With all the news of celebrity deaths, high finance fraud, politicians cheating on their wives and mind-numbing government spending packages it was nigh impossible to decide what would constitute my next blog entry. But in the end, what won out is something that has always been near and dear to my heart. Education.. This administration has shown nothing in its first half year if not a strong desire to take over .. everything. Banking industry, car industry, energy industry, television networks, you name it, the Obama administration has all but annexed it into the public sector. Health care is just around the corner if past performance is any indication. But where we really should be trying to ensure that every American has an opportunity to achieve is education. Education is the key to maximizing one's opportunity. Without knowledge of what is possible, it is nearly impossible to achieve anything.
I find it puzzling that in all our zeal to emulate Europe or other places in so many areas, we do not hear much noise about emulating their model for education. At least not higher education. In a time when the annual cost of a college education at most public universities skyrockets towards $50,000 a year, it seems inconceivable that this issue is being virtually ignored. We constantly lament that our youth and later our workers are falling behind other parts of the world in productivity, innovation and other key measureless. Our "systems" are constantly derided as antiquated and is largely "failing our children." Yes I know that primary and secondary education in this country has taken a significant dive over the past 25 years but that in my opinion is more an artifact of the dumbing down process we have undergone as well as the mad rush toward making every child "feel good about themselves." But that's another blog for another day. This is about higher education. As millions of parents, myself included, wrestle with how to pay for the soon to be $200,000 educations for their little ones, one wonders how much of the refinance/cash out craze which all but crippled the mortgage industry could be attributed to parents trying to pay for their kids' education. You have to be making a WHOLE LOTTA MONEY to have the kind of money saved up to cover your child's education given those numbers. I strongly suspect the number of parents in position to pay for that kind of education wouldn't break 6 digits. God forbid you have more than ONE child heading off to college at the same time.
So how to solve this problem? Well as with any complex problem, there is no simple solution. But I strongly believe that our government is missing the boat on this issue. So much of our crime is committed by the uneducated, so many of our prison inmates are the uneducated, so much of our welfare is absorbed by the uneducated, you would think it would be obvious that in addition to helping our workers become more competitive globally, educating the populace would grow the tax base with more high earners as well as ease the burden on said tax payers. It's a win win for all concerned. Well except one group. Politicians, and here is where my cynicism kicks in. A part of me believes that politicians are as familiar as I am with the statistics surrounding quality of life, career, family stability and all that for college grads versus those who do not attend college. However they do not pursue this crusade with the same vigor as they do others for the simple reason that an educated electorate is the last thing politicians want to see. The ability to manipulate the masses is a key component in the current political machinery. Educated people are a little more difficult, though not impossible, to manipulate. Educated people tend to think we know everything, even if we don't. We think we understand everything, even if we don't and we want to be informed about everything. We accept almost nothing at face value and want to dig deeper into everything. This is completely contrary to what politicians seem to want from their constituents. The evidence of this is everywhere you look in government. The promised transparency that permeated the Obama campaign evaporated like the summer morning dew in the Florida sun as they have rolled out one massive spending bill after another. And we the people, so preoccupied with the deaths of celebrities, or jokes about Sarah Palin or the infidelity of various politicians to pay attention to any of it. There are a few voices screaming in the wilderness about what's going on, but they are largely ignored and often attacked for opposing the current power structure. But even that is a digression. The real point here is that a college or trade school education should be made available at little or no cost to any kid who wants it and who meets a minimum qualification. The benefits to our society are well documented and immeasurable. Raising the bar and facilitating our youth to leap over it rather than lowering the bar and creating a generation of idiots seems a much better approach to me. I know I too am a voice screaming in the wilderness.. but if enough of us scream, it's going to get hard to ignore us.
So I repeat. Loudly.. Mr. Obama.. you wanna give something away? Make it education.. and watch America soar.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Goodbye Michael.. man will you be missed.
My mind raced a million miles an hour when I first saw the headlines about the passing of Michael Jackson. The dude was one of the true giants of the entertainment industry. He was our generation's Sammy Davis Jr., Elvis and Jimmy Hendrix all rolled into one. I have generally been an outspoken critic of our society's growing fascination with celebrities. This seeming need we have to follow their every move, every success, every failure, every aspect of their lives in gory detail. Likewise I have always felt we get carried away in how much time and energy we spend on their deaths. Death is after all the great equalizer. No matter what we do in life, we all end up in the same place. But this was different. This was Michael Jackson, a voice I had heard since I was 5 or 6 years old. A vocalist I had begun imitating before I can even remember doing so and whose dance moves I, like 100 million other guys, practiced endlessly in the mirror but never quite got right. Michael was a part of me. Part of who I am.. part of my childhood, part of my college years, part of my adult life. . You may laugh, but I was never one who believed he molested those kids. Not that I didn't believe he had the kids in his bed. That I could completely believe. What I could not believe was that this man would do anything ever to harm a child. Some might call that view naive, but it has an honest origin.
