Politically Incorrect Guide to Western Culture--Dismissing Women Soldiers

One of the books I read over the holidays was Anthony Esolen's Politically Incorrect Guide to Western Culture.  This 357-page book is a delightful guide to western culture from its beginnings in Greece through Rome up until about the 19th Century.  At that point about two centuries ago, Esolen thinks our culture went off the rails.  The book continues through the time just before the Great Recession began at the end of the Bush administration in 2008.

This is the fourth book I have read by Esolen.  The other three I read in Iraq: Inferno, Purgatorio and Paradiso, Esolen's excellent translations of the three sections of Dante's Divine Comedy.

Throughout the book Esolen makes points for the Conservative view of politics and rarely concedes its excesses.  He does at one point admit Senator Joseph McCarthy might have been a bit much, but the entire right wing talk radio universe gets not a whisper of criticism.

Although Esolen is pro-military, he throws scorn on women soldiers.  He said that any "Private Benjamin" would be crushed by a third-string, bench-riding high school football player.  That may be true, but the modern military is not all about brute strength and Esolen, along with most leading Conservatives in America, helped to create the circumstances that made women an integral part of the modern volunteer Army.

When I enlisted during the Viet Nam War in 1972, the draft still technically existed but it was clear that suburban boys like me from the Northeast were not getting drafted.  Women were a small part of the military.

When I enlisted, Mitt Romney and William Kristol were deployed at Harvard University seven miles from my home town.  Dick Cheney, Rush Limbaugh, Michael Savage, Bill O'Reilly and thousands of other big names in the Conservative movement got deferments and let poor kids serve in their place.  After the draft was over and military service was optional, Esolen and other men younger than draft age did not serve.  Sean Hannity, Glenn Beck or most other Conservatives in their 50s fall in this category.

Now you could say that those who did not serve had every right to avoid the draft by legal means, or choose not to enlist when the draft was over.  And you would be right.  But when draft evasion is the norm someone else has to serve.  Women stepped up while Esolen got a PhD.  And in his book, Esolen admires the Athens of Pericles where all the men were required to be fit and ready to defend their city.

In 2007 I was able to re-enlist at 54 years old after 23 years as a civilian because the Army had temporarily raised the enlistment age. I was too old to re-enlist when 9-11 happened, but I got in with a waiver six years later when the law changed.  Why did the law change?  Because right when The Surge was in full swing in Iraq, a country that claims to have nearly 100 million Conservatives could not fill its recruiting goals.  So old men like me and women filled the of the places left vacant by those who did not serve.

When I was in Iraq, I saw women take off in horrible dust storms to rescue soldiers attacked on the roads and at Forward Operating Bases around Camp Adder.

Until that bench-riding football player flies a Blackhawk Helicopter into a sandstorm to rescue fellow soldiers or jumps out of that helicopter and runs to care for that wounded soldier, like the female pilots and flight medics I knew, the fact that he could possibly beat one of them in a school-yard brawl means nothing.

Esolen and Limbaugh and other Conservatives can make fun of women in the military, but that bench-riding football player will most likely get a college education and never serve while a women steps up and takes her place in the military.

“That Was a Wake Up Call” Optimism Bias and Death

In five months I will be 61 years old.  Each year I am alive I am more likely to hear the phrase “That Was a Wake Up Call” from someone I know, either about themselves or someone they hold dear. 

I don’t know who will say it, or the exact reason, but the person who says it will be the only one surprised about the heart attack, stroke, or other near-death experience that lead to the comment.

In November of last year, I went to a business lunch at the Yale Club in New York.  The speaker was the CEO of a billion-dollar chemical company.  His topic was how he led his company to grow nearly double in size during the preceding five years, the worst recession in the last 80 years. 

This genial, affable man spoke easily about encouraging the previous management team to “seek new opportunities.”  In a near quote of Mitt Romney, he said a couple of those people thanked him when they found better work.  He closed plants, moved production to countries with “more attractive work environments” and did what managers do to succeed in a global market.

When he talked about the key moves he made on the road to success, important hires, deals closed, these events occurred during dinners at expensive restaurants.  “Get him to dinner and I’ll close the deal,” he said with a smile about one important acquisition.  He looked the part.  Five feet, nine inches tall, a tailored suit draped over a mid-section created by many dinners and missed gym workouts.

While he spoke, I looked up his bio on the web.  He is 66 years old. Toward the end of the talk he said he planned to lead the company for two or three more years to complete plans he had then retire. 

Won’t that be fun.

Let me hazard a guess that the successful CEO currently takes a dozen prescription medicines to stave off the effects of eating too much and exercising too little—or simply of being too short for your weight.  By age 69 or 70, Mr. Success will be on more medication.  He will suddenly lose the adrenaline rush of leading a successful company. 

If he survives the heart attack, stroke, or other health catastrophe he will tell his family and friends “That Was a Wake Up Call.” 

