretty soon, my Millennial Generational truth-seeking instincts kicked in, and as Lyra worked the intricacies of the alethiometer in The Golden Compass, so I worked my keyboard and GOOGLED IT.

My top hits included a veritable crapsmear of conservative bloggie-things, raging at the ridiculousness of it all: “160 million dollars?! Dubya spent a paltry 42 MILLION! And Clinton before him, 33 MILLION! That double-talking scoundrel Obama!” etc. etc. Somewhere in the middle of the second page of hits was an ABC News release, channeling a guy named Some Sources Say, repeating something Mr. Say had pulled off the AP wire. Frick, I thought, it’s true! I’ve been heedlessly supporting a self-absorbed tax-me-so-he-can-spend-it-on-himself LIBERAL, and am now entering 4 to 8 years of purgatory for my belief in False Hope. Forgive me, Ronald Reagan, for I know not what I’ve done!

But in my despair a still, small voice whispered in my ear to move to the Bookmarks menu in my Firefox, and scroll to the “M” section. Upon my arrival I was comforted, as that of the presence of an old friend, an old Indecision ’04-era friend named Media Matters for America. From their website: “Media Matters for America is a Web-based, not-for-profit, 501(c)(3) progressive research and information center dedicated to comprehensively monitoring, analyzing, and correcting conservative misinformation in the U.S. media.” Eureka! A media watchdog group! Surely now the truth about The Number shall be revealed to me! But wait… it says they are a PROGRESSIVE organization. Doesn’t that mean… LIBERAL? That means they might lie for partisan gain! My High Hopes dashed for the second time in 5 minutes, I scrolled down the page aimlessly and hopelessly, until something caught my eye… Is that a picture of lefty blowhard Chris Matthews? With a special watchdog section dedicated just to the misinformation he peddles on Hardball? My Hope-a-Meter shot skyward, as I seemed to have found a progressive-yet-truth-seeking and honest oracle of record-straightening research from which to glean the answer to the question of The Number. And sure enough, on the front page, an entire section was dedicated to sorting through the media’s misinformation surrounding The Number. I pored over the information:

-The Number was concocted by an AP writer who cited no sources whatsoever. Oh.

-The Number was then dutifully reported by FOX News who, when they repeat something three times and Rupert Murdoch clicks his heels together, causes all other media outlets to report the same, lest they be deemed as “UN-FAIR AND LEFTY-BALANCED”. Okay.

-The Number seems to have been created by taking the estimated $40 million-ish cost of ceremonial trappings and organization, balls, meals, parades, and other celebratory necessities, plus a rough estimate of security and infrastructure, transportation, and making sure visitors don’t tear apart each other or our nation’s capital. Wow.

-The Number, when put in the context of Clinton’s $33 million and Bush’s $42 million, IS ridiculous. But what’s ridiculous about the Bush/Clinton numbers is that NEITHER of them includes the security/infrastructure/transportation/chaos-control numbers that make up the bulk of the cost of any Inaugural event, numbers that WERE included in Obama’s The Number. Geez, that’s not fair!

-The Number is, then, when inflation is accounted for, actually right on-par with any of the Inaugurals of the past 20 or so years. And the number for Bush’s 2005 Inaugural, when it’s all tallied up and put in the same context as Obama’s The Number, was not $42 million, but $157 million! Adjusted for inflation, that might even mean that Bush’s number was bigger than The Number! The scoundrel!

-The Number, when broken down to a per-capita-spending basis, looks positively frugal. Approximately 400,000 people attended Bush’s 2005 Inaugural. If we take the $157 million number, that means that Bush spent approximately $400 per attendee. In contrast, if this year’s pre-Inaugural estimate of 4 million people actually descended upon Washington today, and we used The Number for the sake of argument, the number that we pull out of the wash becomes $40 per attendee. That’s less than what it cost to see Sigur Rós at the State Theater last fall!

And 40 times less than a MacBook! Thanks, Media Matters! You answered my question!

