Saving Baby’s
Good news and bad news about our children. Around the world 7.7 million children below the age of five will die in 2010. This is down 35% from the 11.9 million children that perished in 1990. The bad news is the United States child mortality is not keeping pace.
It is incredible that the richest nation in the world, who spends the most on health care, is ranked 42nd in this key global metric. Not a surprise, the ‘socialized medicine’ countries like Canada, France, Sweden, and Great Britain are ahead of America. U.S. toddler deaths are not limited to the poor and destitute. The American 7.2 deaths per 1,000 are evident among the wealthy.
We just completed a long and difficult debate on a new national health plan. Its stormy wake will likely impact November elections. At 50,000 feet the cries of deficit spending and socialism echo. On the ground U.S. toddlers and babies are dying twice as fast as in Singapore. The United States is not hampered by the same poverties, wars, and diseases of others. It is time we focus more energy and emotion on how U.S. health dollars are invested, and less on the rhetoric. The future of our most precious citizens depends upon it.
A Senior Moment
At the local YMCA I observed a magical senior moment. Rather than sermonize or over-analyzing it, allow me to describe it with the hope all of us will follow the same path.
An elderly gentleman approached the front desk in a dripping bathing suit. He needed help. Embarrassed, his eyes stared at his wet toes as he described how he lost his locker key. Could someone help? A middle aged maintenance guy with a barbershop quartet mustache came forward with lock cutter, a long and yellow device with sharp jaws at the end. The elderly swimmer apologized and described how he spent a half hour at the pool, looking for the key. The mustached maintenance guy put his arm around the swimmer’s shoulder and said, “It happens to me all the time.”
In the locker room the elderly gentlemen paused before three lockers, all with similar locks. The maintenance guy remained calm and quiet as the swimmer tried to choose the correct locker. He picked one and the cutter snipped the lock as if it was soft butter. Wrong locker! “Not a problem,” said the maintenance guy. “Take your time.” The elderly swimmer, still dripping, stared at the remaining two locks as if he were mumbling, “eenie, meenie, miney moe.” He chose. Snip. Wrong locker!
The maintenance man patted the swimmer’s shoulder and said, “Thanks for narrowing it down for me.” The third broken lock was the charm. The swimmer repeatedly thanked the maintenance guy, changed into his clothes, and offered to pay for the other broken locks. “Not a problem,” said our hero. He then suggested the swimmer buy a lock with a different color, like bright pink, and to give the extra key to the front desk.
After the swimmer left, the maintenance guy with the barbershop quartet mustache, sat down on the bench. He spent the next hour and a half protecting the belongings of the two lock-less lockers. When the owners arrived, he apologized and explained how the YMCA will pay for the new lock. All in a day’s work.
School’s Out
While posting the final grades, there is irony as the radio blares Alice Cooper singing, “School’s Out.” My first semester as a professor is over, yet I will miss it. While confident my classes learned something beyond my corny jokes, it is clear I learned so much more from them.
For instance:
• On the first day of class students select a seat. Except for some free spirits, they will return to the same seat for the rest of the semester. Makes me wonder if it is the same seat in every class throughout college?
• Grades are the top priority. More hands are raised on testing procedures, project points, and the penalty for skipping classes than any other subject. Since kindergarten, we conditioned them to equate energy with points. I worry that industry is not prepared to provide them the same kind of report cards;
• Textbook buying and selling remains a similar irritant as my perspective in the 1970’s. They are expensive – $130 – $160 each – and the return value is miserable. Many will spend the first week of a semester or more seeking the lowest book price on the internet. Digital books will rapidly replace printed volumes. This will reduce backpack weight, but the economics will remain in debate.
• Students, especially seniors, are under tremendous pressure. Many juggle an overloaded schedule with jobs and relationships. The biggest pressure is from parents, peers, and their own expectations. Will they find a job in a weak economy? What about the loans? Can they leave the best friends of their lives?
• My classes are outstanding negotiators. They will try to move exams, push back projects, or gain a better exam curve. I love their assertiveness. The U.N. can use some of that energy to solve world problems.
Most importantly, I learned the Class of 2010 is brilliant and determined. We worry about the economy, Iran nuclear powers, debt, Greece, and oil spewing in the gulf. Now, I worry less. After a semester with Generation Y, I am more hopeful this crew will move a few mountains. It will be a very long three months before I meet the Class of 2011.
