Those Damn Unions

Many of you will claim that labor unions are responsible for the wholesale demise of business in the U.S. (Just look at the situation with Hostess!) Unions typically make silly, stupid, unreasonable demands…until management finally gives up and says, “Enough!” and moves the company right out of the country…to someplace where people will produce the exact same goods far more cheaply. Hey, that’s business in a global economy! Yup, fair is fair.

Some will grudgingly agree that unions may have been necessary “once,” but surely their usefulness is past and their viability is long gone. Companies know they have to treat their employees right, right? Here in the U.S. we already have the best working conditions in the world, and companies know they must pay a competitive, livable wage. So why do unions still exist? Shouldn’t they be outlawed or something?

That’s probably what many of you think. That’s probably what Walmart thinks too. You know Walmart: That’s the company that decided it was more efficient to have some of the clothes they sell made in Bangladesh. Hey, they’re always starving over there…even George Harrison’s 1971 benefit concert did little-to-nothing to fundamentally change anything in that country. So if Walmart can have clothes made in Bangladesh…great! Right?

Right. Except. Except that a fire broke out in a garment factory in Bangladesh this week, and 124 people died because the fire exits were either non-existent or blocked and people couldn’t get out.

Walmart, Sears and Disney all had clothing made in that factory. But they cleverly had enough plausible deniability to distance themselves from the actual process of manufacturing. Well, we did not contract directly with that company. In fact, we directed our suppliers to not use that company! Which is exactly what Walmart actually claimed. Left unsaid was, But you know…we don’t really monitor such things closely as long as we get the product for the right price. And how could we! Bangladesh is soooo far away from Bentonville, Arkansas.

Those damn unions! If not for those damn unions we'd still be making clothes in the U.S.!

Well this is what we get – this is the high cost of low prices. It might be easy for some Americans to shrug it off and say, “Hey, that would not happen in America.”

But it did. Triangle Shirtwaist Company, anyone? Ring a bell? Probably not, because it was 100 years ago. (A hundred and one, actually.)

Just after the turn of the 20th Century, New York City was a hub of manufacturing, including clothing. The Triangle Waist Company made women’s blouses that were called “shirtwaists” back then, don’t ask me why. The company occupied the top three floors of a huge 10-story factory in lower Manhattan. The employees, mostly young women, worked nine-hour days from Monday through Friday, and a seven-hour day on Saturday. They made a maximum of about $12/week.

In March of 1911 a fire broke out on the eighth floor of the factory. There were no fire alarms, no sprinklers, no fire-hoses…and so the fire got completely out of control before people on the two upper floors even realized what was happening. Emergency exits were locked, ostensibly to prevent stealing by employees. There was one rickety fire escape which quickly warped and collapsed due to the heat of the fire, sending as many as 20 people to their death. When the NYFD arrived, the ladders on their trucks were not tall enough to reach the floors that were burning. In all, 146 people died.

The Triangle Waist Company fire led directly to better, more strict regulations concerning worker safety in factories. It also led to the growth of the International Ladies Garment Workers Union, which worked hard for better treatment of employees in both compensation and working conditions.

Well, screw that! Manufacturers simply moved their factories out of high-profile places like New York City, to other locations where people would work more cheaply, would be happy to have any job at all, where there were no pesky labor unions and where government oversight and scrutiny was not so…let’s say “intense.” Places like Central America. And Bangladesh.

And so a couple of days ago, 100 years after the Triangle Waist Company fire, there was another fire, this time in a garment factory in Bangladesh in which 124 people were killed.

Boy, we’ve learned a lot in 100 years, huh? But this is what we get. This is what we get when we, as Americans willingly accept the “fact” that companies should be allowed to produce their goods wherever they can do it the most cheaply, and then ship those goods to us with no restrictions. This is what we get when we do not hold companies like Walmart and Sears and Disney directly accountable, and morally and financially responsible for disasters like this. We should be ashamed of ourselves, but we’re not. Not as long as we can get that Disney-branded jacket for our kids at a cheap price or that $6 sweatshirt from Walmart.

