When we moved to our current house, the previous owners had left one of their cats behind. Horrified, I contacted their realtor and told her what had happened. She came back to me later and claimed that they had in fact taken the cat with them, but it obviously ‘missed our house and found its way back’. I Googled their new address and drove to it (not with the cat – I wouldn’t give a rat I liked back to those people) to satisfy myself that there was no way this animal could have made the trek – quite a number of miles and across two freeways.
So, I tried to care for that old cat, whose name was Max according to a neighbor, as best I could. Then one day it disappeared, no longer taking the food I had put outside for it (I could not have it inside because I have a bird and this was an unknown feline). I have to admit, I was not sorry to see it go at the time as it was not exactly a friendly, cuddly thing — which was hardly a surprise given the neglect it likely experienced with that family — but I did feel deeply sorry for it.
It must have become feral, because I kept finding dead birds in the yard. The first dead bird was deposited at one of our doors, so I took it to be a gift of gratitude from the cat. Then the dead birds were arriving more frequently. Now I am not sure it was the cat or raptors who frequent the arroyos nearby and, I now realize, have spent time in my yard (for which confusion I have guilted myself ever since).
I am a dog and bird person. But really, a true animal lover has a soft heart for all species and I am one of those. It is a problem, believe me. As a vegan, I am clearly one of those individuals who takes animal welfare very seriously – to the point of profound despair.
Naturally, to do my part, swimming upstream in this brutal animal-abusive world, I have made small contributions to animal rescue charities, both wild and domestic, national and global (I have also rescued dogs and birds, some wild, some injured, finding a place to return them when I couldn’t care for them myself). It presents a unique dilemma. Once you start giving money to one charity, you are bombarded with requests from others. (Nonetheless, I do try to make even a token offering to as many as possible – I encourage everyone to try and help as well. There is a huge need.)
Now, that would not be so alarming, if it were not for the fact that along with the solicitations and free labels, note-cards and maps, come the most mind-wrenching pictures and stories. If you don’t receive these, you would be shocked to know the kinds of practices that are common, beyond the infamous treatment of greyhounds and old horses, to say nothing of dogs, Easter rabbits and chicks – ugh. The list goes on and on. The latest one that arrived this afternoon was a thick envelope with the title “Junkyard kitties running out of time…”. OMG, I never even thought about there being junkyard kitties.
What to do? I hate to admit it. I just contribute online now. I don’t even read the e-mails when they arrive, I just pass it on to someone to make the payment from my account, so I don’t have to read any horrifying words or view a haunting picture. They always seem to stay with me for years. What good am I as an animal rights champion if I am so sensitive on the subject?
I used to post a lot about it on FB but people become so enraged when you do that and I have to admit, that fellow vegans sent me things that made me cringe and avert my eyes. Along with wing-nut trolls, those horror stories (clearly true, unfortunately) drove me from social media.
So I am not going to discuss it much, if at all here, and you can be sure I will not be posting any of those tragic pictures. I just want to establish where I stand on all this. I cannot even bring myself to kill a fly (yup, I know how to get them in a jar and escort them outside), much less consume or turn my back on factory farm animals.
And now I have to go arrange a contribution for those poor, dear little kitties.
… then it wouldn’t need regulation”.
I saw this slogan on an umbrella in the crowd at the Stand With Texas Women event last week. It succinctly conveyed my thoughts on two important topics. Then I heard that one of our greatest champions, Lindy Boggs, passed away and thought about the legislation being enacted in a number of states to roll back women’s reproductive rights.
The real imperialism, the real oppression, the real political slavery, is the intrusion of power from without into a local condition — Benjamin Ide Wheeler, 1908
I cannot imagine a more local condition than our personal human (or any, for that matter, a discussion for another time) organism. It is hard to believe we are still discussing it, much less debating who will control the female body: government (unless it is offering lawful protective safety and security) or women themselves.
Since this intricate topic has been covered so thoroughly by legal, ethical, political, and biological experts, I am concerned by just one small but critical issue: the apparent offense of being strong while female.
Discussions on abortion are so emotional that it seems futile to attempt any exchange of ideas on the topic these days since my own views do not fall into any neat category. But, I am still nagged by the question of why anyone would try to interfere with someone else’s uterus (let’s say, for example, Governor Ultrasound)? I can only surmise (excluding religious conviction as well as fiscal motives) that they are threatened by the idea of the continually expanding independent female cohort and all the gains made by women who now surpass men in key benchmarks such as college graduation rates and head-of-household income, to name just two. I know I am not original in viewing reproductive rights this way, but I think it is pivotal to this entire baffling saga.
