Stop Bashing Rob Portman

Lay off Rob Portman! He did a huge, great thing by coming out in support of gay marriage—the only sitting Republican senator to do so. Ever. 

Maybe he would have never done so if his son wasn’t gay, but why should that matter? Channeling a personal experience into activism is not self-serving. It’s how most of us go about discovering what causes to champion in our daily lives. We often don’t understand something until confronted with it head-on. Consider the number of HIV activists in the gay community. How many of them worked so hard for the cause before they became infected?

I am not arguing that as a senator—and as a human being—Rob Portman shouldn’t soul search and champion causes that aren’t part of his personal experience. As a U.S. senator, he’s tasked with the responsibility of doing the right thing for all citizens, not just the ones he can personally relate to. I hope he understands that and will act accordingly. There is no reason, though, to attack a man who arrived at one right thing because he’s had a personal encounter with it.

Wow!

“Dozens of prominent Republicans — including top advisers to former President George W. Bush, four former governors and two members of Congress — have signed a legal brief arguing that gay people have a constitutional right to marry,” The New York Times reported this morning.

“[C]onservative groups said the White House had informed them that [President Bush] would soon endorse efforts to pass an amendment to the United States Constitution defining marriage to be between a man and a woman,” The New York Times reported nine years earlier, on February 5, 2004.

I still remember the boy who sat in his room 10 years ago following the twists and turns of the Lawrence v. Texas case, Rick Santorum's subsequent hateful comments, and George W. Bush's divisive campaign against gays across America. That boy never imagined that progress and change would happen so quickly, if they would ever happen at all.

Today, that boy is a man who is proud of his country and its leaders and knows that everyone he loves is one step closer to the freedom and equality promised to all Americans.

State of Disunion

Considering that President Obama used his State of the Union address to call on Congress "to put the nation's interests before party," it is surprising that he chose the same platform to say--for the first time in one of his SOTU speeches--that "the state of our union is stronger."

For years I have wanted Obama to echo the words of George W. Bush and tell the public that the state of the union is strong. Sure it always felt hollow when Bush said it, but it was a rhetorical device that evoked hope even in its absence of truth. Obama finally gave me what I've wanted for years...

...and left me entirely pissed off.

Though we have made some progress on the economy, energy and cutting the deficit, most of those achievements were accomplished only after months of political mudslinging and often coming within inches of completely toppling the economy. This shows--as Obama reflected at the start of his speech--that our union is anything but "stronger." It is fractured. Divided, even. The ideological split currently plaguing Washington seems to have been outmatched only one time in our history: During the Civil War.

I am not suggesting that the current divide is as powerful or traumatic as the Civil War was. However, the current divide hinders progress, discourages political participation by the 'average Joe,' and weakens America's position internationally.

No no, Mr. Obama. Methinks that our union is anything but "stronger" at the moment.

Faith

Faith is a powerful thing. For those who believe. To them, faith provides enormous amounts of comfort even in the most dire circumstances. I do not have (much) faith. Nevertheless, it holds power over me because it is such a mystery.

I grew up attending private Jewish schools. Though my parents were never particularly religious, they believe in God, and it was important to them to instill a sense of Jewish identity in their children.

For a time, I had faith. Then things changed. I grew up and learned about the state of the world, and I saw powerful examples of suffering right in my own family.

My grandmother spent 30 years as a prisoner of a broken body. For a long time, she led a mostly joyless life.  When my sister was young, she barely escaped alive from her abusive ex to become a struggling single mother of two kids. Just when she'd finally gotten on her feet, many years later, a reckless driver hit her car. For over three years now, she's been in constant pain and is barely able to walk as a result of that accident.

My grandmother believed in God. My sister still does. So does the woman in my office whose thirty-something year old son who just died of cancer.

I cannot wrap my mind around how these people--and so many others--believe in God's love and kindness in the face of such awful hardships. Perhaps I should admire them for their convictions and humility, but, for now at least, I am simply mystified.

Thank You, America

21 years ago today, my family arrived in America. On January 31, 1992, I woke up on an airplane and peeked out the window just as the sun began to rise over the horizon and shine its rays over New York City. I was five years old then and much too young to appreciate this most remarkable and poetic moment of my life. I literally opened my eyes to see the dawning of a bright, new future.