I know we can debate the merits of spending taxpayer dollars (whatever that means anymore) on frou-frou, faux-royal events for our political elite. I’d probably lose that argument, as I’m one of those starry-eyed Hopey McHopefulpants who thinks it's pretty damn sweet to watch one of the few true peaceful transfers of power in the world on such a grand frou-frou, faux-royal stage, no matter who’s being inaugurated. I’m proud to spend that money. The fact that 4 million people can make a pilgrimage- 4 million people who most likely have 4 million much more useful things to spend their money on- to the center of the most powerful nation in the history of the world and watch firsthand as a man not so different from themselves assumes the responsibility of guiding this nation through one of its most trying times, and not risk getting, ya know, sliced to pieces with a machete or anthraxed to death or something… yeah. That’s pretty amazing.

They say that freedom comes with a price. Are we so willing to send- or maybe I should say, “spend”- 4,000 human lives in some foreign country in the name of this “freedom” and yet we’re not willing to spend a relatively modest sum of money to celebrate and display to the world what it means to be free? Isn’t that what 4,000 human lives was supposed to buy us?

Are we so wrapped up in money that we no longer see value as anything more than a price tag? That’s so sad to me.

And on a significantly lighter note, that’s why I think I’m going to buy a MacBook.

**The Media Matters articles I pulled from can be found here, and here.

Ian's Winter Weather Survival Guide!

Today is the coldest day of the year. It’s so cold, the national television networks have been dropping some of their poorest souls into Minneapolis to report on how it is that 3.5 million people can properly function in this coldest of American cities. Since they’re likely not going to venture far enough outside their warm hotel rooms to find me sitting in my favorite coffee shop on this frigid afternoon, I thought I would instead spare them the shivers and share some of my winter weather survival tips via the internet.

Ian’s Winter Weather Survival Guide

1. Stop Complaining. You are not the only one who is cold. Everyone is. And saying how much you hate it when it gets this cold is not going to make Mother Nature say “You know, you’re right… this whole cold thing was a bad idea. 78 degrees for everyone!” If you don’t like the weather here, fly south. But first, try the not-complaining thing. You’ll be a lot happier, and all that hot air you’ll conserve by keeping your mouth shut will keep you all the warmer…

2. Dress Warm. This is so easy, and yet it seems to be so hard for some people. I know all the hottest fashions coming out of New York, Los Angeles, and Paris don’t involve winter jackets and knit hats, but then, how often does it get below zero in those cities? New Yorkers would get meaner, LA would cease to function, and Paris would probably revert to 1870 Siege form and begin eating their pets for dinner. These are not people we want to emulate. Instead, in Minneapolis we take our fashion cues from those farther north… Norwegian sweaters, Inuit parkas, Canadian Sorel pack boots, knitted wool hats, mittens, and scarves. I prefer to wear a Columbia ski jacket, a knitted hat, and fleece-lined gloves. Yeah, I might look a little frumpy, and my hair gets messed up and it takes a little while to get dressed, but I don’t regret it for a moment when I step outside and the first breath I inhale dries out my lungs and makes my nose hairs freeze. Layer up. And if your body will allow…

3. Grow a Beard. Sorry ladies. You’ll have to figure something else out. You would not look good with a beard. For guys, however, this is a must. Nothing keeps your face warmer. And nothing can make you look more rustic and yet… classy… at the same time. For those dudes who can’t grow beards yet, keep trying. The more your shave, the more grows back. You’ll get there. And on your way there…

4. Drive Smart. Seriously, don’t be stupid. Allow your car to warm up. And when it’s snowing outside, drive steadily - not slow, not fast, but steadily. Driving slow causes more accidents than driving fast- the idiot doing 70 in his SUV will put himself in a ditch; the person driving 15mph slower than everyone else and constantly riding the brake will cause the spinout, and the 15-car pile-up that will follow. Keep a steady speed, as close to the speed limit as the conditions will allow, and don’t make any sudden moves. Keep your wheels straight, turn slowly, change lanes carefully, and again I say: lay off the brakes! When you have to, brake gently, and gradually. Learn to use the “2” and the “3” below the “D” on your shifter - they allow you to brake using your transmission, and will keep you from spinning your tires at every stoplight. Braking sounds great on paper, but it’s bad for you and your health. And speaking of your health…