More troubling than errant males who fear capable women taking over the decision making (I guess), are women who also labor under the misbegotten assumption that they have to give up spine in order to be appealing.
Need I point to the endless number of inspirational, courageous, accomplished women who have managed to be every bit as much Athena as Aphrodite? We can look around the world to women in positions of power and influence (not to set aside accomplished, beautiful women in other worthy endeavors in academia, business, the arts, sciences, law, medicine, etc.) in Burma, India, Pakistan, Africa, Brazil, Argentina. These individuals overcame societal norms far more repressive than ours to lead their countries in a new direction by rising above their male counterparts to win top leadership positions and execute them successfully. And most did so while raising a family and epitomizing female accomplishment in all the traditional senses of that term.
Certainly Lindy Boggs was one and she achieved it in a more chauvinist and inhibiting era than this one, firing Southern charm all the while.
Her example alone should give women in this country, particularly those in the beleaguered states now facing draconian restrictions, ample ammunition to fiercely defend their rights to govern their own bodies.
We finally heard from the sixth juror in the Zimmerman trial, the Puerto Rican mother of eight who thinks George Zimmerman was guilty of an intentional act, not committed in self-defense. After listening to what she had to say to Robin Roberts on Thursday, I am more convinced than ever that our jury system is congenitally flawed.
This is not because the outcome was not what I personally thought it should be. It is because our system is supposed to work in such a way that if even one person diverges from the group, the case cannot be settled. What happened here appears to have been a process of wearing down the dissenting opinion until its holder was intimidated into agreeing with the others. I also believe the case was mishandled, based on the evidence. I do not agree that the evidence did not point clearly to Zimmerman’s guilt, I think it was poorly presented for whatever reason.
And, excuse me, sixteen hours is not a long time to deliberate unless it is in one exhausting session. The jury’s wish to get it over with and get home played a large part in the outcome of this case, in my opinion, similar to the Casey Anthony trial. (How could any juror who diligently reviewed the evidence in that case, which was skillfully presented and analyzed by the prosecutors, unlike the incompetence shown in the Zimmerman prosecution, acquit that woman? They just didn’t want to take the time necessary and they were ‘star-struck’, sitting across from Ms. Anthony whose celebrity grew to epic proportions over the course of the trial).
The other Zimmerman jurors claimed they were unclear about manslaughter, second degree murder, the burden of proof. Why did they not take the time necessary to get the clarification that would have dispelled their confusion? And why did the judge allow them to work so late, thereby impairing their ability to reason? If the prosecutors failed to make a strong case, demonstrating how the facts could be connected, step by step, so those jurors could understand each side’s version of what happened, why didn’t someone demand that it be done? They had plenty of time left to deliberate. If all they wanted was to go home and get back to normal, what business did they have accepting this fearsome task in the first place?
In Sociology 101 we learn what happens when groups of people are put in one space and asked to come to a decision on a set of events. The most powerful in the group will have an undue influence over those with less fortitude and conviction and everyone will begin to converge on one set of facts, accurately or not.
I am no legal expert, but when that jury was selected I suspected that the outcome was a foregone conclusion. What is the wisdom of having jurors drawn from a town so clearly skewed in one direction? And why six and not twelve jurors to ensure a greater diversity of intellect and input, at the very least? Sure, this was a jury of Zimmerman peers in the sense that they held the same prejudices and prejudgments that he did.
But more disturbing than this, is the continuing evidence that jurors often just don’t know what they are supposed to do and then have the commitment and sense of duty to take whatever time they must, sacrifice comfort and ease, to make sure they meet the burden with which they are entrusted. These particular jurors keep invoking the idea that they did what the law made them do, but that is not what they were supposed to use as the basis on which to make their decision. They were supposed to look at the facts in the case, the evidence and use that to inform their judgment. In the absence of a clear indication by the prosecution as to who threw the first punch, the jury apparently accepted Zimmerman’s version of the sequence of events that night.
