Carving out a place and a name for yourself, to leave a legacy, is never easy. This is particularly true for us childless, who will leave no descendants behind when we go. We either find ourselves trying to be content with the knowledge that we’ll be forgotten somewhat easier than most; or we have to be much more intentional and deliberate about leaving our legacy. I perhaps feel this a little more keenly than most, for two reasons. Keep Reading »
One of Atlanta’s more venerable institutions, Atlanta Medical Center, closed down today amidst a huge public outcry. Accusations have been flying and finger-pointing is happening in all directions; the political implications are significant. There’s no doubt that many in the community are upset. That said, a closer look at the situation leaves me scratching my head. Despite claims, this situation has been developing for years; and further, the hospital really wasn’t providing that much of a public service anymore.
Over fifty years ago, anthropologist Margaret Mead observed that the world has the ability to feed everyone who inhabits it. She goes on to credit this capacity to increased agricultural production technology and the advancement of nutritional science, and argues that the advancements, therefore, are good for society.
Both of these scientific advancements have continued into the twenty-first century, increasing our knowledge. But it’s less clear whether advancements in those areas have actually increased the average consumer’s awareness of food. In fact, there is significant evidence that, at least in the United States, society has become the victim of its own success. Despite all of the advances in technology and information that have been gained, individual members of society are making their eating decisions on a less and less informed basis.
I had a Twitter exchange with Father Dwight Longenecker recently, in response to his article about how, exactly, we Catholics should go about bringing diversity, equity and inclusion into our parishes. That “how” question is extremely valid and completely on point: all the talk in the world won’t address the issues. We Catholics need to actually do something to make the Church on Earth more welcoming.
My Tweeted response was simply an enumeration of the Corporal Works of Mercy. In response, Fr. Longenecker asked if I’d actually read his blog post, and I confirmed that I had. I will admit that my initial short intent was to be a bit lighthearted, within the bounds of 140 characters, but there was a definite point behind my response. I wasn’t attempting to be “gimmicky.”
Are we ready for an end to employer-sponsored group health insurance?
Mike Markland, the CEO of an employee benefits consulting firm, certainly thinks so. In a recent viewpoint piece written for Employee Benefit News, he opined that employers that “want to attract talent in this new world will need to offer individual choice of health insurance the same way they now need to offer remote work.” He believes this so strongly, in fact, that the primary focus of his consulting involves showing employers how, exactly, to accomplish this; and in his opinion piece, he presents the idea as something cutting-edge and new.
While his presentation is good, experienced benefits professionals will easily recognize that this is far from a new idea. It has been tried before, more than once. It didn’t work then, and — unfortunately — it’s not going to work now. It’s going to be tried again in the future sometime, and it should be, because hopefully someday we will see an extinction of the dinosaur that is employer-sponsored group health. But we’re not to that point yet. Neither employers nor employees are ready.
In a now-deleted post, I announced that while I still support the premise and idea behind National Novel Writing Month (also known as NaNoWriMo), and while I still support many of their original initiatives, I’m no longer going to be participating. A quick Google search indicates that I’m far from alone in making the decision to dissociate myself in recent years, but doing so left me with a dilemma: what else could I do to keep myself accountable for writing every day?
Bill McKibben’s liberal use of humor in The Only Way to Have a Cow disarms the reader and suggests a friendly-but-informative approach about vegetarian eating. Unfortunately, beyond appeals to emotion and worn-out clichés, he doesn’t deliver on the promise of that humor: instead, the essay is a trivial addition to the ongoing debate. Worse, his approach makes assumptions about a reader’s background that may or may not actually be correct. Ultimately, in terms of calories, this essay is like sugar candy: delightful, but empty.