We see how corporations act when they are left to make up the rules on their own. We saw it in lower Manhattan in 1911. And we just saw it again this month in 2012 in Bangladesh.

Meet the new boss; same as the old boss.


WIKIPEDIA: Triangle Shirtwaist Company Fire

Giving Thanks, 2012

The house is quiet again. For the last three days it’s been filled with the sounds of Matt, Alisha, and their pair of rambunctious ten year-olds: Faith and Dylan (and their cat). It’s a wonderful noise! It makes the house sound alive. They were visiting from Atlanta – came down early for Thanksgiving since there were other family plans back up in Georgia on the specific day. And so we had ours on Monday, which is fine.

I’ve known Matt for a long, long time…since well before he was married with children. In fact, I was honored to be Best Man at his wedding. I constantly marvel at what good friends we are and have stayed. Although we’re not blood relatives we might as well be.

One of the things we have in common is that we both love to eat! As single guys with no local family, we’ve spent a lot of holidays together over the years. We both also like to cook, and by happy coincidence it turns out that we cook well together. We get along really well in the kitchen. This shouldn’t have been any surprise really. We’re great working on cars together, and if he were a pilot I know we’d get along well in the cockpit too. We’ve got some individual recipes that we bring to the table. We'd usually cook up a big, traditional holiday feast, even it was just for the two of us. This year Alisha joined us in the cooking. It was fantastic. The meal turned out awesome.

We did a turkey, of course; what kind of un-American pinko heathen would not have turkey on Turkey Day? For side dishes, Alisha did yams with marshmallows – yum! She also did a special side dish of green beans that was dee-licious! Matt did the chicken-cornbread dressing from scratch, a recipe he got from an aunt which is literally to die for. I did my world famous crabmeat potato salad. There was more…too much more, actually…an embarrassing amount of food for three so-called adults and two well-fed kids. But collectively we have a lot to be thankful for, and you know we Americans celebrate that thankfulness with food.

I’ve mentioned before that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. And this one was one of the best ones yet.

They’re gone now; they left Wednesday morning on one of the busiest travel days of the year. I’m happy to report they made it safely back to Atlanta. And so the house is quiet again. And as KC and the Sunshine Band once sang, that’s the way (uh-huh uh-huh) I like it. I love Matt and Alisha and their kids, but I do like my solitude.

Whether you celebrate this particular holiday in your culture or not, it’s good to occasionally take time to stop, step back and give thanks for all you have. I, for one have been extremely blessed. With the best family and friends a guy could ever hope for, I have the best life of anyone I know.

I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

The Best Political Post EVER!

Okay, maybe not.

Some of my friends are pretty angry and bitter right now. Having President Obama get elected for a second term really chaps their collective asses. To paraphrase Michael Stipe and REM, it’s the end of the world as they know it, and they don’t feel fine. They (still!) make endless posts on their Facebook pages, predicting the veritable destruction of the U.S. and all they hold dear. They blame the left-wing liberal Commies for this inevitable downslide off the cliff and into socialism. And they’re pissed.

The mistake many Republicans make is the same one that Mitt Romney made -- the one that probably cost him the election. They assume that everyone who votes Democrat is a lazy, unemployed welfare-cheat…someone who exists on government handouts, considers themselves a “victim” and has no inclination to better themselves. They assume that everyone who votes Democrat would prefer to live in a socialist country like Communist Russia…where all you have to do is sit back and the government will take care of you.

And these assumptions are wrong.

Umm, here’s a newsflash: We’ve all seen how life is under socialist regimes like in today’s Russia. None of us would opt for that. Really.

Here’s a little chart that got published on Facebook. It’s telling, at least to me. What it shows is that the top ten states that have people with college educations voted for Obama. The top ten states that have people without college degrees voted for Romney...with one glaring exception.

Now, a college education does not guarantee that someone is a genius, or even smart, or even has any common sense. It only means that you spent the time and took the courses and got the degree…which admittedly could have been in Liberal Arts. Nevertheless, people with college educations do know how to think critically. And whaddya know, more people in states with college educated people chose to re-elect President Obama.

