Globalized: Are we more vulnerable?

The answer, of course, is yes.

This is a topic I studied extensively in college and, truth be told, actually frightens me. It's much more rare to hear anyone talk about the potential costs of globalization than the benefits -- those have been clear for decades. Only now are we starting to realize what it all means.

Read this and consider the cost...

The financial crisis began as turmoil in one small segment of the US mortgage market. Within months it had morphed into a global meltdown affecting almost everyone on earth.

"The speed at which these events unfolded was unprecedented," said the World Economic Forum's 2009 report on global risk.

"It has demonstrated just how tightly interconnected globalisation has made the world and its systems."

Jerusalem Post: Why does Obama smile at dictators?

This is an interesting read...

This is a tough one, in truth.

How, after all, can you be diplomatic with Hugo Chavez without appearing to kowtow to a dictator?

Obama's diplomacy is certainly a change from the Bush Administration's, but is it better?

I love this part:

And if Obama feels that he has to be the one to greet a man like Chavez, must it be with the kind of ear-to-ear grin that one might show girl scouts selling cookies? It must surely be disheartening for those who suffer oppression in countries like Venezuela, Cuba and Saudi Arabia to see the American president backslapping their oppressors when these victims have always looked up to the United States as their champions.

My fascination with Jim Jones knows no bounds

It happened again last night.

When PBS aired its re-released documentary on the life of Jim Jones, I went into total shutdown mode. His life and the lives of his followers are so totally fascinating to me I had to watch it twice.

Jonestown: The life and death of People Temple can actually be viewed, in its entirety, online.

Initially, I was struck by the fact that I've actually been to Lynn, Indiana, where Jones was born and raised. As a child, I went on numerous vacations to Richmond, Indiana, with my family to visit one of my mother's best friends and her family.

Richmond is actually where Jones went to high school, but I can remember vividly being in Lynn as a little boy in 1986 and seeing the aftermath of a tornado that ravaged the small town.

In any event, it's just one of those weird connections.

The story of Jonestown is troubling on so many levels. It's a case study of the law of diminishing returns. It's scary to think that one deranged and charismatic individual could brainwash so many.

Emotions are scary things, especially when there are so many people in this world who seize upon them.

His story could scarcely be any more different than that of Clarence Jordan, whose integrated Kibbutz-like community preceded Jones by more than a decade. The difference between the two men, of course, is simple: one was a Christian and the other a false prophet.

He was a personalist dictator who seized upon human inadequacy. In his eyes, equality was expedient.

A few flicks to add to your watch list

I'm no longer the movie buff I was as a child, but I'm not averse to renting DVDs from time to time. Here are a few of my latest picks:

Gran Torino: I actually saw this one at the theater with my girlfriend. She didn't want to go see it (though she didn't tell me that until afterward) but ended up loving it. This film might just be the best ever, at least dollar for dollar. It's easily the best low-budget film I've ever seen, in other words. Clint Eastwood gets credit as writer, actor, producer and director. GT was filmed in Detroit, in one of the scary neighborhoods I once took my AAU basketball team. It's a story about revenge and redemption. Check it out. (Try not to be offended by all the epithets.)

Manda Bala: This is a documentary about corruption and blowback in Brazil. Latin America has been long understand as a region of the world rife with corruption, but often Brazil is seen as the more enlightened and less austere country on the South American block. The film is a mix of corruption, violence and mind-numbing groupthink. Worst of all, it's real. Filmmakers follow a Brazilian plastic surgeon who specializes in the reconstruction of severed ears. The criminal element in Sao Paulo has made a cottage industry of kidnapping. Very often the ear of the captive is cut off and mailed to family members with the demand for money. This is a must-see film for anyone who has ever studied the politics of Latin America.

There will be Blood: I saw this film at the theater a year ago and recently watched it again on DVD. I'm still convinced that this is the film that should have won the Oscar for best picture last year, even though "No Country for Old Men" was a similarly great film. The film is a chronicle of the life of Daniel Plainview, a greedy California oil man at the turn of the 20th century. It's a film about the corrosive affects of money. It's extremely dark and certainly not a feel-good flick. It's based loosely on a book (Oil!) written by Upton Sinclair in the 1920s.

Mr. Smith goes to Washington: Jimmy Stewart stars as Mr. Smith in this 1939 film about inside the beltway Washington. It's the story of what happens to Washington D.C. in the prsence of an honest man and, perhaps more importantly, what happens to that honest man. It's arguably the most controversial film of the era. America needs another Mr. Smith in Washington.

Jimmy Carter: Man from Plains: This is a simple and effective documentary film of the life of Jimmy Carter. For much of the film, Carter is followed as he travels the country promoting his controversial book "Palestine: Peace, not Apartheid." It's a very honest look at the man and a disposition that belies his stature in the world.

