My Abortion Bill

Given that

Here is my brainstorm on how we can decrease the number of abortions and encourage a life-honoring culture. These ideas can be enacted in both blue states and red, regardless of the current legal status of abortion.

Prevent

  • Offer hormonal birth control over the counter.
  • Provide sex-ed courses that emphasize contraceptives and consent.
  • Review, reform, and improve enforcement of laws punishing non-consensual sex.
  • Invest in research for improved birth control methods, particularly male birth control.

Provide

  • Job security
    1. At least six weeks paid family leave for all employees.
    2. Prohibit discrimination based on pregnancy or parental status.
    3. Review and revise laws to ensure that fathers receive the same incentives to care for children that mothers do.
  • Healthcare
    1. Invest in maternal health centers in population centers with the worst maternal death rates.
    2. Maternal care funding for all women below a certain income level.
    3. Fund early childhood medical care.
    4. Set up a health commission for improving maternal health outcomes.
  • Childcare
    1. Pass and fund a child payment plan (such as Senator Romney’s).
    2. Invest in childcare centers in low-income communities.
    3. Revise laws that may discourage multi-generational households, i.e. prohibit zoning laws and HOA rules that prohibit non-nuclear-family households.
  • Education
    1. Expand public schools to include pre-k programs, including funding for new buildings and teachers
    2. Create incentives for school districts to increase teacher pay before investing in any other infrastructure.

Happy Fourth?

I don’t believe we live in the greatest country on earth.

I’m not even sure what metric could possibly determine that. In so many we fall short of many other nations.

But, the United States is my home, so I love it. It’s beautiful and majestic. I love that people from everywhere live here. I love the vast array of knowledge and traditions and languages spoken here. I love that we can say and believe many different things.

I love that we declared to the world so long ago that all people are created equal. I love that our founding day remembers a committee-drafted legal document declaring that sovereignty rests in the people.

We don’t live those ideals perfectly, yet. Coming anywhere close has been a long, slow, bloody process. I hope that we can keep striving to come ever closer, despite our many backward steps. I hope we can remember that “all men” is a synecdoche, not for “all European men” but for “all humans.” Every man, woman, and child of every race, creed, gender, orientation, or any other identity we use to divide ourselves, was created by a loving God and given the same inalienable rights.

I hope we can shed the harmful ideas and partisanship that dominate our culture.

I hope we remember that no man or party or belief is more important than our neighbor.

Be safe and I hope you can find something to be grateful for today.

Liberal Tears

Liberal tears mug

I’m not embarrassed to admit I cry.

I cried on the day Donald Trump was elected. At the time I was working in downtown Austin. I didn’t have much to do (I rarely did. It wasn’t exactly fulfilling or demanding work), which was fortunate, because I was having a hard time feeling anything but depressed. A protest had begun not far from my building. They were marching north up Congress Avenue toward the Texas Capitol. When they were close, I left my office and walked the few blocks to watch them pass. I didn’t join, but I empathized far more with them than with the winners of that election.

I cried because Donald Trump had hurt a lot of people to get to the White House. He’d insulted and bullied his way to the top. He stoked fear and rage over imaginary foes. He placed himself – a cowardly, unfaithful, narcissistic, perpetual liar – as some sort of savior of hard-working, honest, God-fearing America.

My grandfathers fought in World War II and the Korean War. One was in the Navy. His boat was torpedoed and sunk in the Pacific. The other was in the Marines. He flew bombing runs over North Korea and miraculously survived a plane crash when a wingmate’s plane exploded. After nearly giving their lives for their country, each came home to serve their families and communities. With my grandmothers, they taught their children, my parents, to be some of the best people I will ever know.

Those men, and their wives, sacrificed for and preserved institutions that I fervently believe in – a representative democratic government, religion, and family. I believe in those institutions because I believe that they are the best means of preserving all that mankind has accomplished and passing it on to the next generation. I grew up conservative, believing that conserving these institutions was a great cause. I saw liberals as a threat – they were part of a movement that wanted to burn it all down. Perhaps their intentions were good – I certainly understood that things were broken – but without the framework these institutions had provided, things were bound to fall apart. A movement couldn’t replace an institution.