A few million years ago, when I was working weekends at Disney World's EPCOT Center, I had occasion to meet him. In fact I rode down an elevator with him. And a bunch of his handlers, entourage or whatever you want to call them. He was being escorted to the ride I was working, and I was returning from a break to work the ride. There was no conversation, nothing more than a polite, "Hi." Not even a handshake of the gloved hand. But in that 2-3 minutes, I learned a great deal about Michael Jackson. He was maybe 23 or 24 years old at the time, but he conducted himself like a child and was treated that way by his "people." I was a huge fan of his music, but I simply was not the sort to get starstruck on anybody. So I did not fawn all over him or act like a teenage girl. I kept my cool, though I most certainly wanted to at least tell him how great I thought his music was. Instead I just listened. I listened to how his people talked to him. How he responded. How withdrawn he was. I remember being struck by how small he was. He was so skinny. He slouched as he stood there and when he walked. He seemed frail to me. At all of 5'7" I felt like I towered over him. But what really sealed it for me was what happened when the elevator opened. As he walked out some of the people in the lines spotted him and it was on. The teenagers surrounded him, the crowd engulfed him and his reaction spoke volumes to me. I could see his face as the scene unfolded. He was befuddled, frightened, completely helpless and taken aback by the situation. I remember thinking to myself: "This guy has dealt with this mob scene since he was 6 or 7 years old, and he hasn't figured out how to handle any better than a mousey look to his managers? Wow!?!?" The managers and some of the Disney staff, myself included, moved in quickly and ushered him out of the mass and onto the ride. I realized at that moment the extent to which Michael Jackson was not in control of his life. I remember thinking that he didn't sound all that bright in conversation. I also recall reading a letter he wrote in one of his album liners that might have been written at 5th grade level. So there I was, making $8.50 an hour, telling people about plants and agriculture on an EPCOT ride, feeling sorry for multi-millionair megastar Michael Jackson.
As the years wore on I watched as he moved into and out of a series of bizarre relationships with women. From Brooke Shields to Lisa Marie Presley to that Debbie whatever her name is woman. I always remember thinking: "This brother has no idea what he's looking for in a woman, and therefore he will likely never find it." Then there is the matter of the allegations of child molestation. I just don't buy it. Michael thought of and conducted himself as a kid until the day he died. The things he did with those kids, in my opinion, were consistent with a man who just never grew up and who enjoyed playing with and hanging out and yes sleeping with little kids more than he did the company of adults. Frankly, on that count, I can certainly see his point. I enjoy the company of my 8 year old more than I do all but a handful of adults I know. If you're a parent, you know how special cuddling with a little one can be. There is an innocence, a tranquility to it that defies description.
Michael's biggest problem, was that he alternately raised by his borderline insane and certainly obsessed father and the sycophants who were hired to take care of him both when he was a child and later when he was an adult... child. Rare is the employee who can look his or her boss in the eye and say "Boss, that's some stupid stuff you're doing and you need to stop. NOW!" It's truly ironic that the people who had the most to lose from his downfall, namely their livelihood, were unwilling to step in and steer him away from so many of life's pitfalls. Though that may be unfair. Perhaps some of them did exactly that, but got shouted down. The absurd plastic surgery, the often odd, always lavish lifestyle choices, the increasingly ill-advised consorting with other people's children. There is no playbook on how to be a man. Most of us learn by watching. Our dads, our big brothers, our teachers our coaches etc. Michael had agents, handlers, lawyers, other entertainers... his own brothers, who had their own issues, and of course his own father -- Joe. The fact that he never really evolved into a true "man" was not much of a surprise to me. In that one regard, he was greatly handicapped in life. So here I sit, some 26 years after my first episode of feeling sorry for Michael Jackson, still feeling pretty much the same way. In fact upon reflection, I never really stopped feeling sorry for him. Even though he would have great successes after that first encounter, I could never completely forget that chance encounter in the elevator at EPCOT and the lasting impression it left me with. Michael Jackson seemed as much a prisoner in his life as anything. At least he's no longer that. I hope his affairs were in order spiritually and I trust he left his children in good stead both in terms of their care as well as financially. Hopefully we will not be so cruel to them as we were to their father over the last 15 years.
