In theory, the idea of Black Friday - the best sales of the year that begin the day after Thanksgiving - sounds ideal and amazing. That television you wanted but couldn't afford? It's now half off. That camera you fell in love with but couldn't manage to scavenge up the money? It's now right in your price range. Almost every item you previously desired but couldn't have is now suddenly available. What could be better?
What people tend to forget on Black Friday is the insane amount of OTHER people that also want that same item. You're NOT the only one going after that camera. Whatever item it is that you want so badly, countless others want it too. And there is most likely not enough for all of you. So it must come down to who can get their hands on it first...
And the measures they will go to obtain this "necessity."
On Black Friday last week, a woman in search of an Xbox at a Walmart pepper sprayed more than 10 other customers in order to get the gaming system. While nobody was seriously injured, all suffered minor injuries and vision impairment.
Also, in a San Francisco suburb on Black Friday, a man was shot for refusing to give up his purchases to a random man outside of a Walmart. In another case, a 61-year-old man who had collapsed at Target was ignored as other shoppers ran right over him, trampling him to death, in order to get their desired items.
Sue Compton, one of the deceased man's co-workers, told WSAZ-TV,"how could you not notice someone was in trouble? I just don't understand if people didn't help what their reason was, other than greed because of a sale."
When desires override one's morals, these types of situations occur. There is this need in America to be the one with the newest technology, coolest new video game, hottest trends, that often Americans lose sight of the big picture. I do believe that the people who trampled this man to death did not mean to do so. In fact, I believe that many of them do not even know they contributed to his death. I believe they were oblivious; they were so consumed with themselves that they didn't even realize the tragic consequence of their actions.
As Sue Compton so aptly stated: "Where [has] the good Samaritan side of people [gone]?"
On February 17, 2003, a fight broke out on a very crowded second floor of the E2 Nightclub in Chicago. In order to stop the fight, club security used pepper spray, which caused people to panic and try to escape. However, due to a broken exit, people charged the stairwells, and in the process 21 people were trampled to death. The two owners of E2, Dwayne Kyles and Calvin Hollins, were first charged with manslaughter, but they were found innocent. Then, in 2009, they were charged with and convicted of violating an earlier mandatory court order "not to occupy the second floor" of the nightclub.
However, last Thursday, the Illinois Appellate Court threw out the 2009 convictions, so Kyles and Hollins are now considered innocent of those charges as well. As their main argument in the appeal, the two argued that the court's order was "too vague," and that as a result the order could not be enforced against them. The court came to the conclusion that because of the order's vagueness, the violation of the order was unintentional and that the deaths of the 21 people could not be blamed on the nightclub's owners.
The families of the people killed during the stampede are devastated and appalled at the reversal of Kyles' and Hollins' guilty verdict last week. The lives of their loved ones can never be brought back, and in their opinion, these two men are to blame, regardless of the Appellate Court's ruling.
In my opinion, Kyles and Hollins can argue that the judge's order was "too vague," but regardless, these two men knew they had violated the spirit of the order and the law. To me, it is highly unlikely that the order to "not occupy the 2nd floor" was too vague to understand. Just because something may be vague doesn't mean its purpose and common meaning can't be understood. I understand it pretty well.
Hollins is pictured on the left next to Kyles on the right.
I feel that this idea of a law (or court order) being "too vague" relates perfectly to the civil liberties issues we have been discussing in American Studies Class. For example, the Sedition Act of 1918 ruled against anyone who spoke "disloyal, profane, scurrilous, or abusive language" against the US government. At first glance, this Act seems to be fair and reasonable. But it was not enforced in a fair and reasonable way: suddenly, people were being arrested left and right for uttering "disloyal phrases." From the way the Act was enforced, hanging a flag for another country outside your home might be considered "abusive and disloyal."
The problem with this Act was that the specific words were all so open for interpretation. What makes someone disloyal? When is someone using "abusive language?" Who gets to decide whether you are in violation of the law? This was the issue: The words were just left open for interpretation, they were too vague, and therefore many people were charged with crimes under the Act which they felt didn't fall under the original intention of the Act.
It's similar to the E2 case, although I firmly believe that Hollins and Kyles knew their actions violated the court order. Because of the argument that the order was to vague, broad and open-ended, the owners are now free of charges.
