The Obama Phenomenon

Watching last week's Iowa caucuses and anticipating today's New Hampshire primaries, many of us who follow the Democratic Party are feeling a scary kind of déjà vu, the sense that we may be seeing the emergence of something great, and a palpable fear that we will lose it all. Naturally, I'm speaking of the rapid rise of Barack Obama from near obscurity as an Illinois state senator through his inspirational keynote address at the 2004 convention, to his seemingly unstoppable momentum in the 2008 presidential race. At a time when Republicans seem incapable of regrouping after the disaster of the Bush presidency I can imagine what his advisors told him: There will never be a chance like this again. Aim for daylight and run like hell. And, wow, is this guy running.

He started off slowly, seemingly unsure of himself. Detesting the stilted debate formats that forced him to strip down his soaring oratory into brief sound bites, Obama hardly cut an impressive figure against the likes of Hillary Clinton and John Edwards. His policies seemed ill-formed, his responses to hypothetical foreign policy challenges, Pollyannaish. But no one could question his intellect and his ability to learn from his mistakes.

To me, the turning point began when Obama accepted that many Democrats (and Independents, such as myself) wanted him to channel those great leaders of the Left that were taken in the sixties, most notably Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King. Then he began to speak of the "fierce urgency of now," firing up his supporters with the promise of hope, the assurance that real change was on the way.

It has always been thus, at least in my memory: the audacity of hope versus the campaign of experience (and its attendant evocation of fear). I remember debating at Berry College for Bill Clinton, representing the Democratic side against a fairly proficient array of fellow students who spoke for the Republican side. Doing two live debates, along with one on television, I spoke as a student inspired by Bill Clinton and his promise that things could get better: health care would be universal, educational opportunities would be expanded, and foreign policy would be built on principle over expediency.

I remember the personal pride I felt when a friend, one of the most hardcore Republican students I knew, joined our celebration on election night, good-naturedly admitting that our side had won. I had such hope in those days. But when the Clinton administration sullied itself with blunders both bloody and vile, I found it harder and harder to hold my head high as a Democrat. Only the fact that I could not seriously support anyone on the other side kept me in the party. For a while, at least. Eventually, though, I switched my voter designation to Independent and have tried to keep an open mind. I thereafter have watched the Obama movement as an outsider, intrigued but wary.

Yet I cannot disregard the genuine hope that Obama represents, and not just for Democrats. His confidence, his humor, his authenticity, and -- most importantly -- his call to look beyond Baby Boomer blinders represented by the older generation of politicians, inspire me to believe that this guy could be the real deal. Already the Clinton campaign is floundering in its efforts to catch up with Obama. Hillary Clinton's claim that she's represented the force of change for 35 years comes across as almost pathetic. And it's not quite fair. Hillary Clinton has made a good faith effort to advance her beliefs and to do some good in the world. While many folks on the other side of the political divide brand her as the antichrist, I could see myself supporting her in a normal campaign cycle. But these are not normal days. And Obama, almost coming from nowhere, represents something entirely new, a chance for real change.

That's where the déjà vu comes from. Because as much as Obama inspires me, he also reminds me of the many times in which we thought we'd turned a corner to better times. John Kennedy announced the passing of the torch to a new generation, and then he was gunned down in Dallas. MLK and Bobby followed soon after. Others, inspired by those three great men, proved to be all too human, possessing the flaws of Shakespearean tragedy. Members of the so-called Silent Majority saw an essential decency in Richard Nixon, and were paid for their faith with Watergate. A generation later, people like me believed in Bill Clinton the president, but grew to be ashamed by Bill Clinton the man. And today we consider the case of Barack Obama. Undoubtedly, Obama could pull it off; he could be president. And so many Americans are ready to believe in their president once more. But what Obama represents, hope, is fragile when compared to history.

GPS: Pick Up Your Visual Scanning

A California man recently illustrated the virtue of that beloved Star Wars quote, "pick up your visual scanning," when he turned onto a railroad track, following the commands of his GPS navigation device. You can imagine what happened next.

Here's a snip from a January 3, 2008, Journal News (Lower Hudson) article:

[Bo] Bai, who works for a Silicon Valley computer tech company, had rented the car from U-Save Car & Truck Rental in New Windsor, N.Y. He was not familiar with the area, and was therefore relying on the GPS device's navigation instructions, officials said.

"One computer brain listening to another," [Metro-North spokesman Dan] Brucker said, chuckling, this morning.

Read the entire article, Driver cited in Bedford train-car crash caused by GPS mishap.

Mobile Phones and Traffic

Researchers at the University of Utah Applied Cognition Laboratory have found that mobile phone usage contributes to traffic.

Here's a snip from a January 3, 2008, New York Times article:

Slower cellphone drivers may be increasing overall commuting times by 5 percent to 10 percent . . . and talking on the phone may increase each daily commuter’s travel time by 20 hours a year.

Read the entire article, Cellphone Users Slow Traffic.

Rise of the Home Office

Julie Scelfo has written an interesting article in the New York Times about the proliferation of home offices, increasingly as a status symbol. Here's a snip from January 3, 2008:

But by 2006, according to data collected by the Dieringer Research Group, a marketing research company in Brookfield, Wis., more than 28 million Americans were working from home at least part time — an increase of 10 percent from just the year before, and 40 percent from 2002. The American Home Furnishings Alliance reports that 7 in 10 Americans now have offices or designated workstations in their homes, a 112 percent increase since 2000. And a recent survey by the National Association of Home Builders found that home offices ranked as the fourth most important feature in a new upscale home, just ahead of security.

