A Recession Activist

It is my goal as a Recession Activist to put myself out of a "job" (that is, being such an activist).

Why?

When the recession is over, that means my services will no longer be needed. Everyone that can be gainfully employed will [be]. The economy will pick up with people buying and businesses selling.

A lot of times, I read and reread what I've posted. As I did at the beginning of this blog-to-book, I ask myself, "will this prevent me from being hired?"

Consider this:

1. I am a self-taught web master, volunteering for my high school's basketball booster club. See: www.cpbasketball.org. What I learned there, I applied here.

2. I did this all with Microsoft Publisher, and will teach myself Dream Weaver once I purchase it.

3. I am teaching myself Cascading Style Sheets, XML and Java.

4. I am getting certified as a high school Math/Physics and Technology teacher. I feel our kids have the potential to be the best students on the planet earth, and I am not willing to concede intellectual supremacy nor our technical edge to other countries.

5. I will pursue a Masters in Science Education and eventually a PhD in Experimental Physics.

I don't at all consider myself a "radical."

Rather, given an adverse situation, I tried to work out some benefit. Given lemons, I've worked to make lemonade.

I've lost both parents now, and on reflection I feel blessed to have known both of them and the "toys" they blessed me with. I "played" with erector sets, chemistry sets, a microscope, a telescope, electrical and electronics kits and a drafting board. I majored in Engineering Physics at North Carolina A&T State University.

However, I had one friend that was executed on death row for killing his wife. I have another classmate on death row for killing his mother due to his addiction to Crack Cocaine. My circumstances could have taken me down dark corridors. For everyone that listened to my parents - my childhood best friends (my "brothers") included: we have never seen the inside of a prison as an inmate, nor want to. We have families and children. We each served our country in all major branches of the service other than the Coast Guard. We are the positive black males that don't make the news at all.

As I've stated without shame or evasion: I grew up in an urban ghetto, that's still to this day an urban ghetto. In my youth, I was exposed to the opportunity to use drugs from drug dealers and peers, saw pimps and prostitutes, stabbings, shootings, and heard of one death over a card game one block over from my childhood home. The fortune in question? A nickel!

This month, I am working to assure that home go in the hands of a Pastor that has a ministry to the inner city, and not a "real estate investor/slumlord" that gives the house over to Section 8. He's also an ex cop: in my neighborhood, it's good to have the Holy Spirit and a GLOC 9 mm!

I'm not bragging when I say I have an incredible story. I could have despaired as many I've read about all over the US and the world that used this downturn to commit suicide, killing themselves and their families. See: Financial Crisis May Worsen Mental Health Woes; German Billionaire Kills Himself; Murder-Suicide Snuffs out Family of 7.

This is not being callous with regards to the previous tragedies listed. As Nietzsche stated: "that which does not kill you, makes you stronger." For this storm, I feel stronger, blessed and obligated to bless others with what I've learned.

I end this essay with the following quote from Tom Dispatch. I don't agree with everything on the site, as you shouldn't agree with everything I say. I think that the height of a democratic society is the vigorous questioning of authority, even if we agree with or benefit from the decision (s) thereof. It is that intellectual rigor that allows us to function as a democratic republic, and avoid the temptations of an authoritarian fascist state:

It's sobering to consider just how many Americans can't sort out propaganda (or simply fiction) from fact in the media madness that passes for our "information age." It's no less sobering to consider a corollary possibility: that we get the society we deserve; that, in fact, our youth in college today are being prepared, as Tom Dispatch regular William Astore (who has taught at both the Air Force Academy and the Pennsylvania College of Technology) suggests, to enter a world in desperate shape, but not to challenge it. Tom

Selling Education, Manufacturing Technocrats, Torturing Souls: The Tyranny of Being Practical By William Astore

See: Tomgram: William Astore, Educating Ourselves to Oblivion

Then, What Are We?

I previously posted a link to The Corporation in the entry for the "Second 100 Days."

We can see the light at the end of the tunnel, and it's not an on-coming train. The recession should end this summer (another jobless one) and we should see some relief as jobs - corporation jobs - start thawing 4Q2009 or 1Q2010.