Of course, my life in America has not been perfect or easy. My family faced many challenges over the past 21 years, and despite how hard we’ve worked to achieve the financial American Dream, we’ve never come close to breaking the middle class barrier. My parents’ advanced degrees in engineering and literature were not highly valued in the United States. That coupled with my parents’ middle age (they were in their mid and late 40s when they arrived) and developing health problems made it difficult for them to find lucrative employment opportunities. I spent much of my childhood wanting toys that my parents could not afford or missing school trips that my classmates took for granted.

Nevertheless, my parents have been able to achieve a different kind of—and much more valuable—American Dream.  From 1992 on, they worked hard to educate their children. They managed to put me through private school for thirteen years,* send my older sister to college to earn two degrees, see my older brother become an optometrist, and help send me to one of this country’s top universities and law schools.  They did not do it alone, of course. Their children understood that we had to contribute to our own future, which meant we had to work hard for money and scholarships. It was not easy for any of us, but we’ve come out the other side wiser and with greater strength of character.

Though my parents were educated professionals in Russia, their careers could only advance so far because of their religion. Even though the Soviet Union claimed to be free of class and religion, identity documents listed one’s religious affiliation in plain sight. Anti-Semitism was prevalent in Russia proper, as well as the Muslim Republic of Uzbekistan where my family lived. As a result, my father was held back from top military rank and postings despite over twenty years of service. My mother could not finish law school.

My parents have said time and again that never in their wildest dreams did they imagine that their children would be educated professionals, and that one of their children would achieve such educational heights in a country that is not his birthplace.

The United States of America has given my family incredible opportunities. Though my parents do not live luxuriously, they are secure in their home and thrive with what they have. Their children have world-class educations, own homes of their own, and are raising families.** And, most importantly of all, they have all this in a country that is truly free, that allows people of any religion or background to thrive, and that gives so much to people who are willing to work hard. 

I have written many other blog posts praising and critiquing America. I stand firmly by my arguments that its political system is too fractured and that it too often does not live up to its own ideals.

Nevertheless, I am proud and grateful to be an American. The beauty of the United States is that, though it is not perfect, it is ever evolving for the better, and it allows its citizens to participate in creating positive change. When I think about how different my life would be if I lived in Russia now—an allegedly free, democratic country that continues to crackdown on free expression and individual rights—I recognize how incredibly blessed I am to be an American.

21 years of struggle and triumph have made for an incredible adventure, and have created a appreciative and, hopefully, better man.

*They could not afford most of the tuition, but I worked hard to earn scholarships.
**I still rent and remain single, but I am also the youngest and just finished school.

Past the Apocalypse, What Now?

Today is December 22, 2012. The fact that I'm writing this is evidence that the Mayans—or at least their modern interpreters—were wrong and the world did not end. So, life on earth continues today in much the same fashion as it did yesterday. But is that a good thing?

Don't misunderstand. I'm glad the world did not come to a fiery end (though I never expected that it would), but I’m also saddened that predictions of our demise went so far and high over our heads that we did not stop to consider the precious and precarious nature of our lives on earth.

Temple of Quetzalcoatl, December 21, 2012

Many people that I know met December 21, 2012 with wide smiles, whimsical laughs, and alcohol (and sometimes drug) induced altered states of mind. Throughout the day, they went about their normal routines without a serious consideration that this was the day it all could end. I imagine that most others on the planet did the same thing.

But, consider if the world had ended yesterday. If the human race died, what legacy would we have left for the universe?

In 2012, there is still inequality and indignity rampant even in the most “enlightened” representative republics of the west. Outside of the so-called enlightened west (and sometimes even within), human beings (adults of both genders, and even children) are trafficked as slaves, murdered by the thousands and millions for believing in a different faith or being born with a different color skin, and die in wars fought over lines on maps and the whims of a few elite dictators or politicians. Worse still, millions die each year from starvation and disease because of nothing more complex than indifference. And this is only a partial and small list of the horrors of human life.

            I recognize that I am painting a dim picture. I also acknowledge that plenty of good people in the world spend their waking hours working to prevent the horrors I describe above. Nevertheless, the every situation I describe is happening at this very moment as I write and you read this essay.

Learn about global hunger

            December 21, 2012 was not the end of the world. Neither was December 22, 2012.  However, the nature of life is that it comes to an end. That is true of microscopic life forms, plants, animals, human beings, and even planets. Should the human race survive on earth for billions of years to come, this planet will eventually cease to support us as our sun grows larger and earth’s temperatures grow hotter as a result.  Eventually, earth will be consumed by the sun as it expands before exploding in a supernova. But, life on earth may end long before then. On any given day, all that stands between the entire population of our world and its annihilation are a few men who chose to live one more day without launching a weapon of mass destruction.

