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A Great Task Lies Before Us, but First We Sleep |
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Written by <a href="index.php?option=com_comprofiler&task=userProfile&user=48687"><span class="small">Garrison Keillor, Garrison Keillor's Blog</span></a>
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Sunday, 25 November 2018 14:42 |
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Keillor writes: "Small sorrows speak; great sorrows are silent. My current small sorrow is a daily flood of junk e-mail - cheap insurance, health nostrums, hernia repair, free loans, travel discounts, an app to find out if your spouse is unfaithful - a stream of crap generated in Orlando."
Garrison Keillor. (photo: NPR)

A Great Task Lies Before Us, but First We Sleep
By Garrison Keillor, Garrison Keillor's Blog
25 November 18
mall sorrows speak; great sorrows are silent. My current small sorrow is a daily flood of junk e-mail — cheap insurance, health nostrums, hernia repair, free loans, travel discounts, an app to find out if your spouse is unfaithful — a stream of crap generated in Orlando. In tiny print at the bottom is “If you wish to unsubscribe, click here,” and I click there and the stuff keeps coming, an infestation of electronic cockroaches.
Meanwhile the great sorrow, the troubled state of our democracy, hangs in the air, the beloved country riven by dishonesty and invincible ignorance.
So I’m taking a vacation from the news. There’s a red tide of it daily and a person needs to think his own thoughts and partake in the joys of every day, so I don’t click on the news icons on my toolbar. It’s very satisfying, like looking at the gin bottle on the shelf and not putting it to your lips and draining it, but living your life instead.
At the moment, my house is in chaos because we’re moving from a big roomy house to a smallish apartment, which has brought us face to face with decades of materialism. We now see that we own a great deal of stuff that (1) we don’t use, (2) we have no attachment to, and (3) we need to rid ourselves of. Truckloads of stuff have gone out the door and there is yet more.
My particular problem is the compulsive purchase of books. Shelves of heavy tomes, classics of Western civilization, dozens of dictionaries, atlases, the complete works of great authors, two bookcases of biographies, enough books to occupy all my waking hours until I am four hundred and one years old. I bought them myself, bag by bag, out of the lust for breadth of knowledge and now I am loading them into boxes and hauling them to the car.
I thought it’d be painful, the defenestration of my library, but it is exhilarating — to feel the burden of my pretensions lighten as I drop my long-running impersonation of an educated man and return to being just another elderly barefoot peasant, one who loves his fireplace on a chilly November night and a warm supper with his good wife across the table and some light gossip and then the great pleasure of undressing in the dark and slipping in under the covers and lying next to her and taking her hand. I do not take the complete essays of Michel de Montaigne to bed with me; I would rather have her.
I think it was Montaigne who said that the best sign of wisdom is cheerfulness. I read that when I was in college, at a time when we ambitious literati felt that the true sign of brilliance was agony and desperation, and so we attempted to impersonate it though we were children of privilege — even I, the postal worker’s son, had the great luxury of an inexpensive college education, financed by me washing dishes in the cafeteria, a liberal arts education that encouraged me to imagine myself as an artist, a novelist. And so I surrounded myself with books.
I think it was also Montaigne who said that you cannot be wise on another man’s wisdom. I could reach for my phone and Google it and get the exact words but I don’t want to let go of her hand. She has spent a busy month clearing out the house and playing viola in the pit at the opera. I was away from home most of last week and she was plagued by insomnia, and now she is falling asleep. A month ago I was an intellectual striving to make intelligent comment on the new world of 2018 and now I am an elderly peasant whose physical presence helps his beloved to sleep. Some would see this as a loss of status; I do not. I lie in the marital bed, her hand relaxes, which makes me happy, and I turn out the light. I imagine myself back to 1948 and Uncle Jim’s farm. He lifts me up onto Prince’s back who is hitched to the hayrack along with Scout. My face is against his mane, my arms around his neck. Off we trot to the meadow to rake up hay, the harness jingling, Uncle Jim clucking to the horses, the sweetness of new-mown grass in my nostrils, and that is all there is, there is no more.

