China: Capitalist Mindset

      The Denver bro-in-law teaching in China for the summer writes that the small, everyday strokes and personal of life are amazing similar to here, Denver or anywhere.

      That sounds right, but I would love a sojourn there, since my impressions of China have primarily been formed by art and products. The art is lovely and graceful in extremis. The products extremely appalling: a bike light generator that lasted barely two years (my German one, original equipment on a used bike is still functioning, according to the people who are using it in Berlin), 2 heating pads that together didn't last the decade the previous one did, and a arm-long list of shoddy, dangerous products that have made it into my home and onto the national news.

      This, I realize intellectually is the unholy alliance between American and Chinese capitalists. The only way to send products from the other side of the globe, i.e. major shipping costs is to underpay desperate workers. Who, according to the bro-in-law are visible as here—the chasm between rich and poor is pronounced and obvious.

The Chinese never fooled a critical eye about how socialist/communist they are?were. A rose is a rose, and capitalist dictatorship by any other name would smell/look the same.  As Congress, the agency that is supposed to be expressing our will, is dysfunctional, we are functionally in about the same spot as the Republic of Chinese Capitalists.

Onions, August Sun & Rabbit Habits

      Years of lousy onion crops motivated me to desperate measures in spring—I broke down and bought starter onions! Neither seeds nor sets work well in this climate. Having tried both with 3^rd rate results (am usually out of onions by the time I finish canning salsa) I relented, and my banner onion crop fills the whole top of the picnic table! Leeks are fine from seed, but you can leave them in until a really hard frost. In Ireland and England, with far milder winters than ours, gardeners leave them in the ground till they are ready to use them.

      Spuds are sparser this year owing to the weather. Some years there are a dozen under each hill, only 3, 4, or 5 this summer, but they are large and impressive. Requiring far less peeling, 1 or 2 will do an entire kettle of soup.

      I see I have acquired a family of intrepid rabbits, unintimidated by cats. They ate one cabbage plant on the edge of the garden but only one, and have helped themselves to one summer squash, again, only. Unlike the wasteful raccoons, Joe Peiffer always complained till he invested in an electric fence, went into the corn patch and took a bite out of every ear in a row!

Critical Eye welcomes people and animals with conservative habits.

World's Greatest Rat Story

      We served a lot of prime rib at the Club last night, and one of my tables was telling rat stories. I have a great rat story ever. Regrettably, I was too busy to tell it.

      When I was in Korea (1994-95), I had a Samsung class, a group of very bright, upper level managers. With English grammar better than the average American, accent and conversation were our focus. Walking to class one morning, I saw five rats, so I said to them, “The city has to do something about those garbage houses!”

        Changwon was a brand new city built with 20-story apartments along a wide boulevard. At the back of each was a small concrete block house and the women from the apartments would toss the kitchen garbage in the house. The metal doors had a 2 inch clearance, so the rats came and went with ease.

      Furthermore, down by the river there was an open market and you could go in, pick a chicken, the seller, would kill and gut it. At the end of the day, the rats moved in.

      “The city has to do something about the garbage houses and the open market.”

      “That's not the problem, Ms. McD,” Jaegoo insisted, “the problem is, nobody eats rat anymore!”

In a prime rib world, it's good to be able to cast a Critical Eye back to rat land!

Capitalist Mindset No. 5—Fair 4-Hing Then & Now

So call me naïve! A friend was describing the experience of a young person in her family showing a pie at the fair this year, recounting the questions the judge asked.

“You mean the judge was there when she dropped it off?” I asked.

“You have to be there to answer questions during the judging.”

“What ever for?”

“So they know for sure the kid did it! S/he must answer questions on the procedure.”

Said friend went on to describe her grandmother making a pillow, giving it to her mother and telling her that was what she was taking to the fair.

“GOD!” I said, “How can a parent teach a kid morals, fairness, etc. doing that?”

She shrugged and said that's why kids have to appear with their projects now.

The conversation threw the critical eye back 4-H in the mid-50s. The week before the fair, we freaked, behind deadline on pillows, pies, picture frames, and record books, pleading with Mom to do at least the difficult partsand “I am not going to finish on time!”

“Well, you should have thought of that the last two weeks you been lolling around reading.”

We would have won more blue ribbons, especially on sewing projects, if Mom hadn't been an old socialist who believed that doing/learning were preferable to winning. Unfortunately, the capitalist mindset has permanently changed not only fair judging.

Capitalist Mindset No. 4

The weekend featured a couple encounters with the Capitalist mindset—one unfortunately routine; the other has changed a whole local cultural institution—namely 4-H judging at fairs.