The language of laws can be interpreted in so many ways; it's almost impossible to make the drafters' intentions perfectly clear without getting way too specific. That is why the process of making a law is so difficult and lengthy. It's necessary to continually revise the law until it is believed that the law is clear. But most likely, someone who is charged with violating the law or convicted under it will find a way to make an argument that the law is vague.
Perhaps one of the most controversial stories in the news this week was over the firing of Joe Paterno, Penn State's head football coach. Paterno, having been a coach at Penn State for over forty years, was let go this past week after evidence came out that he had been aware of a sex scandal going on with one of his assistant coaches and young boys, but had neglected to report the information to law enforcement.
Jerry Sandusky had been a defensive line coach at Penn State for almost 30 years when he retired in 1999. No one was aware of the reasoning behind his sudden retirement, but nobody seemed to look beyond his decision. Sandusky had been not only well-respected coach, but appeared to be an honorable person as well. In 1977, Sandusky had established a foundation to help needy children called "The Second Mile." The focus of this organization was to plan activities and programs for the needy children "to promote self-confidence, as well as physical, academic and personal success." Little did the public know that Sandusky was far from helping these young kids, in fact, he had been sexually assaulting and raping many young boys, and Paterno had known all about it.
Multiple witnesses and victims had confronted Paterno about this issue, but Paterno failed to report the information beyond his immediate supervisors, the Penn State athletic directors. Even after the athletic directors appeared to downplay the information, Paterno remained quiet and put aside this highly serious issue. For almost ten years this story remained private, until several weeks ago when many victims - now in their early twenties - began to share their abuse stories. Sandusky was arrested, and details of the facts were made public.
Sandusky (pictured on left) stands next to former head coach Paterno.
It's obvious that sports are a huge part of our American culture. We bundle up in layers to go watch football games in the winter, we continue to unconditionally love and support our favorite teams, and even worship our favorite players like heroes. Many Americans would sacrifice a lot in order to see their teams win it all. But, when did this obsession with winning, sports heroes and athletics in general become more important than our own personal integrity? Paterno's decision to not pursue an investigation of Sandusky's behavior shows us what was really important in his mind. And that was winning to the point of not putting the financial aspect of the football program at Penn State in danger. Even if in the process at least twenty young boys were sexually abused, winning was still the name of the game for Paterno.
When did personal success become more important than our core American, let alone human, values? Would such a thing happen outside of the sports or college sports context? Should this ever be justified?
Yesterday, our American Studies class took a trip to Chicago to see the Pulitzer Prize winning play, "Clybourne Park." The first act takes place in 1959 in a small house near downtown Chicago. The house is occupied by an older white couple, who have just sold the house and are in the process of packing their things. When news comes to the people of the town that a black family will be moving in, many fear that other black families are sure to follow, and the value of the houses in the town will decrease as a result and make the town less desirable. Through a very heated argument containing various racial slurs, a neighbor tries to talk the couple out of selling their house to the black family.
Fast forward fifty years. The second act takes place in 2009 in the same house. This time, a black family is selling the house to a white family. And, since it is the present time, there is no racism present. Both sides are completely accepting and warm to the other. Right?
Wrong. The discussion between the black and white couple in the present scene was just as awkward, uncomfortable and definitely contained as many, if not more racial slurs than the 1959 scene. As an audience member, I sat stiffly in my chair, unsure as to when it was appropriate to laugh and when a joke had "crossed the line." In the first few minutes of the second act of the play, it almost felt as if race was the "elephant in the room," the one topic that everybody was thinking about, but nobody would dare bring up out loud. In other words, I believe if the playwright's intentions were to make the audience feel uncomfortable and nervous, then he for sure succeeded.
I think that we would like to think that over the last fifty years the way our society deals with race has dramatically changed for the better. And in many ways, this is true. We have successfully integrated our schools and the number of intermarriages have increased. But in some ways, not much has changed.
Take the layout of Chicago, for example. In 1959, as is evident in the play, the idea of interracial communities frightened most whites in the community. Nowadays, although Chicago is much more integrated, it still has the title of being America's most segregated city. The division between the different communities in Chicago is evident in this map but also just by simply driving down the streets. It's clear when one community ends and the next one starts because of the different infrastructure and of course, the different races of the people in each area.