They may not have understood what they were assessing! They were told that ‘stand your ground’ was not to enter into the case, but the Judge’s instructions to the jury were taken, verbatim, from Florida’s stand your ground law. Juror B29 did not understand the law. It was not about ‘intent’, it was about self defense. Who bears responsibility for this misunderstanding? The prosecution? The judge, who seemed to be disengaged and impatient from the outset? The rest of the jury in failing to request and review clarifications? The juror herself? Our system that uses lay people with no legal background to sort out something so complex?
There are countries where trials are adjudicated by experienced judges reading from a book of laws. The alleged crime is categorized, the judge hears the evidence, makes up his or her mind and then consults a resource that dictates the sentence. Justice or injustice is swift and simple. While I am not in favor of that system for many reasons, I do think it offers some advantages that our jury system lacks, such as decision-makers who understand the law and the gravity of their responsibility.
The notion that there is something exalted or inviolate about being tried by a panel of so-called peers has to be called into question, given some of the notorious failures we have seen in recent years (O.J. Simpson, Casey Anthony, and in my view, George Zimmerman are just three with which virtually every American is intimately familiar). I would prefer that jury to either have undergone a training course that would arm them with enough of the relevant law to make this important process less arbitrary. Or, if that is not feasible, then a jury made up of retired attorneys and judges – much as is the case in arbitration.
Just think for a minute, if this were instead in the medical arena, let’s say, the operating theater. Instead of certified, trained surgeons, we would have a group of peers, maybe some of them patients, making the decisions as to how to proceed with treatment, perhaps with a surgeon or two making the case for different methods or courses. Would we be comfortable with that? Frankly, that is what insurance companies are – only they are doing so in the name of profits. I don’t want insurers making my health decisions, nor other patients (unless they are trained physicians in the specialty required) and certainly not my peers. Why is a murder case any less deserving of expertise?
There were remedies available to that jury that would have made the outcome of the case more palatable and lessened the sense of outrage that swept through at least half the population when the verdict was announced. There was mistrial and hung jury, for example.
At the very least, I think every juror in this country should be mandated to watch Twelve Angry Men before they retire for deliberations. Our system would at least have a chance of working the way it was intended instead of devolving to a mere vehicle for garnering notoriety, writing books and giving tabloid interviews for a few cheap dollars, little more than blood money imho. Surely we owe our defendants and victims nothing less.
The importance of what happened here is not that Zimmerman was acquitted – as is often said, better to let a guilty man go free, than an innocent man be convicted, etc.. The crucial ramification of this case is the fact that trigger-happy people may be emboldened to use deadly force when retreat is possible and preferable, and that the entire nation has to fear for their lives for a benighted concept promoted by arms manufacturers and perfected through panels of poorly prepared people talking one another into slavishly accepting it.
During the week, my posts tend to be on the weighty subjects that stream in through the many media to which I subscribe. As I observe the world at my fingertips, literally, I jot down all the topics about which I have my usual vivid reactions and opinions. In a way, all my websites, posts, social media comments over the years are a way for me to crystallize my ideas, more than presuming that anyone needs to hear what I think on any subject.
But, weekends are for all the other things that go on in life, daily chores, shopping, getting more and more organized (one of the pillars of my existence, lol). On Sundays, we try to head out to take pictures with our respective cameras, so we are not lazily hanging around the house all afternoon, watching novellas and eating bon-bons ;-).
Tomorrow, we will make the thirty-minute trip downtown, this time by car (last time we splurged and took the Metrolink – a subject in itself!). It is such a sprawling complex with at least seven distinct districts, that I could not cover it in my last trip. This time, amid the splendor and wealth, I hope to capture a bit of the ‘other story’ of LA. There is a forty-square block area known as skid row (in NY, that is just a couple of streets around the Bowery and largely gone now). Monday through Friday, there are thousands of people living in cardboard shelters in that area between the flower/produce market and garment district. And, mindful I am sure that their existence in the city is precarious, they range out on the weekends, staying on the sidelines, in the shadows, not wanting to jeopardize the small comfort they enjoy.
From all over Southern California, those in need are brought or make their way somehow to this district because they get medical care and food, and are largely left alone. The latter is somewhat troubling. My in-laws, from an old California family swear this does not exist and the reason is, they have never seen it. I suspect a lot of Californians are equally unaware of what goes on here. It is one reason that many wish to do away with public services.
If I were a braver person, I would spend more time among these people getting to know their stories. In the meantime, if I can take a couple of pictures that do not intrude on or exploit their equilibrium, I will see what story emerges for me. What lesson beyond the obvious of how this can be in a city, county and state as rich as this one.