I voted accordingly in 2008 and 2012. I saw John McCain and Mitt Romney as a bulwark against some of the more radical ideas Obama campaigned on. I did start seeing some of the warning signs in 2012. As a politically-curious law student, I thought I’d like to get involved in Romney’s campaign. As I listened to his primary messaging, however, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I don’t remember what exactly he said, but I knew I didn’t want to associate myself that closely with it.

2016 changed everything. I happened to be in the room when a family member watched Trump’s announcement speech. He parroted ideas that my conservative education at home, church, and at BYU had taught me were little more than lies. I told myself at the time that no one would take this seriously.

I was wrong and it hurt. It still hurts. Trump harnessed and created a movement. A movement that, as I see it, is antithetical to nearly everything I was taught. I was taught to be kind. I was taught to be honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous, and do good to all men. I couldn’t reconcile those teachings with Trump’s movement. It mystified me, and still does, how people with the same upbringing as me, who were taught the same articles of faith, could embrace that movement, or at least tolerate it.

The next 4 years were a trial in many ways. No need to repeat them here. Then, we experienced January 6. There certainly has been some conspiracy theory mongering and exaggerated rhetoric around that day. But it also was certainly not a “tourist trip.” It was a dangerous and embarrassing day for our country. It was the day that lay bare for all the world to see that Trump’s movement had one endpoint (intentional or not) – burning down our institutions.

I want January 6 to be the low point of American democracy and American Christianity. I had some hope on January 7 that enough other people felt the same way that we could turn the corner. A lot of those hopes have been dashed in the last year.

I still don’t get it. In conversations over the last couple years it’s been implied, if not expressly said, that I am the problem, that my questions are a threat to other’s faith, that my efforts to seek compassion are a pathway for evil influences. I’ve been called worse than the devil.

I’m tempted to disengage, to just shut up. In many ways I have. I post on Facebook far less often. This blog has been quieter.

I know I don’t have all the answers. I am just as susceptible to the pull of the Algorithmic Narrative as everyone else. But I’d like to think that my questions and thoughts add something to the conversation.

I still believe in the promise of America – the idea that a diverse community of people can cooperatively govern themselves. I still believe in the promise of Christianity – that the children of God can, through faith in Christ, build a beloved community that cares for everyone. I still believe that I can and must teach these values to my children. But I feel far less optimistic about the survival of these institutions than before.

I’m not shutting up. Not completely. And I’m not entirely sure what the point of this post is. I suppose it’s simply a way to process some of my feelings and a hope that it may help those who read it process their feelings.

I don’t really think of myself as a liberal. I’d lean toward calling myself an institutionalist. But if you need anything to fill your cup of tears, I’ll lend them.

Stephen Sondheim

Celebrity deaths I have noted: Leonard Nemoy, Carrie Fisher, Chuck Yeager, Sean Connery, Ruth Bader Ginsburg. The list goes on. I haven’t personally known any of these people, but each has contributed in some way to something I love. I was sad to hear of their passing. Then Stephen Sondheim passed away and I found myself, for the first time, crying over the death of someone I didn’t know. What was going on?

I’m not really a Stephen Sondheim fan. I don’t dislike his work; I don’t know most of it. I saw the 1961 movie adaptation of “West Side Story” once and have heard the music as often as any American. I know a little about “Sweeney Todd.” But then there is “Into the Woods.”

I first heard “Into the Woods” around 20 years ago. My sister was working on a project for one of her classes; it was a paper or report on “Into the Woods.” She had the CD and as she listened to it, I picked up the booklet inside the CD cover and started reading. I found a little masterclass on storytelling inside. I learned about the power of symbols (such as the woods). I learned how protagonists stand in the audience’s place. I learned that many of the most interesting stories explore beyond “happy ever after.”

I returned to the music and listened as the characters traveled into the woods and accomplished their goals. The music was fun. It was nice to see how the characters met their challenges. It was satisfying to see them reach their happy ever after. But that was only the first act.

The challenges of life didn’t stop. New ones, heart-breaking ones, arose. The play ends on a more ambiguous, but far more powerful note. Characters have been betrayed. Some have died. It’s a lonelier and sadder ending, but those who are there at the end keep going. They help each other. They’ve found each other in the woods.