5. Eat More Food. There’s a reason why we subconsciously seem to eat more during the holidays. See, your body already knows it’s going to get this cold. And so it feeds itself, stocking up for the next 3 months. It’s okay to carry around a few extra pounds in the winter. I saw an article posted on the website of the StarTribune, the local daily tabloid newspaper, trying to tell us all how to shed those holiday pounds and stay fit during the winter months. To which I tried to imagine what the columnist had in mind was the point. “By all means, stress out over your figure in January! You may have to dress like you’re about to pop, but under all those layers there needs to be a slender, tan, beautiful woman ready to shed the North Face garb and prance about in a swimsuit at Lake Calhoun!” Nevermind that Calhoun Beach is a snowdrift right now. And if you’re dressed for all to see that perfect figure, you’re probably one of the cold complainers, and you won’t find sympathy from hardly anyone. Go grab a burger and one of our fine microbrewed beers, and suspend the calorie counting for a few months. But if you insist on remaining active…

6. Learn to Enjoy a Winter Sport. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em!” If winter gets you down, take that cold beast and say “I hate you so much, I’m going to ENJOY you!” A Minnesota winter is full of all kinds of opportunity for activity. Go down to Play-It-Again Sports and pick up a pair of ice skates. They’ll run you about $20-30, and it’s like having a free pass to walk on water. Go slide around on a lake. Or shoot a puck around at the park down the street. Skating not your thing? Try broomball: it's like hockey's equivalent to bar-league softball. You could also get into cross country skiing. Our parks and trails are just as beautiful in the winter as they are in the summer, and you don’t even have to worry about the bugs and poison oak. Or grab a pair of snowshoes and go for a hike. You can even stay inside and burn plenty of calories watching a hockey game. And you won’t even have to bundle up. But that takes away from one of the most satisfying perks of the winter…

7. Learn to Enjoy a Hot Beverage. There’s nothing like coming in out of the cold and sipping a steaming hot cup of hot chocolate. Or coffee, for that matter. Tea is good, too. I know some people who wouldn’t drink a hot liquid if their insides were turning to ice. This is usually the Diet Coke/Iced Skim Mocha/Evian-bottled-water crowd. You’ve got to kick those habits, at least for the winter. For the Diet Coke crowd, learn to drink coffee. It’s got the caffeine and that same bitter kick, and you can put all the sweetened carcinogens in it that you’d like, lest you lose the perks of drinking your Coke. For the Iced Mocha crowd, hot chocolate is your answer. It’s sweet, it’s soothing, and your chocolate addiction will remain intact. Maybe even try your mocha hot. And for you bottled-water drinkers, tea is for you. It’s like your Evian, only hot. In fact, you could probably just heat up your Evian and use that to steep your tea in. And tea drinkers seem to develop that same sort of religious loyalty that bottled-water drinkers have to their brand. You could obsess over which brand of Earl Grey you prefer, or become a rooibos aficionado, or learn about the characteristics of the terroir and growing season in regions of China you never cared to know existed. The opportunities are endless, but for goodness’ sake, it’s cold outside: drink something hot! But when even the hot beverages aren’t enough to warm your soul…

8. Smartwool Socks. I’ve never tried it before, but I’m pretty sure you could be stark naked and a pair of Smartwool socks could almost keep your whole body warm. Almost. I bought a pair my first winter in Minnesota, then bought a second pair with which to alternate, and they’ve now thrived for 7 winters. They are warm, and they are cozy. And since you’re not going to prance around the house naked, they are a wonderful compliment to…