A few million years ago, when I was working weekends at Disney World's EPCOT Center, I had occasion to meet him. In fact I rode down an elevator with him. And a bunch of his handlers, entourage or whatever you want to call them. He was being escorted to the ride I was working, and I was returning from a break to work the ride. There was no conversation, nothing more than a polite, "Hi." Not even a handshake of the gloved hand. But in that 2-3 minutes, I learned a great deal about Michael Jackson. He was maybe 23 or 24 years old at the time, but he conducted himself like a child and was treated that way by his "people." I was a huge fan of his music, but I simply was not the sort to get starstruck on anybody. So I did not fawn all over him or act like a teenage girl. I kept my cool, though I most certainly wanted to at least tell him how great I thought his music was. Instead I just listened. I listened to how his people talked to him. How he responded. How withdrawn he was. I remember being struck by how small he was. He was so skinny. He slouched as he stood there and when he walked. He seemed frail to me. At all of 5'7" I felt like I towered over him. But what really sealed it for me was what happened when the elevator opened. As he walked out some of the people in the lines spotted him and it was on. The teenagers surrounded him, the crowd engulfed him and his reaction spoke volumes to me. I could see his face as the scene unfolded. He was befuddled, frightened, completely helpless and taken aback by the situation. I remember thinking to myself: "This guy has dealt with this mob scene since he was 6 or 7 years old, and he hasn't figured out how to handle any better than a mousey look to his managers? Wow!?!?" The managers and some of the Disney staff, myself included, moved in quickly and ushered him out of the mass and onto the ride. I realized at that moment the extent to which Michael Jackson was not in control of his life. I remember thinking that he didn't sound all that bright in conversation. I also recall reading a letter he wrote in one of his album liners that might have been written at 5th grade level. So there I was, making $8.50 an hour, telling people about plants and agriculture on an EPCOT ride, feeling sorry for multi-millionair megastar Michael Jackson.
As the years wore on I watched as he moved into and out of a series of bizarre relationships with women. From Brooke Shields to Lisa Marie Presley to that Debbie whatever her name is woman. I always remember thinking: "This brother has no idea what he's looking for in a woman, and therefore he will likely never find it." Then there is the matter of the allegations of child molestation. I just don't buy it. Michael thought of and conducted himself as a kid until the day he died. The things he did with those kids, in my opinion, were consistent with a man who just never grew up and who enjoyed playing with and hanging out and yes sleeping with little kids more than he did the company of adults. Frankly, on that count, I can certainly see his point. I enjoy the company of my 8 year old more than I do all but a handful of adults I know. If you're a parent, you know how special cuddling with a little one can be. There is an innocence, a tranquility to it that defies description.
Michael's biggest problem, was that he alternately raised by his borderline insane and certainly obsessed father and the sycophants who were hired to take care of him both when he was a child and later when he was an adult... child. Rare is the employee who can look his or her boss in the eye and say "Boss, that's some stupid stuff you're doing and you need to stop. NOW!" It's truly ironic that the people who had the most to lose from his downfall, namely their livelihood, were unwilling to step in and steer him away from so many of life's pitfalls. Though that may be unfair. Perhaps some of them did exactly that, but got shouted down. The absurd plastic surgery, the often odd, always lavish lifestyle choices, the increasingly ill-advised consorting with other people's children. There is no playbook on how to be a man. Most of us learn by watching. Our dads, our big brothers, our teachers our coaches etc. Michael had agents, handlers, lawyers, other entertainers... his own brothers, who had their own issues, and of course his own father -- Joe. The fact that he never really evolved into a true "man" was not much of a surprise to me. In that one regard, he was greatly handicapped in life. So here I sit, some 26 years after my first episode of feeling sorry for Michael Jackson, still feeling pretty much the same way. In fact upon reflection, I never really stopped feeling sorry for him. Even though he would have great successes after that first encounter, I could never completely forget that chance encounter in the elevator at EPCOT and the lasting impression it left me with. Michael Jackson seemed as much a prisoner in his life as anything. At least he's no longer that. I hope his affairs were in order spiritually and I trust he left his children in good stead both in terms of their care as well as financially. Hopefully we will not be so cruel to them as we were to their father over the last 15 years.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Father's day reflections..