I didn’t get it all back then. But I loved it. I listened to that CD many, many times. When a local theater put on a production and one of the actresses (who went to church with my family) invited us, I happily went. Seeing the play in person was even better. Not only did I hear all the dialogue that wasn’t on the CD, but I was also introduced to a trope I love – the narrator interacting with the characters and the audience.

Over the years I’ve continued to listen to “Into the Woods,” but I’ve never explored any other Stephen Sondheim work. Up until last week, I would have just said “Into the Woods” was a musical I really enjoyed.

Then I heard the news of his passing. “How sad,” I thought. As I read the tributes online, people quoting his most powerful lines, sharing how he touched their lives, my eyes kept filling with tears. Why? I didn’t understand why.

“The Daily” podcast episode from December 3, which may have brought the most tears, helped me answer that question. In it the theater critic, Jesse Green, spent a few moments towards the end explaining “Finishing the Hat.” They play a part of the song (which I hadn’t heard before) and then explain how it explores an artist’s dedication to art, despite the cost. It capped a discussion of how Stephen Sondheim loved the art he was creating and valued it and encouraged others to produce art. His message? It’s worth it.

Which brings me back to the question: why did Stephen Sondheim’s death cause a casual fan grief? The best I can explain it, “Into the Woods” has given shape to my desire to be a storyteller. Reading that CD cover 20 years ago started a journey that I’ve only recently accepted as mine. Stephen Sondheim’s efforts to reimagine old stories, his ability to explore the complexities of life with nuance, his effort to elevate his artform have all stuck with me.

As I listened to the Daily’s exploration of Sondheim’s work, I thought about my own doubts. I have a law degree. I have kids to take care of. I never even actually wrote a draft of a book until a couple of years ago. Does the world need another writer? Does this really make sense?

Stephen Sondheim was telling me, yes. I spent 7 years studying economics, philosophy, and law. That was valuable time I spent trying to find meaning in the world around me, figuring out why it is shaped the way it is. And now it’s time for me to share that journey with others, to help them find meaning.

Maybe you’re rolling your eyes. Books are just entertainment, right?

Or maybe not. Is that just my inner critic?

Stories are all we have to make sense of the world. So, I’m doing it. I’m making a hat. Because I know things now I hadn’t known before. I know that Stephen Sondheim, without ever knowing I existed, helped nurture a love of stories in my heart. He showed me that stories can shape lives. I hope to someday produce something that can shape another’s life.

Children Will Listen

I didn’t realize until today, but Stephen Sondheim taught me the power stories have in our lives. I’ve been enjoying and learning from his music for the last two decades and my life is immeasurably better for it. I share stories with my children knowing that they will listen.

Thank you Stephen for writing and writing and writing and sharing it all with the world.

A word on weight

I’ve usually been pretty comfortable with my weight. For most of my life, it wasn’t something I thought about much, which is a reflection of viewing myself as medium-size. I’ve always known people who were smaller and people who were larger. Of course, whether I actually was medium-size is up for debate. I also thought I was tall for a while, because I was tall in 8th grade. My college roommate (who had been shorter than me in 8th grade) disabused me of that notion. This lesson has stuck with me: my perception about myself can be pretty flawed.

Right now I weigh less than I have for the last 5 years (and probably longer. This is just as long as I’ve had a scale in my house). I have mixed feelings about sharing this with the world. For one thing, I’ve never been big on dieting. I was raised in a home that didn’t focus much on outward appearance. The impact of our eating on our weight was never discussed (that I remember).

My parents taught us the typical lessons learned from their depression-era parents: be grateful for what you have, eat what’s available, and finish your plate. Both working and raising 7 kids, the meals they made needed to fill two criteria: most of us needed to eat them and they needed to be relatively quick to make. We had lots of processed foods, but there were always fresh fruits and vegetables (not always served with the meal, but they were in the house).

I think my parents did pretty good threading the needle of a society obsessed with thinness and saving time (a combination leading to our obsession with both fast food and fad dieting). That said, there are some things I’ve learned since getting married and being introduced to a different family’s food culture.

