Can't lose for winning

A local adult literacy program (for which I volunteer) holds an annual fund-raising spelling bee, with teams of spellers from various businesses participating. My company sponsors a team of four spellers, and holds a pre-bee to determine which of several potential spelling bee teams will go on to the big city-wide bee.

That pre-bee was today, and I was on one of the teams. We came in third, so no city-wide spelling glory for us. But that's okay because our goals were to 1) not be eliminated first, and 2) also not be the last one standing. None of us wanted to advance to the big bee - we only signed up to participate in the internal event for the fun of it.

But a funny thing happened as other teams fell away and we remained in the hunt. We really did not want to win. But we didn't want to be wrong, either....

So basically, it was lucky for us that none of us knew how to spell (or pronounce, or define or use in a sentence) the word that eliminated us from the contest. I'd never heard or seen it before and six hours later don't even remember what it was. But in the few seconds we were given to consult over its possible spelling, we were as determined to try to get it right as anybody going for a first-place finish.

Maybe it's personal pride. Or maybe there's something hard-wired in us, or conditioned by American society, that pushes our competitive buttons. In any case, something overtook reason, compelling us to win, even when the only real way to win was to lose.

So tonight, as better sense returns and I reflect upon the day, I can only be grateful to fate for saving us from our competitive selves.

Coming up for light

It's cold again today. By the end of February, I'm ready for the end of winter, too. It's a lot like the way I feel about two-thirds of the way through my morning strength-training class at the gym - enough already, let's get to the part where we get to lie down and stretch.

This year Mother Nature has teased us mercilessly with a day here and a day there of balm, quickly dashed by single-digit temperatures. Like another round of deadlifts and mountain-climbers, it's wearisome.

But even in sub-freezing temperatures, February also brings hope. After weeks of indiscernable shift in the balance between day and night, the pace begins to pick up. Just in the last week or so, the day is brightening when I take Mr. James for his morning walk, and there's still a bit of sunlight on the horizon when I walk home from the bus stop in the evening.

Even if I didn't check the daily sunrise and sunset times in the newspaper, or remember the lessons from 7th grade science class about the earth's annual trips around the sun, I know from memories of Februaries past that brighter days are on the way.

I thought about this one day last week while reading a Newsweek article about economic meltdowns over time. We've all seen the articles comparing our current situation to slowdowns in 2000, the early 1980s, even the dismal days of the Great Depression. This article went a lot further back, however, detailing the economy's ups and downs since the late 1700s.

The overarching take-away for me is that for every plunge, there has been a rebound. Sometimes sooner rather than later, but it seems that centuries of experience tell us that what goes down, economically speaking, eventually comes back up. Maybe not with the same predictability as winter that turns to spring and 15 hour nights become 15 hour days. But the cold, dark days do cycle into warmth and light.

Which of course doesn't make it any easier right now, when we don't know if it's November, with the darkest, coldest days ahead, or January, when the worst is behind us. I'm thinking it's probably the former. I fervently hope that I, and those I love, don't find ourselves out in the cold and that those who suffer find a haven to survive the arctic blast.

But when I step outside to take Mr. James for his morning walk, and see day breaking in the east, I have hope.

Moment of zen

My various radios are all permanently tuned to NPR. This is not just because I'm a news junkie and public radio seems to be one of the last remaining places to find the practice of journalism in gathering and delivering the news.

It's because now and then, amid the reports from Iran and Afghanistan and interviews with experts real and self-proclaimed, come sweet little stories about ordinary people doing things that make a positive difference or reveal a useful truth.

This morning's Weekend Edition program offered one of these stories. It's about a woman who plays the harp in the emergency room of a busy urban hospital to bring some calming comfort to patients and staff.

It made me smile on a Valentine's Day morning, a moment worth noticing, and in hopes that it does the same for others, here's a link.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=100680193

Concrete connections

Taking Mr. James for a walk on a perfectly gorgeous day - one more like April or May, not February, dimming the memory of a 10-degree morning just four days ago - I was reminded of why I was drawn to this neighborhood almost 30 years ago.