The day began with me out back trying to get the chemical balance and temperature of the pool just right. I called my dad, got his machine and kept working. A few minutes later my son called me and we chatted for a while until my sister called and she and I chatted a while and then my wife woke up, came downstairs and let me know what "the plan" was for today. This immediately got me to thinking. How many dad's really fall for this illusion that this is "our day." Come on ladies, spill the beans. Yall know this day aint about us. Not that we mind. Deep down, we know that too, just as we know that while yall aint our mothers, we best have a gift, a card, some flowers and a reservation somewhere nice for at least brunch lined up. I had to ask myself how things got so our of whack.. When did men become so marginalized in this country? I overheard a couple of radio dudes ("Armstrong and Getty" KNEW, San Francisco 6-10am) last week talking about a survey of "All time favorite TV dads." They, and I along with them, were shocked that Dr. Heathcliff Huxtable was the most recent member of that club. They pondered why that would be. Did the surveyor just poll old people? Or was it because TV dads have devolved into largely mindless buffoons who are more an impediment to the family unit functioning than anything else. The wife and the kids are the smart ones. Dad is just a comic foil more often than not. As I listened to this, I had to reflect on my own situation. Am I one of these useless buffoons? Can I not fix anything? Does everything I cook end up burnt? Is every gift I buy for my kids appropriate for them.. five years ago? Since I have built furniture one of which still serves as my dresser, performed routine to mid level maintenance on my Toyotas, Mercedes, Infinity, Harley and GMC trucks as well as almost completely rebuilt my Maytag washer I think I'm cool on #1. Since I prepare about 80% of the meals at our house and no one who lives here could be accused of needing to put on weight, I think I can put a check mark by #2. So that brings #3. Now I gotta admit, I went to gift cards right around the time the teenagers started high school. The little one? I dunno, I try to listen to what she likes, and get it for her but my wife has returned quite a bit of the stuff I buy so maybe I fall down on that one.
So I'm okay on 2 out of 3. But obviously there is more to dadhood than that stuff. There is homework.. I have to admit it's hard to get and stay focused on 2nd and 3rd grade homework but I get that those are the grades where the kids most need it. But I drift away at times on that. Then there is play time. You gotta be the big huggable playmate when they need ya. Though I always enjoy it when I do get down on the floor and play with my little one, these soon to be 49 year old bones are never quick to get down there. But then I thought about my own father.. he never did any of those things. He was never a playmate, never helped with school work any of that. But I never once doubted he loved me for a nanosecond. He was a far tougher disciplinarian that I could ever hope to be. Maybe that was what inspired me to do well in school. Sheer naked fear of what he'd do to me if I didn't. Whatever the case, it worked. I studied, and did well in school. Others remember me working hard in school, I don't. It never felt hard to me. I constantly did my homework in front of the TV, on the school bus, hell during breaks between classes. My dad never showed a lot of emotion, except anger when we screwed up and joy when we did something good. I struggle to remember much in between. Could that be why dads have become caricatures on TV? Because an entire generation of dads only had two emotional states? Pissed off and wielding a belt or elated and jumping for joy? It's hard to say, the people in charge of making movies and TV shows were raised by my parents' generation. Are their remembrances similar to mine? Dad as a cartoon character? A 2-dimensional image? In the end I suspect my dad had a full range of emotions and actions throughout my childhood. But only the ones on the extreme ends are etched into long term memory. I became keenly aware of that as I began my own family and started to interact with my dad man to man and also watching him interact with my kids, his grandchildren. There was so much more to this man than what I remembered growing up. He was warm, loving, funny and available at all times to provide to help his kids accomplish their goals. Whether the need be money, borrowing a vehicle, the name of a good, honest mechanic. Dad always provided. The thing that I never lost sight of growing up was just how hard my dad worked. He was gone by 6 am most days and not home much before 6 pm. Even with that, there were difficult times, times when we ended up living in housing projects or places WAY too small for 2 adults and 7 kids. Food stamps, government aid were also a part of my childhood. But what I always noticed, was that we only stayed in the projects as long as we had to. When times got better, when dad had more work, we moved into a bigger house, a better neighborhood. We took what we needed, and not a cent more. I learned that from both my parents. The government assistance is there if you need it, but the trick is not to need it. At least not for very long. This is not to say my dad was perfect. He had his flaws, like any man. But a cartoon character he was not. Nor was he a buffoon or a hindrance to the house working smoothly. He gave us everything we needed, even if not much of what we wanted. Fortunately for me, he's still alive and kicking and I can still converse with him about things great and small. I still haven't figured out how to tell him how much I appreciate all the things he did for us kids. All the work, all the sacrifices. All the lessons he taught, without ever sitting down and having some sit-down family meeting like we see on TV. He taught by example. And yes by occasionally whacking us on our butts. Stuff he'd be arrested for today. But I look at myself and my siblings. Seven of us. One a Harvard grad, one a Rollins grad, one a retired Naval Officer, two trade school grads who gainfully employed professionals. One for a law firm the other as a hospital administrator. Yeah there are some who have never quite turned the corner on "the good life" but for two parents who never finished high school to have produced those results, I have to commend my folks. Whatever they did worked pretty well for most of their kids. Credit must go to both parents for that. But today is Fathers Day.. so this salute is for you, Dad.