First, how to recognize when I’m full. Until recently, my main gauge was whether I’d eaten more than everyone else. After all, men are supposed to eat the most, right? But as I’ve tried to imitate my wife – who is very good at listening to her body – I’ve begun to recognize that I won’t waste away if I stop eating before I feel uncomfortable. Second, breakfast doesn’t come with fruits or veggies. I’m still struggling with this one. My time in Australia actually revealed to me the fact that American breakfast is just an excuse to start the day with dessert. At one of the first activities I attended after I arrived, the Elders’ Quorum (the congregation’s men’s group) played basketball and had pancakes. At 10 in the morning, that seemed sensible to me. Then they served the pancakes with ice cream on top. I was surprised and when I said so, they said, “Pancakes are a dessert, so why not put ice cream on top?” And, well, I’ve couldn’t gainsay them. Third, carbs are not the base of the food pyramid. Why they were placed there in government messaging is a topic for another post, but most of a meal should be fruits and veggies. My favorite guide for how much of various categories to put on your plate is here. Once again, my wife’s example has helped a lot here. Though there is a little part of me that’s sad I’m not baking more often.

Thanks for reading a likely somewhat boring, oddly personal post. This was me priming my brain for writing my novel (which will be less boring, I promise…I hope).

Every word here is a word not in my novel…

So I’ll keep this short. I have written every day of November so far, but yesterday was the only day I hit the word count necessary to hit 50k by the end of the month. It takes focus and determination and some sacrifice. And I’m also trying to build a paver patio in my backyard…. My brain and my body will be very sore for the next few weeks, I think.

Well, back to it. Need to hit 2000 words today to start getting back on track and I’m 174 words in.

NaNoWriMo 2021

One month. 50,000 words. 3rd time.

I have an outline, some characters, and some world details fleshed out; which is far more prep than for either of the previous two novels I wrote.

Today I need 1667 words. Wish me luck!

Thomas Jefferson

The New York City Council voted to remove a statue of Thomas Jefferson from the city council chambers. I feel ambivalent about it, but thought I might work out some thoughts in a post.

Art is a symbol. Symbols have power because they enable us to capture ideas and communicate them to others. Art in particular has power because it conveys information and emotion – a great deal of it. It compels us to feel and think. Good art compels us to feel and think different feelings and thoughts, leading to introspection and conversation, allowing us to learn about each other and ourselves. This is one reason I find “preachy art” so annoying. If the only conversation it promotes is, “I agree” or “I disagree,” then it has failed its purpose as art; it’s become propoganda (which has its place, but that’s a topic for another post).

By this criteria, it seems that the statue of Thomas Jefferson at issue is probably good art. It inspires feelings of patriotism and pride in some. It reminds some of Jefferson’s words that “all men are created equal.” Its creator crafted it to celebrate Jefferson’s efforts to establish religious freedom. For others, it reminds them of the blatant hypocrisy of so many of the founding fathers; that despite their rhetoric about freedom and equality, most of them owned slaves. It reminds some that for the majority of the time our constitutional government has existed, the rhetoric of freedom has coincided with unequal treatment – lawful and unlawful – of immigrants, Jews, Catholics, Irish, Black people, Native people, Hispanics, and more.

It is valuable for each of us to share what we see in art such as this. I think public art should reflect the ideals of the community as a whole. There will always be some people who are offended by a work of art. It seems every installation of public art draws protest. There will always be people who love art that offends the majority. These are public debates in which everyone deserves a voice. But eventually a decision has to be made and in our system of government, the majority should be making that decision.

Fortunately, because art is open to interpretation, the story we tell about art is just as important as the art itself. The statue of Thomas Jefferson is either a tribute to religious freedom or a symbol of white supremacy, depending on who tells the story. Its removal can be a story of iconoclasm and fear taking over our society or it can be a story of our continuing effort to better ourselves as a people and as a nation. We control the story we tell ourselves and each other. The stories that are told the most powerfully, the stories that inspire hope, the stories that advocate for good can win, but only if we tell them. If we spend our time repeating – out of fear – the stories the degrade and detract, then fear wins. This doesn’t require we never change what art we place in public spaces! But I think it is valuable to see if you can try to craft an inspiring story about whatever art is placed there, even if you preferred a different choice.