I looked up the definition of pyschopath, because I had the nagging notion: if corporations are "psychopathic" as the documentary states, then what are we?

I remember getting cups, shirts, shoes, jackets and T-shirts from my former corporation - the one that laid me off in 2003 and started this blog. I remember one instance realizing I had NOT bought a single stitch of clothing for myself in quite a while. I was a walking advertisement, and just as happy to tell people in the mall, passers by "I work at..."

When I got laid off, I looked for something LIKE what I had, same pay, same type of cubicle, same hassles, same 60 - 70 hours per week.

One such instance: I received (I'm dating myself) 120 pages in a single day! Exasperated, I went into my manager's office: "Which ones are priority?" I asked. His answer: "All of them!" I of course asked what if I choose the wrong one? His answer in Dilbert-esque "pointy-haired boss" fashion: "It would be your fault, then!"

I was also threatened with my job on a Friday afternoon that had me working until 9:30 PM to get a ROM code to a mask shop. Mind you, the IT guy and I had never processed a ROM code for a DSP part before. It didn't matter: if I failed to get the order processed, it would be "my fault" again.

Seemed I never had money even though I made good money. I spent it as soon as the raise was approved. The vacation, the new gadget, the gizmo was what I kept online orders and shipping companies tasked to get those orders to me - quite busy. I haven't tasked them in some time and the economy slowed because of it. No spare money - MY FAULT again.

So, what are we?

My best guess is that we all suffer from Stockholm Syndrome. I'd be curious to your thoughts on my analysis.

Unemployed seek training for green-collar jobs-MSNBC

See: Unemployed seek training for green-collar jobs - ‘I think the opportunities in this field are going to be huge’

Employers hiring the Class of 2009: CNN.com/Living

See: Who's Hiring the Class of 2009.

Unemployed Trailer

Oh, Brother: How Unemployed Art Thou?

O Brother How Unemployed Art Thou? from steve proffitt on Vimeo.

Children and the Recession-CBSNEWS

Mildred Dean Goodwin: Eulogy

Little Boy
© 10 May 2009, Reginald L. Goodwin (the last Mother's Day Poem)

the little boy
with cherub face
in blue & ozone tiger suit
seemed as intent on flirting
for my attention
as he is

crawling;
standing (with support);
cooing
& teething on the airport seats
as his parents and I await

our Southwest Flight to Orlando (gate 8).

"Brandon!" his mother commands,
his father stands and gently
juggles him to & fro in
the air to giggles and smiles...

It is Mother's Day,
and, like Mr. Spock in the newly
rebooted Star Trek™ flick...

I've lost mine.

I find myself spying more babies
in an ironic, opposite scotoma:

realizing once
four decades ago
on segregated buses in a different America

in my mother's arms,

such
was
I.

************

The Gift of Faith

Foundational Text: 1 Corinthians 12:4, 9 “There are diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit…To another faith by the same Spirit…”

Hello, Saints. My name is Reggie Goodwin, my wife Cassandra and my sister, Mamie Douglas, relatives and friends. I bring you greetings in the Name of the Lord Jesus Christ from New Light Christian Center Church, Bishop I.V. and Dr. Bridget Hilliard Pastors and Pastor Ed Reynolds, on site Pastor of the Austin location.

Thank you Galilee Baptist Church for assisting in raising me and for hosting this home going and thank you, Pastor Scovens; your ministerial and supportive staff for officiating.

You knew her as Mildred Dean Goodwin: Deaconess and Sunday School Teacher; devoted wife and mother. I knew her as Ma. Which, she never liked: it went from mommy to mom to mamma to just ma. She preferred mommy: I wasn’t going to call her mommy as a teenager. My mother gave my sister and the family the Gift of Faith.

Troop 685

You may have also known her along with Mrs. Carter as one of the founding den mothers of Cub Scout Troop 685, now Boy Scout Troop 685. I unfortunately was their problem child most nights: I bored easily and could remember many a night receiving a disciplinary spanking from the Deaconess personally.

