THE FUNDRAISER

There is no failure except in no longer trying. There is no defeat except from within, no really insurmountable barrier save our own inherent weakness of purpose.  KIN HUBBARD

Money.

What's your first thought when you read that word? Gut reaction is too complex, give it ten seconds and you can flush it out. Money is a symbol of value, a means to an end, paper to exchange for work, wealth to exchange for materials, services, and comforts.

Our collective response to calamity is to contribute money. These days it's as simple as sending a text message or making a PayPal transaction. At the same time, all just causes are in search of donations; Hunger, land devastation, poverty, equal rights, clean water, and every known sickness that plagues mankind. The message as I understand it is simple, the more money directed at a problem, the more time, energy, materials, and manpower are dedicated to its eradication. 

Money solves problems.

Baseball is our national pastime, and the only major professional sports league without a cap to regulate the maximum amount spent on players. There are 162 regular season games that span half the calendar year, all televised. On special days throughout the season, the league showcases alternate uniforms, or bright colored accessories to promote awareness of specific afflictions, at the same time encouraging donations towards a cure.

For the time being, baseball has no spending limit. Payrolls have been bolstered to new heights by long term television contracts; players receive yearly contracts larger than any other athletes in America. As always in a Capitalist system, players are paid in proportion to the money they generate. The demand for baseball is such that those responsible for keeping viewership up receive lion's share of the profits, and this makes sense.

Ballplayers are just one group at the top of the pyramid exerting major influence over the masses, while commanding some of the greatest personal fortunes in world history. Humans will always pay for entertainment, indeed it is priority for many. Ironically, most of those generating top dollar in their field of entertainment are doing exactly what they love to do. Big-budget Hollywood filmmaking is another huge example of this. We've all seen telethons and fundraisers hosted by celebrities aiming to bring relief to people in need, but have we embraced the true potential of this method?

Baseball players, like all athletes, are signed to mega-contracts based on past performance on the ball field. The team brass can only keep fingers crossed that prolific statistical numbers of a players past continue through their new contract. This means a man can bring in more than $20 million a year regardless of his production. Moreover, a player can get injured, unable to play at all and still bring in a salary large enough to feed a nation. This year, between 2 players the Anaheim Angels are spending more than a combined $50 million; 1st basemen Albert Pujols, and outfielder Josh Hamilton. This total's more than the entire payrolls of the Miami Marlins and Houston Astros combined. Pujols season was cut short by injury, and Hamilton's second season in Anaheim is just as unimpressive as his first, yet he's one of the highest paid athletes in the world. This example is not to single these players out, simply another strong example of the imbalance of this system.

Millions of dollars spent, very little return.

This situation clearly exposes the misappropriation of funds in our society, at the same time, perhaps brings into focus the greatest fundraising concept of all time.

Most anyone in our society would tell you, no matter how much money we earn, we make enough to live on. Even if a ballplayer desires a lavish life with many luxuries, he can still afford to sacrifice most of his salary towards the common good. Never mind telethons, pink bats, pink gloves, and car dealerships pledging $500 for every home team home run hit. If capital actually has the ability to generate a cure, put your money where your mouth is and show the world what a true fundraiser looks like. If every player in baseball alone, from those making league minimum to those earning $20+ million annually, were to donate half of their salaries, the yield would be incredible. The result would be one of two things, both problems and sickness would begin to dissolve, or the cyclical system of endless donation drives would be exposed for what it truly is.

Talking trillions is usually reserved for costs like our defense budget or national deficit. Imagine a news report revealing a donation totaling more than a trillion dollars. If the major news outlets were allowed to spread such news, if such staggering donations were permitted by the powers that be, the fabric of fundraising would be boosted across the globe. Imagine the trend formed from such an offering, a challenge and benchmark to be met and exceeded by the mega-corporations of this planet. The thoughtless and selfish would be exposed for their non-participation. The men and women composing the corporations of the so-called 1% would be observed on a level playing field and forced to at least acknowledge the global trend. As society starts to understand exactly what type of transformation is taking place, corporate non-involvement in the program would result in either reduced revenue or changes in policy.

