The Best of All Possible Worlds in a Hurricane

Warning:  This post discusses race.  It’s okay to talk about race.  In fact, it is necessary community conversation and solitude contemplation.  If you can’t handle the discussion, try to learn to handle the discussion.

When a cop pulled him over to the side of the road   

 Just like the time before and the time before that.  

 In Patterson that’s just the way things go.  

If you’re black, you might as well not show up on the street  

‘Less you wanna draw the heat 

   

- Dylan, “Hurricane”

I said, “If that’s against the law,  

Tell me why I never saw   

 A man locked in that jail of yours  

Who wasn’t either black or poor as me.” 

- Kristofferson, “Best of All Possible Worlds”

Two episodes this week challenge my view of the world and its beauty and fairness – one, a hate-driven shooting rampage that killed nine people because of their race. Hold on, hold on. Stop there a minute.  Turn off the desensitizing news shows, stop looking for political or statutory solutions, and think about that. Some dude walked into a church, sat with people for an hour and then killed them because of their skin pigment or ancestry! … in America! …in the 21^st century!  Have you wrapped your head around that? 

The second episode involved a friend of mine returning home from work late Thursday night in an affluent neighboring county.  Given a hypothetical of the drive home, many of you could easily identify my friend as a black male in his early twenties. Conversely, if I told you on the front end that my friend is a black male in his early twenties, would you guess: a government official followed him from work; pulled him over, like many times before; and ordered him out of the car as six squad cars came screaming to the rescue.  My friend sat quietly on display beside the road for the good people to presume his crimes while the K-9 unit searched his car.  Finding nothing after two hours, the government released him with no citation and no record of the stop. My friend was told that he was pulled over because the government official “could not read his temporary tag”  aka: I’m sure you did something wrong and illegal. You can dream up all sorts of rationalizations, but if your explanation does not include prejudice, you’re wrong.

The essence of prejudice is conclusion based on generalization.  Can you guess the race and gender of someone who is shocked by my friend’s story?  or defensive?  or furious?  or resigned to accept it as the way it is and just happy he’s alive?  Don’t guess and don’t presume.   Instead, let’s examine our own thoughts and feelings and the foundations on which those feelings stand. Then, recognize the other perspectives and seek understanding of their foundations.  That search for understanding requires us to talk about it.

Prejudice and hatred are brothers. They live in the same house and nourish each other. Their home is our hearts, and their food is our souls.  Evict them!

Accounting for Luck on the Parenting Curve

Everything is measured by results these days. Conventional wisdom knows: fair play is overrated; skill and effort are too subjective; and excuses exist only in the realm of whiny losers.  Just give us results.

Few will admit that the end justifies the means until the end looks so good. Cheating on the front end (deflating the football or hacking into opponent’s computers) is cool when championship rings adorn several fingers.  Cheating on the tail end (e.g. twisting the measures) is justified as marketing.  Data driven decisions tout results but too often are based on a shallow review of the data or downright unreliable and misleading stats.  Even when everything is on the up-and-up, results are still skewed by the powerful phenomenon of pure luck.

This past week, I spent time with my three grown children at my home, at my daughter’s home and via skype.  If my children are the “results” by which my parenting is measured, one could argue that I am the greatest father of all time. My kids are awesome. Am I bragging? You’re d@*n right.  My kids are the greatest, and if you don’t believe it, just ask me.

Amazed by their overwhelming awesomeness, I began contemplating how my feeble parenting skills produced such undeniably positive results.  The answer, of course, is luck.  Parenting is the hardest job on Earth.  If you think you’re an expert, just wait until you actually have children.  Then, you’ll be on your knees like the rest of us, praying and hoping they turn out all right. 

There are some gruesomely terrible parents out there, and I suppose there are some can’t-miss, blue-chip parents. But for most of us, we struggle to do the best we can and hope for some luck.  

So, Happy Father’s Day to all the Dads out there.  And, good luck!

Line Item 7777: A Little Tif for Tat

Nashville has gradually expanded its tax breaks and tax incentives for large corporations to move to (or stay in) Nashville.  Using the ever expanding notion of tax increment financing (tif), Nashville lures development by foregoing taxes for large corporations, thus sharing in the cost of construction. The political process is relatively simple: a company wants to expand or relocate; the executive branch negotiates incentives; and the legislative branch judges each proposal on its own merits. Determining the cost and benefit of each package is often a matter of marketing and political gamesmanship. Accurately analyzing the cost/benefit of the whole program seems impossible without an extensive audit. 