Remembering Dr. Matt

For those of you who don't know, the Flint-area lost one of its best and brightest on Monday when Dr. Matthew Hilton-Watson collapsed and died in French Hall on the campus of the University of Michigan in Flint.

Dr. Matt was truly a one-of-a-kind.

I've taken college courses at four different institutions in my life and I can probably remember well no more than a small handful of professors. To truly remember someone, to me, is not simply recalling something they said or how they looked. It's much more than that. To remember, is to have had some knowledge of who they were on a personal level.

Dr. Matt was briliant and didn't know it. He was a cosmopolitan guy who loved nothing more than to talk about his favorite place in the world: Kentucky.

I've never seen a professor who loved being in the classroom more. And it wasn't that he enjoyed the attention, either. He thrived on the comaraderie -- the relationships he built with students.

Dr. Matt taught me a thing or two about French, but a lot more about life. He proved to me that elitism doesn't have to proceed from brilliance.

His love of the classroom was only bested by his love for his family, and never passed on an opportunity to talk about his kids.

Dr. Matt is still teaching, too. To read about what he meant to students, faculty and friends, check out this special page at UM-Flint's website.

The family of Professor Matthew Hilton-Watson has requested that the memorial service be held at the University of Michigan-Flint. The memorial service will take place on Friday, March 27 at 3:00 p.m. in the University Theatre. The entire campus community is invited to the celebration of Dr. Matt’s life and work.

Merry Christmas from the Field family of one

Here's the thing: I've never sent a Christmas card in my life, but I've received a few. I know that many families send these cute little picture cards featuring each member, alongside the family pets, flanked by stockings in front of the fireplace. Now, don't get me wrong, I love the pictures; that being said, what I enjoy most is the letter that often accompanies the picture. You know, the one that gives you the rundown of everything everyone is doing with their life. With that in mind, I figured that I would write one of my own. After all, it has been a long time since I've written anything in this blog.

Here goes...

* I have been dating a beautiful 25-year-old CCU nurse named Jessi since round about November. I'd be more specific about the actual date, but it's hard to say when the relationship went from friendship to more than that. I liked her from the start; she liked me from about the 3/4 pole--forgive the horse racing reference. Neither of us is all too interested in moving fast, though you wouldn't know it by the way I fawn over her. In any event, I don't know where the relationship will take us, but I've sure been blessed to have her in my life for the past few months. We're actually a lot different, but I think that's what makes it exciting. I've learned a lot about myself since being with her; namely, I don't know what I'm doing in a relationship.

* I'm continuing in my position as a reporter/columnist/writer/blogger/photographer at the Flint Journal. I enjoy the work, but I also know that the prospect of staying there very much longer is pretty bleak. Newspapers are like the auto industry sans the federal bridge loans. I just don't have much confidence in the future of the Journal and morale is at an all-time low in that building. Even so, I've always been treated fairly by the Journal (heck, they've kept me around for like seven years) and I don't regret the time I've put in there.

* I've been writing a lot about politics in the past few months. It's becoming painfully obvious to me that my first love, at least with respect to hobbies, is politics. I always thought it was sports first and politics second, but I was wrong.

* I recently ordered testing materials for the LSAT. For those of you who don't know, it's the test you have to take to be accepted to any law school worth its salt in this country. I've mulled over the decision for quite some time, and I'm convinced that it's worth looking into. All my life people have told me that I should go into politics. One of my good friends, Mike Jones (a doctor in Pittsburgh), is convinced that I could go a long way in the arena, claming that I have "no skeletons in the closet." I guess the score will make the decision for me. If it's high enough, I will be eligible for all kinds of grants and scholarships. If not, I'll vacuum the turf at Toronto's Skydome or something.

* I'm still attending First Presbyterian Church in downtown Flint and I love it. I continue to be involved in the PIPE ministry and I also teach Sunday School to high schoolers every week. I cannot imagine a more relevant and involved church anywhere.

* I'm currently reading a book about Jesus to coincide with my Sunday School curriculum. I recently listened to an audiobook by Pat Buchanan and I am in the middle of another by Chris Matthews. That's knowledge moving right to left, friends. I also just watched one of the greatest films ever made: Mr. Smith goes to Washington (1939). If you haven't seen it, go grab a copy.

* Finally, I have only a little more than three weeks left of basketball season. If Mott Community College wins their regional tournament this weekend, I will be heading back to Danville, Illinois for the national tournament in a couple weeks. It's a unique little town and it would be my third trip in three years on the basketball beat at the Journal.

My weekend with Jessi, Jewel

It's a fact that even Ripley would find hard to believe: I'd never been to a Jewel concert. I can say that in the past tense now, and it feels really good.

Here's the skinny: Last month Jessi (some of you know her as the girl I've been courting with varying degrees of success for months) instructed me to make sure I had January 23rd and 24th off from work. Why? Well, I wasn't totally sure.

