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When I hear conservatives raise the horrific specter of European-style socialism in Obama’s agenda, I say, “Bring it on.”  I work in a company that has offices all over the world, so I get get to see how European-style socialism works.  It’s frightening.  8 weeks of vacation, complete healthcare coverage, childcare benefits, generous retirment.  Oh the horror!

But then they say, “But look at their GDP.”  Or “Our productivity is so much higher.”  And I say, “what does our higher GDP buy us?”  It seems to me that wealth is a means to an end, not the end itself.  Once you have a good quality of life, the marginal benefit of increased wealth diminishes.

Gideon Rachman of the Financial Times describes a very positive trend in western economic thought which says that money isn’t everything.

Research suggests that, once a certain level of comfort has been attained, there is no connection between greater wealth and greater happiness. It is also hard to think of a moral philosopher – not even Adam Smith – who argued that the pursuit of wealth should be an end in itself. Slogans such as “Poverty sucks” and “The one who dies with the most toys wins” are bumper stickers favoured by junior investment bankers, rather than quotes from the great philosophers.

A very sweet column in the Washington Post by Rachel Machaud remembering snowstorms past.  It truly resonated with me.  I have deep, but vague, memories of confronting the snow with my father.  Unlike Rachel’s Dad, my father didn’t get paid for his work.  He was the one everyone called to get their stuck car moving, to put on the chains, etc., etc.  But it was friends and family.  And I was his sidekick.  Of course, I hated it at the time.  But I do have fond memories of being up before dawn with him on snowy mornings when school was canceled.   Here’s Ms. Machaud’s memory:

It is still dark when my father shakes me, cold seeming to radiate from his outside clothes. He touches my shoulder, not wanting to wake my sister in the twin bed.

“I’m awake. I’m awake,” I say.

He leaves, and I go to the bathroom, where I put on layers of clothes, nothing good that will get dirty or torn. I walk downstairs and head out to his truck.

While my specifics are different, the mood is very familiar.  It honestly brings a tear to my eye as I think about, and miss, my father.  Another such memory is evoked by a poem by Robert Hayden called, Those Winter Sundays.  Here’s an excerpt:

Sundays too my father got up early
And put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
Then with cracked hands that ached
From labor in the weekday weather made
Banked fires blaze.  No one ever thanked him.

My father died at age 52 when I was 17 years old.  He remains with me in spirit. Maybe it’s these kinds of memories that make me love the snow.

Bring it on!

I came to Washington with a freshman congressman named Barney Frank. In his fourth month in Congress, he offered an amendment on the floor of the House that would have had the effect of reducing price supports for dairy farmers. His purpose was to build a record of fiscal responsibility in order to answer the question “Where are you going to get the money to pay for the increases you want in social programs.” At the time, the federal government was buying billions of pounds of dairy products due to over-production caused by high support prices. The case for Barney’s amendment was self-evident.

Nevertheless, farm state congressman were enraged by the amendment. They lined up by the dozens to take him on in debate on the floor. Many were very patronizing, suggesting this new guy from an urban area couldn’t possibly understand the complexities of agricultural economics.

He schooled them. He stood alone on the floor, took them on one by one, and demolished every argument. He clearly won the debate. It was, to coin a phrase, a slam dunk.

Of course, his amendment went down to defeat by about 70-360. It was an early lesson for me that being right, doesn’t mean you win.

I have never, before or since, seen such a display of intellectual courage…until yesterday. I thought Obama’s performance before the House Republican Conference was a tour de force. I thought he was tough, but not angry. Extremely knowledgeable, but not arrogant. And he had a few flashes of humor. The man is fearless.

He seems to be conducting an ongoing seminar testing the proposition that the American body politic can operate on an adult level. He refuses to succumb to soundbite politics that have typified most policy debate over the past 20 years. And he calls it out when others so engage.

David Axelrod has already suggested future encounters with the Republicans like this. Stay tuned. Frankly, I will be surprised if the Republicans agree. But, if they do, he will have real progress in changing the way things are done in Washington.

Meanwhile, in a further example of his wit and authenticity, he did a little color commentary on today’s Georgetown/Duke basketball game. I still love this man. Check it out.

An elderly couple walked into the lobby of the Mayo Clinic for a checkup and spotted a piano . They’ve been married for 62 years and he’ll be 90 this year .

Check out this impromptu performance. Gives me hope.

Here’s a quote from an expert on developments in Iran that says it all for me:

Current chatter of an imminent national strike being planned – an enormous development if it proves to be true – is just one example of how such a structure allows the opposition movement to organize through a decentralized communication network rather than a rigid hierarchy.

This morning on CNN Robin Wright, the great journalist on the Middle East, speculated on whether events in Iran represented a “Berlin Wall” moment.  While she wasn’t sure, she said it could be.  What a monumental prospect.  I find events in Iran exhilarating.  I’m not deluded into thinking the outcome might turn Iran into a western secular  democracy.  What it does represent to me is the extend to which justice can prevail, that oppression can be resisted, that,  ultimately, the people can rule.  I am also hopeful that part of the reason the people of Iran can resist is because information can no longer be permanently suppressed.  In an earlier era, the resisters would not have been able to coordinate the way they have, nor could  they inform the rest of the world what was happening there.  For instance, few would have known that the nephew of Mousavi was killed by the regime.  That event appears to have thrown gasoline on a raging fire. 

Thanks to Andrew Sullivan, I’ve come across a great web site with a very sophisticated analysis of events in Iran, called “the newest deal.”  Here’s a sample:

So when word of yesterday’s bloodshed reaches the country’s religious centers – and it surely will in the midst of the chaos that has erupted during the last forty-eight hours – outrage can be expected in Qom. This may soon put Iran’s clerics, both conservative and moderate, in an unenviable position: sacrificing their coveted theocracy in order to salvage their religion’s sanctity. For if it was unclear up until this point, there is surely no way that any clerical scholar of Islam can any longer defend the actions of the Islamic Republic – especially when such actions are committed in Islam’s name, for that matter.

What is happening in Iran seems truly historic. Yet, American media seems strangely oblivious. While they appear late to this realization, at least CNN is devoting the appropriate attention. Meanwhile, on the Today Show, the news at the top of the hour devoted maybe 10 seconds to Iran.

It’s the big one. A huge snowstorm has arrived. Our long wait is over. It’s 10:30 in the morning with the heavy snow just starting and there’s already more than 8 inches on the ground. Weathermen are predicting up to 2 feet. Bliss!!

I’ve got the fire going, the Christmas music playing. We’ve got nowhere to go. So, we have a very cozy day ahead of us. It’s like God hit the “pause button.” My son Danny was scheduled to come home from college today, but, instead, he’s going sledding on the Gettysburg Battlefield. I’m envious, but so glad he will have that experience. I told him to take pictures.

This almost the perfect storm. It’s only flaw is that it occurred on the weekend.

And, in case you’re saying, “Right, wait until you have to shovel!” Not to worry. My neighbor has already come by with the first pass with his snowblower.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!