A good place to start is in the school system budget.  Line Item 7777, in the Fixed Charges category of the budget, is labeled “Property Tax Refund.”  This is the line item that accounts for the tif incentives the people of Nashville grant to large companies. It is the amount of dedicated education funding the government requires the school system pay back to fund the relocation and expansion efforts of the corporations benefiting from the tax breaks.  Put another way: this is the money the Metro Council, Mayor and Finance Department take out of the classroom and put in the hands of big business in the name of economic development.

The school board and school system have no choice.  The Mayor and Council have set the incentives and given away the tax revenue that comes to the schools.  It is a “Fixed Charge,” and the school system relies on the Finance Department to tell them how much it is each year. 

This year, the children of Nashville will return $6,027,900.00 in education funds to the Metro government to give to corporations. That’s an increase of $791,900.00 over last year’s budget and almost three times the amount in 2007-08 ($2,346,700) as the incentives have steadily and dramatically grown.

Here’s some perspective: The $6,027,900.00 the school system is required to pay back to the Metro Council is more than it is given by the Council to spend on the world renowned Pre-K Centers (by about one million dollars – line item 2328); more than they can spend on the 220 school bus monitors (by over one-half million – line item 4137); more than it spends on Alternative Learning Centers (by three million – line item 2600); and more than it spends on psychological services (by one and one-half million – line item 2160).  Here’s the kicker.  The six million dollars that the school system is required to pay back to the Metro Council is more than the Metro Council gives the school system to buy textbooks (line item 2180).  Seriously!  More than the budget allows for textbooks!

Apparently, this money doesn’t really exist.  The government never takes a refund, because it never really gives the money to the school system, because the money is never collected from these companies that are driving the economic development train. So, there it is in the bottom line: the people of Nashville pretending to appropriate $6,027,900.00 to education. 

The Metro Council has the opportunity Monday to glance in the mirror and reflect on the cost of tif on the children of Nashville when the school system presents its budget. The Council hearing on the school budget is the time council members grill the school system on how it spends the money allotted to it.  There is a natural and appropriate tension.  This year, the Metro Council should not only examine how much the schools get, but also how much they require the schools to give. 

Inspired to Blog

If you waste your time talking to the people who don’t listen  

To the things that you are saying, who do you think’s gonna hear?

And, if you should die explaining how the things that they complain about,

Are things they could be changing, who do you think’s gonna care?

There were other lonely singers in a world turned deaf and blind

Who were crucified for what they tried to show.

And their voices have been scattered by the swirling winds of time. ‘

Cause the truth remains that no one wants to know.

A demon haunts each of us. The task of recognizing the guise and engaging our inner brawler is easier said than done.  In Kris Kristofferson’s classic poem To Beat the Devil, a hungry, defeated songwriter wanders into a Nashville tavern and meets an old stranger who uses the belittling persuasion quoted above to advise the hungry soul to give up and join him as another bitter, failed Nashville casualty.

My interpretation: Your most dreaded enemy is not necessarily the one opposing, ridiculing, oppressing or even ignoring you.  The devil is that voice telling you to quit; that no one cares; that no one will hear what you say; so … why bother?

“If you don’t wanna join him, you got to beat him.  I ain’t saying I beat the devil, but …” this blog allows me to speak my mind, tell a joke, reminisce, observe the absurd, and write on a regular basis.  There will be some politics (mostly, local to Nashville) and probably some religion, but mostly it will be ramblings about topics of the day and whatever moves me. It’s not for you, dear reader.  It is therapeutic and cathartic for me.

And…

You still can hear me singing to the people who don’t listen

To the things that I am saying – praying someone’s gonna hear. 

 And, I guess I’ll die explaining how the things that they complain about 

  Are things they could be changing, hoping someone’s gonna care.

I was born a lonely singer and I’m bound to die the same, 

  But I’ve got to feed the hunger in my soul. 

        And, if I never have a nickel, I won’t ever die ashamed, 

  ‘Cause I don’t believe that no one wants to know.