An American Wake (w/ apologies)
08.27.2003I'm no good at goodbyes. Or goodbye parties. I'm really sorry. I'm just not.
I was happy to see so many of my friends come out to see me off on me not-so-last night in Kalamazoo. Sure, I'll be back for the Moped Army BBQ. But I know it won't quite be the same. I'm no longer a Kalamazoo resident.
So why am I so horrible w/ goodbyes? I can give you an answer. I never really learned about goodbyes. There's a story there, and it's not really as sad as it sounds ...
I grew up in Bolivia. I was a little 9-year-old boy who never even considered The Future. I was happy, I was young, I lived in Bolivia. I went to school, I had friends, I had a dog named Tony. It was a good life.
Sure, I never really knew about the world around me. As I grew up, I learned more. I learned why the TV often had a new president, hiding his face behind dark sunglasses and surrounded by men w/ guns. But I lived in Santa Cruz, not the capital. I lived in "el interior" (the interior, the frontier, BFE). Problems only existed in The Capital, in La Paz. I never understood what 25,000 percent inflation meant until years later.
But in December 1984, my family flew to the US. We were visiting my mom's family in Saginaw. We often visited them. But this was our first time in winter. Oh! I'd never seen snow before. It was so much fun. Sledding, ice skating, snow angels. The coldest it ever got in Santa Cruz was maybe 55. Fahrenheit. And that was a cold cold snap where everyone ran home to their sweater closets and huddled together under all the blankets we could muster.
The night before we'd fly back home, to Bolivia, my parents decided to stay in the US. Things were better here. No hyper-inflation, political stability, a future. So we stayed. Well, Sam (my younger brother) and I stayed. My parents and Andy went back. To sell the house, our belongings, and then come back. What they couldn't carry in their alloted luggage, stayed, given away and just left behind (another tradition I learned about moving). And Sam & I stayed (and he didn't even speak English!).
I've often wondered what my dear abuelita's face looked like when she saw my parents at the airport. How did they explain why two of her grandsons weren't coming back. How her son was leaving to a new country (my dad didn't speak English either) far, far away. I wonder how long she cried.
So. I never said goodbye to my school friends. I never said goodbye to my relatives. I never said goodbye to my dog. I came back to Bolivia for the first time four years later. I heard my best friend (Tadashi Nakama) had moved to Japan. I never saw another of my friends, save one. I saw her every time I went back and we wrote letters back and forth for years.
But I never learned to say goodbye. I always just go to airports, bag in hand. And I start walking. I don't turn around. I just walk straight to the plane. The people I leave behind, I'll see them soon. If not, what difference will a goodbye make? I'll see my parents soon. I'll see my brothers soon. I'll see my friends soon. Or my pane might crash into the ocean. In which case, what difference would another goodbye make?
For most of my life, my dream was to go back to Bolivia. To live. Get married, raise kids, start a life. That dream no longer exists. Perhaps it was just a foolish dream. But she's right, I'm too American now.
So. In two weeks I go back to Boliva, but not forever. It's true what they say. "You can always go home, you just can't stay."
The Irish had a tradition. Actually, I'm sure lots of people had this tradition. It's called an American Wake. It was for when family or friends left the Old Country and moved to America. They'd probably never return, they were gone over the sundering seas. So they got together and said their last goodbyes.
One of my favorite songs by Black 47 is called "American Wake" (listen to it on mp3). It's about an Irish man who goes back home after years in America. He finds it both changed and the same. And it's true what they say. "You can always go home, you just can't stay."
To all my friends, wherever you are: I'll see you soon.
Midnight cowboy
08.26.2003The interstate was meant to be driven after midnight. That's when the herds of semi trucks come out. In the daytime, semis are rare and cumbersome. But at night. Ah! It's like a herd of blue whales, large but graceful creatures gliding past each other in the dark.
This is what the interstate's for. Sure, it's also for driving long distances. If you're not flying or taking a train. But road trips are much more fun on smaller highways. Where you can see the countryside change from cornfield, to wheatfields, to small towns and lonely gas pumps. That's how you see America.
But late late at night, in a large bucking bronco of a U-haul truck, listening to country music on the radio, swimming the black asphalt and the deep blue sky w/ semi trucks. Ah! That's what the interstate's for.