I am always amazed that so many people are intrigued by libertarianism.
In fact, I think of it as something that captures the imagination of those don’t-tred-on-me folks who, when they are very young and idealistic, truly think that it is not only possible, but a desirable social template.
We had an interesting incident here recently that brought this conundrum home to me yet again. Some background is in order, to put this in perspective.
When we decided to move to our town, it was basically to be far from the busiest part of the metropolitan center nearby and still be within reasonable distance of my in-laws who lived on the other side of it. I knew little about it except that it was known for being quiet, safe, and pretty.
I liked the way the house looked, its curb appeal and the neighborhood was flanked by beautiful arroyos and natural vegetation, set high on an old mountain with big sky vistas – rather picturesque.
But, what we found after settling in was that we were now living among people whose views were what I would term a sort of ‘tea-party light’. This has meant being somewhat leery of alienating the neighbors since we are pretty much the exact opposite!
Going along to get along, we were quietly minding our own business, when, a year ago or so a ‘group’ moved into a house down the block that quickly presented a novel dilemma. Firstly, they were loud, angry, lots of unusual individuals coming and going – their lives playing out visibly virtually on the street on a daily basis. Then one day we awoke to a bevy of law enforcement (including animal control – which always brings my heart to my mouth, since I am such an animal lover) surrounding that house, firearms drawn. It was a three hour spectacle the likes of which I had never witnessed in the vicinity of any place I had lived, including NYC. (And, coincidentally in tandem with the Zimmerman trial).
I saw a few neighbors speaking with law enforcement officers and then got the full story in the news, that evening. This very uptight, staid, manicured, righteous homogeneous community now had a drug issue – renters with a history of emotional, social and legal problems.
So, uneasy about the safety of my family and pets, with visions of future shoot-outs prancing in my head, I ventured to contact our PC brigade, otherwise known as the Homeowners Association (the people who had instructed me, shortly after we moved in, to remove my beautiful hand-painted mailbox, tastefully white with delicate frogs on it in subdued colors, that I had based on actual photographs of frogs from National Geographic. I was told to put a plain, white regulation mailbox there immediately, so now my lovingly rendered frogs hold seed packets in my backyard, out of offending sight) to see what the outcome would be, assuming they would be contacting the owners of that home and instructing them to evict the occupants immediately. (The security service was nowhere to be seen, throughout the entire incident or thereafter).
I had to watch my own reaction to all this, as, based on my compassion for people’s problems and my live/let live attitude, I hesitated to be the source of any more trouble for these obviously unfortunate people. Also, given my neighbors, I figured I would not have to be the one to instigate any actions to move these people out. Surely, these ultra-conservative folks would do all that work.
Nope! Not one person had called the HOA to complain. And, I was haughtily informed, the owners could have anyone they wanted in that house and what went on within those walls, was no one’s business. Wow. The sole progressive was the only person who called to inquire as to the outcome of this incident. Having seen the alleged perps caravaned away to the precinct, I thought it was all at an end.
OK, so there are two things here that still astonish me. One, this is the libertarian view, I guess. No governing entity (i.e., the HOA for example, who are empowered supposedly to keep the neighborhood Stepfordy) will intrude on the rights of the homeowner when it comes to meth-heads. This juxtaposed with the right of the homeowner to customize a mailbox. I am still sorting that one out mentally.
If we loosely conceive of this as ‘voluntary associations of free people’, then I think the entire concept is anachronistic. It belongs to the stone age, not to the internet era.
It is simple: there can be no freedom in modern society. The minute humans began to live and work in groups, freedom as such ended and libertarianism became merely an intellectual utopian construct with no empirical value. Libertarianism in modern society would be anarchy at the gross collective level. From a micro perspective at the personal level, it would leave us exposed to the vagaries of other human beings, their selfish interests and their demons.
The neighborhood response of non action is intriguing. After their arraignment and release on bond, the same group (minus some forlorn pitbulls, who, I am thankful to report, were not shot) has re-occupied the house and it remains to be seen whether there are any developments. My tolerant sentiments continue to overrule my distaste for having them nearby, so the wait for another shoe to drop. Meanwhile, the absentee owner apparently has no problem with the tumult caused by the renters, nor does the HOA. Hmmm.
Yet one thin slice of the issue of freedom and its boundaries. Perhaps a future discussion of Ms. Ayn Rand is in order.