Some Republican doom and gloom friends of mine have gone so far as to minimize the importance of having a college degree in life. Perhaps obviously, these are people who do not themselves have a college degree. Go figure.

The fact is, just over half of the entire population voted for Obama. More people in the states with the larger number of electoral votes voted for Obama. The states that have the highest number of college graduates voted for Obama. Tellingly, Romney could not even carry Massachusetts, the state in which he was governor. Didn’t they remember him?? Oh wait…maybe they did! Similarly, Paul Ryan did not carry his home state of Wisconsin. Make of that what you will.

Things have changed, people. Our country has not only elected a black president, we've elected a black president twice!

But we did not elect a king. Obama is still just the president, and as such he has to work with Congress. So I don’t expect a wholesale conversion to Marxist socialism any time soon.

If you voted for Obama you are probably happy with the outcome right now. But if you don't like the way the election went, then you better get with your senator and congressman and make damn sure they know how you feel. 'Cuz it ain't majority rules in this country. We still are a thriving, surviving democratic republic.

Me? I did not vote for Romney. I could have, but I did not.

The Devil You Know

You’re probably as sick of all the political crap as I am. I cannot wait for this election to be over. And you know what? I really don’t care who wins. Really.

I am either the most left-leaning Conservative you’ll ever meet, or perhaps the most right-wing Liberal. I staunchly oppose gun control, but I’m against totally against abortion. I think we need the federal government out of our lives, and we need a smaller military. I think every American should have health care. Not “access to” healthcare, but healthcare. We are supposedly the most advanced nation on the planet. What does it say about us that we do not take care of our citizens?

Anyway, does all this make me: Undecided? An Independent? A moron? Probably all three.

Politics has gotten so divisive lately that it’s sickening. People are so angry! On Facebook I have had to unsubscribe from the newsfeeds of some of my more vociferous friends so I don't have to be subjected to their continual childish rants. I’ve come very close to “unfriending” them completely. Sad to say, these are usually Republicans. They make post after hate-filled post about Obama and liberals. It wears me out. I get it, okay? I do not recall such anger back when George W. was running for his second term, but that may just be selective memory. I mean, let's face it, Dubya wasn't a very good president. And I love how Republicans keep invoking Reagan's name and keep skipping over the two guys named Bush. Clever, that.

I was confronted recently by a guy I know who is a dyed-in-the-wool Conservative Republican. He was literally steaming about Obama…how’s he’s ruined “the country” and how if he is re-elected “the country” will be totally, off-the-cliff destroyed. I offered that from my point of view it didn’t seem to matter who won this election. Oh boy, wrong thing to say!

This guy went into a Hannityesque anti-Obama tirade that included everything from our bad relations with Israel to the Iranian nuclear situation to gasoline prices to Benghazi – the usual Conservative talking/yelling points. Oh, and he also stated as a fact that Obama cancelled the “Keystone Pipeline” which is simply not true although many uneducated boobs believe in their feeble brains that it is.

I shrugged, refusing to get drawn into yet another pointless political argument. This put my buddy into Personal Attack Mode. Republicans really do believe that Obama is destroying “the country.” And Mitt Romney will save it. And if you’re not totally with Romney then you, yes YOU are complicit in destroying “the country” as well. Well! Made me feel like a right traitor, he did!

I recall that in 2008 then-candidate Obama ran on a platform of “hope and change.” He would change Washington, he promised us. He was just what we needed. And now, four years later Obama admits that you cannot change Washington from the inside. Oh really? Whodathunkit! And now along comes Mitt Romney, promising us that HE will be the change! HE is just what we need! Yeah…right. I’ll tell you what: I didn’t believe Obama back then and I don’t believe Romney today.

I think my biggest objection to Mitt Romney is that he’s a phony. He’s fake. He will say anything to anyone to get elected. Just go on YouTube; a quick search will turn up all of Romney’s inconsistencies. Flip-flop, back and forth. And this is not a trivial point…which is that no one really knows where Romney stands on issues. Because what he says today may not be what he says or does tomorrow. he tells us. Trouble is, I don't.

