Justice for Thomas Palermo

Wow, a driver is actually getting charged for killing a cyclist.

Bishop Heather Cook, left, indicted this week on 13 charges in the death of Thomas Palermo, right.
Cook struck and killed Palermo with her car in December. 

If you're a cyclist, you get used to hearing stories about other cyclists being hit and killed by drivers every couple weeks or so. And it's really discouraging.

Usually, the outcome is that the driver faces no consequences of any kind: he couldn't see her; he was distracted by his new car smell and couldn't focus on the road; she didn't notice the bike frame stuck under her bumper for 10 miles, these are all just terrible accidents. 

Those are real things that have happened by the way, I'm only not linking to them because I can't find the reports. The blame is all too often placed on the cyclist in order to excuse the driver: he should have been wearing brighter clothing; she should have ridden on the sidewalk; WHY didn't he wear a helmet?

Our limitless capacity for victim-blaming aside, Bike Snob NYC and others have made much of the societal pathology, embedded in America but increasingly rare in other developed nations, that leads us to view rampant traffic deaths (National Safety Council nationwide estimate: 35,200 in 2013, most caused by cars) as an acceptable cost of doing business, rather than a mind-boggling public health crisis that demands immediate attention.

So it's refreshing to see the justice system working at least in this one instance. The beginning of a new era? Maybe. But this particular case has several aggravating factors that would have made the usual "I didn't see him" defense ring *real* hollow, including that Bishop Cook may have been drunk and texting at the time, and initially left the scene of the crash (allegedly.) I guess it takes a crash that egregious to suggest the driver may be at fault after all.

Word is, she's been at a treatment center since the incident, which is probably good- though there's no excuse for killing someone with your car, drug and alcohol addiction is as every bit as serious a public health issue as traffic fatalities, and she obviously needs help.

Burning questions around Bishop Cook remain, including how much the Episcopal Diocese knew about her possible alcohol abuse and what might have been done to prevent Tomas Palermo's death. I've always had a lot of respect for the Episcopal Church for their progressive stance on gender and LGBT issues, and it would be really unfortunate if they had missed an opportunity to help prevent this tragedy.

Below I have some additional musings on this event's relationship to other current issues. They may or may not be in entirely good taste, so only read it if you want to. If you do, I hope you'll understand it's my attempt to process some conflicting thoughts and I intend no offense to anyone.

I also can't help but wonder-- what if it had been a different guy she killed? Palermo is an intensely sympathetic figure: good-looking, father of a young child, well-known in the community...and a middle-class white dude.
In the last couple years, so many families were denied justice for lost loved ones whose most serious crime seemed to be having dark skin. And those responsible for the killings faced no consequences whatsoever. Meanwhile, the country was having inappropriate arguments over how sympathetic the victim had been/not been, as if impugning their character could somehow make less deserving of life, as if looking for a way to blame their fate on their own actions. And it was really unacceptable. So I'm torn between feeling satisfaction that a member of one vulnerable group (that I'm a member of), non-car road users, may receive some justice, and sadness that millions of people in other marginalized communities continue to seek it in vain. Even worse, their dead brothers and fathers and sons become the subject of morbid debate and the same victim-blaming that cyclists feel so keenly, and over which they have even less (zero) control.

So there we have it. If you're hearing about this ongoing saga for the first time (or if you're not,) I encourage you to go offer your support to the Washington Area Bicyclist Association and Baltimore Bicycle Club, or your local cycling advocacy group, as they work to mainstream cycling in (y)our area, increase alternative transit opportunities, and help ensure that people can get where they're going safely, regardless of how they choose to get there. Thanks for reading, and ride/drive/walk/Metro/helicopter safe!

--AWG

...in a style Clark Gable would have admired...

Callin' "Shenanigans"

***UPDATE 6/5/15*** I'm giving Jeb a bonus shenanigans for JUST THIS WEEK declaring that's he's ABOUT to declare his candidacy, weeks after leasing a campaign headquarters and having had plenty of time to court wealthy potential donors. We should know more mid-June. Nice job sidestepping campaign finance law, Governor! Original post begins below.

Welcome to the very first "Callin' Shenanigans", a new Mainer segment where I call out complain histrionically about stupid things or people I see in the news. Today, we check in with a certain prospective Republican candidate for president in 2016:

Uh-hurrr, hiya little lady, ya wanna join my exploratory co-mitty?