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We Are Jamal Khashoggi's Daughters. We Promise His Light Will Never Fade. |
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Sunday, 25 November 2018 14:41 |
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Excerpt: "Jamal Khashoggi was a complex man, but to us, his daughters, he was simply 'Dad.' Our family has always been proud of his work, and we understood the awe and grandeur with which some people viewed him. But in our lives, he was 'Baba' - a loving man with a big heart."
Jamal Khashoggi speaks at an event hosted by Middle East Monitor in London Britain, September 29, 2018. (photo: Middle East Monitor/Reuters)

We Are Jamal Khashoggi's Daughters. We Promise His Light Will Never Fade.
By Noha Khashoggi and Razan Jamal Khashoggi, The Washington Post
25 November 18
Noha Khashoggi and Razan Jamal Khashoggi are the daughters of Jamal Khashoggi.
amal Khashoggi was a complex man, but to us, his daughters, he was simply “Dad.” Our family has always been proud of his work, and we understood the awe and grandeur with which some people viewed him. But in our lives, he was “Baba” — a loving man with a big heart. We loved it when he took us every weekend to the bookstore. We loved looking through his passport, deciphering new locations from pages covered with exit and entry stamps. And we loved digging through the years of musty magazines and newspaper clippings that surrounded his desk.
As children, we also knew our father as a traveler. His work took him everywhere, but he always returned to us with gifts and fascinating stories. We would stay up nights wondering where he was and what he was doing, trusting that no matter how long he was gone, we would see him again, wide-armed, waiting for a hug. As bittersweet as it was, we knew from a young age that Dad’s work meant that his reach extended far beyond our family, that he was an important man whose words had an effect on people over a great distance.
Throughout our lives, it was common for people to stop us on the street to shake hands with Dad, telling him how much they valued and appreciated him. To many, our father was more than just a public figure — his work touched their lives powerfully and resonated with them personally. And it still does.
We grew up with our parents’ love of knowledge. They took us to countless museums and historical sites. While driving from Jiddah to Medina, Dad would point out different areas and tell us their historical significance. He surrounded himself with books and always dreamed of having more. And in all he read, he never discriminated, fully absorbing every opinion. His love of books taught him to form his own thoughts. He taught us to do the same.
His life was a series of unexpected twists and turns, and we were all on the same ride. Not many people can say they got fired from the same job twice a few years apart, as Dad was as the editor in chief of the Al-Watan newspaper. But no matter what happened, he was an optimist, seeing every challenge as a new opportunity.
Dad certainly had a pragmatic side, but in his dreams and ambitions, he was always striving for a utopian version of reality. This, we suppose, is what inspired his critical nature. It was vitally important to him to speak up, to share his opinions, to have candid discussions. And writing was not just a job; it was a compulsion. It was ingrained into the core of his identity, and it truly kept him alive. Now, his words keep his spirit with us, and we are grateful for that. They say, “Here was a man who truly lived life to the fullest.”
When we were in Virginia during Ramadan, Dad showed us the world he had built for himself over the past year. He introduced us to friends who welcomed him and showed us the places he frequented. Yet as comfortable as he had made his surroundings, he still spoke about how he longed to see his home, his family and his loved ones.
He also told us about the day he left Saudi Arabia, standing outside his doorstep, wondering if he would ever return. For while Dad had created a new life for himself in the United States, he grieved for the home he had left. Throughout all his trials and travels, he never abandoned hope for his country. Because, in truth, Dad was no dissident. If being a writer was ingrained in his identity, being a Saudi was part of that same grain.
After the events of Oct. 2, our family visited Dad’s home in Virginia. The hardest part was seeing his empty chair. His absence was deafening. We could see him sitting there, glasses on his forehead, reading or typing away. As we looked at his belongings, we knew he had chosen to write so tirelessly in the hopes that when he did return to the kingdom, it might be a better place for him and all Saudis.
This is no eulogy, for that would confer a state of closure. Rather, this is a promise that his light will never fade, that his legacy will be preserved within us. Baba said it best: “Some depart to remain,” which rings true today. We feel blessed to have been raised with his moral compass, his respect for knowledge and truth, and his love.
Until we meet again in the next life.

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Want Congress to Look More Like the People It Serves? Provide Member Housing, Pay Staff More |
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Written by <a href="index.php?option=com_comprofiler&task=userProfile&user=24979"><span class="small">Paul Kane, The Washington Post</span></a>
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Sunday, 25 November 2018 14:33 |
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Kane writes: "Sometimes a tumultuous election creates the elements in which both sides can come together to make some common-sense decisions that might seem unpopular."
Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. (photo: Getty Images)