I've always imagined what it must be like to be a trucker. Steering a big rig through endless states, breaking the monotony on a CB radio. It's the pre-internet internet. Think about it. Two old friends who rarely meet face to face, but talk nightly. Like IM pals.
"Breaker, breaker. This is Timberwolf89 looking for my good buddy TexasJack. Over."
"This is TexasJack. How ya doin' Timber? Over."
"Nothin' new here. Just haulin' oranges to Tuscalooga. You? Over."
"Stoppin' for gas near DeBuque. Haulin' some o' that thar Walmart bullshit. Over."
"He, he. I heard that. Well, catcha later ol' boddy. Maybe get some coffee in Colorada if we meet up. Over."
"Sounds good. Over."
The ride wasn't so bad. I had two cats in the cab to keep me company. They didn't want to ride in their carriers, so they crawled around inside for a while. They stopped meowing before Battle Creek. By the time we passed Olivet, Sophie & Annie were settled in next to each other on the passenger's seat.
They got a little worried when I stopped far gas south of Lansing. After that, Sophie pressed up next to me as if she couldn't get close enough. A ittle ball of black fur looking for security. Just past Lansing, as I turned onto M-52, Sophie's curiosity won out and she sat in my lap, paws on the steering wheel, peering into the darkness. Owosso and Saint Charles and the little hamlets between Lansing and Saginaw interested her, and she peered out the window as we drove on. Annie, my lazy fat cat, napped most of the way.
We finally pulled into my parents' driveway around 3am. I took Annie & Sophie into the house, were they disappeared into little corners and have yet to come out. I crawled into the basement bedroom and slept 'till 5pm.
In twelve hours
08.25.2003My entire life probably won't fill 14 cubic feet. That's the size of the U-haul I rented. Moving is always bittersweet. There's the pleasant expectation of the future, and the sadness of leaving an old familiar place behind. And Kalamazoo is the first place — in a long, long time — that I'd honestly call Home.
In twelve hours, I'll pack about two dozen random boxes and other assorted items into the back of the truck. I've a nice bottle of wine or two saved up to pass around w/ my mates ... enough for a toast or two, but not enough to get me snickered. I do have to drive, after all.
In twelve hours, I'll hit the interstate in a large truck. Annie & Sophie, my intrepid cat sidekicks, will ride shotgun. I assume they'll meow the entire two-and-a-half hours. That's OK. It'll go well w/ the country music. After all, when you're on the interstate around midnight in a large, clunky truck, driving through Midwest America, country music's a given.
Oh, by the way, my cell phone no longer works. I'm back to only having email as a means of communication. Remember those days? Everyone thought I was nuts ... I had DSL and an active phone line ... but didn't even bother to plug in my phone for months.
Happy birthday, cueball
08.24.2003
My little brother is 23 years old today. Not so little, eh? He's enjoying ocean sun in Puerto Rico w/ college friends. Ah, to be young!
When I think of Andy, I think of watching him play soccer over the years. He played in some pretty good youth travel teams as a kid. He played varsity soccer as a freshman. He was good (still is). I was fascinated by how effortlessly he glided across the pitch, the ball an extension of his body.
Like Valderama, Andy didn't run. He just sorta sauntered across the field. And yet. He was always right where the ball landed on a drop pass. And he could put the ball right where you wanted it on a through pass. He was the perfect midfielder. Andy always had about as many season assists as the rest of the team put together. He was never greedy, he didn't showboat — he just handed goals over to his forwards, all precisely gift-wrapped.
He doesn't play soccer much anymore. He works as an IT tech at an accounting firm, paying his way through college. And he's got a really good chance of landing a very cherry job in DuPont's supply chain management division.
Things change, of course. When you're a kid, you do kid things. Then you grow up. It's just the way it is. But Andy'll always be the little kid w/ the bad haircut and the dirty cleats.
Blunch
08.23.2003If you're not reading Mark's weblog, you should. He posts daily pictures of his lunch, and smaller webcam shots of him eating. It's a brilliantly quirky theme blog.