All she told me was that she wanted me to attend the wedding of her friend from work on the afternoon of the 24th -- that was the extent of my information on the subject. I knew the who (though I didn't really know her), the what and the why. I didn't know the where, and that was a little odd.

That was the first mystery of many.

I kept asking why I needed free time on Friday, and she wouldn't sing. Finally Friday rolled around and she picked me up around five in the afternoon. That morning she left me a list of things I might need that included a passport or birth certificate.

Ok, who gets married in Canada (to my homosexual friends, my apologies)?

And so, we hopped in Rhonda (that's what we call her two-door Honda Civic) and headed south on I-75. Still listening to the Heroes soundtrack I got her, we arrived at the entrance to the Detroit-Windsor tunnel, paid the toll and answered the first of many questions from the border patrol.

The first one was the only one I cared about, though:

"What are your plans for the evening?"

Since Jessi was driving, it saved me the embarrassment (and possible incarceration) of shrugging my shoulders. Jessi told him that we were "going gambling", something I know now she doesn't even do -- unless you count dating chumps like me.

We arrived in Windsor around 7 p.m. and promptly made our way to probably the nicest restaurant I've ever been to. It was called Park Terrace (here's the virtual tour), comeplete with a dining area that overlooks the downtown Detroit Skyline, brighter than normal because of the North American International Auto Show at Cobo.

(Apart from the menu prices, this was my kind of joint. Everything they served was described in French and English. It gave me ample opportunity to show off my far above average French /r/.)

There were only five people in the restaurant at the time, so it was pretty quaint for a Friday night. The food at the Park Terrace was way out of my league, but I managed to eat some of it -- neither of us was as hungry as we should have been.

Somehow we managed to eat dessert (I always have room for cheesecake) and then our waitress, Dana, broke Park Terrace's zero tolerance no pet policy when she let the cat out of the bag.

Neither of us had our cell phones, so Jessi asked Dana for the time. It was later than she thought so she promptly asked how far it was to Caesar's Casino by foot (about four blocks as it turned out).

"You guys going to see Jewel?"

Not my Jewel. Not the Jewel that I've been in love with since I was 17. She wasn't in Windsor that night, was she? I knew she was supposed to be in Mt. Pleasant on Saturday, but I had no idea she was just a frigid quarter-mile swim across the Detroit river on Friday night.

Jessi, who told me earlier in the evening that we had to be at the Casino before 9 p.m. in order to get free five-dollar vouchers (she's an excellent liar), played it cool.

The look on her face was perfect. It was as if she was feigning embarassment that she took me to gamble in Windsor without knowledge of the concert. I took the bait, hook, line and sinker. I was actually trying not to make her feel bad for not knowing about the show, even though there was no knowledge on my side of the table.

After she paid the bill -- Lord only knows how much -- we ran (literally) down Riverside Street to Caesar's. The only problem, of course, was that I wasn't in as big of a hurry as she was. By this time it was past nine, and I just knew they wouldn't give us our five free bucks (and I was sure it was Canadian, any way).

We got to Caesar's and I nearly lost Jessi who, again, was running faster than me. I was, however, fast enough to breeze right by the 19-and-over sign that elicited a "stop young man!" call from a security guard. (Getting stopped for an I.D. check at a 19-and-over joint is a new low for me.)

Jessi made it to the box office, a country mile away from the actual venue, where she had two tickets for Jewel's acoustic set on reserve. She had been planning it for a couple months, and was sick that I would somehow find out. Apparently she had only told two people about it -- her mother and Jim Pope.

It was probably the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.

For as much money as she spent on the evening (I shudder to think of it), it crossed my mind that she must have paid off a roadie to have a seizure backstage or something. We were 25 minutes late and didn't miss a minute of the 90-minute set. And while she was paying him, she must have paid Jewel to sing my favorite song first (after a warm-up).

Throughout the show, I took stock of the males in the 5,000-seat auditorium at Caesar's and, much to my surprise, none of them looked like they wanted to be there. I wish I could have seen the faces of the people behind me, when Jessi told them that she surprised me with tickets to the concert. Their faces probably looked like the border patrol agent's on our return to Michigan. He asked where we'd been, and Jessi told him.

"Are you a fan?" he inquired. "No," she said. "But he is."

He tilted his head down to see me in the passenger seat and looked somewhat mortified. I was just sure he would tell us to pull over so some Homeland Security agent in his regimentals could check my manhood.

If you care, here was her set list for the evening:

1. Somewhere Over the Rainbow
2. Near You Always
3. Carnivore
4. Everything Breaks Sometime
5. Last Dance Rodeo
6. Life Uncommon
7. Hands
8. Boy Needs a Bike
9. Race Car Driver
10. Standing Sill
11. Perfectly Clear
12. The Shape of You
13. Intuition
14. Foolish Games
15. Little Sister
16. You Were Meant For Me
17. Who Will Save Your Soul
Encore
18. Angel Standing By
19. Chime Bells/Yodeling