9. Woolrich Pajamas. Another first-winter purchase, they’ve lasted just as long as the Smartwools. They are very comfy and warm, and they can also make great long underwear. Basically anything made of wool is great. Get some. And since you’ll need a good excuse to sit and sip your aforementioned hot beverage while dressed in your aforementioned wooly garments…

10. Find a Good Book and Read It. Winter is a great time for fiction, so shed the cold weather and get lost in a story that takes place somewhere warm, or wherever you would like to find yourself. Right now, I am reading The Golden Compass which is, ironically, the first book in a trilogy about a little girl who has an obsession with the North, goes to the Arctic, makes friends with polar bears and travels to parallel universes by way of the Northern Lights. Go figure. But lastly, and most importantly…

11. Enjoy ALL The Seasons. You’ve only got four of them. And each one of them is great in its own right. I prefer fall and winter, but also enjoy the fresh feeling of spring. I even enjoy lazy, hot summer days dipping in the lake, tossing a Frisbee, sipping brewskies and grilling out. So if you hate winter, you’re in luck: spring will come, and then summer, and it will be warm again. Be patient, like I was on all those humid, 90-degree days during the summer. I loathe hot weather, but I know it’s coming and I’m okay with that… the crisp fall will follow, and I can live in my hoodie for a couple of months, and then get juiced over snowstorms and sub-zero temperatures all over again, like I am right now. Your season will come. If the weather was all the same, it would become an incredibly boring, monotonous existence. What would we have to look forward to? I will leave you with one of my favorite quotes, from George Santayana:

"To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring."

Road Trip - Day Three

Cooperstown, NY to Portland, ME - 320 mi

Waking up to a fresh, cool summer morning on top of a foothill of the Adirondack Mountains is a pleasant experience to say the least. And an early morning drive back to Cooperstown was just as pleasant. Arriving at the Baseball Hall of Fame twenty minutes after they opened their doors and having basically the whole place to yourself is something else entirely.

Baseball has always been my sport. Well, I shouldn’t say always- I played soccer from kindergarten to 4th grade, at which point I realized that running is not my thing, and so I switched to a sport that only requires you to run in short quick bursts, and where everyone looks as frumpy as I do running. I played baseball right up until that point in high school where it became not “for fun” anymore, but for competition, which sucked all the life out of the sport. But I love baseball. So to show up at Cooperstown and walk into the Hall of Fame, you feel like you’re a kid again, reading about all the greats of the game and the memorabilia and little-known facts, and finding all your favorite players and sports announcers bronze plaques in the Hall, and then finding a distant family member.

I’ve known for quite awhile that I had a great aunt (grandma’s sister, is great aunt correct?) who played in the women’s pro baseball league during and following WWII. What I did not expect, though, was to find her name and see her picture at Cooperstown. Aunt Audrey (for whom my sister is named) played for Kenosha in the women’s league, and has a place in the National Baseball Hall of Fame. I had to walk that one off.

Anyone who has ever played or enjoyed baseball needs to make a pilgrimage to Cooperstown. It is a religious experience.

After Cooperstown, we hit the road toward Albany, which seemed like a really nice city, not small enough to feel like there’s nothing going on, but not big enough to feel impersonal and gross. After a Starbucks break, we drove out through southern Vermont and New Hampshire. I’ve seen the Rocky Mountains before, and they’re impressive and all, but there’s just something about the Appalachians that always gets me. I think I can some it up in this very dudelike sense: the Rocky Mountains are like that super-hot girl that’s really great to look at, but is just a little too distant and you know you’d never have a chance with her. The Appalachians, on the other hand, are much more accessible, like that super-cute girl that you can actually DO stuff with and have a conversation, and surprises you at almost every turn. Driving through the Green Mountains in Vermont was a fulfilling experience, both putting the car through its handling paces and allowing amazing views of the surrounding mountains.

A few more lakes and hills in New Hampshire and a quick run up the coast, and we arrived in Portland, hooking up with Adam and his dad, knocking back a few cold local brews and then calling it a night.