He warned us, but have we given him a fighting chance?
by
Tom Davidson
“If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible; who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time; who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer,” President-elect Barack Obama said when the majority of the nation elected him on Nov. 5, 2008.
Last night, we deserved a better answer.
I’ll concede I wouldn’t wish the problems he’s facing on anyone, but it was time for President Obama to start acting like he’s a part of the solution to our problems, not an impartial bystander to the doomsday events that have plagued us.
For too long, he’s been a harbinger of bad news instead of being the leader who forges a new path, politics be damned. His cool standoffishness is not what the country needs in a leader right now. I didn’t like Reagan’s politics, but as a leader, he was at least a good actor.
When it came to tragedy or terrorism, the man who busted the air-traffic controllers union, talked our way out of the Cold War, and mourned with us through the Challenger Tragedy, was able to lead with gusto and decisiveness, legalities be damned; Reagan was Presidential.
President Obama’s aloofness is costing him a chance to win over people in the name of a crisis. This is a time for us to band together, as he said when he won our hearts and minds, we Americans “who sent a message to the world that we have never been a collection of red states and blue states; we are, and always will be, the United States of America,” he told us then.
Really?
I’m sick and tired of the divisiveness of the nation. I don’t believe the “grassroots” support of those singing the Songs of the Doomed is as great as they say it is, but I acknowledge their presence.
I’m also seeing other folks, people who once were gaga for Obama, cool off a bit. They’re no longer flying the “hope and change” flag as prominently.
He warned us this day was coming.
Remember?
“The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep. We may not get there in one year, or even one term, but America – I have never been more hopeful than I am tonight that we will get there. I promise you: We as a people will get there.”
Thus far it's been a rough-and-tumble time of turmoil. He's gotten the change part right.
My, the changes: The New World Order that's emerging in the wake of an economic Hindenburg. The fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan that is less a war and more a fact of life in this Brave New World – because wars end. The health care reform was so filled with debate that it motivated an unhealthy, New York apple-pie slice of Americans to action and near-constant criticism. They’re led by a motley cast of stentorian talking heads, who pick it apart piece by excruciating piece, in a 24/7 debate that has yet to really end.
He foresaw it, that cold Tuesday in November in Chicago’s Grant Park:
“There will be setbacks and false starts. There are many who won’t agree with every decision or policy I make as president, and we know that government can’t solve every problem.”
He was inspiring, then.
Where was the hope when he spoke from the Oval Office Tuesday night? Where’s the man who once aroused a thrill that shot up Chris Matthews’ leg?
He’s a dour man now, saddled with the soiling of the Gulf of Mexico, when he was supposed to be taking a short health-care victory lap, then waiting for the economy to make a great leap forward so people would be inspired to find solutions to our myriad problems.
He knew it wouldn’t be easy.
“But I will always be honest with you about the challenges we face. I will listen to you, especially when we disagree.”
But is he hearing us? It’s time for him to show us he’s our leader, and thus far, he’s performed like a sports prospect, a number-1 draft pick who’s been given a huge signing bonus, and has so much potential, but hasn’t yet made it.
It’s not over, Mr. President. There’s still time to man the rudder. I still believe that the American ship is unsinkable because the American people won’t stand for it. We’re not like World Cup soccer fans who will settle for a tie.
We’d rather play football with each other, and since it’s the off-season, the political version of the sport is biding our time, but always, we play to win.
So here’s a “yo” to the “Party of No” that it’s time to abide by our calculated leader. Prove him wrong by getting behind him to see if he can inspire us to “join in the work of remaking this nation the only way it’s been done in America for (223) years – block by block, brick by brick, callused hand by callused hand” or oily for that matter.
Lead us out of it all, Mr. President.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
Fear & Loathing & Laziness (Unpaid)
Fear & Loathing & Laziness (Unpaid)
By Tom Davidson
The American Way has gone all awry in the 21st Century. We forgot our hard-working roots in a whirlwind fugue that brought on this downspin into the Great Abyss. In the name of profits, we’ve scaled back, using the economics of the time as an excuse to sacrifice selves in the name of more profits for shareholders.
It’s nothing new but it’s evolved to the point that some companies really, really just need to fail. End the bail-outs; instead of just cutting back, close up shop; stop being compassionate and offering across-the board temporary furloughs instead of just firing the dead weight and telling the others they need to work more because their jobs are on the line.