So I'm okay on 2 out of 3. But obviously there is more to dadhood than that stuff. There is homework.. I have to admit it's hard to get and stay focused on 2nd and 3rd grade homework but I get that those are the grades where the kids most need it. But I drift away at times on that. Then there is play time. You gotta be the big huggable playmate when they need ya. Though I always enjoy it when I do get down on the floor and play with my little one, these soon to be 49 year old bones are never quick to get down there. But then I thought about my own father.. he never did any of those things. He was never a playmate, never helped with school work any of that. But I never once doubted he loved me for a nanosecond. He was a far tougher disciplinarian that I could ever hope to be. Maybe that was what inspired me to do well in school. Sheer naked fear of what he'd do to me if I didn't. Whatever the case, it worked. I studied, and did well in school. Others remember me working hard in school, I don't. It never felt hard to me. I constantly did my homework in front of the TV, on the school bus, hell during breaks between classes. My dad never showed a lot of emotion, except anger when we screwed up and joy when we did something good. I struggle to remember much in between. Could that be why dads have become caricatures on TV? Because an entire generation of dads only had two emotional states? Pissed off and wielding a belt or elated and jumping for joy? It's hard to say, the people in charge of making movies and TV shows were raised by my parents' generation. Are their remembrances similar to mine? Dad as a cartoon character? A 2-dimensional image? In the end I suspect my dad had a full range of emotions and actions throughout my childhood. But only the ones on the extreme ends are etched into long term memory. I became keenly aware of that as I began my own family and started to interact with my dad man to man and also watching him interact with my kids, his grandchildren. There was so much more to this man than what I remembered growing up. He was warm, loving, funny and available at all times to provide to help his kids accomplish their goals. Whether the need be money, borrowing a vehicle, the name of a good, honest mechanic. Dad always provided. The thing that I never lost sight of growing up was just how hard my dad worked. He was gone by 6 am most days and not home much before 6 pm. Even with that, there were difficult times, times when we ended up living in housing projects or places WAY too small for 2 adults and 7 kids. Food stamps, government aid were also a part of my childhood. But what I always noticed, was that we only stayed in the projects as long as we had to. When times got better, when dad had more work, we moved into a bigger house, a better neighborhood. We took what we needed, and not a cent more. I learned that from both my parents. The government assistance is there if you need it, but the trick is not to need it. At least not for very long. This is not to say my dad was perfect. He had his flaws, like any man. But a cartoon character he was not. Nor was he a buffoon or a hindrance to the house working smoothly. He gave us everything we needed, even if not much of what we wanted. Fortunately for me, he's still alive and kicking and I can still converse with him about things great and small. I still haven't figured out how to tell him how much I appreciate all the things he did for us kids. All the work, all the sacrifices. All the lessons he taught, without ever sitting down and having some sit-down family meeting like we see on TV. He taught by example. And yes by occasionally whacking us on our butts. Stuff he'd be arrested for today. But I look at myself and my siblings. Seven of us. One a Harvard grad, one a Rollins grad, one a retired Naval Officer, two trade school grads who gainfully employed professionals. One for a law firm the other as a hospital administrator. Yeah there are some who have never quite turned the corner on "the good life" but for two parents who never finished high school to have produced those results, I have to commend my folks. Whatever they did worked pretty well for most of their kids. Credit must go to both parents for that. But today is Fathers Day.. so this salute is for you, Dad.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Rude Indian People.. Vikas you were right..