Posted by Miguel at 07:09 AM | Permalink
End of a long vacation
08.23.2003This last year was pretty much a long vacation for me. Sure, I taught a 300-level class at Western in the Fall. And I helped w/ another 300-level course in the Winter. But by last August, my dissertation proposal was finished, my grant applications sent out.
I trekked to campus twice a week. I didn't take classes. I wasn't actively working on my dissertation proposal. I took up blogging. I took up reading comics (here's my pull list).
I sat. I sat and waited to hear if I'd get funding to work on my dissertation. It was a long, stressful vacation. I'll admit it, I considered what I'd do if I didn't get any funding.
Now I'm on my way to Bolivia in about two weeks w/ a Fulbright. Suddenly, my long vacation is over. I'm both anxious, and nervous. I won't have the kind of time I had this past year to just play chess all afternoon or stay up late watching DVDs. It's back to the grind, back to waking up every morning and going "to work" — which now means reading archive records five days a week.
Yeah, I'm sure I'll have some grand adventures living in La Paz for a year. I'll be in a vibrant, colorful city. I'll be in the political capital of the country I study. But I'll miss my chess matches w/ Dan. I'll miss calling Bay or Josh at odd hours for coffee. And I'll miss waking up at 6pm ...
In three days
08.22.2003In three days I'll no longer be a Kalamazoo resident. Monday night I'll pack up my belongings in a U-haul truck and drive north on the interstate to my parents' home.
Continue reading "In three days"In three weeks
08.20.2003
This is where I'll be living for the next year. The large mountain in the background is Illimani, an extinct volcano. Nestled in the Andes' Cordillera Real, La Paz is about 2.5 miles above sea-level. I'll be living downtown in El Prado (like Chicago's Loop or New York's Time Square), at only 2.2 miles above sea-level. Oh, the city isn't smoggy. But it's often at cloud level.
Update
08.18.2003Wow. I haven't blogged in days. So here's a wrap-up of the last few days' events:
Continue reading "Update"My TV just turned on
08.14.2003The television in my living room just turned itself on. My clocks were blinking. It turns out that Kalamazoo had a small power outage (some parts of the city still do). I thought nothing of it.
Until a news "special report" announced that NYC power was down. On the screen, I saw thousands of people walking, just walking through the downtown streets. It was a total blackout, and people were pouring out of subways (if they weren't trapped inside). Blackouts were spreading throughout the East Coast, and affecting a wide area of the country.
I called Ali, of course. I hope she's OK. What a horrible way to start your second month in The City. But NYC's tough as nails — and that attitude is infectuous.
24 hour delay
08.14.2003Andy postponed his Puerto Rico holiday a day.
We were driving on I-94 towards Chicago O'Hare. I'd just put in Portishead in the CD player. We were tired, and Andy drove w/ the moon roof open. We almost missed the little "pop krackle" sound. Probably just the radio, eh? Weird.
And then the hood flew up towards our face, smashing the windshield at 80 miles an hour. The glass spidered, and gave, but didn't break. But now we were driving blind, barreling down the interstate. I'm just glad Andy stayed calm and managed to pull off the highway on the next exit.
We were in downtown Chicago. Andy's flight was in three hours.
We put the hood down, and drove (very slowly) to a nearby gas station. They didn't have a phonebook. And it was 3am Chicago time. We quickly ran down our list of options.
Andy had a friend in Chicago. The phone rang, and we got our first break. He was still awake, and just driving home. He swung by to escort us to his apartment.
In the end, Andy managed to cancel his flight, receiving a credit from Spirit Airlines. I got dropped off at Union Station, and took a train back to Kalamazoo. I was pleasantly surprised that going by train (which is faster) cost half as much as going by bus. So I got back to Kalamazoo, tired and frazzled, just in time to catch the tail end of Caleb & Marci's going away breakfast.
I just got off the phone w/ Andy about an hour ago. He got lucky. His insurance will cover the cost of the repair (estimated at $3,000) for a small $100 deductible. So he's still flying to Puerto Rico, just a day later.
Andy & I joked about the lessons we should learn from this event. Here's my list:
- Always bring a credit card
- Only buy cars w/ hoods that open away from the windshield, not towards it
I've had a great time w/ Andy the last two days in Kalamazoo. In about an hour we're driving to Chicago O'Hare and I'll drop him off for his flight to Puerto Rico. I pick him up two weeks later.