We’ve worked ourselves into a false prosperity by helping life’s “C” and “D” students get by. Sure, it was nice for them, but for the people really trying to make a go of it and almost-succeeding it was a crime.
We took the corporate ladder and turned it into an escalator but we didn’t decide who’s going to pay the power bill to keep the contraption running.
I think it’s best to struggle step-by-step instead of taking the free ride, but then, I’m willing to risk my mettle against a brutal system.
I’m tired of watching lesser workers getting a pass and a free paycheck; it foils industry to accept less when more is needed.
Alas, we’re doomed to fall from first place. We, the American Exceptionalists whom the fates have smiled on for more than two centuries are facing crises because we’ve grown lax; pampered; willing to let others do the dirty work instead of sweating for our own success.
So here I sit, at home, writing for free, off unpaid as work piles on my desk and news gets old. (And we wonder why circulation’s down and some people make fun of us?)
What happens to real journalists at the 40th hour of each week? Do they just stop writing?
That’s what’s happening now, most of the time, and it’s why things are suffering.
We expect less and pay less but still strive to cover more and write better, but the problem is that scale is impossible to balance.
So we’re here, treading water, barely, sometimes drowning as we roll with the waves. We cash our lower paychecks each fortnight and complain as stress builds and resentments fester and the end product suffers.
We’re caught in this Super Cycle with most other American institutions, waiting for the Next Great Hope to save us. The truth is far more unsettling: we are beyond saving; unless we collectively shape up, our ship is sunk, we’re taking on water and oil now, and Houston, did you get that radio call that we’ve got a gusher in the Gulf?
The problem is us and our attitude. The Compassionate Conservatives refuse to assume any blame, but it is all of our faults: We delegated too much power and wealth to too few people and now we’re helpless.
We’re slaves to corporate boards and markets beyond our understanding because we weren’t required to take that class in high school or college. We keep on, strident, unhappy, voiceless in this country built by people who strived to win the game. Now, it’s game over and guess what? They won.
By Tom Davidson
The American Way has gone all awry in the 21st Century. We forgot our hard-working roots in a whirlwind fugue that brought on this downspin into the Great Abyss. In the name of profits, we’ve scaled back, using the economics of the time as an excuse to sacrifice selves in the name of more profits for shareholders.
It’s nothing new but it’s evolved to the point that some companies really, really just need to fail. End the bail-outs; instead of just cutting back, close up shop; stop being compassionate and offering across-the board temporary furloughs instead of just firing the dead weight and telling the others they need to work more because their jobs are on the line.
We’ve worked ourselves into a false prosperity by helping life’s “C” and “D” students get by. Sure, it was nice for them, but for the people really trying to make a go of it and almost-succeeding it was a crime.
We took the corporate ladder and turned it into an escalator but we didn’t decide who’s going to pay the power bill to keep the contraption running.
I think it’s best to struggle step-by-step instead of taking the free ride, but then, I’m willing to risk my mettle against a brutal system.
I’m tired of watching lesser workers getting a pass and a free paycheck; it foils industry to accept less when more is needed.
Alas, we’re doomed to fall from first place. We, the American Exceptionalists whom the fates have smiled on for more than two centuries are facing crises because we’ve grown lax; pampered; willing to let others do the dirty work instead of sweating for our own success.
So here I sit, at home, writing for free, off unpaid as work piles on my desk and news gets old. (And we wonder why circulation’s down and some people make fun of us?)
What happens to real journalists at the 40th hour of each week? Do they just stop writing?
That’s what’s happening now, most of the time, and it’s why things are suffering.
We expect less and pay less but still strive to cover more and write better, but the problem is that scale is impossible to balance.
So we’re here, treading water, barely, sometimes drowning as we roll with the waves. We cash our lower paychecks each fortnight and complain as stress builds and resentments fester and the end product suffers.
We’re caught in this Super Cycle with most other American institutions, waiting for the Next Great Hope to save us. The truth is far more unsettling: we are beyond saving; unless we collectively shape up, our ship is sunk, we’re taking on water and oil now, and Houston, did you get that radio call that we’ve got a gusher in the Gulf?
The problem is us and our attitude. The Compassionate Conservatives refuse to assume any blame, but it is all of our faults: We delegated too much power and wealth to too few people and now we’re helpless.