Yes, Jeb Bush was in not-so-rare form in Detroit today, reminding low-income people to be afraid, be very afraid, of liberals and all their anti-poor policies. See, you might think that the potential standard-bearer of a party so wildly supportive of letting corporate profits skyrocket while workers' wages stagnate would tread a little more carefully when it comes to The Poors.

But no, you don't understand, it's a failure of "liberal government policies" that have created, not a social safety net, but a "spider web" to ensnare people in the trap of government dependence. Which is why his party wants you to have to take drug tests before you get can welfare. Jeb wants to get you out of that web! After all, it's not like any of the responsibility for Detroit's economic suffering can be traced to any of the GOP's pro-corporate, anti-regulation policies that led to the Great Recession, which hit Detroit particularly hard.

I call shenanigans.

Governor Bush then launched another salvo at pro-government progressives, who act like we need to govern our way out of major societal problems or something: "The progressive and liberal mindset believes that to every problem there is a Washington, DC solution, but that instinct doesn't solve any problems."

Okay, seriously, how many more times are we going to let the Jeb Bushes, the Marco Rubios, and the Ted Cruzes (Cruces? Cruz'ses?) get away with saying how harmful "government" is while being/aspiring to be a major public official? It's not even like they're saying they wanna fix government, no, they seem to want us just...not to have one. Government keeps people down and overcomplicates problems and it needs to get in the back of the bus. Until it's time to secure the border or defeat Islamic State, that is, in which case, all hands on...the ground. In boots. On the deck. Hands on deck tying your boots to the ground?

Either way, you can't verbally assault the government and governing in every speech, and then tell people to make you the literal head of the government. And that is why...

...I call shenanigans.

Total "shenanigans" (shenaniganses? shenanigii?): 2

So thanks for reading joining us on "Callin' Shenanigans," a new whenever-I-get-to-it-ly segment where I'll probably piss off a lot of conservatives and car-centric urban planning advocates. I hope you'll join us next time for something else I think is dumb!

--AWG 

...the beauty of this mess it that it brings me close to you.

Taking My Leave

Arthritis? Like, seriously, arthritis. The thing that happens to old people...? 

As I glanced listlessly around the waiting room in my third week of sick leave, watching my fellow patients shuffle in and out, it occurred to me that, except for Amanda, I was the youngest person there by a good wide margin.

That wasn't so weird in and of itself, I've had mostly older friends for most of my adult life. But we're talking a few years here, not decades. Yet there I sat, suddenly having something deeply in common with all these people who look like they're getting ready for retirement.

So what, right? I mean, illnesses and injuries know no age. Except, some of them kinda do, I thought.

My doctor started to explain his diagnosis-- that the condition that had kept me laid up, stiff, and in pain for the past month was, in fact, a form of arthritis. The knowledge that my 30th birthday was rapidly approaching seemed like some cosmic joke, I had never felt older than I did in that moment. I mean, wasn't arthritis something that...OLD people got? You don't see any guys my age in those commercials for Aleve and Humira and stuff.

At the same time, I was glad to finally have at least a good idea of what was wrong with me. Ever since I woke up the day before Thanksgiving barely able to bend my knee or put weight on one leg, I'd run (figuratively) through a month-long series of doctor visits, X-rays, MRIs, blood tests, insurance co-pays, more visits, and more tests. I also got to hobble around the United Nations on crutches, but that's another story.

But the worst thing was giving constant, rambling explanations to friends and family members:

"Well, I might have gout, so no I shouldn't have that beer..."

"Maybe I've got Lyme disease..."

"Yeah, that's true, I could have a repetitive motion injury from riding my bike that somehow damaged multiple joints, good suggestion..."

While standing outside the pharmacy waiting on a prescription, I had totally ignored a friend who passed by me without recognizing who I was. Hadn't showered in three days, hadn't shaved in twice as long, looking like some crippled unabomber under my hat and sunglasses, and I didn't feel at all up to social interaction OR another attempt to explain why I was leaning on crutches.

So at least I knew now, and could explain my situation to others. My situation felt less desperate, and I resumed showering daily. The thing about a diagnosis, though, is that it's the beginning, not the end. The beginning of an extended period of recovery punctuated by shots and pills, one that would keep me out of work, off my feet, and off my bike for at least a few more weeks. At least it would happen during the crummiest time of the year, weather-wise.

Another month, some holidays, bouts of mild depression a lot of reading, and a few video games later, I'm walking again (albeit with a cane,) and looking at finally getting back to work and back to my life within the next week or so. I've burned through all my sick and vacation time, and have quite a few people to thank for donating their own leave time to help me out.