Over the years, the level of acceptance of other races and cultures in Chicago has come a very long way. We as a society have made great strides in our ability to integrate and come together happily. However, segregation and racism are still present. While it may not be as severe as it existed historically, it does still exist. So I guess the question I am left with is, will we ever reach a time when the world is completely integrated? Is that possible? Is that desirable? When will race truly be an acceptable topic to speak about and no longer be the "elephant in the room?"
I am not a huge football fan. But, every year, I do sit down with my family on Super Bowl Sunday and watch the game. Truthfully, though, I could care less about the score. The reason I really watch is for the hysterical commercials during the breaks.
I am aware that Super Bowl Sunday was quite a while ago, but I do believe that a specific controversial commercial seemed to go under the radar around school. The ad was for Groupon, a company whose focus is to sell coupons online for various restaurants and stores, with a social media aspect to their marketing: the more people you tell about a particular promotion who actually buy it, the more you get back from Groupon. The ad, Groupon's first on TV, begins with a heart-wrenching story about the poor community in Tibet, but the focus and tone of the commercial quickly shifts to an attempt to promote Groupon's business.
This commercial reminded me specifically of a discussion we had in my American Studies class.
Also, during the Super Bowl this year, there were various ads beginning with a tribute to 9/11. At the end of each ad, however, the sponsoring company's logo would show up on screen, almost as if to say, "Hey, buy our product because we care about America and 9/11."
In class, we discussed whether or not we thought that these specific ads were genuine, or if they were just to promote the companies and their products. We came to a very shaky consensus: overall, all of us were a little uncomfortable with the idea of using 9/11 as a way to boost a company's image.
I think this Groupon commercial is a completely different story. It is clear that they were trying to be funny and edgy at the "connection" between the unfortunate situation in Tibet which we are powerless to fix, and being able to save money at a local Tibetan restaurant. Groupon has no intention of trying to support the people of Tibet highlighted in the ads. The sole purpose of this commercial was to promote themselves through an attempt at humor.
It seems as though many American people have become so fixated on making it that they are willing to pretty much do anything it takes to achieve success. It's unbelievable the kinds of things that people will do in order to flourish. Americans will take drastic measures to get what they want done, and won't stop for anything in their way. In this case, Groupon crossed an invisible boundary. An American based company, they did what they thought they needed to do to create interest in their products, forgetting about the tastelessness of the message.
Commercials like these really get me thinking about our values as a society. When did making money become more important than sustaining and promoting ethical values? At what point do we stop and and ask ourselves, "Is what I am doing right?" When have we as Americans crossed the line? Groupon was not the first company to cross the line (in my view); they are only a recent example of many others who have done so.
I can't tell you how many times I've heard this saying.
I run cross country, and there have been times when during a race, my hands tense, my breathing becomes painful and raspy, and the world around me starts to blur as I try to successfully finish with a new best time. Why don't I stop? Because of the fear that I will be viewed as a quitter, someone who wasn't strong enough or had enough will power to push through and finish the race. And so, despite these potentially dangerous side effects, I have never cut any race short. And I don't plan on doing so any time soon.
So does quitting ever override?
I started in the school band in the 5th grade. Both my brothers had played instruments all throughout junior high and into high school, so it wasn't really an option not to do the same. I too continued, but completely unhappily. I didn't enjoy it. I hated playing my instrument, I hated the kind of commitment it included, and I hated practicing (not that I ever did). However, I stuck it out. It wasn't until after my sophomore year that I finally did what I had been dreaming about doing for years... I quit.
At first I was embarrassed. Regardless of my lack of interest, I had still invested so much time, effort and my parents' money into this activity that quitting seemed like throwing everything out the window. I felt that quitting made my previous 6 years of band a waste of time, and that was time I would never and will never get back. And since then, I've wondered if I did the right thing.
Stephen Dubner, the show's host, has a very different view than I previously did. He says,
"My thesis is simple: in our zeal to 'tough things out,' to keep our nose to the grindstone, in our zeal to win, we underestimate the upside of quitting."
He refers to himself as a "serial
quitter," saying he's quit his dream job as a NY Times writer, his
childhood dream job as a member of a successful rock band, and even his
religion, but not once does he describe any guilt or second thoughts for
quitting any one of these things. He is confident with his decisions to quit,
with absolutely no regrets.