Storm Drills
My heart goes out to Midwesterners terrorized by tornados. Spring brings nightly fear as massive dark clouds press on the horizon. I grew up in Northwest Ohio, a twister magnet. I remember our two drills at Saint Mary’s Catholic School in Defiance, Ohio.
As the alarm bell clang stern nuns in their black & white robes ushered us, like cattle, to the ancient school’s basement. The tornado drill was simple. Lay low and cover your head from flying debris. With your face pressed against the blue concrete for ten or more minutes, your cheeks resembled a premature case of acne.
The same alarm bell announced the second drill – nuclear attack. It was the Cold War days. Russia and the U.S. aimed missiles at each other. A recent confrontation in Cuba heightened the tension. The nuns were determined to be ready. Lay low; hands over your head, cheeks to the concrete; and kiss your butt good-bye.
Of the two threats the tornados concerned us most. Mushroom clouds were too abstract. One week a twister would tear-up trailer parks in nearby Southern Michigan. A week later silos would be tossed around in Eastern Indiana. It was funnel fever. My Dad, tired of our tears and terror, called us together. Two thirds of Defiance is surrounded by two rivers that merge in the center of town. With a straight face, but no doubt a twinkle in his eye, Dad insisted tornados could not cross waterways. Twisters reflect away from rivers like balls banging off walls. We believed him. The nuns didn’t. The drills continued.
I am not sure how many years I believed in Dad’s tornado theory. Perhaps he wanted us to go on with our lives, not paralyzed by fears. Something to consider as today’s storms and threats continue to surround us.
Book Recommendation – Outliers
My book-reading is altered this year. Teaching requires textbook and other educational reading. Along that path I stumbled on ‘Outliers’ by Malcolm Gladwell. It is a fascinating study on success that completely changes how we view it. I highly recommend it.
Gladwell begins with Canadian hockey stars. The majority of the best are born in January through March. January 1st is the date each youth can join a hockey league, often at 4 years old. Of the youths, born from January to December, the first quarter kids are relatively bigger, stronger, and more mature. Their initial successes lead to specialized training and better leagues. Those with later birthdays tend to fall away from the sport. The most talented become Olympians and professionals. Gladwell suggests there may be other Gordon Howe’s in the later months that never receive the same opportunities.
‘Outliers’ provides new perspectives on the success of Bill Gates and the Beatles. It explains why Chinese children may be better at math. There are many other stories that break some of the paradigms in how we view success. I will not spoil the rest, but a large portion of the book talks about 10,000 hours of practice. Think about your life. Where does 10,000 hours fit in your success? While considering it, go to the library or book store and buy ‘Outliers.’
Explosive Ethics
What if I told you there is a foreign operation with a wide network in the United States that is responsible for a number of explosions killing a couple dozen Americans? What if you knew the same organization is accountable for three major environmental disasters in North America? Call Home Security? Don’t expect a reply. You might find them in your neighborhood under the guise of ‘BP’ – British Petroleum.
My Consumer Behavior class investigated British Petroleum and two other global companies with questionable ethical behavior. Here is what they found:
• In 1991 an oil tanker, leased by BP, spilled 300,000 gallons of fuel disrupting twenty miles of California coastline at a half-billion dollar cost;
• In March 2005 an explosion at the BP Texas City Refinery claimed 15 lives and injured over 100. Prior to the disaster BP reduced maintenance at the facility as a cost cutting measure. The petroleum giant agreed to a post-disaster improvement plan. In October 2009 BP received was fined $87M, the largest penalty on record, by the U.S. Occupational Health & Safety Administration for failing to make the agreed safety improvements from the 2005 explosion. In that timeframe 2 more employees died on the job;
• In 2006 BP was forced to shut down its operations in Prudhoe Bay, Alaska. 16 miles of their pipeline were leaking oil and other chemicals, soiling the North Slope. Found criminally liable, BP had neglected to clean bacteria out of the pipeline for approximately eight years. Emergency repairs shut down that portion of the Alaskan pipeline for 16 days, driving up prices at the pump.
Just a few days ago an offshore drilling rig, leased by BP, exploded in the Gulf Coast, killing 8 and injuring 10 workers. BP initially claimed the resulting oil leak from the ocean floor was only 1,000 barrels per day. Actually, 5,000 barrels a day are leaking. Desperate actions are trying to cap the leak as the wildlife, vacation, and fishing shorelines of Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Florida are threatened.