The Prophet

I remember: she’d looked delighted at a group of kids in white karate uniforms at a local YMCA studio. She looked at me, five years in age at the time and said: “You should be in karate.” I replied as five-year-olds are apt to: “No, I’m not.” Well, I’ve been in karate 30 years now. I teach at the YMCA. She was right again.

Rolling Pins

A rolling pin is what you used to make the crust for pies “back in the day.” You kneaded the dough and rolled it flat with the pin. It’s usually a piece of solid wood with two wooden handles.

I was fifteen. I’d grown taller than Deaconess Goodwin and I had hair on my face and chin. She called me with her sweet, little voice and I shouted back (disrespectfully): “What?”… I don’t remember anything after that!

The next day, I woke up with a big Fred Flintstone-sized knot on my head. She sent me to school. CPS never called. My answer to any future summons was “yes ma’am!” And, quickly!

The Wall

I was in JROTC at Atkins High School. We’d met the Cadet Colonel and Brigade Commander: he was the highest ranking cadet in the Winston-Salem School System, ribbons all over his chest, really impressive guy. He’d conducted an inspection and review of our group and was shooting the breeze with us. I asked him as a matter of conversation: “How would someone get to your rank?” At the time, I wasn’t asking for me. His reply was unkind: “Your kind will never rise to this rank!” Your kind… I reported this to both of my parents over the dinner table. My father was angry. My mother shook her fist in the air and stated: “You tell that booger-bootch that you can do ANYTHING you set your mind to. With God on your side, I believe you can do it.” As a point of definition: my mother did not curse – under most circumstances – so, booger-bootch in her dictionary was a really ugly person!

The next day at school, I confronted the Cadet Colonel with a question: “Can you read?” He replied, “of course I can.” Without thinking about the consequences of my next statement, I said: “In three years, I’ll be wearing your rank!” He of course, doubted me. In three years, I was Cadet Colonel of Winston-Salem, Forsyth County Schools, my S4 on Staff, Cadet Lieutenant Colonel Milton Murray.

You see, ma paraphrased Philippians 4:13 “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” My mother had taught me the Gift of Faith: the substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things not seen. I use this as my motto in challenging times such as these. I hope what I’ve relayed to you blesses you as well.

I have a poem and exhortation I’d like to read. It was written by a classmate from NC A&T State University, Vickie Nowlin: I’d been best man in her and Leon Nowlin’s wedding:

To Our Darling Mildred

How sweet the life of one so true
Mother Mildred your work is done and your reward is due
How blessed we were to have you dear
your courageous spirit, soft words, and corrections feared

Lofty words and poetic phrases don't seem to flow as easily now
for Mom you know all the emotions knotted up inside ...of course somehow
I love you, miss you, need you, even more today....I wasn't prepared for how quickly Mr. Empty and Lonely visited my way....

I'm trying to be strong and prepare the words that are befitting you...I'm proud. To have called you mother....but God's Child is now home in her royal court now. Take a bow for you've done well and you taught us the way. We won't forget all of your wisdom, your guidance, and the strong hands that didn't let us stray.

Thank you today, tomorrow and a million times more...we will continue our journey in time with your cherished memories that we adore
Though sad...We will meet again one day on that peaceful shore..we will celebrate that we made it and enjoy eternal life with Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ forever more..I love you

Exhortation: 1 Thessalonians 4:13 – 18

“But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that you sorrow not, even as others which have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so those also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him. For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive [and] remain unto the coming of the Lord shall not prevent them which are asleep. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: Then we which are alive [and] remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord. Wherefore comfort one another with these words.” Amen

Mildred Dean Goodwin

Sunrise: September 15, 1925

Sunset: May 7, 2009, 11:16 PM EST

I'll be flying out this weekend to NC.

I'm calling the church office tomorrow with the funeral arrangements.

Oddly: when my father died, I worried about my mom. She really loved Robert Harrison Goodwin - got him his first job just out the US Navy (just meeting him) - and I was especially sad for her around holidays, he made the Thanksgiving turkey; the Christmas ham: as do I now.