Really???  A wake up call?  So for 40 years you overate watched your toes disappear in the shower, moved to the next waist size in you suit pants every three years, and the heart attack is a wake up call?  Were you in a coma?

It turns out that most humans have a view known in psychology as Optimism Bias.  Even when we understand risk, we think it will happen to everyone but us.  In this case, the CEO, if he took a survey, would rate the likelihood that a fit person his age would have a heart attack at something less than 20%.  He would rate the likelihood for someone with his height, weight and exercise pattern as 70+ % likely to have a heart attack.  But he would rate HIS OWN likelihood of having a heart attack as roughly the same as the healthy man his age.

We all do it.  College students who drink think those who drink to excess are more likely to be robbed, assaulted, flunk courses etc.  They think non-drinking students have little danger.  If they themselves are binge drinkers, they rate their own danger as similar to non-drinkers. 

Mr. CEO will very likely have a near-death experience within a year after he retires, if not before.  “That Was a Wake Up Call” will be what he says.  He will say it because Optimism Bias has lulled the otherwise hard-nosed man who can close a factory with no regret into a sunshine and rainbows view of his own health.

Many of the soldiers I serve with are already on the path to their own Wake Up Call.  Some are in their 20s, flunking the fitness test, overweight and building up to a sad later life.  And at 60 years old, 60 pounds overweight and 60 beers a week, that heart attack will be a shock. 

I smoked a pack a day for more than 15 years.  I stopped at 33 years old and haven’t smoked since.  One thing that helped me to stop though not immediately was writing obituaries.  Back in the 80s when more than a third of adult males smoked, obituaries of men came across my desk in two groups:  non-smokers died between 75 and 85 of various diseases, smokers died between ages 57 and 63 of heart attacks and lung cancer.  After a year of obituaries, I lost my Optimism Bias.

More Christmas Hats from Iraq 2009

I'll keep posting these pictures from the 2009-10 deployment.

Jesse Kline

Aaron Trimmer

Ashley Soulsby

Rashine Brunner

Timothy Huss

Huss and Brunner

 Mike Dolinsky

Mike Dolinsky

More Christmas 2009 in Iraq

Another group of Christmas pictures:

 Jonathan Marak

 Brian Marquardt

 Brett Feddersen

 Scott Perry

Laura Miltenberger

Christmas in Iraq 2009

Posting some photos from Christmas in Iraq, 2009

 Jeremy Houck

Dan Lake

Dan and Jeremy

Glen Valencia

Kimberly Stekovich and Andrea Magee

Kimberly Stekovich and Andrea Magee

44th Anniversary of My Driver's License!

On December 19th, 1969, I got my driver's license after taking the test at the Metropolitan District Commission office in Woburn, Mass., the next town over from Stoneham, where I grew up.

Getting my license was the best thing that happened in my life up to the moment.  I was obsessed with cars and all things with engines.  I still am obsessed with wheels, but am more crazed with bicycles than cars and motorcycles.

When we drove down the highway on family trips, I was counting the wheels on trucks passing in the other direction.  On the trips in New York state I could count the wheels on double-trailer rigs that had up to 34 wheels and tires.

My Dad was a warehouseman and drove occasionally when the grocery company where he worked was short of drivers.  Dad did not try to make me obsessed with cars and trucks, but his actions had that effect.  He worked six days a week and fell asleep watching football every Sunday afternoon.

The times we spent together were always a drive.  He did the grocery shopping and I went along. Sometimes in the evening he would say, "Let's go for coffee."  We would drive to Howard Johnson's or a diner he liked.  Dad would tell jokes to the waitresses and the customers.  I learned that coffee and jokes were the best part of life.  (Health note:  I drank hot chocolate.)

But the day my father made me completely car/truck crazy was in 1961.  I was in Miss Bovernick's 3rd Grade Class at Robin Hood Elementary School.  Dad knew which class was mine.  The windows in our class faced the semi-circular driveway in front of the school.

Dad was taking a load of frozen food to New Hampshire on a Friday afternoon in the Spring.  He stopped on the way to pick me up at school after lunch.  He parked the 40-foot semi with a bright red Mack B-61 tractor right in the driver.  The idling diesel engine rattled the windows.  The whole class ran to the windows to see the truck.

My Dad walked in class and asked Miss Bovernick is he could take me out of school early.  Third grade doesn't get any better than leaving school early to ride to New Hampshire in a bright red Mack truck.

If you want to get a little boy crazed over cars and trucks, that's the way to do it.

I joined the Teamster's Union and worked in the warehouse after graduation, but never became a truck driver.  Though I did drive a lot of diesel vehicles in the Army.

Photos From Drill Weekend

Frozen flight line

Cold in Johnstown

Inside a Chinook on the flight to Johnstown

On the Chinook

The walk back to the hangar

Lunch in Johnstown