Want Congress to Look More Like the People It Serves? Provide Member Housing, Pay Staff More
By Paul Kane, The Washington Post
25 November 18
ometimes a tumultuous election creates the elements in which both sides can come together to make some common-sense decisions that might seem unpopular.
Two of those possibilities should be considered next year in a bipartisan fashion: affordable housing for lawmakers and a significant pay raise for the legions of mid-level staff working countless hours on Capitol Hill.
Without any course correction, only the wealthy will be able to afford to run for Congress and only the already well-off will be able to staff the House and Senate.
The first issue received a jolt of attention with the election of Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-N.Y.), the 29-year-old from the Bronx who has lamented not being able to rent an apartment in the District at least until January when she begins collecting the $174,000 annual salary given to members of Congress. That is a very fine salary, but most members must maintain two residences — and the D.C. housing market surge has turned a modest one-bedroom apartment near the congressional offices into a $2,000 monthly expense.
That creates a tight family budget, and any lawmaker with children approaching the college years can begin to see the incentive of ditching government work to become a lobbyist.
One potential remedy came from Rory Cooper, who left the Capitol four years ago after his boss, Eric Cantor (R-Va.), resigned as House majority leader. Cooper defended Ocasio-Cortez’s financial situation and suggested that Congress needs more lawmakers like her, Republicans and Democrats, to better understand the struggles of working Americans.
“We should all want to encourage more middle-class people to run for office, not less. And we should make Congress more accessible to them by eliminating the housing quandary,” Cooper wrote in an op-ed, prompted by a series of tweets last week suggesting Congress build dormlike housing for lawmakers.
This would cost many millions of dollars in upfront cash, but for an institution that doles out more than $1 trillion in federal spending each year, it would be a pittance.
It’s part of the cost of having a Congress that more resembles the diverse country it serves.
Lawmakers who opt to live in this housing could be charged a modest sum of $500 a month. Maybe limit the residents to those lawmakers in their first five years of service, and do away with the practice of sleeping in their offices.
Dozens of lawmakers already do this, essentially using their congressional office as a taxpayer-funded housing allowance.
Far more important, however, is the need to boost pay for congressional staff.
By tradition, no aide can receive more than a lawmaker, so the highest paid staff make a little less than the member’s $174,000.
But because of the fallout from the Great Recession, and the deep unpopularity of Congress, it’s been politically impossible to increase congressional pay.
That, in turn, has meant that staff pay has also been frozen for the last decade, creating a massive brain drain.
In 2008 the median salary on Capitol Hill was $47,662, according to LegiStorm, the nonpartisan for-profit company that researches congressional data.
A decade later, the median salary is $50,971.
If this pay had kept up with national inflation rates, the median salary would top $55,000. But that doesn’t even take into account the explosion in the expenses to live in the District.
Consider the demise of the group house.
Twenty years ago, the 100 block of C Street SE, half a block from the Cannon House Office Building, had at least four large townhouses filled with congressional staff and one with lawmakers. Rent, divided five or six ways, came in at under $500.
Those homes, now worth more than $1.5 million, no longer rent to 20-somethings. Instead, today’s younger staffer often crams into large apartment buildings that cost more than $2,500 for a two-bedroom.
LegiStorm’s analysis reveals a predictable trend: Fewer staff stay longer in those jobs, turning them over to less-experienced hands.
In 2001 and 2002, congressional staff in their 30s represented more than 34 percent of all aides on Capitol Hill, while 20-somethings made up 42 percent of staff.
By 2015 and 2016, people in their 30s represented just 27 percent of all congressional staff, while people in their 20s accounted for more than 55 percent of all aides.
The more salaries stayed flat, the more veteran staff have decided to leave working for Congress to, most likely, head to the private sector as they began to face decisions about marriage, children and home purchases.
The “lifer,” someone serving 20 or 30 years, is a dying breed.
People in their 40s used to represent more than 14 percent of all staff 18 years ago but have now have shrunk down to a little more than 9 percent.
The 20-somethings who remain should be applauded for their public service, but it’s time to start increasing their pay to make sure they will not feel driven away from the Capitol by the time they need to buy an engagement ring.
A vast majority of aides-turned-lobbyists consider their time in Congress the most riveting of their professional lives and, if there was an extra $10,000 or $20,000 in their annual pay, they might have stuck it out a few more years before joining the private sector.
Taking such politically sensitive steps — increasing funding on such an unpopular institution like Congress — requires leadership, and bipartisan leadership at that.
That’s why this month’s midterm elections offer such a chance for both sides to do the right thing, together, taking the political wind out of the hit.
Rep. Nancy Pelosi (D-Calif.) is the likely House speaker and Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.) will continue running the Senate. They are among the most shrewd tacticians either party has had, and they both came up through the appropriations committees.
Those committees already took care of one injustice earlier this year, including nearly $14 million in funds designed to ensure every intern gets paid some salary.
“A student’s socioeconomic status should not be a barrier to getting real-world work experience,” Pay Our Interns says in its mission statement.
That nonprofit group, run by a former intern who had to wait tables on the side to live in D.C., shamed both parties into paying its interns to make sure that kids from all socioeconomic backgrounds could get their foot in the door through intern programs in Congress.
Now it’s time for Congress to do the same with the rest of its workforce.

