THREE RAINY DAYS TO GO . . .

Rain or shine (or damp miserable chill), we're doing it!

Support us in the Revlon 5k Run/Walk for Women, happening this Saturday morning, no matter what.

I and my team thank you in advance for caring.

***

CULTURAL BAGGAGE . . .

What a terrible occurrence, a commuter train jumping the tracks as it speeds around a curve, ramming directly into a residential apartment complex. Frankly, I can't imagine it, much like I can't imagine war and mass devastation and entire countries being wiped out by waves of ocean water. (Ironical, given all the other unimaginable things that I imagine all the time.) Over seventy people dead, over four hundred people injured, an expensive infrastructure damaged, citizens rendered homeless, families and friends in mourning.

Events like this often cause a sudden wave of soul-searching. In this case, the result is this statement: "There is no flexibility in our society; people are not flexible, either." The driver of the train is to blame, certainly. Why in the world would you take a train full of people and take a 44 m.p.h. curve at an excruciating 62 m.p.h., just to make up for a sixty-second delay from a prior station stop? But the Japanese people -- or at least some of them -- seem to also be blaming themselves. For being obsessed with punctuality. For being inflexible. For striving for unattainable perfection. All at the expense of safety, and mental and social health.

I wonder at these cultural characteristics. Japanese citizens point to the United States and nations in Europe where being late really is late: six minutes or more. Sixty seconds is ... well, it's cake. It's a blessing, really. You don't see any American subway drivers beating themselves up for being sixty seconds late to the next station. As IF, right? But I wonder if we don't have our own forms of national emotional and mental baggage. What about the focus on the American dream? JKA and I were just talking the other day about The Ultimate Goal: home ownership. Why do people drive themselves into poverty and extreme debt, just so they can say they own a home? Or what about the fact that some American families can barely feed themselves, but by God, there's a television set in every room of their ramshackle rental? Or the obsession with money? When you die, you can't take it with you, but everyone wants more of it anyway, and what we have is never, ever enough. Jaime told me a few weeks ago that when I start making the big bucks, I'll unconsciously adjust my life accordingly. Lord, will that be true? And what about the American sense of individuality and independence? Is this not just a little bit overrated, and creating an entire land of people who do not know how to depend on each other, who do not know how to care about others, who are not able to be sensitive and open and moved by the plights of those less fortunate, who are not able to ask for and receive needed help or support or even friendship?

I wonder at my blood people, from The Motherland. For most of recent history, South Korea has been at the mercy of one colonial power or another. Has this not created some deeply-rooted sense of insecurity and inferiority among my people? Do we immigrant families not exhibit these feelings in different ways, by being passive-aggressive, by feeling constantly torn about how to reconcile the traditional Confucian way with the modern American way? And why are we still so lagging in public service, in law schools, in government positions, in political and social activity? Do we simply not care yet, or is it more nefarious: do we not think we are able to be strong and loud in these venues? Have 21st-century Ko-REAN Koreans not advanced economically and technologically in leaps and bounds, leaving cultural and social advancements confused and lagging in the dust?

I don't know. I'm just speculating and doing some multi-cultural soul-searching of my own. You know, just thinking about what forces I am allowing to affect me, what kind of legacy I am building for myself, what sorts of values will become so much a part of me that I will willingly or not pass them on to my next generations ...

***

JUMPER . . .

The other afternoon, a man climbed up the Tappan Zee Bridge, which spans a major commuter thoroughfare, and threatened to jump. He hung out up there for about three hours, and thankfully, local authorities eventually talked him down, preventing yet another tragedy. Unfortunately for everyone else, this man bent on suicide closed Bridge traffic for three hours, pretty much destroying the evening rush hour.

That sucks, but I think what sucks more is that people wanted him to jump. MORE people wished he had jumped after learning he was a convicted sex offender. First question: why would anyone in their right mind encourage someone else to commit suicide?!?!?!

Second question: if this man had jumped, would a commuter's life have been made that much easier? NO. The answer is NO. For then, emergency crews would have had to come onto the bridge to fish the man out of the water; police would have had to come and do a complete workup of the scene; and the ensuing rubbernecking would have been a MUCH bigger pain in the rear than that which already existed.

Yet some people persist. Some people joke: "Jump! Jump!" My God, how wretched, encouraging someone to jump. I wonder why they do that? Is it because it's a juicy story? "Mom, on the way home from work today, I saw a guy jump to his death from the Bridge and it was AMAZING!" Is it because we really get SO mad that we are late getting to wherever we need to go that we would prefer that the cause of our delay just eliminate himself? "Selfish jerk, he should know better than to try to kill himself right before the evening rush hour!" Is it because we think a sex offender doesn't deserve to live? "Dirty bastard, he deserves to die anyway, the pervert!" Is it that we as a society are so inured to the seriousness and gravity of violence and death and tragic events that some dude jumping off a bridge is less a cause of concern and sadness for his soul, and more of a spectacle to be enjoyed, and if not enjoyed, then heckled?

Yeah, I would have been ticked off too, if I were languishing on that bridge, stomach rumbling in anticipation of dinner, wanting nothing more than to go home, change out of my work clothes and lounge the evening away. I probably would have also craned my neck up to see exactly what was going on, to see if I could catch a glimpse of the man high above me. I probably would have thought, "what the HECK is this guy DOING?" But would I have wanted him to jump just to make my own life easier? God, I hope not ...

***

THE WHITEHEAD DIET . . .

I thought I was long past this stage of my life, but NO. I have an ENORMOUS and enormously PAINFUL pimple near the corner of my mouth. It makes opening my mouth to eat extremely painful; flossing is downright torturous. This is NOT my idea of an ideal weight-maintenance regimen.