I know that many Americans, like me, do have
trouble with the idea of quitting. There is this negative connotation with
quitting. It doesn't seem to matter why you quit , just the fact that
you quit makes you automatically considered unsuccessful. Quitting is commonly
associated with failure, and Americans don't want to be associated with or seen
as a failure. The reality of the situation is that many people are willing to
sacrifice their own happiness because of a deep fear of being seen as a
"quitter." It's sad, but it's the reality. And I'm sure that, as an
American, that part of the culture has rubbed off on me.
Dubner ends the podcast with an insightful
outlook:
“Of course it takes
tremendous amounts of time and effort and, for lack of a more scientific word,
stick-to-itiveness, to make any real progress in the world. But time and
effort and even stick-to-itiveness are not in infinite supply. Remember
the opportunity cost: every hour, every ounce of effort you spend here cannot
be spent there... Stella Adler, the great acting coach, used to say: Your
choice is your talent. So choosing the right path, the right project, the right
job or passion or religion — that’s where the treasure lies; that’s where the
value lies. So if you realize that you’ve made a wrong choice — even if already
you’ve sunk way too much cost into it — well, I’ve got one word to say to you,
my friend. Quit."
I can definitely relate to Stella Adler when it
comes to my band experience: I realized that I made a wrong choice - even when
I already sunk way too much "cost" into it - and had to quit.
I know that I didn't "give up" - I put six years into it, and at some
point I realized that I was never really going to enjoy the experience and that
the "opportunity cost" was too high. Unlike Stephen Dubner, I do feel
a bit of guilt about my decision, but not so much that I would ever reconsider.
It will be interesting to see if these kinds of decisions in my life get any
easier as I get older and there's more at stake in the outcome.
Now that over one week has passed since Steve Jobs's death, the reality of the situation has begun to sink in. I first received the news the afternoon of October 5th. I received a surprisingly warm and heart-felt text from my brother informing me of Jobs's passing. I couldn't believe it. I knew Jobs was sick with severe pancreatic cancer and that his end was soon, but I never imagined the level of impact it would have on me. I ran downstairs and shared the news with my uninformed parents. They, too, were shocked. The three of us proceeded to sit around the kitchen table and discuss the amazing accomplishments of this incredibly successful man. The more we talked, the more I realized how much I didn't know much about his life. Curious, I began to research Jobs; at this point various articles and eulogies had already been published talking about his life's accomplishments and his tragic death.
But something stuck out to me. Of everything I read, not one article had published a single bad word about him. He was described as devoted, hardworking, visionary, inspirational, loving, appreciative, and so on. I read article after article, and the overwhelming love and real appreciation for this man was incredibly heartwarming.
In the process of reading about Jobs's life, I came across a video of Jobs delivering a commencement speech to Stanford University in 2005. He speaks about three things: "connecting the dots," love and loss, and death.
Jobs's success did not come easily to him. His biological parents put him up for adoption under the condition that he would be adopted by college graduates. Although Jobs's adoptive parents were not college graduates, they promised that Jobs would get a college degree. Jobs ended up attending Reed College, but only for a little while before dropping out. Then came a little company called Apple Computer, formed with an old buddy, Steve Wozniak. The company eventually flourished and grew to be huge, and eventually Jobs was kicked out of his own company by the very people he had brought in to help Apple Computer manage its rapid growth. For over 10 years Jobs was out of Apple Computer, until he found a way to return when the company needed him the most. Since then, the company has more than made its name and its products known to society (and deleted the word "Computer" from its name). With easy-to-use inventions like the iPod, Macbook, iTunes and the Apple operating system for computers, Apple has forever altered the way we communicate with machines, and with other people.
I think Jobs's view on life was very admirable. In his speech, he says,
"For the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?"
And whenever the answer has been 'No' for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something."
Jobs shows how he is accepting of death as long as he is happy and loving what he is doing on Earth. He shares with the graduates how much he truly loves what he does, and how choosing a career that you are passionate about makes a huge difference in your happiness. He shares these ideals with the students of Stanford, inspiring them to find their calling, and do what they love. He says,
"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life."