Successful new trends in business promote changes across the field. If the people are wise enough to embrace such a healing development, the demand for such corporate action will rise accordingly. Over time, the more charitable a corporation, the greater its profits would become.

Can huge amounts of money truly solve the problems of the world? If so, the solution seems self-evident.

Several trillion dollars should do the trick.

Money is only a tool. It will take you wherever you wish, but it will not replace you as the driver.  AYN RAND

WHITE MOUNTAIN STATE

The two-toned tune of the Eastern Phoebe pierces the fog from the woods surrounding the house through my bedroom window. The lawn glistens with morning dew and perhaps some rain that fell last night while I slept. Sweatpants on, down the stairs, through the dining room, around the corner into the "mud room." To my surprise Emma is also just waking. I walk in to witness a ceremonial full-bodied, four legged stretch immediately followed by an emphatic yawn. She rises slowly and begins a relaxed tail wag, no doubt looking forward to our walk. She draws her ears back in anticipation as I take the leash from the closet.

We walk down the driveway, across the street into the woods. To this day I do not know what purpose or service that path served in the years it was formed. A 15 foot wide trail leading from the street a half mile through the woods to a brook. Several trails have branched off since recreational snowmobiles were introduced to the region. I veer off onto one of the branches while Emma sniffs each and every element as if she's investigating a crime scene, all the curious seasonal smells found in the woods of New Hampshire. The brook is coated with a thin layer of yellow pollen, water partially held in place by a small beaver dam. Our oddly unique state flower, The Pink Lady Slipper, found sporadically throughout the woods. There is almost complete silence walking alongside the brook, just the crackle of twigs and leaves under our feet, and the sound of the birds in the trees as bright clear sun shines through us and onto the brooks clearing.

A few years from now, I will have been away from the Granite State as long as I lived there. The more time passes, the stronger the connection I've found over the past decade and a half. I've always looked forward to my return visits with anticipation towards achieving a greater knowledge and connection to where I spent my first 18 years on Earth. I've always placed emphasis on a persons upbringing and habitat of origin. From natural landscapes to urban organization, surroundings have a huge effect on formulation of self. Since my earliest memories I've had a connection with the woods of Merrimack.

For just as long, I've been fascinated with and drawn to the city. Sparked from family trips into Boston for baseball games, Quincy Market, museums, Newbury Street etc. Stoked by trips into Manchester when Dad worked some Saturdays; I'd stroll up and down Elm Street, marveling the tallest building in the state towering 20 stories above Manchester at 259 feet. I knew I'd go to college in either Boston or New York, ended up in Boston. Four years completely immersed in the urban scape; brownstones, skyscrapers, parks, the esplanade, neighborhoods, history.

On to Los Angeles for 7, then Chicago the past 4.

It's been 2 years since I've been home. Only once before have I been away for longer.

I'll be back on Friday.

Over the next 2 weeks I will cover more miles on more roads, view more mountains, lakes, rivers, parks, cities and towns from more angles than ever before. My natural sensors will be on high alert as we select a proper location for our wedding next summer.  I very much look forward to seeing some of you, reminiscing on the past and looking toward the future.

No matter how long it's been, no matter where I go, the granite state will always remain home in my heart . . . long live the old man of the mountain.

"Men hang out their signs indicative of their respective trades; shoe makers hang out a gigantic shoe; jewelers a monster watch, and the dentist hangs out a gold tooth; but up in the Mountains of New Hampshire, God Almighty has hung out a sign to show that there He makes men." DANIEL WEBSTER

FULL INTEGRATION

Remember when going to a ballgame meant skipping the commercials endured while taking in the game via television or radio?  Remember when sweet trailers and posters for upcoming movies were the only advertising found at the theater?  We use to be able to "get away" to these places and others, able to remove ourselves from the "day to day".  While going to games and movies remain a few of my favorite activities, the money spent no longer pays for freedom from pesky commercial advertising.

We've identified the connection between professional sports and the US military in the past.  Though budget cuts may have ended "fly overs" for the foreseeable future, we have to expect continued, likely enhanced, use of wounded veterans of war in professional sports.  Honored for their sacrifice before the start of the game, throwing out the first pitch, flipping a coin on the 50 yard line, bearing the flag during The Star Spangled Banner, saying "gentlemen, start your engines."