To be sure, it was partly the charm of the 1920s homes, the value for the money, the small yards that would be quick to mow and the appeal of features like hardwood floors, arched doorways and crown molding everywhere. (That last item, by the way, became much less attractive when it was time to paint...)

But what really tipped the scale for me was something far more pedestrian. Literally.

Sidewalks.

The sidewalks in our neighborhood encourage intermingling among the residents of homes along the street. They give the adults a route for a summer evening stroll or a brisk hike to the bus stop, and the children a guided path to friends and new experiences.

When our kids were little, every summer Saturday brought a cavalcade of bikes, trikes and Big Wheels as the neighborhood youngsters traveled safely up and down the cement corridors for hours on end. Sidewalks also defined a boundary the kids generally respected, although I do remember a neighbor mom's challenge keeping an adventuresome preschooler out of the street after a block party closed the road for an evening, calling the sidewalk's barrier power into question.

Today's scarier times and scheduled activities have reduced the neighborhood Big Wheel traffic somewhat, and tree roots beneath have cracked some of the concrete slabs. Insufferable spiny balls that comprise the bumper crop of droppings from sweet gum trees that line our street make the trip hazardous for the inattentive.

But our sidewalks still carry moms pushing strollers and people like me walking dogs. The dogs sniff each other, the people exchange friendly greetings, and we go along our way feeling like we're part of a community.

Maybe I know more than I give myself credit for

Today I went to a seminar on managing conflict in the workplace. It was one of those things you do for "development," meaning you're not as good at as you ought to be, so you go listen to an expert tell you how to be better.

There's a reason I'm not good at dealing with conflict. I'm a Myers Briggs INFP, one of the defining characteristics of which is hating conflict. I really do want everyone to sit in a circle, join hands and sing Kumbaya, but if I can't get that, I at least want people to not yell at each other. When the araguing begins, I try to become one with the wallpaper and disappear.

But temperament preferences are not excuses, and I'm all for improvement, so away I went in search of techniques to face my fear of conflict, hoping I wouldn't have to pretend to be tough and unyielding in some some public role-playing exercise.

So imagine my surprise when the expert opened with a review of five different strategies for dealing with conflict, one of which was -- avoidance! Plus something else I know I can do -- accommodation! And collaboration! Each an appropriate action in certain circumstances... Okay, so I'm not so good at some of the other strategies more appropriate in other situations. But at least I don't start with a complete lack of relevant skills.

The next section of the seminar was about how being tough and unyielding, pushing your solution, is what people often think they need to do. But that usually doesn't work because it only causes your adversary to be tough, unyielding and committed to their own (different) solution.

What to do instead, according to this expert? Listen. Listen without judgment or defensiveness. Listen for clues to what your adversary's real interests are -- often something much deeper than what they're saying. Listen for places where your interests align with theirs, and begin with that common ground. (Sort of like the marching orders Obama has given George Mitchell as he heads off to the Middle East...)

You mean I don't necessarily have to be good at being tough and strident to be moderately adequate at dealing with conflict?

You mean, I might already know how to do at least some of this?

Sometimes, the value of a seminar is not in learning something new, so much as learning to give yourself credit for what you already know.

Moving along

Somewhere amidst the past few days' coverage of events leading up to tomorrow's inauguration, I read an article postulating that boomers, a cohort to which I belong, are responsible for the divisive nature of political discourse of the past 16-20 years. In pushing society's boundaries, not trusting anyone over 30 and protesting wars and social ills, we framed up the rancor that has prevailed throughout two boomer presidencies, but is about to be replaced by a new generation of leadership.

I'd never thought about things that way, and while I happen to believe my generation accomplished a few worthy things, I've got to admit this point of view has merit. I hate the thought that divisiveness will define the boomers' legacy. But I'm tired enough of partisan squabbling --Rush Limbaugh's bombast and Nancy Pelosi's sniping sound equally stale -- that I'm ready for my generation to get out of the way.

I won't try to articulate what tomorrow's events mean for our nation and our society. There are plenty of others pontificating on that, and there's nothing I can add that hasn't been said 100 times already, or seen on the faces of people who are gathering for this moment in history.