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What It's Like to Breathe Some of the Most Polluted Air in the World |
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Sunday, 25 November 2018 14:31 |
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Khan writes: "The first thing I do every morning is open my balcony door and check the air outside. If I spot the blue sky, I'm overjoyed and draw in a deep breath. But many days, the air has a dusty, burnt taste. I make a mental note not to forget my air filter mask before I leave the house."
NPR producer Furkan Latif Khan doesn't like to leave her home in New Delhi without her breathing mask - although one doctor told her it might not help all that much. (photo: Furkan Latif Khan/NPR)

What It's Like to Breathe Some of the Most Polluted Air in the World
By Furkan Latif Khan, NPR
25 November 18
he first thing I do every morning is open my balcony door and check the air outside. If I spot the blue sky, I'm overjoyed and draw in a deep breath. But many days, the air has a dusty, burnt taste. I make a mental note not to forget my air filter mask before I leave the house.
This is life in India's capital, New Delhi.
In the nine years that I have been living here, the air quality has rapidly deteriorated. When I first moved to the city, the winter fog that rolls around this time of the year was white. But over the years, it has turned grayish-brown from smoke and dust. On days I don't wear a face mask, I have a constant headache and my nose clogs up. When the pollution level is high, I try to take shallow breaths, absorbing only as much air as absolutely necessary.
Delhi is ranked as the world's 6th most polluted city in terms of air quality, according to the World Health Organization. (It has plenty of regional company — 14 of the 15 worst are in India.)
I wanted to know how pollution was affecting my health. So last week, I went to visit Dr. Sunil Kohli, the head physician of Hamdard Institute of Medical Sciences and Research, a public hospital in Delhi.
Kohli specializes in internal medicine. That's the whole body. But a whopping 25 percent of his patients, he says, come in for respiratory problems.
My nostrils have a burning sensation almost all the time, I told the doctor. He nodded. The air pollution makes it hard for him to breathe sometimes, too.
Delhi's air is a toxic concoction, according to a 2008 study by the Central Pollution Control Board, an Indian government body. It includes high levels of dangerous gases like carbon monoxide, nitrogen oxides, sulphur oxides, ozone gas, aerosols and particulate matter (PM) of varying sizes. The finer particles of pollutants — of 2.5 micrometers or smaller — are the most dangerous, the study reports, as they reach the deepest corners of our lungs and into our bloodstream, a 2018 WHO report points out.
This month, the concentration of these tiny pollutants was over 20 times the safe limit set by the World Health Organization.
The poor air quality in Delhi is largely due to transportation, industry and construction, according to a 2013 report by the Indian Journal of Community Medicine. In 2017, 10 million cars plied Delhi's roads, estimates the Delhi government. The tailpipe exhaust and fumes from hot tires on asphalt pose a high risk to commuters' health. On top of that, there's dust from giant construction projects, exhaust from factories around the city, and crop fires hundreds of miles to the north.
So how does breathing in pollution affect health?
A 2016 study published in the Journal of Research and Medical Sciences found that long- and short-term exposure to air pollution has a direct association to respiratory and cardiovascular diseases, eye irritation, skin diseases and cancer, among other ailments.
There's also concerns that the body's hormone system can be affected, according to a 2013 U.N. report — although there are no definitive findings on that yet.
People in Delhi are frustrated. There have been awareness campaigns and government committees to improve the air quality. There have even been restrictions on the use of fireworks on Diwali — one of the major Hindu festivals in India — which has been cited as a contributor to air pollution. Schools are closed on especially polluted days.
And after a public health emergency was declared due to high levels of pollution last November, city authorities implemented a scheme to reduce the number of cars on the road. Cars with even license plate numbers were allowed to drive on alternate days from cars with odd-numbered plates. The step was taken to temporarily cut down on vehicle emission and curb the pollution level.
But when I breathe in the air on my balcony, I still can't tell a difference.
To minimize the harmful effects of breathing, Delhi doctors suggest staying indoors whenever pollution levels spike. That means not being able to do some of the things that I enjoy — like dining outside or going on a picnic with friends.
Over the years, products like air purifiers, oxygen cans and filtered air masks have flooded the markets. Different types of masks are now available. Disposable ones cost as low as 15 cents, and reusable ones, which can last about six months, for $28. For the fashion-conscious, there are even "designer masks," featuring colorful prints.
I recently bought my third reusable mask. It's pretty sophisticated, or so I thought. It has head and neck straps, a nose bumper to seal the air and changeable air filters.
But when I showed my mask to Dr. Vineet Jain, a general physician at Jamia Hamdard Hospital, he wasn't completely convinced of its effectiveness. Polluted air can still make its way through the mask, he says.
Jain suggested nasal filters, which you stick over your nostrils, helping you breathe through the tiny filters. He says they are slightly better in ensuring leak-proof filtering of the air. They look like bandages.
I just ordered them on Amazon.
Every day, I wonder how many years of my life I am giving up, breathing in New Delhi.

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