Perhaps we could avoid all this debate by getting rid of all the statues. My ancestors – both Mormon and, further back, Protestant – rejected the use of most art in public spaces. While I think they went too far – visiting Italy showed me how statues can be an expression of beauty and assist in worship – I have sympathy for their reasoning.

One of the early purveyors of the anti-art attitudes was Savonarola, a monk who preached in Renaissance Florence. Savonarola sought to rid the city of sin by burning all the vanities – priceless works of art and academia that Savonarola considered evidence of and encouragement to sin. Savonarola saw this art, particularly those pieces inspired by ancient Greeks and Romans, as corrupting and distracting from the work of God. He inspired gangs of young men to go around the city gathering these vanities to be burned in a public bonfire. His preaching was apparently persuasive and infectious. Few people were willing to publicly speak out or defy these efforts, including vaunted intellectuals and artists who were contemporaries of and mentors to Michelangelo.

The burning of the vanities was a tragedy, but we can recognize that Savonarola’s criticisms have a source. The Catholic Church of his time had lost its way, focused on maintaining the power of Rome and the clergy, rather than bringing Christ to the people and the people to Christ. His efforts, along with many other reformers, did push the Church to reevaluate it’s mission and how it was achieving it. Unfortunately, it acted too slowly and too late to prevent schism.

Regardless, Savonarola’s mission failed. Destroying statues didn’t fix the hearts of people. Art can inspire and educate, but it is an expression of our ideas, not the wellspring. Stamping out offensive art may hide our sins, but it does not erase them.

We can see today’s Savonarolas as extremists and seek to “excommunicate” them, denying not just the expression of their claims, but also the substance. I fear that this will lead to further division. Instead, I think this is an opportunity to refocus our country and our ideals. We are not a nation of men, but of laws. We are not Thomas Jefferson’s country, but the country of the Declaration of Independence. He may have penned the words, but he was no god nor saint.

If we believe in our ideals, we need to recognize the ways we fall short of them. Too many people are left out of the prosperity of the nation. It is harder to be a mother, an immigrant, a Black person, a gay person. We may have passed the Civil Rights Act decades ago, but rooting racism and other bigotry out of our culture and institutions is an ongoing work. You can’t expect to overcome the culture and attitudes of centuries in only one generation.

Let’s not pull down all the statues and let’s certainly not destroy them. It would do far more to place tributes to the enslaved and colonized around (and perhaps above) the enslavers and colonizers. We would not be here without any of them, flawed as every single one of them were. We can pay tribute to all our ancestors, both by birth and by ideals. The greatest tribute to them, though, will go far beyond statues.

The greatest tribute will be continuing to put their ideas about equality into practice and perfecting the techniques and government they gave us. The founding fathers were not reactionaries seeking to preserve the old. They were revolutionaries looking to create something new and better than what came before. We should do the same, seeking to recognize the flaws in the institutions created by these flawed men and improve on them. That will honor them and benefit us far more than any statue.

A couple articles I found while writing this:

Thomas Jefferson Was More Than a Man of His Times – The Atlantic

Opinion | The Debate Over a Jefferson Statue Is Missing Some Surprising History – The New York Times (nytimes.com)

Choose Parenthood: No other success can compensate for failure in the home

The other day Alisha and I were watching The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio. We read the book (I recommend) and thought we’d enjoy the film. I did, up until the mom was interrupted in some task to clean up the poop her toddler had smeared all over the living room. Too real.

I was (and still am) in the midst of potty-training my 3 year-old and have a toddler in diapers. I’ve got housework that kids are always interrupting. It simply was not enjoyable for me to watch a film about someone dealing with the same things.

Of course, no one’s going to write a book or make a film about my life. Alisha isn’t a deadbeat alcoholic spending all her earnings before she gets home. I have an advanced degree, meaning I don’t have to resort to the whims of contest judges to support my kids, should the need arise.

What about that advanced degree, though?

Let me bring you back to ten years ago this month. Alisha and I arrived in Austin, ready for the next big step in our lives. I had dreams of clerking for a judge and maybe becoming a judge myself someday. Whatever the end, law school was about to start and I was excited for this step that I had worked toward for years. Alisha had a good job and would work through law school to cut down on our debt load.