Read the entire article, The Office, Housebroken.

Air Phones

I finally came across a December 15, 2007, article in The Economist entitled "Your call," which is about plans by some airlines to experiment with allowing mobile phone usage on selected flights. Some initial innovations in in-flight texting and data transfer surely fall within the realm of appropriate use, but plans for voice-chat give me serious pause:

"Air France's test will begin on an Airbus A318 in the next few weeks . . . At first it will allow only mobile-data access and text messaging, but after three months the voice service will be switched on, too" (p. 76).

Other airlines are watching and some will surely follow suit. I am fearful that the opportunities to cash in yet another revenue stream will eventually trump any concerns about niceties. I can only imagine those inane one-sided dialogues: "Yeah, I'm in the air right now. Flying sucks; it's so boring. Thank goodness I have a phone!" Yep, that's another reason why I prefer traveling by highway.

New Car Guy

During our recent visit to Beaumont, Texas, I spotted another one of those "Car Guys" that I often find along gritty working roads. This one depicts the same mechanic that I've seen elsewhere, only with a different function. I have no idea where Car Guys are designed, when they were first distributed, or what their actual brand of design is called. But in all parts of the country I've found their thick, honest outlines, their flat, angular physiques, and their sensible, no-nonsense attention to duty. They are the kinds of advertisements one would find in an Ayn Rand utopia if Howard Roark or John Galt opened up a garage. Of course, this being Texas, the sign also reads, "Happy Birthday, Jesus." Atlas can only shrug.

(Photograph by Andrew Wood)

Holiday Travels

Jenny and I returned from a week's travel in Florida and Texas, looking at our investment properties in both states, visiting friends, and enjoying some vacation time along the way. We spent hours hanging out with high school friends Mary Napoli (in FL) and Michelle Templin (in TX) and their families, catching up on old times and sharing our more recent adventures. And we did a fair amount of driving in our cheap rent-a-cars. As is typical for our mode of tourism, we awaited our return flight more tired than when we left. It was a fun week, but it was hardly relaxing.

A highlight was our overnight visit to Miami's South Beach, surveying the district's iconic art deco and "Miami Moderne" architecture between leisurely afternoons on the beach. I so enjoy renting an umbrella and a couple of cushioned beach chairs and staring at the waves, watching the birds search for meals, marveling at the acres of beautiful people (some wearing much less than others), and sharing a relaxed conversation with Jenny, (when she's not napping).

Otherwise, our visit centered on research into the local real estate market. While Jenny searched for prices and collected information about agents and amenities, I was entranced by some of the deco houses and apartments on Pennsylvania Avenue. A large number of these properties have been nicely preserved, maintaining their streamlined banding, their window shade "eyebrows," and their nautically themed portholes. I never get tired of South Beach.

The Miami-leg was hardly without a wrinkle, though. We stayed at the Royal South Beach Hotel, snagging a decent rate and digging the retro plastic furniture that had me flashing on 2001: A Space Odyssey. But we discovered too late that our room was positioned over a club whose idea of music seemed to consist only of pounding bass beats -- until 4 a.m. As would be our luck, the night manager could find no other rooms and offered us either a pittance of a partial-rebate or a clean cancellation of our room, as long as we cleared out right then. I suggested that he could keep his partial rebate (giving back a third of our rate for a room in which we could not sleep) and charge us the full amount; we'd be happy to translate every dollar into efforts to publicize our bad experiences with this place. That's how I left it, and that's how I approached the day manager the next morning.

Yet almost before I could speak, she offered me a full rebate and apologized profusely for our lousy night's sleep. While some of the all-night partiers who frequent her property might have no problem with the noise, we clearly were given the wrong room. Believe me, getting the money back was nice, but I was more taken by her genuine desire to make things right for us. At that point the overall experience of the Royal Hotel came into sharp relief: good proximity to the beach, a clean and safe room, and desk staff who offered helpful responses to our tourist questions. When we return to Miami (soon, I hope), we'll give the Royal another try.

We then traveled to Texas, visiting Houston and Beaumont. It was somewhat surreal, peering out onto the yard of our new house in Texas. Jenny and I bought this property as an investment, hoping that the bargain price and built-in equity will justify the necessary repairs we must undertake. I'll admit it: even the foundation of this place needs work, which sounds pretty expensive to me. But Jenny's gamed out the dollars on a spreadsheet and hired an experienced property manager to guide us through the next couple of months. If all goes well, we'll be renting to our second set of tenants by this February. As someone who could never see myself as an absentee landlord, I find this whole process disconcerting. But living in California remains insanely expensive, and we have big (and expensive) plans for our retirement. So, we take on some risk now, while we can afford it.

Along the way, we saw two of nearby Beaumont's attractions -- a unique "muffler man" whose face resembles that of Alfred P. Neuman and a bigger-than-life Dalmatian-colored fire hydrant. Locals claim that hydrant to be the world's largest, but folks who measure these sorts of things rank it as second or third.

We also searched for Texas barbecue, stopping at Luling City Market in Houston (pretty good), Willy Rays in Beaumont (pretty bad, except for excellent sides and sweet tea) and ending up at Goode Co. Texas Bar-B-Q back in Houston (nearly excellent). Of course, Jenny insisted that we find some Bluebell Ice Cream, so we split a pint before dropping off our rental car.

Writing this, we're waiting to catch our flight, Christmas music raining upon us even on New Year's Day. It's bright and sunny and, for a busy flying day, not too crowded. Soon we'll return to our daughter and kitties, ready to start 2008 at home.

(Photos by Andrew and Jenny Wood)