Jobs's outlook on life was incredibly unique. His effect on our society has not only been technological, but I believe emotional as well. Regardless of his riches and fame, I think people saw and will remember Jobs as a normal, genuine, relatable guy. I think that is why he is so inspirational. He is proof that anyone can succeed with enough hard work and devotion. Nowadays there seems to be a necessary path carved out that we must follow in order to succeed: Get A's, go to college, graduate, go to graduate school, and quickly find some kind of job. This is what you are "supposed to do." But, as Jobs has displayed, there isn't just one way to succeed in life. "Success" should be defined differently by every person. Success can only be measured by your own happiness. If you "stay hungry" and "stay foolish," you will likely achieve success on your own terms, perhaps in an unconventional way, and live a life with very few regrets.
After reading “A Lesson After Dying”, a blog post written by my American Studies teacher, I was overcome with
my own contradictory opinions on the subject of the death penalty. I don’t
think it's easy to just decide one way or the other on this issue. My initial response to this post was that I am
totally, 100 % against the death penalty. But one commenter brought up some
questions that really made me reconsider my original conclusion. I thought
about if, hypothetically, someone in my immediate family was a victim of a
murder, how I would feel. I was surprised at how quickly my opinions changed on
the subject of capital punishment. With an act of violence as severe as murder
against someone I was close to, I don’t think I would be able to live knowing
that the person who caused such harm was still living. The death penalty sounds
awful and inhumane in theory, but when you have a personal relationship with
the victim, I believe that that would change most people’s prior beliefs.
However, it’s not realistic to
think that the death sentence can be imposed every time a close relative of the
victim believes it is the “fair punishment.” If that were true, the number of
people put to death would be infinitely larger. An interesting blog post by Eric Zorn helped sway me back to my original beliefs. He brings up a great
point, writing,
“[The Death Penalty is] a bad idea because it is a punishment of perfect
exactness administered by a justice system filled with imperfect human beings
who often have inexact knowledge. Imprisonment leaves us moral room to make the
inevitable errors and arbitrary applications; killing does not.”
I think Zorn
brings up a great point. Especially in Troy Davis’s case, with many witnesses taking
back their previous testimonies, it is very possible that the “facts”
contributing to Davis’s death sentence were not completely accurate. Regardless,
Davis was put to death based on what I believe was shaky evidence. This leaves
me with a pit in my stomach because a potentially innocent man was put to
death. That is a punishment that can never be undone.
I have always believed memories are forever. I have never doubted that the memory of my 5th birthday party or that day I got my first puppy are inaccurate in any way. They are how I remember them, and how I remember them is true. That's all there is to it. Right?
Two days before I was to turn 5 years old, itchy, red spots began to swarm my body: chicken pox. Only one girl showed up to my party; everyone else's mothers didn't want them in the close vicinity of a sick, contagious child. There was a giant white cake with blue frosting. I wore a little yellow dress and my hair in a high pony-tail. We played "pin the tail on the donkey." It's all so clear. And despite my minor illness, it was a terrific day. I smile thinking back on it now.
But just last week, photos from that day were found stored away upstairs in the attic. To my surprise, the photos revealed a giant BLUE cake! I was dressed in a little orange t-shirt and shorts. The party was a puppet show, not "pin the tail on the donkey." Yes, I did have the chicken pox and only one friend was at my party, but the rest of my so called "memories" were completely off. I was shocked.
Our class discussion last week hit my issue right on the nose. The teachers spoke of a podcast called Radiolab in which the hosts explore different Science related topics, one of which being memory. What the Radiolab anchors have discovered is that every time you recall a memory, you are actually recreating that memory. When it is being recreated, it is being reassembled, reevaluated and therefore subconsciously being changed. That means that the things you remember the most often are actually the memories that are the most subject to alteration. Those are the memories that are the further from the truth. And those are the memories we cherish and share as if they are truthful and accurate.
This was a little much to handle at first. If my 5th birthday party, a more or less insignificant date in my childhood, had been altered, then there was no doubt that plenty of other, more significant memories had been changed as well. These memories have shaped me as I've grown up, and it's scary and difficult to picture these memorable moments of my life differently. So I guess my question is... if all the memories you've ever remembered may be inaccurate, does that make them any less real? Does knowing these memories are altered change their everlasting impact?
