Put things in perspective

I support the labor movement, loudly, fervently, frequently. I may get a few odd looks, make a few enemies, have the occasional shouting match, but that's about as bad as it gets.

Last night I had the chance to very briefly meet Gerardo Cajamarca. He lives in the U.S. He's originally from Colombia. Colombia, for a trade unionist, is pure and unadulterated hell. He lives here because he fears for his life in Colombia for speaking and doing the things I take for granted.

Were someone to hold a gun to my mother's head and threaten to kill her, would I speak out? Were someone to tear apart my home, would I waffle in my support for organized labor? Were I in that man's shoes, would I demonstrate even half the courage he has shown - and continue to speak out so loudly against injustice? I have my doubts.

It is the Gerardos of the world who truly are heroes.

It's progress, maybe, but was it a good thing?

When last I lived in Coral Gables many moons ago, there was this restaurant that was a relic from a Southern past. The name is escaping me, but it was reasonably-priced, and the food was incredible. Good Southern food. It was a sit-down place, but you grabbed a tray, went through a buffet line, and ordered as you went. You got to the cashier, paid, and then - the creepy part - you'd have a person take your tray for you to your table with a glass of water.

Why creepy? The "tray men" - they were not waiters - were all older black men, each and every one, bedecked in a red coat, white shirt, black bow tie. There were a lot of "sirs" involved. The clientele was rarely black. The issue of race was in your face to all with eyes to see.

There was always this internal debate - do I take my own tray, defying the expectations of one and all, or do I have the older black man do something I am perfectly capable of doing on my own, in conformity with the herd?

The herd instinct prevailed. I always went with the tray man. Customarily one tipped a buck. A buck and change were one to feel generous. And these guys hustled with those trays, I tell you. I could not be as pleasant to the world at large as consistently as they were, not at a buck a tray.

The other day I was walking by whatever new luxury goods store is on the Mile to take the place of that diner, and I recalled that discomfort. Was I perpetuating a miserable and racist legacy when I went there? I sure did not get a kick out of having an older black man wait on me obsequiously. It weirded me out. (The food and price trumped the weirdness, though. Greens and mac and cheese and okra with tomatoes. Oh, yeah ...) Or was I simply enjoying some pretty solid food and making too much out of a simple thing? No one made these guys work there. At least there was no overt coercion. The place was jumping, the tips not reported to Uncle Sam, and I imagine on a good day the gig could be relatively lucrative for a few hours' work.

I don't know. I don't have an answer. I don't think I ever will.

But what struck me the other day as I went by that soul-less luxury goods store, with maybe a handful of employees at best, catering to the affluent, I felt a sincere sadness. What happened to those tray men? They sure as hell are not wanted by some store selling couches or chairs that cost an arm and a leg. They were not going to be out there selling bonds or retraining at the community college for the economy of tomorrow. Their hustle and muscle in this mechanized age would be of little utility, and none was a young man even then.

I'd love to know now what they really, truly thought of that job, and what it meant when that work went away. Racial issues be damned, they had a job, and my discomfort at the legacy of segregation probably meant a hell of a lot less to them than that buck in the end. And while I bet there were a lot of folks who look at the Mile and think "progress" - the only color issues there now involve the color green, the almighty greenback dollar - I do wonder for those tray men - was it a good thing, this "progress"?

I don't know, and I don't think I ever will.

I Kant get this stupid thought out of my mind

"Act only in such a way that you can will that the maxim of your action should become a universal law." Immanuel Kant's categorical imperative. Apparently, as a Google search revealed, I've been mistaken for the better part of the past two decades, since I've cited it as "alway will that the maxim of your actions shall become a universal imperative," but close. I'm sure it sounds better in the original Klingon in either event.

What should spark this? An incident last week, when my wife called me for the umpteenth time "judgmental." Damn right I'm judgmental. It's hardwired into my DNA. But I have to say, coming from the wife, that criticism stings perhaps less than one might think.

Ages ago she and I took one of those libertarian political tests, where you answer a series of questions on economic and political issues, and you get rated based on where you stand - libertarian, protectionist, anarcho-syndicalist, soul-crushing totalitarian, etc., etc. What made this one particularly amusing was that the test's creator posted where he/she/it/they thought certain historical characters would fall. Over there in the soul-crushing totalitarian zone was Stalin, over yonder in the free markets / enslaved minds was Pinochet, and you had a host of other famous people scattered about the scales based on their perceived views on economic and political regulation. Among them was Gandhi. And then, way out there, in the left field bleachers, way past the world's most famous bespectacled Indian, was my wife.

The woman out-Gandhi'd Gandhi, for Christ's sake. How cool is that? Her tolerance and compassion would make Jesus - at least that Jesus who went hauling ass through the temple a-wailin' the crap out of the money lenders - blush.

So, when this woman calls me "judgmental" - well, hell yeah. Pass me the gavel and a black robe while you're at it. Of course I'm judgmental in comparison with her. EVERYONE's judgmental compared to her.

And a few days later it hit me. That damn Kant - I'm warped for life thanks to him. My guiding principle is the categorical imperative. It's cerebral, logical, a bit distancing, and nice - as a theory. Indeed, it insists on judgment and in a sense on being judgmental, I submit. My wife? She does indeed live by the principle of doing unto others as she would have done unto her. That's a lot more emotional, not necessarily logical, embracing, and nice - as a way to go about your life. It introduces an element of subjectivity - putting yourself in another's shoes to see the world as would that person - that certainly does not require one to carry a mental gavel.

I'll stick to my world view. I'd never ask her to change hers. I appreciate that she's made me revisit and think about an aspect of my world view that I have not pondered in a while. And, I admit, she's made me think about being a little more hesitant to reach for that mental gavel.