            Life is precious—and temporary. The fascination surrounding December 21, 2012 is a gift to help us remember that. Most people laughed about it, but I hope that people will look back on December 21, 2012 not as a joke, but as a wakeup call. The fact that the people who were convinced that they had successfully predicted the future based on the Mayan calendar turned out to be wrong is a valuable lesson of a simple truth:  the future is uncertain.

            The question we must ask is not when the world will end, but how (and I do not mean by which method).  How will we leave the world when we’re gone? Will it be much like it is today, full of strife and senseless death? Or will we meet the end united as one people—a people free of murder, war, and inequality?

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Bore

Where's Bilbo?

And so the end of all things came to pass in 2012 when Peter Jackson delivered onto us The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey. So mystified were we by bumbling dwarves, lack of a clearly defined protagonist, and sequence after sequence we’d already seen in The Lord of the Rings trilogy, that we decided to end the human race out of sheer boredom. Oh how the Mayans must have wept when they foresaw this calamity!

                Ok… In actuality, part one of Jackson’s new Middle-earth trilogy isn’t that bad, but it also isn’t that good. Clocking it at almost three hours and telling the story of just the first 100 pages of J.R.R. Tolkien’s classic children’s book, The Hobbit is a bloated work with terrible pacing and insufficient character development.

                Until the end credits rolled, I kept asking myself who the film’s protagonist is. Though the movie opens and closes with Bilbo Baggins, a lot of material in the middle focuses on Thorin Oakenshield, often at the expense of developing Bilbo’s character. The central story often feels like it is about Thorin, not Bilbo, and this is a stark contrast from Jackson’s first trilogy, which always successfully keeps audiences focused on Frodo, even as the story follows the journeys other characters.

                The mixed focus might be more forgivable if Thorin was a more complex character, but he is the stereotypical angry soldier seeking revenge. He listens to no one, carries a chip on his shoulder, and is so rough around the edges that I could not begin to care about him or his quest.

                The rest of the dwarves are no better. Only one other—and I forget his name—gets anything to say and do. The rest of the bunch are there for alleged comic relief, but their silliness evokes the horrors of Jar Jar Bink’s gags more than it summons a hardy laugh (though they are nowhere near as bad as Binks!). Nevertheless, the movie spends a good deal of time introducing their characters, rendering the beginning of the film rather boring and lifeless. Also, to the disappointment of this fanboy in particular, Gloin, father of the memorable Gimli from LOTR, gets only a single line of dialogue.

                Also along for the ride are Radagast the Brown and the Necromancer, but neither character is given enough to do in this film to make their presence seem important. They are pretty clearly set up for part two, but that does not excuse their hallow presence in this film.

                Where the film succeeds is in its story nods to the LOTR trilogy. My favorite scene takes place in Rivendell, where Gandalf is reunited with Elrond, Galadriel and Sauruman. The White Council discusses the coming war, but remains focused on the dwarves’ quest.  Equally breathtaking is Bilbo’s confrontation with Gollum. In the moment Gollum cries and screams as he realizes Bilbo took the Ring, Jackson finally returns to being a storyteller by connecting the audience to the depths of Smeagol’s twisted soul. It is a moment more compelling than any other in which Gollum has been featured on screen.

                However, redundant—perhaps even reductive—thematic connections to the LOTR trilogy, both visual and musical, weaken The Hobbit. Jackson tries very hard to connect this story to Tolkien’s bigger and far superior epic, but the effort falls flat. Visuals of Gandalf saving the day, a fellowship running across a bridge in a dark chasm, and eagles saving the day feel repetitious. Where they were once exciting in LOTR, in The Hobbit they are simply standard. Though handled with beauty and care, Jackson brings nothing new or vital to them. Much of the film’s soundtrack also borrows from the LOTR to the film’s detriment. Some of the musical connections are appropriate, but others simply try to add a level of grandeur to the adventure of Thorin and Bilbo that is simply doesn’t deserve when compared to the life and death struggle to stop the end of the world.

                Perhaps the most disappointing thing about this film is that Jackson seems more concerned with its technical aspects than telling its story. However, the film’s saving grace is that, even at its worst, the film does not detract from the enjoyment of the original trilogy. In a few fleeting moments, it even adds some additional lore and breathtaking wonder to the Jackson LOTR world.