Mostly we just played lots of chess and talked about our lives. You know, Centellas brother stuff. He saw Amélie for the first time. Then we sat upstairs at The Fourth Coast and played more chess and then read some comics. He read Frank Miller's 300.
A pretty good ending to a day that was mostly running errands around town. The low point was frustration over running all over town looking for cheap, aesthetically pleasing swimsuit. Andy's picky; I'm cranky before my first coffee.
Interplanetary domination
08.12.2003Oh, yeah! I got back into Kalamazoo in time for the colossal game of Risk 2210 (aka "Space Risk"). After exiling Evil Bill to the moon — twice! — I rolled over land and sea like an unstoppable juggernaut.
Posted by Miguel at 11:59 PM | Permalink
Gone out, back soon
08.11.2003I had such a wonderful time at home w/ my family this weekend, that I decided to stay. At least until Tuesday, when I drive my little brother to Chicago (he's on holiday to Puerto Rico). I'll resume blogging (and w/ a vengeance) when I return to Kalamazoo.
Also, I'm officially leaving Kalamazoo the night of 28 August (Thursday).
Caleb & Marci got married in a field
08.08.2003
Caleb & Marci surprised me w/ a phone call. They'd just come into town after their honemoon tour of Maine. We met for coffees, chatting about their wedding and their impressions of Maine.
They're moving to Portland. Marci already has a job at Federal Spice. Caleb has promising interviews in a week. They already have a downtown apartment, w/ yellow brick and bay windows. Maine looks really impressive.
I met Caleb about three years ago — fifteen minutes before he drove me to Lapeer to pick up my first moped. I'd never spoken to Caleb before (I hardly knew Dan, either, who arranged for Caleb to drive me out there). And here was this tall lanky blonde kid, who'd never met me, but was willing to spend six hours to drive across the state in his Jeep Cherokee. Wow. I knew I'd met someone who'd be a great friend. Of course, it helped that we had much in common (not least of which was our love of chess and Risk).
I met Marci about a year later. I like to think that the first time I met her she was wearing a rubber dress (she wasn't, that was the second time I met her). The first time I met Marci was at The Fourth Coast. Several of us (including Caleb) were sitting around a table, mostly trying to hit on Marci. In the end, it was obvious that Caleb won her heart. And as beautiful as Marci is, Caleb & Marci together are even more lovely and amazing.
So a few weeks ago Caleb & Marci got married in a field. Literally. They drove to the UP (Michigan's upper peninsula), to Caleb's home town of Houghton. They had to mow a section of field for the ceremony, Marci's dress was filled w/ grasshopers and other flora & fauna. I'm sad I missed it and the crocket and bocci ball that followed.
But I'm glad they're back in Kalamazoo for another week. I especially look forward to at least a few chess matches w/ my friend, Caleb.
Tic toc
08.08.2003Wow. My remaining time in America is slowly coming to an end. Just 30 days left. I'm really excited to go back and live in Bolivia for a year (well, 10 months, really) — busy w/ my dissertation research and all. But I'm also gonna miss everything and everyone.
I'm spending this weekend w/ my folks. My mom's throwing a little party (she even sent out invitations). Next weekend I'm going to Chicago w/ Andy (my little brother). The weekend after ... I'm moving out of my Kalamazoo apartment. A week-and-a-half later ... I'm boarding a jet to La Paz.
I've an apartment lined up. Right downtown on the Paseo el Prado. I look forward to a year in La Paz, w/ frequent visits to Santa Cruz (the city of my birth). It should be a great year.
Do you deserve a break today?
08.06.2003Two nights ago, Bay Jo and I shared a "McDonald's moment." I'd been craving a Big Mac, and I can't quite explain why. I think mostly because I'll be leaving in a month and I won't have the opportunity to eat at McDonald's for another year. Then again, I almost never eat at McDonald's. So what's the big deal?
Well, we sat there and ate our food. I ordered a Big Mac value meal complete w/ fries and shake. So, Bay Jo & I had a conversation about hamburgers.