Is Obama any better? No. He promised us many things…over 500 promises of which he kept less than half (about 38% according to people who track these things). He promised us transparency, but his presidency is one of the least transparent ever. Like Romney, Obama is a typical politician. But in this case, President Obama is the devil we know. And for better or for worse, the devil we know may be the choice this election. Not “the best” choice, and not even “a better” choice. Just the choice. That, my friends, is sad.

Di Blasio

Have I ever mentioned that my parents made me take piano lessons when I was a kid? My mom could play the piano pretty well, and I guess my folks thought I had some musical talent as well. Boy, were they wrong! Nevertheless I’ve always been fascinated by the piano and the people who play it.

The piano is a wonderful instrument. It has such a – pardon the pun – grand range and sound, even unamplified. There is something about the musical frequencies it produces that is…I don’t know…resonant with the human ear and brain in a way that few other instruments are. The sound is pleasant (not the way I played it though). We hear piano music and it affects us positively whether we’re consciously aware of it or not. And I suspect that often we are not.

There’s always been piano-based pop music, since even before there was “pop music.” But even into the age of rock ‘n roll and beyond the piano never lost its appeal. From Jerry Lee Lewis in the ‘50s to The Beatles in the ‘60s to Elton John in the ‘70s to more current bands and artists like Keane and Ben Folds, the piano remains almost as constant a presence as the electric guitar. Personally, I like it when the piano is employed in certain types of rock music. Ironically, I’m not too fond of the electric piano or “electronic keyboards” in general. I like the natural sound of a regular ol’ piano.

In the 1990’s there were a couple of pianists who came to prominence…think John Tesh and of course Yanni. There was also Raul Di Blasio! From Argentina, Di Blasio has been interested in the piano since he was six. In the 1990’s he moved to the U.S. and achieved some popularity. But music fans are fickle, and no pianist will ever capture our hearts like an Eric Clapton or a Jimi Hendrix. Sad, that, because Di Blasio probably is the pianist equivalent of Clapton.

Check out this awesome instrumental tune from Di Blasio: “Hasta Que Te Conoci.” (I think it means “Until I Met You.”) It was played a lot on VH-1 in the 1990’s. It rocks! Well…I mean…not in the traditional sense, but this song, with its intricate arrangement...the layering of instruments... the pounding drums, soaring strings and horns, and of course Di Blasio's magnificent playing of the piano - this song does rock. I can listen to it over and over. And do!



It’s a shame Di Blasio never became more popular. Clearly he has the chops (and eccentric looks) to have been a major star. Trouble was, we already had a Yanni, who was younger, better-looking and had more hair. But that does not diminish Di Blasio’s talent or importance in my eyes.

Done Gone

It’s odd to think of myself as “not a helicopter pilot anymore.” I’ve been trying to divorce myself from this lousy industry for a long time. Meanwhile, my friend Larry Curtis had “retirement” agonizingly and prematurely forced on him when a heart problem put him on the sidelines for good. He wasn’t ready to go just yet. I’ve been ready for a long time. And that time has finally come.

The last job I had was so shitty that I ended up hating both the job and the guy I was working for. And I don’t “hate” anything! Not a good situation.

Within aviation, many pilots aspire to “corporate” jobs…that is, flying for some company instead of doing charters or whatever. Corporate flying is generally held to be “better” in that you usually fly nicer equipment, have a better schedule and better pay. But this is not always the case.

In my case, the Boss issued me one of those walkie-talkie Nextel phones. All he needed to do was hit the push-to-talk button and he expected me to reply immediately. If I did not, I’d catch hell. From seven o’clock in the morning to nine o’clock at night, he would expect me to be available for his calls. Yes, seven days a week. It gets old.

Truthfully, we did not fly a lot. On the other hand, I never knew when we would be flying, and had to be ready all the time in case the Boss needed to go somewhere. In fairness, he rarely called me to fly without at least one-day notice – but it did happen. I worked most holidays and a lot of weekends, and spent a lot of nights away from home. That sounds like whining and it is, I’ll admit. Such a schedule is simply the nature of this corporate/personal flying job. You sit around on “stand-by” waiting for the boss to call. It gets old.