This past Memorial Day, my wife and our 8 year old headed over to Santa Cruz Beach for some fun in the Sun and later to let the little one take in some rides. We found a great spot on the beach, near the water but not close enough to get wet. There were two 20-something Indian couples playing with a soccer or volleyball near us. They kicked up a bit of sand but they were downwind so we didn't care. For whatever reason, about 20 minutes after we arrived, they moved to an upwind position of us and began kicking the ball all around our little spot there on the beach, the ball literally sailing directly over us at times, and they bouncing all around us blasting sand everywhere. My wife, never the shy one, asked them to maybe kick the ball elsewhere. They ignored her. I, realizing that an angry black man making such a request can be intimidating and might lead to confrontation, tried to remain quiet. Eventually through a series of "WTF are you doing" looks they appeared to get the message and seemed to settle down. Until they decided to leave. At that point, they began to shake their blankets and towels pretty much directly over us dumping sand in our faces and into our food. At that point I lost and launched a profanity laden "plea" for them to cease and desists. After exchanging a couple of perplexed looks with each other, they did and left. Quickly.
The significance of this encounter was that it was the first time in memory that I had encountered Indian people who were not just the nicest folk in the world. As I reflected on the incident, and how these young Indian folk could have come to behave so.. American, I was reminded of a conversation I had had with my coworker, Vikas, at Sun Microsystems sometime around the summer of 2001. I remember Vikas telling me that he would have to move back home to India before his kids were corrupted by us Americans. At the time I was mildly insulted but hey, it's his kids, he has to do what he felt best. But as I pondered these kids from the beach, it occurred to me that they were probably either born here in the states or raised from a very young age here. They had no accents to speak of and if not for their dark skin could easily have been plain old California white kids. Especially their boorish behavior. Then I harkened back to the Indian brother in Sunnyvale who had basically killed his entire family and himself over a dispute with his wife's brother. Only his wife, who had managed to stumble out the apartment despite being shot multiple times, had survived. So I decided to write this blog entry in honor of Vikas. Vikas, you were right to take your kids back home. While I'm sure not all Indian (or other foreign) kids raised here will be thus influenced by us Americans, it's clear that there are aspects of our society which are rubbing off on our friends who come here from other cultures, which they would just soon didn't. Come to think of it, so would we.
Lest there be any misunderstanding, there is no attempt being made here to hold all Indian people accountable for the idiotic behavior of a few wayward sons and daughters. In my 20 years here in Silicon Valley I have found Indian folk to be simply delightful, with few exceptions. But I am left to wonder, as more and more of them grow up in our midst, how long will that be the case, with them, or with any other immigrant group.
The significance of this encounter was that it was the first time in memory that I had encountered Indian people who were not just the nicest folk in the world. As I reflected on the incident, and how these young Indian folk could have come to behave so.. American, I was reminded of a conversation I had had with my coworker, Vikas, at Sun Microsystems sometime around the summer of 2001. I remember Vikas telling me that he would have to move back home to India before his kids were corrupted by us Americans. At the time I was mildly insulted but hey, it's his kids, he has to do what he felt best. But as I pondered these kids from the beach, it occurred to me that they were probably either born here in the states or raised from a very young age here. They had no accents to speak of and if not for their dark skin could easily have been plain old California white kids. Especially their boorish behavior. Then I harkened back to the Indian brother in Sunnyvale who had basically killed his entire family and himself over a dispute with his wife's brother. Only his wife, who had managed to stumble out the apartment despite being shot multiple times, had survived. So I decided to write this blog entry in honor of Vikas. Vikas, you were right to take your kids back home. While I'm sure not all Indian (or other foreign) kids raised here will be thus influenced by us Americans, it's clear that there are aspects of our society which are rubbing off on our friends who come here from other cultures, which they would just soon didn't. Come to think of it, so would we.
Lest there be any misunderstanding, there is no attempt being made here to hold all Indian people accountable for the idiotic behavior of a few wayward sons and daughters. In my 20 years here in Silicon Valley I have found Indian folk to be simply delightful, with few exceptions. But I am left to wonder, as more and more of them grow up in our midst, how long will that be the case, with them, or with any other immigrant group.
Welcome!!!
I'm not sure what motivated me to start a blog, but what the heck. My mind works a million miles and hour about a million different things, so I have decided to share some of my thoughts.. in case anybody is interested.
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