Friday, my Claddagh Court buddy and I drove up to Edgewood, which sports a large Amish population and a landscape very different than Dubuque County. Same rolling hills, but the valley floors and fences are lined with trees, random copses, smaller fields worked with horses, less corn, more alfalfa, oats, and wheat.

At the Amish General Store you can buy things like rotary egg beaters (two different models!) that you never find elsewhere, at reasonable prices.

After the store, we meandered into town, and found a very sweet restaurant on Main St. to which you would be happy to take big-city visitors. Authentic and unpretentious, Café Rosé is the basement of an old brick building, refurbished, plumbing visible, walls stuccoed and painted. Rosie, the owner, serves fresh-squeezed lemonade, salad with green greens (not white), delicious lasagna with a thoughtful twist—zucchini replacing the noodles, great for diabetics and diets! The wine and beer are local, and the one I had from a Decorah brewery was very distinctive.

However, a fat grandmother, her daughter with her three sons may have ruined lunch for a number of other diners. The boys, aged between 7 and 12 were lovely, but the adults were so loud the rest of us had to listen to their inane conversation, “I like giving shots to chubby babies. . . “

Critical Eye classifies this as capitalist because of its general disregard for others' experience, which we are not socialized to consider. We are trained to look out for ole No. 1, Fortunately, the restaurant where I work has carpet and that solves a good deal of the problem, but that shouldn't be the solution; we should be. Tomorrow, 4-H judging in this hyper capitalist era.

Capitalist Mindset No. 3—Immigration

As far back as a quarter century ago, in the early 1980s still living in Denver, I recall a magazine article (Harper's, I believe) discussing immigration from countries to the south and the blind eye the U.S. Congress was then turning to it. Most of the discussion then and now focuses on a range of ancillary issues—the Dream Act, border fence, Sheriff Joe Arpaio, now the Hondoran kids. . .

Generally, the news media seems too dim to notice the correlation between the persistent flood over the southern border and the demise of the U.S. Middle Class. Minimum wage has not been raised in five years and has fallen so far behind inflation and other parameters that it would be over $15, twice what it is today, if it had kept pace.

Though a few people benefit handily from this arrangement—business owners who can hire at a “prevailing wage” depressed by there being many applicants for every job. This is part of the public record as well: business and the stock market are thriving, wages are stagnant and the gap between the rich and poor here is close to those in countries immigrants left.

Of course, it simplistic to blame these problems on immigration exclusively; technology and the corruption that caused the 2008 housing bubble are also responsible.

It apparently takes more of a Critical Eye than the American media has to correlate these factors, but it is clear that businesses' capitalist mindset has its priorities in order: the bottom line first no matter what the impact on the rest of the society.

Capitalist Mindset: Illustration No. 2

At a city council meeting, recently, I heard an astonishing illustration of the capitalist mindset:. The speaker asserted, “There is plenty of money in this town! Look at the 4 million donated to the school.” Someone added, “$4.8 million.”

I was elsewhere when the new Aquin was planned, but I spoke vigorously against it when I heard it involved demolishing old St. Martins. How short-sighted of me! I did not realize that almost $5 million of community resources were about to be wasted.

In the 18^th Century Irish Hedge Schools, proved that you didn't even need a building to provide kids an education! Classes can be held in a barn, a store or wherever! The teacher, student, parent, and texts are the crucial elements. Destroying a valuable historical resource and sucking so much out of the community is the quintessence of the capitalist mindset: ignoring the needs of the rest of the community.

For some time we have needed a new library, which could be part of cultural & community center with meeting, quilting and general purpose rooms in the old brewery (Dahlem Feed Store), serving two ends—saving the brewery and creating a new library. Currently, a group is pushing for a new pool, and it can hardly be denied that the old one is 50, a ripe age in both people and pools. City council has exacerbated the $ problem by primarily serving developers' needs with public money.

Casting a critical eye on the lack of concern for the resources of the entire society both building the new Aquin. and the last two renovations of the church, seem marked with the capitalist egotism of putting your own needs first without calculating the impact on the wider community.

The “Virtue” of Voting Early, Often & in Every State

I maintain three email addresses—one for personal communications, for professional messages, and one for political and sales communiques, which is just what most political email is. Frequently, they ask you to sign petitions—Internet Neutrality, Social Security, last year innumerable Obama Care topics, this morning, one to keep the Central American kids flooding over the border.

These are national issues that everybody can & should have an opinion on. However, there is another sort. I.e. in 2012, there was a recall election in Wisconsin. I got several emails asking me to take actions to facilitate Scott Walker's demise. I wrote back incensed saying would not consider barging into the politics of another state. Wisconsinites should not have to live with what I want—it's their state!