Lets be clear on a point before moving forward.  Few respect the talents, efforts, technology, and power of the US armed services more than I do.  Few acknowledge the sacrifices made, understand the value of lost life, or respect the bravery of men and woman in combat more clearly than I do.  At the same time, I am among the very few are willing to dig deep and recognize the misuse and exploitation of these brave men and women, a member of the select few belonging to the un-silent minority willing to call a spade a spade and speak the truth about power misused and abused.   

As has been well established over the chronicles, the same corporate interests that run our government/military also own the mass media.  It should come as no surprise that Hollywood has once again romanticized American military activity, however this time, they've gone too far.  Since the attack on Pearl Harbor, film and television have been painting technicolor pictures to recount the toils of war.  From inserted just cause to exaggerated tales of heroism and valor, history has quite literally been re-told and re-sold as a big-budget blockbuster.

Many of us, including the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences, found The Hurt Locker to be one of the great war films of all time.  In addition to collecting the Oscar for Best Picture, Kathryn Bigelow was awarded the Academy Award for Best Director.  Along with its technical and artistic merit as a film, it also served as one of the most accurate representations of our current conflict in the Middle East.  These elements combined to create the perfect platform for what was to come; telling the story of the events surrounding the death of Osama bin Laden.

Lets keep the framework simple.  The story of the mission was crafted and broadcasted in unison by the aforementioned architects.  Bin Laden shot dead in a CIA led operation by an elite Navy SEAL team, 1 round in the head, 2 in the chest.  Body taken to Afghanistan for identification, wrapped and dropped into the North Arabian Sea because no country would "accept his remains".  The President watched live on television via satellite.

This is the story that will soon appear in history books and encyclopedias.

Unquestioned.

Like clockwork, within 18 months, Zero Dark Thirty is produced, directed by Kathryn Bigelow, and nominated for 5 Academy Awards including Best Picture.  If the ramifications are not big enough, just prior to the announcement of Best Picture at this years ceremony, on the screen above the stage appears our nations First Lady.  Mrs. Obama delivering a message of congratulations to all the nominees and the Hollywood community in general.  The military has cooperated with Hollywood for years, providing aircraft, watercraft, hovercraft, tanks, trucks, weapons of all kinds, even servicemen and women in bit parts and as extras.  But never before has a feature film been so meticulously crafted by the CIA with such a resounding endorsement from the Hollywood community.

A precursor that should have foreshadowed this films arrival was another titled Act of Valor.  You may have noticed how television commercials for joining the military and those for combat video games like Call of Duty are almost indiscernible.  From music, to camera moves, to weapons and vehicles, it's tough to tell which is which until the end.  When I first saw the trailer for Act of Valor is when the theme of this entry was conceived.  I didn't know if it was another annoying movie theater TV commercial, an ad for joining an armed service, a video game, or a reality show.  Turned out is was none of the above.  It was a new breed, a feature film starring actual members of US Special Forces in a story "inspired by true events".

Full integration.

I watched Battleship for the first time on HBO a few weeks back.  Director Peter Berg is a good filmmaker who makes entertaining movies (though I think he wants to be Michael Bay).  It seems Berg, like Gary Sinise, is a huge supporter of our military, and more importantly, our veterans.  Though based on the board game from Hasbro, Battleship was largely an advertisement for the US Navy.  Army is also represented as the film takes place on Oahu, home to a base from each of Americas armed forces. 