Bay Jo's a vegetarian, so she doesn't actually eat hamburgers. But she told me about how happy she was when more restaurants started carrying Boca burgers. See, Bay Jo's an immigrant, like me. And she'd never felt quite "American" because she couldn't eat a big, fat, juicy hamburger. W/ her hands. You know, just the way you hold a hamburger in your hands and eat it. It's so American.
And then I remembered a McDonald's commercial I saw in Bolivia a few years ago. This was before the McDonald's (all three of them) closed in Bolivia. This commercial wasn't really unique, it was just like all the other commercials you see for McDonald's every day. It was utterly American. I mean, the commercial was in Spanish, and clearly was set in the Bolivian McDonald's (you could recognize next door buildings and landmarks), but it was clearly American.
Think back to all the McDonald's commercials you've ever seen. Some hip young kids walk in, the service person at the counter smiles. Sometimes they flirt w/ the customers. Sometimes they share a laugh together, clearly demonstrating that the workers and patrons are friends, perhaps from school. But you get the same message. And it's purely an American thing:
It's cool to eat at McDonald's. And it's cool to work at McDonald's.
Now, you and I know the reality. That's fine. But imagine the impact this has in Latin America. In Bolivia. Where middle class teens don't work. Only poor people work. And you don't talk to them. You don't flirt w/ people below your station. You certainly don't go to the same schools or enjoy each others' company. There is a rather strict social order. If your children work, you are poor. Period.
So there's a McDonald's in Bolivia (or there was). And, sure, perhaps it's merely spreading some globalized food that really isn't all that good or good for you. But. It's also spreading a sociopolitical message. And we have to admit that McDonald's is, in a significant part, one of the ambassadors of American cultural values. McDonald's promotes a utopian image where waiter and customer are equal in dignity and respect.
This simple phrase found in almost every ad is so telling. "Welcome to McDonald's. Can I help you?" Notice it's always "help", never "serve."
Sometimes opposing war means supporting murderers
08.04.2003Norman Geras, a British socialist, recently published an opinion column in The Wall Street Journal on the anti-war movement's support for Hussein. It's extremely well thought out and powerful. Here's a brief excerpt:
Continue reading "Sometimes opposing war means supporting murderers"Congratulations, Kim!
08.04.2003In conjunction w/ ANSWER, an organization that has steadfastly supported the North Korean regime, I want to congratulate Kim Jong-Il on his victory in the most recent elections of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea. Voter turnout was 99.9 percent, which is much higher than the pathetic voter turnout in US presidential elections. And Kim won a resounding 100 percent of the vote, demonstrating that he has a much better mandate to govern than El Busho. Way to go, Kim!
Is Harry Potter dangerous?
08.03.2003I saw one of the worst things ever on television today. It was FOX 17 News ... reporting a book burning in Greenville, Michigan. That's not far from where I live. A book burning.
Continue reading "Is Harry Potter dangerous?"Draft Clark
08.02.2003While I support Bush's foreign policy, I'd like a real contest in 2004. But, no current Democratic hopeful cuts the mustard (well, Lieberman's the only one). You can sign an online petition to draft General Wesley Clark into the field. He'd give the Dems a chance. After all, elections should be about winning, not about chest thumping and feeling good.
Continue reading "Draft Clark"On capitalism, democracy, and world peace
08.01.2003I believe that the spread of democracy and capitalism is the greatest weapon for peace in the twenty-first century. This doesn’t mean, of course that the spread of democracy and capitalism will end “War” as we know it. I only mean that democracy and capitalism make war much less likely.
First, democracy and capitalism are necessarily intertwined as twin sons of liberalism. It’s no surprise that one of the key books in liberal political theory was Adam Smith’s The Wealth of Nations. Even Locke’s Second Treatise on Government is filled w/ the language of both political philosophy and economics. After all, both a theory of labor and property rights derived from them are critical elements of liberalism.
Liberal democracy and free market capitalism necessarily require the same basic fundamental rights. Freedom of speech allows individuals to not only express their own opinions, but also the ability to advertise their products. Freedom of the press offers the same dual purpose. So does freedom of association, which protects both our right to form a political party or movement and our right to join others in corporate enterprise. Liberal democracy rests on the idea of a contract between government and citizens, a conceptual structure borrowed from economics. The subsequent liberal right to change government (both individual leaders and fundamental structure) is the same right that allows us to choose between Ford and Toyota. If I don’t like my Toyota, I can sell it and purchase a Ford.