In his mind, my Boss thought I “worked” very little, and he resented this greatly for he works his people hard. Over the course of our time together he mentioned a couple of times that I was the least-productive employee on his payroll. (To which I’d reply, “Oh yeah? Well then get your secretary to fly the helicopter.”) Thus, he’d dream up little non-aviation tasks for me to do…run errands for him and such. Nothing terribly unreasonable, just things to keep me busy. There were so many of these little tasks that one day one of the other employees was moved to remark, “Bob, you ain’t nothing but (the Boss’s) nigger!” And yes, sadly, people still do use that term freely down here in the south. As offensive and insulting as the comment was, it had a ring of truth. And it gets old.

There were other things of course; there always are. Bottom line is that I’m done with full-time helicopter flying. Gone. Done gone, as they also say down here. I hope to get back into fixed-wing airplanes. I think I’d be a good flight instructor (but maybe not!). Who knows what the future will bring?

I may…or may not even…return to Washington State next spring and do the cherry-drying thing. It’s fun and all, and I enjoy everything about that part-time summer gig, but hovering over the cherry trees in a 60 year-old helicopter is not without an arguable…let’s say “discussable” level of risk. And at this stage of my life I’m more circumspect about the risks I’m willing to take.

Flying and Riding - And Why I Love My Sportster!

When I fly I think to myself, “This is my most favorite thing in the whole wide world!” And when I ride my motorcycle I think, “This is my most favorite thing in the whole wide world!” Honestly, it’s hard to choose between them when it comes to which I prefer more. Do I even have to choose?

There is something very soul-satisfying about riding a motorcycle that I cannot quite put into words. I mean, driving a car is – or can be – fun. But riding a motorcycle is fun in a much different way. You are so totally involved with the machine; each hand and foot has its own control (just like a helicopter!). And while riding, you’re hyper-aware of your surroundings as well. You’re…well…connected. The risk factor may play a part in the attraction but honestly I don’t think about it – or try not to.

Many riders report a feeling of “freedom,” which begs the question: Freedom from what? Yes, you do experience a feeling of being totally unfettered and unencumbered. There is always a strong temptation to just head for the city limits and keep on going. Only our responsibilities (read: debts) keep us from doing that. There is the freedom from the “cage,” which is what some motorcyclists call cars; the freedom that lets you smell the cut grass or the pine trees…or when the kids ahead of you are sharing a joint.  (Yes kids, if the state trooper behind you has his windows down, he'll be able to smell your weed.) 

I’ve owned a lot of bikes, and in fact own three now. But none have been more satisfying than my Sportsters. I know, I rhapsodize about the Sportster endlessly here in this blog, but I do love the “little” Harley. It’s such a basic, honest motorcycle. It’s not flashy or overly-complicated or even technologically advanced. It’s just an engine and two wheels…a simple, two-cylinder, air-cooled engine at that. Two exhaust pipes; one carburetor. No fuel injection (although later models have it). It is “powerful enough” for me. I can (and do) work on it, but I haven’t really had to - it has been dead reliable, giving me zero trouble since I bought it back in May of 2008. Has it really been that long?

This past August I was heading south on Route 287, coming down through Montana on my way home from Washington State. It was a gorgeous morning, and the road was a winding two-lane through breathtakingly beautiful country – I had not yet experienced the disaster of Yellowstone Park and thus was still in a pretty good mood.

I was listening to my iPod. As I’ve said, sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. Mostly I just prefer to listen to the sound of the engine and be alone with my thought. But this time I had the music cranked up as I came around a curve and saw a sign that I was entering the town of “Harrison.” And just as I spied that sign…I shit you not…the Traveling Wilburys song, “Handle With Care” started up. Now…full disclosure…among the 200 songs in this particular playlist on my iPod I have a lot of Beatles’ music as well as a smattering of solo stuff from Paul McCartney and George Harrison. So the odds of this happening are admittedly not astronomical.

Coincidences like this might not mean much to a normal person, but they entertain me greatly. They remind me that this life here is to be enjoyed. And I like to enjoy it from the seat of a motorcycle. Sometimes it's the simplest pleasures that are the best.