We don't know yet whether this is something I'll deal with for the rest of my life, only every so often, or never again. Probably one of the first two. Having your first major medical diagnosis at age 30 is strange, but I'll count myself lucky since I managed to avoid any real issues for that long. So here's to recovery, here's to having a job with good health insurance, and here's to the people around me who I can count on to help me get through the hard stuff.

--AWG

Something keeps a river from sinking to the ground. 

The Rant

Well, Republicans, it looks like you've finally wrested control of America back from the godless liberals.

You've got majorities in both houses of Congress, and only an unpopular president to push back against your agenda. It's your turn to shine. Your time to put in play all of the great initiatives and policies you couldn't under the tyrannical Obama White House, and repeal all of those overreaching laws that have stifled American freedoms since January 2009.

Or not.

I'm far from optimistic about a Republican-controlled legislature. But maybe, just maybe, I'm not giving them a fair chance. After all, I was barely out of college when Obama was elected, I've never been a real adult while Republicans ran things.

So go ahead, GOP, prove me wrong. Prove that you can govern, rather than just oppose. That you thought a little further ahead than getting Barack Obama out of office or turning him into a lame duck. That "get my way or threaten to burn the house down" isn't your only move.

Prove me wrong, GOP. Don't kick off the legislative session by passing regressive social policies limiting a woman's right to choose, gay couples' right to be equal to straight couples before the law, and immigrants' right to have a fair shot at staying here legally. Prove to me that you haven't had your eyes closed as America changes around you, that you're not clinging to some hallowed American golden age that never really existed except for an extremely lucky few. Oh, and maybe let the District of Columbia pass the laws its voters want for a session or two. Just a thought.

Prove me wrong, GOP. Don't continue to champion laws and financial regulations that benefit the extremely wealthy at the expense the poor, the middle classes, and everyone else, or let corporate employers oppress their workers under some twisted definition of "religious freedom." Stop pretending that the slow erosion of white, male, Christian privilege constitutes a "war" on anything other than the rampant inequity that our civilization has grappled with ever since the first settlers landed and decided they owned the place.

Prove me wrong, GOP. Stop our political leadership on both sides of the aisle from babbling about the self-evident greatness of American values and leadership. From acting as though, if we believe in America hard enough, everything will be awesome again. Stop standing up for clowns like Gov. Paul LePage of Maine, who carries on about American ideals while obviously having no clue what those ideals are.

Instead, take action that will restore, rather than further damage, America's leadership role in the world. If you can't do that, at least help us gratefully transition out of the superpower years and into a quieter, though still important, role on the global stage. I'd suggest starting with a renewed national focus on human rights at home and abroad, on protecting our civil liberties from law enforcement and security forces, on recognizing the right to health care and development. Or perhaps you could begin by putting a stop to our economic policy of writing checks that future generations (and our planet) can't cash, and instead pushing yourselves and the rest of us to wake up to climate science and make real progress on tackling the global changes that are going to threaten us throughout the next century.

But most importantly, prove me wrong about the fate of our democratic process. Prove to me that you came to power on the strength of a message that's attractive to the majority of Americans, rather than by making it almost impossible for the people who don't support you to even vote.  Prove to me that elections and legislation haven't been bought and paid for by the moneyed interests of the 1%, whose agenda you are conspicuously supportive of.

Your move, guys. We're all waiting. Prove me wrong.

Oh, and enjoy having no one else to blame if Congress continues to get nothing done.

--AWG

...we'd join the politicians, and we know we'd be well-fed/ we'd sleep no more upon the ground but in a feather bed... 

On the Secret Service: You know who else had an SS?

That's right, it was Hitler.

OK, so our (S)ecret (S)ervice is much less horrible. But thanks to them, it looks like the security perimeter around the White House might be getting a lot bigger.

Next time you're binge-watching Scandal or whatever on Netflix, take a minute to check out an old episode of "The West Wing". An early episode, I mean. They're all old, by now. You'll see stock establishing shots of cars and buses going by the White House on Pennsylvania Avenue back when it was still an Avenue, before it became a sprawling plaza cordoned off by Secret Service on either end.

But not much of DC survived the post-9/11 security blitz, and the White House most certainly didn't. And that's OK, I actually like the new Penn Ave. I ride through it every day going to and from work, and it's much more pleasant for bikes and pedestrians than I imagine the old Penn would have been. Sometimes a motorcade shuts it down completely, which is inconvenient, but that's just a fact of life here in Drama City.