Shortly into the film we meet angry Lieutenant Colonel Mick Canales, portrayed by Colonel Gregory D. Gadson.  It turns out in real life Col. Gadson is actually a highly decorated combat veteran, having served in Operations Desert Shield and Desert Storm, Operation Joint Forge, Operation Enduring Freedom, and Operation Iraqi Freedom.  In May of 2007 he lost both legs and badly injured his right arm in a rode side blast in Baghdad.  He was retuning from a memorial service for 2 men in his brigade when the incident occurred.  The image of "Mick Canales" begrudgingly walking on his prosthetic legs is enough to stir the emotions of most viewers.  His frustration feels genuine, he even says "I lost my fight when I lost my legs."  As a viewer, I was already upset thinking about the price he paid and to what end.  My deep concern was that the general population would perceive his loss as "for a good cause" such as "protecting our freedom."  Things take a turn for the worse in the film when one of many aliens threatening civilian safety is within reach of Col. Canales.  He looks to the woman on his left and says "I got this," then precedes to charge one of the aliens, wrapping it up in a bear hug, striking it with a few head shots, grabbing it by its head, pulling towards his mechanical knee crushing its face shield exposing it to dangerous UV radiation.  From here the Colonial proceeds to pummel the alien with his fists, pugilist style, ultimately, effectively kicking the aliens ass.  So in this case, it seems Lt. Col. Canales has the advantage, perhaps his new legs are better than the old.

Message?

If you get cut in half on Uncle Sam's behalf, he's got new legs for you to stand on.  Keep your trust in him.  Prepare to go back out and fight for him with those new legs.  Continue to serve your fellow man and follow your nations interests without a second thought.  You witnessed it live at your favorite sporting event, you heard it in 6.1 surround sound on your car stereo, you got the message in the palm of your hand on your smartphone, you saw it on the big screen at the theater, and you saw it at home on your HD TV in 1080p.  

You've been fully integrated.

FRESH

Action and reaction, ebb and flow, trial and error, change.  This is the rhythm of living.  Out of our over-confidence, fear; out of our fear, clearer vision, fresh hope.  And out of hope, progress.  BRUCE BARTON

Finally the crunch of ice, snow, and slush under my boots as I walk to the train.  Dozens of unique footprints pattern the sidewalk from the morning commute.  The mixed frozen precipitation of the past four days has ceased and the temperature has remained low enough to preserve a canvas of white across the city.  The scene has resembled a Christmas card of late, a welcomed site, bolstering faith in natures four season balance which seems less and less predictable as the years go by.  As far as I'm concerned, snow is a part of life.  Though I'm many years removed from active winter sporting, the element is essential in my concept of a year.  I very much appreciate warm climates, but the variety of seasons is what makes each special.  What kind of life would be with no rain to counterbalance the dry seasons?  

Variety is vital in our lives, it enables growth. 

The older I get the more I appreciate new experiences,  the more I value exposure to original people, original music, film, art, thinking.  The patterns of the masses become more predictable as the follow the follower mentality continues to spread.  The internet and its social tentacles have streamlined popular thought and opinion into the simplest and fastest feed in history.  Word literally cannot travel faster than it does today.  Each member of the first world has a supercomputer in their pocket or handbag.  Every typed word, every site visited, all content explored now quantifiable should it be of interest to anyone for commercial or political reasons.  All thoughts and interests now calculated to absolutely understand the consumer/citizen.

How refreshing it is to meet people of unique and original taste, people who value the subtle differences found on the road less traveled.  Whether you ski or not, you must acknowledge the special circumstances required to generate snow.  You must appreciate what a rare occurrence it is, out of 365 days it might snow 20-30 times in a region known for it.  

Things rare are special.

When you hear about an up and coming athlete referred to as "a special talent" it means they have more than outstanding fundamentals.  A human being is born with characteristics different than every other person who has ever lived.  From appearance to fingerprints to motor skills, we are blessed with tools unique from everyone we will ever meet.  Only through the passage of time, exploring ourselves and our interests, do we discover who we are and what we're best equipped to do.  If you spend your time trying to be something or someone you're not, you'll end up being no one at all.  Take the gifts and skills you were blessed with and do something with them, big or small.  Make an impression, be yourself, present a fresh perspective.

They say no two snowflakes are alike.  
The same goes for us.  

Forget all you know about yourself; forget all you have ever thought about yourself; we are going to start as if we knew nothing.  It rained last night heavily; and now the skies are beginning to clear; it is a new fresh day. Let us start on our journey together with all the remembrance of yesterday left behind - and begin to understand ourselves for the first time.  JIDDU KRISHNAMURTI