Hello. You're.... uh, That One Guy Aren't You?

I've been doing a little exercise lately... going through 268 faces to see how many memories I can conjure up.  These faces are from the Seniors section of my high school yearbook, and I'll give you a hint: the memory count is way under 268. So then there comes a time in most young persons' life when they must make that all-important decision: Should I go to my 10-year high school reunion? My face-to-name score will most likely be embarrassingly low, and I'm not exactly blaringly successful. So when that one girl who's now married and I haven't seen in 8 years tossed me the invite on Facebook, why did I click "I'm Attending?" I'm still pondering that.

In an article for CNN recently, Jeff Pearlman offers the 10-year as an effective chance to leave behind those bitter memories, of realizing that everyone in the room shares the same fears, and just to face something scary and kinda awkward for the sake of getting out of your comfort zone. Though I share Pearlman's fear of the awkward, I don't have bitter memories to be erased or amends to make with any old relationships. I was a quite, nerdy guy who didn't really come out of my shell until the end of high school. I can thank my band days for breaking my shell, but then again all I know are the band people. I got more visibility than the typical band geek, but I was definitely not in the forefront, and in so didn't have a lot of bitter relationships, or any big relationships unfortunately. No girlfriends, no enemies, no drama.

So, though my personality and character has grown, I had nothing grand nor terrible to remember or forget. So perhaps in that I can make whatever I want out of my upcoming 6-hour outing. For I have no expectations nor anything about which to be nervous. I can thank God that I'm in a respectable employment and that I have a wonderful and beautiful wife to make me look good. All these things aside however, I think I clicked that "I'm Attending" button because deep down I have a shallow curiosity of what I can get from remembering high school days and, like Jeff Pearlman, I think I can value getting out of my comfort zone. Also and very importantly, thank God for name tags.

Do We Really Want What We Want?

First, I would like to request that you make sure that anybody watching you right now is someone you can trust. Then, as exuberantly as you can, say the title of this blog seven times as fast as you can! ... don't worry, I'll wait...

Thank you. Since you already asked that question of yourself, several times at varying degrees of grace, I'll save the typical "ask yourself this question" request. I do pose the question however, because it has struck me lately how much we really don't want the things we say we do. The question came to my attention while reading "I'm a Stranger Here Myself," a collection of monthly columns written by one of my favorite authors of dry humor, Bill Bryson. In a columns entitled "Why No One Walks," Bryson observes that in a nearby New Hampshire town of Laconia, they had recently spent $5 million revitalizing their downtown shopping area to make it a beautiful downtown pedestrian shopping destination. However, to quote Bryson: "Esthetically it was a triumph -- urban planners came from all over to coo and take photos -- but commercially it was a disaster. Forced to walk on whole block from a parking lot, shoppers abandoned downtown Laconia for suburban malls." Shortly after, Laconia dug up the brick paving, benches, trees, geraniums, etc. to put the street back to the way it used to be, where shoppers can park right in front of the stores, and the downtown businesses now thrive again.

To relate this story to the title, and to tell you my point early, we want and admire all sorts of things that we won't support. I tend to immediately accuse "Laziness!" in my mind, but I don't think we act this way mindfully. You and I get sucked into a repertoire of taking the easy road, and most likely with every intention of getting around to clearing up the overgrown one if you'll pardon the metaphor. These overgrown roads lead to such places as your local food department, non-profit civil service organizations, local businesses, and the fine folks who help upkeep the parks and historic structures.

Most of us agree heartily that these groups should be in place. Indeed we will enthusiastically commend anyone who supports them, but we ourselves... well, if you're like me than sheepish excuses will most likely mutter their way out of your mouth. Take local businesses for example: we will all bring down a hail of scorn on the big corporations' lack of empathy and over-commercialization, and we will feel sorry for the employee who is bogged down by quotas and aggressive and over-cheery sales techniques. How often though, when given the choice, do you go to a local coffee shop instead of a Starbucks, a mom 'n' pop hardware store instead of Lowe's or Home Depot, or pop into a local eatery for lunch instead of a chain restaurant? Even if you're just cheap or on a budget it doesn't always make sense. Local coffee shops have the same prices, or better, than Starbucks' drinks, and tend produce their goods with better business practices. Also, Dough Boys tools here in Spokane (though selling a lot of used items) is way cheaper than the alternative; and when I order my usual #4 from the menu at our nearby Hillside Cafe, I pay much less than I would Sharie's or Carl's Junior, and the food is never lacking.

So why do we do it? Are we doomed to a world where the small business has been rejected, long since sacrificed for those who would rather strive toward immense profits? I know it's difficult. At my own local music shop numerous ways we could serve people are written off with a sigh for the knowledge that individuals would rather go to the internet to buy goods cheaper. A personal relationship with your neighborhood sellers, better business practices, and keeping your money local is valued much lower than getting the best price, and as such large companies wouldn't think twice about outsourcing labor and using the cheapest possible materials. We have taught them these techniques by our actions. The prevailing philosophy is that consumers should always look for the best cost, and businesses should always look to make more money.

Don't worry, I'm not an anarchist by any stretch, and I do hesitate to write such seemingly accusatory blogs, but the subject has been a concern of mine for a while. (Also, I'd like the reader to know I write about things I find evident in myself.) This inaccuracy in our mode of life I think is due to a skewed sense of the American Dream, and success has been bent to mean the continual pursuit of "more", "cheaper", and "easier." These ideas have led away from the things we value, and instead toward the things that make us feel better, on the way losing the knowledge that there is sometimes a difference. The examples I've given are about business tactics, but only to make a point how our values can venture far away from our actual practices. Though we live in a world where it seems we can't really turn back now, I hope I could influence an idea to explore what you really want your world to be like, and take a step or two in your own life toward supporting that idea. You can't support everything for sure, but you can support something. So what do you support?