It’s no surprise, therefore, that all liberal democracies in the world are also capitalist economies. Sure, the experiment of “people’s democracy” has existed in the past. And they did stay faithful to some (but not all) principles of broader democratic theory. But, given a choice, few would choose to live in the USSR, North Korea, Cuba, or East Germany. Beyond structural, logical problems inherent in these states come one simple indictment: history. Every year, hundreds of people risk their lives in miserable rafts attempting to flee Cuba for America’s shores. There’s no exodus in the opposite direction. Thousands risked their lives attempting to cross the Berlin Wall into West Berlin. No one risked his life to go in the opposite direction. Sure, some Americans did prefer to live in such regimes. But they never had to run barricades to leave this country.
Second, capitalist countries are less likely to go to war w/ one another. It’s a historical fact that no two democracies have ever fought a war against each other. When you look at the historical experience, democracies are least likely to engage in war. This is more true the more democratic the country is. Canada and the US have never fought a war. But the Latin American military regimes have fought over a hundred wars between each other. In 1979 El Salvador and Honduras fought a brief war over a controversial soccer match.
This doesn’t mean that capitalist countries don’t compete. Japan, the US, and the EU are economic rivals. But even this rivalry is tempered by capitalism. In the first place, capitalist economies are so intertwined that it’s difficult to see where they begin and end. Is Daimler-Benz-Chrysler a German or American corporation? Is Sony-MGM a Japanese or American corporation? Is FOX television an American or Australian corporation? The truth: no one really cares. In the second place, it’s not in any capitalist country's interest to cripple another. We don’t want Europe or Japan to have recessions. That hurts our economy, slows down exports, and reduces consumer markets generally. Witness the US bailout of Mexico’s economy a few years ago. Or Germany’s willingness to prop up the European economy.
Third, a counter-argument is made that other countries are still antagonistic towards the US even though heavily involved in the international economy. Saudi Arabia is a major world oil supplier, yet it’s politics are antagonistic (it supports international terrorism). China is a huge international economic presence, yet it rattles sabers over Taiwan. But let’slook closer.
By definition, all states are involved in the international economy. But they aren’t all capitalist. China’s trying to play the game of international capitalism while limiting capitalist and democratic reforms at home. The gamble is a long-term failure. After a decade of economic reforms, we’re seeing more and more Chinese demanding similar political reforms. The historical distance between glasnost and perestroika may be wider in China, but their convergence is inevitable. It’s only a matter of time before China is so far along the capitalist path that war w/ Taiwan becomes unthinkable. After all, Taiwan is already a major source of Chinese investment capital and a major export market.
The Saudi example is clear: Saudi Arabia is neither a democracy nor a capitalist state. If democracy requires a separation of church and state, capitalism requires a separation of state and economics. Saudi Arabia allows neither. Governed by an absolutist monarchy wrapped up in religious mysticism, neither its politics nor its economics are popularly determined. Saudi princes manage its political policies and its economic ventures for personal reasons. In a democracy, w/ free press and political tolerance, what kind of leaders would Saudi citizens elect? Those who pursue economic growth and property? Or those who pursue religious interests that keep the country backward and politically isolated?
I disagree w/ the enemies of globalization. First, because it’s obvious that globalization is inevitable. But, since an event’s inevitability says nothing about its ethicality, I also present the above argument. Globalization not only brings countries closer together, it also spreads universal values of democracy and free markets. And just as life is better in a democracy, so life would be better in a democratic world.
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Note: Steve Giardina points out that definition of democracy was unclear. I use the definition developed by Robert Dahl's (1971) seminal Polyarchy: Participation and Opposition.
The last 30 days
08.01.2003I leave Kalamazoo on 30 August for my parents' home in Saginaw. From there, I fly to Bolivia just over a week later. I'll spend the next ten months gathering research for my dissertation on Bolivia's democratic system and institutions.
Continue reading "The last 30 days"