We’re slaves to corporate boards and markets beyond our understanding because we weren’t required to take that class in high school or college. We keep on, strident, unhappy, voiceless in this country built by people who strived to win the game. Now, it’s game over and guess what? They won.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Fear & Loathing at 35!
Fear & Loathing at 35!
By
Tom Davidson
Skylab Skylab Skylab! I remember it falling and my father collecting a piece of history in our basement. At least, that was a family joke!
The mid-to-late 1970s were a national joke and I was a punch line, a long-lost “All in the Family” episode waiting to be filmed.
Sheet & Tube had yet to be closed and my maternal grandfather had yet to be killed – squashed like a bug, according to his co-workers at Valley Mould – shortly after my parents met. Two years later, in 1975, I was borne of them, a child of the flashy-oversized collar and bell-bottom Baby-boomers who are taxing our government today.
My first relevant memories are a house-explosion on Youngstown’s North Side and the capture and release of the hostages in Iran during the Reagan Revolution. I kind of remember that Black Monday in 1977 when Sheet & Tube died and the Steel Valley became a part of the Rust Belt, but those memories are hazy.
I thought we’d be nuclear war-remnants by now; I remain astounded we’ve survived Y2K, 9/11 and whatever you want to call our world-at-the-brink-on-the-blink world as we know it.
All I know is I feel fine.
I’m glad I know what it’s like to struggle. I also remember the shock-and-awe of the 1980s: Challenger falling before my 11-yeat-old eyes, already shaded with the 1985 tornadoes; the fall of the Berlin Wall and of Communism as a Red Scare; the rise of Terror!
The horror, my horror. And now I’m tasked with covering it all. I feel it’s a sacred duty despite the horrific corporate corruption of my calling: The Truth is my bottom line, all other be damned.
As a scribe, I’ve survived Y2K, 9/11, War and Act 47. I’ve written books about sewage and comprehensive plans; I covered Hurricane Katrina and tired to do our local war dead justice.
I maintain a succor for seeing something new every day and writing about it; The Shenango Valley has yet to stump me with its foibles and I keep chasing the sirens and the story that helps to tell the tale of the best and worst of times in this Dickensian, Faulkneresque Valley that is my valley! Still green, though rust-littered after all these (35) years!
And so it goes...
By
Tom Davidson
Skylab Skylab Skylab! I remember it falling and my father collecting a piece of history in our basement. At least, that was a family joke!
The mid-to-late 1970s were a national joke and I was a punch line, a long-lost “All in the Family” episode waiting to be filmed.
Sheet & Tube had yet to be closed and my maternal grandfather had yet to be killed – squashed like a bug, according to his co-workers at Valley Mould – shortly after my parents met. Two years later, in 1975, I was borne of them, a child of the flashy-oversized collar and bell-bottom Baby-boomers who are taxing our government today.
My first relevant memories are a house-explosion on Youngstown’s North Side and the capture and release of the hostages in Iran during the Reagan Revolution. I kind of remember that Black Monday in 1977 when Sheet & Tube died and the Steel Valley became a part of the Rust Belt, but those memories are hazy.
I thought we’d be nuclear war-remnants by now; I remain astounded we’ve survived Y2K, 9/11 and whatever you want to call our world-at-the-brink-on-the-blink world as we know it.
All I know is I feel fine.
I’m glad I know what it’s like to struggle. I also remember the shock-and-awe of the 1980s: Challenger falling before my 11-yeat-old eyes, already shaded with the 1985 tornadoes; the fall of the Berlin Wall and of Communism as a Red Scare; the rise of Terror!
The horror, my horror. And now I’m tasked with covering it all. I feel it’s a sacred duty despite the horrific corporate corruption of my calling: The Truth is my bottom line, all other be damned.
As a scribe, I’ve survived Y2K, 9/11, War and Act 47. I’ve written books about sewage and comprehensive plans; I covered Hurricane Katrina and tired to do our local war dead justice.
I maintain a succor for seeing something new every day and writing about it; The Shenango Valley has yet to stump me with its foibles and I keep chasing the sirens and the story that helps to tell the tale of the best and worst of times in this Dickensian, Faulkneresque Valley that is my valley! Still green, though rust-littered after all these (35) years!
And so it goes...
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