Last weekend, though, some nutcase troubled former Army sniper named Omar J. Gonzalez jumped the security barriers with a hatchet down his pants and got through the White House's front door before being stopped by a guard. And now they want to turn the whole area into a fortress, and screen every single tourist, employee, or resident trying to go anywhere within a few blocks.

Local commentators (obviously) have roundly condemned that potential move, citing major disruptions to the lives of Washingtonians and our visitors. It's just the latest reminder that D.C. does not belong to the people who live here, but to the federal government, and increasingly to federal security forces.

My fear, though, is that a larger cordon around the White House will have the support of most of the country, because it'll be framed as an anti-terror tactic, and anyone who opposes it will be in league with terrorists or something. Citizens' concerns will be silenced, as ever, in the name of "security."

Oh, and because D.C. residents have no voting member of Congress to advocate for us. That doesn't help either.

I mean, I get that this is kerfuffle is kinda embarrassing for the Secret Service, and they need to be seen as taking decisive action. But I can't help fixating on this one minor detail: the guard at the door stopped Gonzalez. Gonzalez never got a chance to menace the first family, at all.

Doesn't that mean that the security measures in already place... worked?

"Oh, but he should never have gotten that far to begin with," cry the hawks. Fine. Probably not. But passive security measures like bollards, fences, and scanning checkpoints are never going to completely prevent a single person from slipping past on rare occasions, and we'd be naive to pretend that they ever will.

People jump the White House fence all the time. That's why we have trained, armed human beings and riled-up dogs standing behind those barriers. If anything, the Secret Service needs to review its procedures and maybe beef up patrols. Or, as Petula Dvorak argues, lock the front door. The measures they're discussing now just smack of encroaching totalitarianism. It's not worth further restricting our freedom of movement in the nation's capital just to make a big show of subjecting thousands of workers and residents, along with millions of tourists, to even more rigorous screening even further from the White House.

Because it'll be exactly that. A show. A really big, really expensive show to meant to stop something really bad that didn't really happen from not happening again.

Really?

--AWG

It's on in the Amazon.

These. Guys. Are. Metal.

Chop down MY tree, will you?!
Photo by Lunae Parracho for The Atlantic

The Atlantic today released a photo essay of a group of Ka'apor, a Brazilian indigenous community, just bringing a world of pain to some loggers operating illegally in their territory.

It went down like this: the Ka'apor are the legal custodians and inhabitants of a swath of Amazon rainforest in Maranhao state, and they've gotten tired of the government's inability or unwillingness to keep unauthorized logging operations from harvesting lumber on their land. So last month, a bunch of men from several tribes mounted up with rifles, bows, and sticks, and went out and found an illegal logging camp. They captured the loggers, beat them with sticks, took their pants and shoes, cut up their logs with chainsaws, and sent them running off down the road while their trucks burned.

And you know what? Good for them. Kind of.

In the recent (post-colonization) history of the region, Amazon indigenous communities have had an incredibly hard time getting governments to even acknowledge them as human beings, much less offer them equal protection under the law. States have tended to be, at best, neglectful or patronizing toward indigenous populations, at worst, actively hostile. The Amazon, by the way, is huge, and even a relatively powerful government like Brazil's will be hard-pressed to control the more remote areas like Maranhao state, even if they want to. So, the community members took matters into their own hands.

Ain't nobody got time for that truck.
Credit: Lunae Parracho for The Atlantic

Whether government inaction is more a problem of ability or of willingness in this case, I don't know. It's probably a bit of both. Two things I can tell you, though: it looks like this has been going on for a while, and the Ka'apor are now striking back at logging and farming outfits that have destroyed their land, displaced their communities, and killed their neighbors. Also, based on my experience, unauthorized logging and mining camps in South America often have the tacit (and sometimes not so tacit) support of government officials who don't see the Amazon as an ecosystem or cared-for land, but a bunch of dollar signs covered by forest canopy.