It is shocking to watch a $250 billion dollar corporation consistently make disastrous decisions based on cost cutting actions and neglect. The jury is still out for the gulf disaster, but it will surprise no one to find maintenance and other poor decisions within the oil-laden ruins.
We debate who should or should not be in our country. Should that debate also apply to companies that pay little regard for human lives and our environment? I plan to boycott BP gas stations, even if forced to push an empty car. Besides, if they maintain their stations like their other facilities, if may be a safer decision.
2 Canals
The Erie Canal is a couple miles from our home. When walking along the towpath past cafes and gift stores I think about my ancestors that either dug this canal or traveled along this water highway to Buffalo, Cleveland, Chicago and West. Immigrants, like the Weber’s, Clark’s and Ryan’s, landed in New York, went North to Albany on the Hudson, and West on the Erie Canal without a passport or other identification documents.
On Sunday 60 MINUTES investigated the All-American Canal, a deep concrete ditch delivering water from the Colorado River to the California Imperial Valley. It also runs along the U.S. – Mexican border. During the last five years over 800 Mexicans drowned in the canal trying to enter our country. The desert cemetery for them includes parents and children who died with the hope of becoming American. There are no ladders, ropes, buoys or life rings to help someone drowning. Politicians in California shrug their shoulders on the deaths with no intention of offering any help. Unlawful immigrants make the choice to swim across the canal. Why help them? By the way, crossing the border without the right documents is a misdemeanor, like a speeding ticket.
Back at the Erie Canal I wonder about today’s American perspective at who should be here or not. If someone threw our ancestors off the boat before Ellis Island appeared on the horizon, if they did not provide the right documents, where would we be? Even those on the Mayflower came to America without passports seeking freedom. Sure, after 9/11 and the latest terror plot in Times Square, many are nervous. History tells us at the peak of the late 19th century European immigration there were concerns about terrorism and anarchists, after one shot President James Garfield. No one closed American borders or pulled the plug on the Erie Canal
We are all lucky to be here. Our politicians need to develop new laws to help others feel the same way.
Profiling Canadians
Like Arizona, we live along an international border. Unlike Mexico, Canadian neighbors are happy with their county. Our border to the North is porous. Lakes and forests form the boundaries. What would happen if Canadians became unhappy with their country? That is a stretch given the strength of their economy, the zero cost of health care, and their pride of Canada’s beauty. Assuming it all changed, and hundreds of thousands rowed across the lakes or trekked through the woods. How would we spot these illegal immigrants?
Maybe they will be identified by the Paul Bunyan-like Root wardrobes. Unfortunately, many locals covet the same clothing. Canadians tend to drink Molson Beer and are hockey enthusiasts, just like thousands of New Yorkers. The male Canadian’s three-day beard is the latest style on American television. They speak English with an ‘eh’ from Ontario and a French accent from Quebec. What if they didn’t speak? (Hard to imagine, but this is a ‘what if.’)
Let’s face it, if hundreds of thousands of Canadians illegally crossed into the United States, we could not easily identify them. With their new law, how will Arizona identify their illegal immigrants?
Wall Street Snake Oil Peddlers
Snowfall Derby V – Finish Line
While out and about on Saturday, I noticed a few snowflakes swirling in some frosty air. No accumulation. Rain followed. I sighed. The Snowfall Derby season is over.
There has been no snow for over a month. A thaw began in early March. Something rare around here – Spring – actually sprung. The final standings: Syracuse is the victor with 106.1”. Rochester is second with 89.6”, a foot below average. Most improved is a tie between Philadelphia and Baltimore at 79.9”. Buffalo with 74.1” barely scraped ahead of last place Washington D.C. at 55.9”
Analysts blame El Nino for sending the storms to the south of Upstate New York into the Mid Atlantic. I am still wondering if the earthquake in Chile shook our latitude. It was odd to enjoy a real spring. The Easter Egg hunt was outside in sunshine rather than indoors during a blizzard. Rochester golfers were actually out on the links rather than home before a fireplace watching the Masters Tournament. The annual Rochester Lilac Festival, normally a May event, already sees flowers blooming on bushes and trees. Heating costs are down. Sunscreen sales are up.
I stare up at the new snow shovel that I purchased before the season. With few scratches the shiny blade is ready for some action. Sorry, my friend. We have six months of sunshine and outdoor play before the Snowfall Derby resumes. I might use you to move some mulch!
