Friday, April 18, 2008

Amnesia: What Every Two-Year-Old Knows

One of my friends is about to turn 25, and the other night we were discussing our 20s, characterizing the decade as one of restlessness and confusion. I told her, "Dude, we have license to fuck up so badly in our 20s, but we've got to work it out." That is to say, my 20s have been all about trying on different lives to see if they fit, which has meant a few very unflattering outfits. However, I've come to the conclusion that if one refuses to move through the pain of losing or disillusionment, he or she may never feel anything but the pain. Like pain is a permanent attachment--or a permanent attachment to pain.

Staying with the analogy of trying things on, I've had a few lives that felt fashionable for a while (being a student in Italy, interning with famous editors at Random House, working for magazines in San Francisco, embarking on a year-long yoga adventure) and others that busted at the seams (moving in with a badly behaved CEO in London, slaving for a hedge fund in Manhattan). Maybe spontaneously combusted at the seams would be a better description of the latter. Anyway, without these “fittings,” if you will, how would I ever know what I want to put into motion?

Which leads me to the question: What if we considered our failures as mere diagnostic testing? What if the past meant nothing to us except the wisdom and sensibilities we've gained from having gone through it all? (By the way, all of these lives have culminated with the one I have today, living as a mostly blissed out mommy who works with writing students at a small liberal arts college.)

The reason I'm pondering these questions: I watched a totally fascinating documentary tonight called “Unknown White Male.” It's about a man called Doug Bruce who mysteriously developed amnesia early one morning in New York City. He woke up on the subway on March 7, 2003 and did not recognize his surroundings. He had no recollection of what he was doing or who he was. He soon realized he was wearing a backpack, but all it contained was a vile of clear liquid (later identified as medication for a dog), a travel guide to South America and two sets of keys. Since he didn't have any clue who he was, he went to a nearby police station for help. The police noticed his English accent and concluded that he must be English, which, at the time, meant nothing to Doug. After five days in the psychiatric ward of a hospital in Brooklyn, Doug called a phone number scrawled on a scrap of paper he found in the travel guide. He reached a woman who recognized his voice. She told Doug over the phone, “I know who you are. You have a great life, and I'll be there to pick you up in half an hour."

Doug soon found out he had been a successful stock broker who had retired at age 30 to pursue his passion for photography. He owned a large, sparse loft in Manhattan, three cockatoos and two dogs. He spent the next several years meeting family and friends for the first time and creating a new version of himself amidst the relics of his forgotten past. He soon concluded that he did not care if his memory came back and later grew to fear its return.

What excited me about this documentary was watching Doug experience the joys of life for the first time with an adult mind. New York was a new and exhilarating place. He wept the first time he saw the ocean. He fell in love for the first time--the all-consuming and devoted kind. His photography was suddenly elevated to a new level of artistic depth. It was as if he was only left with the sensory faculty of his past--almost like muscle memory of living without ego or cynicism (i.e., what we all enjoyed as small children).

As the mother of two-year-old Landen, I am constantly in the presence of this lack of inhibition (for which I am forever grateful). Before dinner tonight, Landen and I were walking along Seneca Lake and the moon was full and bright. He pointed to it excitedly and ran down the bank toward the lake shore. He stopped on a hill, reached up and grunted--thinking he could somehow grasp the moon in his little hands, fingers spread out like stars. He then stood there with his back to me for a while, his head tilted upward and still. The lake reflected the moonlight like sparks on the water and the moon floated above it, a giant pearl in the purple sky.

This moment reminded me that every moment is original. As every two-year-old knows, our origins lie in this moment and then the next...

Friday Political Rant

I was browsing through the NY Times yesterday and came across an interesting if disturbing article on the current food crisis. This particular article drew a connection between global warming and a shortage of rice. Fair enough. But what is more interesting is the following tidbit, tucked away in the article, far from the headline:

“The global agricultural crisis is threatening to become political, pitting the United States and other developed countries against the developing world over the need for affordable food versus the need for renewable energy. Many poorer nations worry that subsidies from rich countries to support biofuels, which turn food, like corn, into fuel, are pushing up the price of staples.”

Again, this is a completely fair point. Subsidies for biofuel, in particular corn-based ethanol are one of the worst ideas I’ve ever come across. (Beet ethanol is perhaps another matter). But honestly: would the Times have us believe that biofuel subsidies are the only ones that pit the developing world against the rich countries? I can’t imagine ANY agricultural subsidies in the, EU or Japan are very popular among the world’s poor.

Unfortunately, they are currently very popular among American politicians, especially Democrats. It’s all too easy to see why. Nothing gets votes like the promise of subsidies for you and higher tariffs for your foreign competitors. When you consider that Iowa is among the greatest beneficiaries of agricultural subsidies, then it becomes obvious why virtually every presidential candidate this year has spoken favorably of such subsidies, usually well bashing NAFTA and/or immigrants. Brazilian beet-farmers, on the other hand, can’t caucus in Iowa. Even Ox-Fam is mostly run by Brits.

I often wonder why this issue doesn’t get more press. Isn’t this as important as who is bitter, whose pastor said what, etc, etc? If one believes, as I do, that agricultural subsidies and tariffs contribute to the appalling gap between rich and poor countries, then one ought to demand better of our politicians and our press.

The contrast between the three major candidates could hardly be greater. Both Obama and Clinton have campaigned against free-trade, and both would undoubtedly continue the subsidies that pit the haves against the have-nots. (They will, of course, do this out of altruistic concern for the well-being of American farmers!) You can’t really blame them for it. As I said before, virtually every major candidate promised more biofuel subsidies while campaigning in Iowa. The one exception was Senator John McCain of Arizona, who told Iowans bluntly that he did not and would not support such subsidies. Anyone who truly cares about closing the global wealth gap ought to keep this in mind in November.

Beginning to See the Light

Well, like many people with brains in their heads, I was annoyed with this week's debate, and I fumed a bit yesterday as I read accounts of the moderators taking queues from Sean Hannity. I fumed a bit more today as I read details of how Nash McCabe (parodied wonderfully on yesterday's Daily Show) was not a randomly chosen PA voter, but in fact someone interviewed by the NY Times last week about the fact that she couldn't vote for Obama because he didn't wear a flag pin. Still, yesterday evening and this morning I found three wonderful reasons to look past the fuming to something more.

  1. I saw posts about Obama's reaction to the whole thing, and how it has included adopting Jay-Z's brush the dirt off your shoulders move. I may just be a dork, but this strikes me as hilarious and incredibly cool. They're coming after you in ridiculous ways so what do you do? Shrug, brush the dirt off ya shoulders, and keep moving on. He won't be derailed, or distracted.
  2. Distractions brings me to the second item, last night's Colbert Report. I hope a zillion other people saw it, because Colbert had an amazing night last night. Guests on his show included both Clinton, Obama and John Edwards, who delivered the "EdWORDs" in place of Steven Colbert's nightly "the Word" commentary. It was an action packed half hour, and I'm sure there are some good clips either up or going up on Comedy Central's website as we speak.
  3. Finally, I discovered this morning, via Andrew Sullivan's blog, that my favorite election commentators of the season, the guys who brought you the "Be Brave America" You Tube video in response to the 3a.m. ad, have returned. Their latest video is below. Enjoy!



... one final note: the title of this post also happens to be the title of an amazing song by the Velvet Underground. If you're not familiar with it, you should check it out!