Which brings to mind a couple troubling things about this latest turn of events. What's really sad, to me, is that  the newly pants-less loggers are the symptom, not the disease. They're not the ones reaping disgusting profits. Their street clothes, dilapidated vehicles, and apparent lack of safety equipment tell me that they likely aren't well-paid employees of a legitimate enterprise, but low-wage labor for a wildcat outfit. The problem isn't with those guys, who are trying to live and support their families just like the Ka'apor, but with the high percentage of logging companies who operate illegally in the Amazon. A late-90s study by the Brazilian government found that 80% of all logging in the Amazon was being done illegally, and 12 out of the 13 companies investigated were cutting down trees they weren't supposed to. That's the big picture, and while I don't think the Ka'apor were wrong in the strictest sense, I do wish they had a more direct (and less violent) way to address the real problem, like the capacity to deal with the government directly, establish some rule of law, and secure a commitment to clamping down on illegal logging.

The state likely has little interest in doing that, though, because dollars. Foreign companies tend to invest a lot of money in countries where they want to secure mining, oil extraction, or logging privileges. So in the past, when indigenous communities in South America have attempted to occupy or dismantle those operations, the state has sent in its own security forces to protect that investment. Occupiers and demonstrators can be arrested, injured, and killed by their own country's military acting on behalf of a private corporation. When pictures like this hit the internet...    

Lunae Parracho/The Atlantic

...people tend to take notice, and words like "savages" and "terrorism" start to get thrown around, which is productive for nobody. 

Fortunately, there are organizations, both indigenous and otherwise, that are working to build the capacity of vulnerable groups to advocate for their needs and exercise their rights. Check out the work of CARE International or the Latin American Future Foundation , which I was fortunate enough to intern with a couple years back. They're doing some important things and forming crucial partnerships with the aim of making lawlessness the exception, not the rule, in the region.

--AWG

Wait for the drop.

At mile 4, I was already breathing hard.

*Oh, this shouldn't be happening...*

At mile 10, my legs were on fire.

*Wut...?*

And just past mile 16, at the furthest point from home of the entire route, I was totally spun out. Spent. Agotado. I stopped even trying to keep up. I'd been dropped.

And not dropped like I'll see everyone at the rally point in a couple of miles. Well and truly, lose control and smash all your friend's stuff dropped.

Getting dropped on a group ride is a weird and lonely experience, especially the first time it happens. And if you ride bikes in groups, it's not a question of if, but when. If only that knowledge made it any easier.

I mean sure, it was like 85 degrees out and 1000% humidity. And I'd done 55 solo miles in the heat the day before, which was the most training I'd done since June. The majority of the group, meanwhile were weekly regulars who either race or do frequent long rides elsewhere.

At the moment though, none of that was helping. I should have been able to hack it for 32 miles. It was the last of those rides being held this season, after all. Was I really going to put on this poor of a show?

I'm already prone to heavy self-criticism, so I took it harder than there was probably any reason to. But as even the tail end of the group receded further and further into the twilight, their rear flashers mocking me, I started to wonder just what the hell I thought I was doing out there.

It wasn't a competition of any kind, and there were no stakes whatsoever. Still, my ego was very bruised. Really, it felt a lot like how people describe the five stages of grief:

Denial: Pssh, I got this. I'll surge ahead in a minute and be back to the middle of the pack.

Anger: What the F*CK! WHY is it so hot out here? WHY do I feel like this when everyone else is doing fine. It's not FAIR!

Bargaining: OK legs, just one more fast mile. I'll spin REALLY hard for 60 seconds if that'll get me back with the group. I'm a really nice guy, maybe they could slow up just a bit cause I'm nice???

(To be fair, one woman did offer me her wheel if I "wanted to hop on," but want and ability were two very different things by then. My failing, not hers.)

Depression: Dude, what am I even DOING on a bike? I obviously suck at this sport-hobby, I should just call a cab home, put my bike in the basement and never look at it again. Maybe I'll go back to doing musicals or a cappella. Oh wait, I wasn't especially good at those either.

Acceptance: OK, they're gone. Well. Nothing to do but keep pedaling til I'm home, I guess. This was bound to happen sooner or later.

Of course, the REAL stages of grief are much more serious, I was just being a sissy. But there was a strange similarity to the progression. It did not feel good. I regret to say I missed out on the pizza party that capped off the ride, and thus the season. Half out of not knowing where to go, and half out of not feeling like I deserved it. But I'm glad to say that by the time I limped home, the dark thoughts had faded.

*Well, that wasn't very much fun, was it? Now get over it, some people have real problems.* I didn't need to quit or find a new hobby. And it really wasn't a big deal, all I needed was a shower, a meal, and some sleep. And to try harder next time, which I resolved to do. Then I made some quinoa salad with veggies and avocado.

And it was the best thing I had ever tasted.

--AWG

I was born with blood on my hands, and have all the signs of a bleeding heart.