If love alone could have healed him from cancer, she gave more than I could ever imagine. Being an LVN, I imagine she thought she could "fix" him. When he died, she "lost her purpose," and that was evident with every passing day. It's been a slow deterioration without him.

I visited her this summer, working for a small firm that allowed me to telecommute. Each day I went, I was blessed by the fact in her advanced stage of Alzheimer's, she recognized me. Conversations were simple: she'd grasp my right hand with both of hers and pat and kiss it saying "my baby." I would acknowledge her that as usual, she was right.

She was hanging in there from a previous urinary tract infection that had her with a temperature above 100 degrees, according to my sister, but Hospice had not released her, and obvious at this point, had no need to. Death released her from pain and loneliness. Even though she's my older sister, I'm protective of her and where she is emotionally in this.

This blog started with the death of my job on the four year anniversary of my father's death. He died exactly 12 days past my 37th birthday at the age of 74: I was half his age.

Earlier, I mentioned her falling. If you have any loved ones that are senior, please get them companion services. She was on her back for an estimated 10 hours before I had my best friend - works for the Police Department - dispatch a car. She'd fallen out of the tub the night before. My sister couldn't reach her and called me. She never fully recovered from the fear of falling and lost the ability without much practice. She was in a nursing home from that point on.

Now, two days from Mother's Day, Mildred is gone. So is my childhood.

As I spoke at my father's funeral, I will speak at hers. I hope I can give it eloquence.

Consider...

I recall being the recipient of unsolicited phone calls, the satisfaction of disappointing the sales rep on the phone, “I’d gotten over,” “I’d triumphed,” “I’d not been duped,” by “the system.”

Now: I am that disembodied voice calling in the cyber wilderness.

If you’ve received a call from me, you’re a “new mover,” which in the corporate sense means you have a pulse and you “moved.” That’s your fault, not mine. Register with www.donotcall.gov and the calls stop. We use a software system, Gryphon, that screens registrants and we cannot legally call you to solicit business.

Call night is blood sport: it is not for the squeamish. You test your mettle with every phone call. Despite the positive spin on the scripted spiel, someone uses you to vent their frustrations at: life, their employment, their lover, their children, their neighbor and feel vindicated by the fact I did not set an appointment with them.

Consider: making your living like this. Consider that if I don’t make an appointment, I don’t have the chance to sell, therefore I don’t get paid. Commission-only can be lucrative if you’ve goaled for such a career, you have a natural “gift of gab,” and you’re likeable.

Consider: the person behind the spiel had a junior chemistry set, a microscope, a telescope, an erector set, a tool set, an electronics kit and a drafting kit all when my neighborhood was deteriorating with the drug war that was never designed to be won; an intact nuclear family surrounded by broken homes. I was one of the blessed ones that read Peanuts and Shakespeare, whose heroes were Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, Medger Evers, Einstein, Asimov, Gamow, Cousteau and Sagan.

Consider: better ways to say you’re not interested than to take your bad day out on the disembodied person trying only to make a living after his living was conveniently shipped overseas.

Consider. Reciprocity is almost a universal law (like gravity).

The Second 100 Days

If I'm reading this table correctly, the total number of registered voters is 201,073.

If I take $850,000,000,000.00 and divide it by 201,073 registered voters, I get $4,227,320.43.

I THINK we could each single-handedly stimulate the economy with that!

Now: Chrysler and GM will announce plans to file Chapter 7 Bankruptcy. I thought we were "bailing them out" to avoid that. Citigroup asked permission to give "bonuses": for what? I thought (in a rational universe) you got a bonus for performance! They also got a "bailout."

See: The Corporation. It's a documentary based on a book by the same name that now seems so appropriate that we are dealing with corporate pathological mentalities.

Don't get me wrong. I voted for Obama, and I'm likely to vote for him in 2012, defying Mayan calendars and the field of "new Republicans" that seem to repeat the same old ideas that got us into this mess. Therefore, I have a right to announce when I'm disappointed in the tenor of this "change."

A book I think we all need to read: "The Gods That Failed: How Blind Faith in Markets Has Cost Us Our Future"