A few times during law school and since, some decision points have come in which I made a decision many men do not make. I prioritized caregiving. Now, I never planned to be the primary caregiver for my children. If I’d had different job opportunities, there’s a good chance my daily schedule would look very different than it does now. But life worked out the way it did and I’ve learned some powerful lessons because of that.

At the core is this: for the sake of women, children, families, and men, we need men to step up in the home.

Men belong in the home

I grew up in a conservative community, yet my parents modeled a non-conservative partnership. My parents each worked full-time. Even though this was my day-to-day reality, I perceived our family as a sort of aberration. The ideal was 1950s America – the father should be the sole breadwinner and the mother should be the caregiver and homemaker. But because my mother worked as a nurse, my dad would cook, clean, and take care of kids when he was able. Of course, since he commuted for hours everyday, in reality my siblings and I did a lot of that work.

This equal partnership in my parents marriage – sharing the burden of housework, meals, and childcare – modeled behavior that is healthier for everyone. My mother has lived a fulfilling life because she has pursued the dream she had since she was 9 – to be a nurse. My siblings and I have a healthy relationship with my father because he was present and involved in our lives. My father never was under the illusion that it was ok to come home from work and sit down in front of the tv while there were dishes to be done or floors that needed cleaning. I attribute a lot of the success my siblings and I have had to my father present in our home.

I’m not saying that I think women should all have careers outside the home. What I am saying is that being present at home should be automatic for men the way it is for many women.

A father is a father first

We often think of women as mothers first and if they have a career, that’s a nice bonus. Men, on the other hand, have a career first and are fathers second. If the man doesn’t have a career, he’s falling short. This is wrong! I often grew up hearing the phrase, “No other success can compensate for failure in the home.” If only we truly believed that! If it were so, we would be less judgmental of men who truly prioritize their children.

Now, I will point out that I personally have received nothing but support. No one has, that I am aware of, ever accused me of being lazy or somehow neglecting my duties as a man. But years of cultural indoctrination have made it difficult for me to fully accept my current role in life, free of guilt. Maybe this is a me problem. But if you happen to share this problem, welcome to the club! You and I, we’re still doing our part! Our work at home is just as important to society as any work we could do in an office.

If we do believe this, it should reflect in our legal and corporate policies. Paternal leave should be just as common as maternal. Fathers should be expected to scale back their work when they have young children. Peter Panning from Hook should be the exception, not the rule. No corporation should demand that workers put the company first. There are certainly some moves toward this, but we have a lot of work left to do.

Men need to share the mental burden

While I was still in law school I learned first hand some of the cultural norms I’d internalized, despite the household I grew up in. We had our first child in the middle of my second year. When it was time for Alisha to return to work, she spent a great deal of time thinking about childcare for our daughter. I gave some input, but largely left it up to her. She eventually brought up that we had never discussed who should be in charge of childcare. I’d simply assumed she would take care of it. There is a little personality at play here – Alisha is more of a planner than I am. But enough women have written about this topic in the years since that I know there’s more to it than just our individual quirks.

To have a truly equal partnership, men and women need to share the mental burden. That doesn’t mean that men should always be picking the daycare. It does mean that parents need to discuss it and figure out who will take the lead. I’ve tried to be better about this since those early childcare days. I still have room for improvement, but I think I’ve gotten better over the years, more often considering questions about childcare, child-rearing, and other traditionally women-led topics.

My parents never set out to defy tradition or to be revolutionary. Neither did I. We simply did what we needed to so that we had enough to eat and a place to sleep. The result actually looks a lot like most of history – men and women doing what is necessary to provide for the family, care for the children, and maintain their house. While the sole breadwinner nuclear family can be an incredible privilege, it is exactly that – a privilege. For most people, it is out-of-reach. A healthier, more universally obtainable approach is for the adults in the home to discuss how they will earn an income and divide the housework and childcare.

The ideal American family should be one in which the couple communicate openly and often about how they will share their roles as providers, parents, and homemakers. For many people, that may look a lot more like Leave it to Beaver than my childhood and current home. The exact division of labor isn’t what’s important. What matters is that men are involved in the lives of their spouses and their children and are truly living the reality that success in the home is the greatest contribution to society they can make.

Now I better stop neglecting my children…