The Emperor's New Question: A Philosophical Look at Health Care

In my new weekly column for When Falls the Coliseum, I get to wear the disguise of "The Emperor of the World." As we all know, some disguises can be liberating; this one allows me to air out the saltier, less compassionate side of myself. (My wife thinks I am way too nice here on H&R; I tend to growl a bit more during our living room conversations about the world.) In the column, "The Emperor" makes a decree of some kind and then deals out punishment for transgressions. The punishments are always Dante-esque -- flavored with metaphoric meaning that is sometimes obvious and sometimes not.

Yesterday, my alter-ego made a decree that one is owed nothing as a result of his or her hard work.

When I posted a link for my Facebook friends, I captioned it with a reference to the Declaration of Independence, sort of mechanically. (I often write that way.)  Here's what I posted:

Okay, now the Emperor is mad. Stop yer whining and accept the fact that you deserve nothing but life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. (Key word: "pursuit." If they had meant "attainment," believe me, they would have said that.)

After I wrote this, I sat back and said, "Hmpf." (I actually said that. I say that a lot.)

The First Journey

Today, my boys asked to go to the local store on their own. We never forbade it or anything -- it just hadn't come up yet. My younger boy is eight and the older one is ten. The store is three-quarters of a mile down the road that runs through the middle of our town. I had no doubts about their finding it. It's just that they never went there alone before. I thought it over and finally gave the go-ahead.

My older son took his bike and, the younger, his scooter. Off they went.

After a few minutes, and echoing the numerous parenting parables about this sort of thing, I jumped in the car and followed, in secret. What I wanted to know, mostly, was how long it would take them to get there so I would have an idea how long it should take, for future reference.

I won't lie: it was kind of fun. I zigged and zagged through the neighborhood, taking up secret positions to watch them pass. When they got to the store, I waited until they came back out and then headed home, confident they would be fine. They seemed to have stopped at the cross streets on the way -- that kind of thing.

The questing parent, Marlin,
enduring Dory's whale song, from
Pixar's Finding Nemo

See, I believe "helicopter parenting" is one of the worst things in the modern world. But I also believe one can never be too careful with one's kids in the modern world. Every precaution must be taken. What's the difference between my secret mission and "helicopter parenting"? With helicopter parents, the kids are fully aware of the protection they are under. In fact, they rely on it; that's the damaging factor.

The Crime of Chivalry

The release of the John Carter movie, awhile ago, reminded me that I had been curious to read the books by Edgar Rice Burroughs. Bradbury had always cited them as an inspiration, too. So, last week, I picked up A Princess of Mars in the "John Carter of Mars" series.

Burroughs

I was reluctant to read it, in a way, because I had just finished Winesburg, Ohio, which I found one of the most profound treatments of the modern human condition of anything I have ever read. But I was pleasantly surprised by Burroughs's book. It was a delight. It was an adventure, front to back, that made moderate demands on the intellect but that was written well and that managed to be charming and, yet, still to managed to avoid becoming hackneyed. In fact, I found it to be better science fiction than most critics give it credit for.

Enough for Now

So, there it is.

Give me an unchanging arpeggio, for an hour, under my fingertips.

Give me a white snow that turns every color into one; that fattens the branches into kinder angles and softer, slower, sideways swayings in the heavy silence.

Ansel Adams

Give me days of grey and rain that turn the warm lights of home into the brightest thing in the world -- a world that usually feels like being surrounded by funhouse mirrors under fireworks.

Give me some time ankle deep in the pond after days on the rapids.

You take your hopping from car to car and meeting to meeting and virtual window to virtual window if it makes you feel "connected."

I'll loaf, invite my soul, and connect with the winded leaves.

They're enough. For now, they're always enough.

Redecorating the Head

Constable's "Willy Lott's Cottage"

If only people, including myself, could keep in mind that there is no quick-served happiness, especially when it come to "getting out of here" -- that phrase so commonly uttered by the young on late nights in home towns. Grown-ups do the same, though. I actually used to discuss, with my wife, the idea of opening a "bed-and-breakfast." What was I thinking?

What I was thinking was that changing everything would change everything for the better. What I was thinking was that running a bed and breakfast would be an escape from the unpleasantness of  humdrum life. We'd be in an idyllic place. We'd meet interesting people. We would not have to work "jobs".

This is a flawed and common problem in the thinking patterns typical of the human beast. The only way that running a hotel would be a pleasant life for me would be if I liked pouring coffee, making beds and making small talk with total strangers. I would like none of that.