What I will do, however, is put forth some words by Jonathan Alter, writing in his book about the first 100 days of Franklin Roosevelt's presidency at the lowest point of the Great Depression. Those days were worse than what we've thus far experienced in this downturn, and Alter's telling reveals plenty of political divisiveness in that time as well, but there are notable, and hopeful, similarities, to the change I pray we are about to experience.

A week after his 1932 election, FDR gave an interview to the New York Times. The presidency, he said, is "predominantly a place of moral leadership." He reviewed the work of great earlier presidents... and concluded that each of them were "leaders of thought at times when certain historic ideas in the life of the nation had to be clarified." Now, seven months later, the new president had shown moral leadership, proven himself a leader of thought and clarified important ideas about the country. The results were spectacular... the change was almost spiritual. Times were tough and almost certainly would remain so, but help was on the way.

By itself, no single quality possessed by FDR was exceptional. It was a magical alloy of attributes: his ebullience after the dour Hoover, his theatricality upon entering the big stage, and his pragmatism in a time of destructive dogma. Those combined into a new vision of security for the American republic - the ideal of a more benevolent state no longer "trapped," as he later put it, "in the ice of its own indifference."

And finally, this, from a speech he died before he was able to deliver: "If civilization is to survive, we must cultivate the science of relationships - the ability of all peoples, of all kinds, to live and work together in the same world at peace."

Seems like something our new guy might say. In any case, we boomers have had our chance. It's time for us to move along, or better yet, follow the leader and help make better things happen.

Two Americas

Today I've had an unexpected encounter with the concept of "two Americas." Not white and black nor male and female. Not red-state and blue-state. Not have and have-not.

The two Americas I've experienced today are the America that's actually happening, and the version of it beamed to us on TV.

Let me explain.

I arrived at the gym today with my portable radio tuned to NPR just as live coverage of the free inaugural concert was about to begin. As I hopped on the elliptical machine I noted that the gym TVs were tuned to CNN, which also promised live coverage of the concert. "Cool!" I thought -- I'll be able to see the concert on the tv, and hear it through my earphones.

On the radio, the proceedings began right on time with the band playing Aaron Copeland's always-inspiring "Fanfare for the Common Man". I looked up at the TV, which was showing ads for Coca-Cola and a chain of resort hotels, then promos for Campbell Brown and Larry King Live. Okay, they're probably just getting the ads out of the way, I thought, they'll cut to the concert when the popular performers come on stage.

Sure enough, once Denzel Washington took the microphone, made some appropriate comments and introduced Bruce Springsteen, the TV screen showed scenes of the crowd at the national mall... but wait! That's not The Boss, that's Wolf Blitzer. I hear Bruce Springsteen, but I see Wolf Blitzer. Then Soledad O'Brien. Then some fascinating statistics in a little box of type at the bottom of the screen about the location of the Lincoln Memorial.

On the radio, Springsteen concluded his performance to audience cheers as Laura Linney and Martin Luther King III took the stage to address the crowd. Surely the television audience will get to hear what they have to say, I thought... oops, no, cut to a commercial for Flomax.

And so it went. As the thousands at the mall, and thousands more tuning in to NPR heard people like Tom Hanks, Marissa Tomei and Samuel L. Jackson reading the words of inaugural speeches past from the likes of Abraham Lincoln, Ronald Reagan and Franklin Roosevelt, the television audience saw ads for Cialis and Microsoft. As Renee Fleming and Stevie Wonder sang, Anderson Cooper interviewed a spectator who had shaved his head to spell "Obama."

To be fair, CNN did broadcast the president-elect's brief address to the concert crowd, and it appears as though HBO had exclusive television rights to broadcast the concert, which would explain CNN's odd definition of "coverage." But as my earphones delivered Beyonce 's stirring rendition of "America" while the TV screen showed a CNN correspondent pointing out the empty steps where the Oath of Office will be administered, I was grateful for my little $9.99 Radio Shack connection to that America.

CNN will be offering live coverage of what they are breathlessly promoting as "The Moment" on Tuesday. I'm sure it will be widely watched, brought to you by the nation's top advertisers. Just be advised, if you wish to be witness to the moment, take a radio and fresh batteries, just in case the swearing-in happens during the other America's commercial break or Wolf Blitzer's blather.