How naïve is that?! I was astonished to discover subsequently in Forbes on line (http://www.forbes.com/sites/clareoconnor/2012/06/07/koch-brothers-scott-walker-didnt-get-a-dime-from-us/) that 14 billionaires contributed to influence the outcome of that vote. They wouldn't, if they were not sure they would get something out of it. So, no big surprise our democracy doesn't work. 

The critical eye is convinced that capitalism is the culprit here—the virtue of selfishness results in monetary success that is so highly prized it effectively entitles a billionaire to influence elections, and effectively force citizens of another state to live under a governor they want to recall, with fracking, or whatever. . .

The So-Called “Virtue” of Selfishness

            This weekend Steve Somebody called me complaining that Dagwood's Pub had Main Street closed  “again” and “gets it closed for his own personal gain” whenever he wants. From the tone of his voice, he felt it was unfair, special treatment, but I think it's rampant in this society. Biz as usual.

            A couple years back, shortly before two antique/chatchka shops in town closed—Cascade had become a mini-destination for female shoppers--one of their owners told me she decided to close because of this very thing, closing Main St.

            Though I am sure it wasn't the only factor, I can't help but see this in the larger context--the owner of Dagwood's is simply doing what is best for his biz. Steve's pique or an antique store owner's ire/inconvenience never cross his mind. If they do, he doesn’t feel obligated to do anything. City council concurs.

            In 1964 Ayn Rand published a book called The Virtue of Selfishness. Look up and down American society and you will see how completely the idea of what is good for the individual/his biz permeates this culture: Farming is done in a way that causes erosion, befouls surface water and creates chemical dead zone in the Gulf of Mexico but it makes $. The Mississippi has been ravaged to make it suitable for shipping, and now further widening of the locks and dams is being called for!

            I lived in Berlin, Germany for almost five years and there they have a Gruneamt, a kind of environment department that has numbered all the trees in the city. You must get a permit from the Gruneamt if you want to cut or even trim one. Trees there are seen as indispensable to air quality. Americans would plotz!!!

           

            Casting a Critical Eye about American Society will reveal a myriad of  examples, and in successive days, I will describe some of them—political action groups, immigration, the Koch Brothers, the Catholic Church—and how the  so-called “Virtue” of Selfishness affects us. Has made the whole society less well off in more ways than anybody realizes—not just you, Steve.

Greater Love than This, Hath. . .

. . .very few brothers. 
For the past ten days, my two bros Paul from out Reiter Rd. and Dave from Denver have spent 8 to 10 hours daily, removing the shingles and replacing them, scraping the gables (that I believed were in good condition) repainting and repairing them.

I thought someone sufficiently intrepid, i.e. unafraid of heights could scrape off the loose paint and repaint them from a ladder. Wrong. The gables and new ventilation system required a scaffold, which had to assembled, disassembled and reassembled four times.

Apparently, old Victorians, lack the ventilation mechanism that keeps the shingles from getting hotter than a smelt furnace. Smilingly, a company will sell you them with a 25-year guarantee, it knows will barely last half that because of your ventilation and the materials in their shingles, and then refuse to honor the guarantee..

So can certainly see why most of the houses around the countryside that once had Victorian scallops, triangles and dentiles on their gables have been covered up.

You are cordially invited to saunter by and cast a critical eye on the handiwork of two extremely fine workmen and fabulous brothers who have made it possible for an 1880s Victorian to live another season.

Old Fulton & My Dutch Uncle Al

I once had a Dutch Uncle—a real Dutch Uncle—his parents came from Holland. We thought he was rich because they had an automatic washer and an Oldsmobile. If we were in Clinton, IA, where they lived, he would take us across the river to Fulton, IL where he liked to go, sit on his parents' screened-in porch, drink beer and talk about fishing in Dutch with them and his brothers.

When they came up here in the big Olds, which I ran in the ditch out by Merlin and Marlene Boll's when he tried to teach me to drive, he raved about Mom's cinnamon rolls and swore, “Breakfast never tastes so good as in Cascade at Helen's,” and we felt rich. He believed it was the fresh eggs fried in bacon grease, my brothers fetched out from under the chickens in the old barn, now torn down.

He's gone now; they are all gone; I suppose even the screened-in porch in favor of a four-seasons room with air conditioning.

Cousin Patrick Van Kampen and I went back to Fulton this weekend and found it Dutch spiffy with a windmill the town imported from Holland, which functions and allows you see how the industrious Dutch harnessed sea breezes to grind their grain. The smell of the fish, which was pervasive then, is gone, except in the critical eyes and ears of those with the memories—our most valuable possessions?