You can listen here to the podcast about memory and forgetting.
Waking up yesterday felt a little too normal. The day proceeded like any other jam-packed Sunday. By 1:00 pm, I had already walked the dog, went to Sunday school, attended a friend's sweet 16 birthday party and had a tutoring session. It wasn't until I returned home well into the afternoon that I remembered that this "normal" day was in fact the ten year anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks on the US. Enraged by my own oblivion, I decided to try and commemorate the day the only way I could: by remembering.
I remember the morning of September 11, 2001 so vividly. Sitting in Ms. Barras's first grade class, I remember watching tears stream down my teacher's face as she tried to wipe them away in order to remain composed in front of a class of 7 year olds. I remember seeing both moms and dads together in the pickup line after school. I remember the confusion when my dad was already home from work when I returned from school. I remember feeling hopeless when nothing I did could help the adults around me feel better. But most importantly... I remember. I don't remember much from my first grade year, but I do remember this. And although I may not have understood the severity or the impact of the situation, I must have somehow been aware of the importance and effects of the day's events.
My parents were about the same age as I was on 9/11/01 when John F. Kennedy was shot in '63. They too can perfectly recall not only their whereabouts on this day, but also small details - details that normally would have been forgotten long ago. My mom, only 5, had wanted nothing more than to plop down in front of the TV and watch her favorite show, Bozo's Circus, around lunchtime. But to her surprise, Bozo had been cancelled, and every program for the rest of the day was replaced with a different news anchor furiously covering the assassination. My dad, who was 7 at the time, remembers JFK's assassination as well. Upon his return to school after lunch at home, he remembers noticing the crossing guard, who was always smiley and warm, crying to herself. At school, all the kids were running around telling each other "The president was shot!", none truly understanding the level of seriousness concerning the subject. But, despite their inability to really comprehend what had occurred, it was clear that this event would have an enormous and lasting effect on them, but one that the kids could not possibly have predicted at the time.
I realize that the kids my age are the last generation that will ever be able to talk about what they recall from that fateful day in 2001. I thought about the necessary steps I must take in preserving my memory for years to come. When I am 55, I want to be able to remember my experience as a terrified first grader just as my parents remember their reactions (and their parents' reactions) to JFK's assassination. And the only way that any of us will be able to continue to remember our stories, is continuing to listen and share our experiences with everyone, especially the generations to come.
Earlier last week, as my dad and I were cruising down Sheridan Rd, we began to listen to an interview on NPR with Nancy Segal, a psychologist at California State University, Fullerton. She told the story of three babies: one set of identical twin girls, and an unrelated baby girl born to a different mother around the same time in the same hospital. The nurse accidentally switched one of the twin babies for the other unrelated baby. For the next 28 years, two unrelated girls would grow up believing they are fraternal twins, and one girl - one of the identical twins - would grow up living with a family that really wasn't hers. Eventually, at the age of 28, the biological twins ran into each other at the supermarket, and stupefied at their uncanny resemblance, decided to get DNA tests, and ultimately found out the truth: they were twins switched at birth.
Everyone involved was intensely affected and devastated. Lives of what could have been haunted the girls and their families in unexpected ways. I was dumbfounded after hearing this story. The thought of finding out that my entire childhood and adolescence was not how it was meant to be was terrifying. But this got me thinking: if these girls loved their early lives, and their experiences and love were true and real, then why should it matter who raised them? Would the truth negatively impact their feelings towards the past? Why does this one thing - family - play such a huge role in defining ourselves and our lives?
A discussion in my American Studies class helped shed some light on finding the answers to these questions. In class, we discussed what constitutes the "American Dream." A classmate pointed out how Americans value family; how the original American dream ultimately was to be wealthy and to be able to provide for a large, happy family. Suddenly, I began to better understand the situation. Finding out that the family you've known and loved for so many years isn't really yours biologically, you would immediately lose that sense of belonging. Like the girls in the story, learning this truth could disconnect you from your family, thus disconnecting you from feeling what many Americans crave. I'm sure that other cultures and societies have their own version of the American Dream that centers around this sense of family. And once you feel less and less connected to family, you could feel like you belong to nothing important. Family is what holds us together-- inside and outside of America-- and is an underlying aspect of what helps us form our own identities.
