Until very recently, most children in agricultural societies were family assets. Able to help and do hard work almost from the age of three. Industrialization further reduced the children of common laborers to near animals or slaves.

As the industrialized world became a little richer, childhood _ as we used to envision it _ was invented as a carefree time of play and learning. However, that made the kids expenses rather than assets, often for extended periods. 

Today, adolescents can be a financial burden for a long time, often into the mid-20s. This can be a tremendous drain, with little chance of payback. Since there is very little guaranteed in capitalism, parents naturally want their offspring to become independent and self-supporting as soon as possible.  Some even hope that there will be some financial return as time goes on.

We inevitably end up with many prospective ”meal ticket children” who can aim for scholarships or lucrative careers as soon as they leave the cradle.  Nothing new, ancient European aristocrats did much the same for equivalent reasons.

Parents polish and grind such a child into a sparkling little gem. Some may become sports stars, some financial wizards, some entertainers, and on and on. Often justified by “it’s what they want to do.”

Carefree childhood vanishes into constant training run on rails. I think that is a grave mistake, and maybe at the core of the rot in our culture. All those driven _ but inevitably mostly eventually disappointed _ young people end up angry at fate.

And everyone feels like a victim.

For most people, interaction with government is primarily for stupid trivial annoyances with bitter arrogant bureaucrats. Laws are generally passed to stem the most egregious social offenses, but they are often applied to the least consequential, by employees who consider themselves underpaid, overworked, and happy only by asserting control.

For example, a simple law which means to assure that nobody dies from eating in a slovenly restaurant turns into an expensive and time-consuming flim-flam if someone wants to sell cupcakes at a local bake sale. Worse, the big guys get away with all kinds of stuff or ignore the laws entirely _ with use of lawyers, bribes, and contacts.

So after an afternoon at the DMV, or filling out endless property forms or whatever, it is no wonder that voters think all government is “evil.” None of their personal interactions with it or anything but annoying and expensive in time and money and frustration. 

I learned when coding software that although it is the big problems in applications that concern managers, architects, and developers, it is the tiniest little ongoing but obvious cosmetic issues that most annoy users and determine how they feel about the project.

I suspect that the constant creep of ever more certification and minuscule aggravations is why folks are so negative about public life today.

Definitions define language, but implied connotations matter. My own background causes me to cringe at “homeland” when referring to the United States.

For most of my life “Homeland” was applied to Nazi Germany, Stalinist Russia, or 1984. It was conflated with “home turf” which was associated with the Mafia, criminal gangs, and slums.

Worse than that, it meant an inward vision, a fear of the outside, a closing up of the “true” people against everyone else, the “others.”. That was and is exactly the opposite of the optimistic, outward, and confident culture in which I grew up. 

We were the winners, we were the leaders, we were sure of ourselves. Most of us had a background of ancestral immigrants.  We thrived in a “melting pot.” Somewhere that all changed, everyone became scared and now we put up with insane controls and accepted wisdoms unimaginable in my parents’ day.

I still feel deep in my bones that “Homeland” is a large step towards an authoritarian culture. The first thing any cult tries to do is cut its members off from any outside influence. Often by convincing them that the outside is horribly evil and dangerous, inhabited by “others” who are at best irrelevant, at worst existential enemies.

Oh, yes, I know it is just me. “Homeland” is just a word, like any other. Its meaning is restricted. 

Perhaps.

Tribalism is core to our social nature, because the first thing we want to know about anyone else is whether they are friend or foe, a threat or harmless. This judgment happens all the time, instinctively.

The complexity of such identification is almost fractally infinite. If we know someone it is easy (if we know them well enough to predict what they will do.) Otherwise it is a set of snap decisions based on a series of subconscious signals _ height, age, sex, appearance, situation and on and on. 

A racist element attaches to things that cannot be changed, such as skin color, shape of eyes or nose. A sexist element to male or female. An ageist response to child or ancient elder. And so on. Things a person cannot easily disguise. 

Then we move to cultural markers. What are they wearing, what tattoos do they have, how do they speak. All of those can be more or less easily obscured, so we tend to be suspicious.  And we worry about anyone conspicuously trying to not be part of our accepted tribal norms.

Back to Socratic logic, I guess. I am human. All humans are tribal. I am tribal. And, beyond that, what tribe are you? 

As a civilized person, I can (and should) try to expand my inner definition of my tribe. But the ancient instincts remain.

I’ve read enough anthropology and history to know that just being exposed to nature does not automatically create what we would call “nice” people. Our species can be bloodthirsty, cruel, and capricious under any circumstances.

In my own life, getting into open meadows or woodland a few times a week does help me feel more civilized. I get nervous and aggressive when buffeted by technology new and old, when taxing my brain to deal with complex social interactions. 

A tree is an automatic relaxing metaphor. Standing tall, strong, striving, quiet. Or even broken, toppled, or decaying. I learn a new lesson each time I stroll by. 

Besides, trees are good for me. They clean the air and can be used in all kinds of ways. Mostly, though, I prefer to leave them as they are, to think unusual thoughts, to meditate. And to go beyond meditation to the simple accepting joy of being who I am, one with the biologic components of this planet’s ecology. 

We are blessed around here by having lots of trees, at private houses, in parks, self-propagating relentlessly. Perhaps I would have similar encounters if I lived in grasslands, but I strive to live where I actually am.

Right now I’m glad to be near trees.

Or, should I say, Vesuvius. 79 AD, pyroclastic superheated air, hot ash molds of victims. It’s fascinated everyone since its discovery in the 1500s. The climate doom prophets claim we are living on the slopes of a pyroclastic-possible Earth at this very moment.

But _ well _ hard to tell. The climate is warming, and the cause is humanity, but the results are uncertain. Surely we must lose what we are used to, and all kinds of disasters will occur, but the Earth has been hotter (and colder) in the past. We are not about to be incinerated one fine morning with molds around us for little green men to pour plaster of Paris into when they finally discover our planet. 

The Vesuvius scenario is only one of many apocalyptic ones. A long list, from nuclear war or plague to AI domination or nano goo. It helps people cope _ not unlike predestination, since the burden of results from each our own actions will soon be obliterated anyway. And _ hey _ it all fits with Christian scripture!

Suppose you were living in Pompeii, AD 77. Even if you knew the volcano might blow, would you move? You’d assume you would have warnings and time. You’d enjoy the fertile fields and lovely views _ it wasn’t a resort town for no reason. And, by all normal logic, you would be right to do so. (In fact, many people did leave after the first earthquake a day or so before.)

An apocalyptic mindset is inevitably nihilistic. It’s no way to live a decent life _ even the wonderful moments you could enjoy are tainted with an existential dread.

Up until that tragic moment, should it ever happen, you should strive to be happily ignorant of the future.

The wealthy, who line up to eat at the public trough, always think that someone else is slurping up more. And they are worried that they will have to pay too much. So they come up with all kinds of strange notions to protect their position. 

A current example is the idea of “starving government,” If no money is available from taxes _on the wealthy in particular _ the rich claim, as Marx wrote, the state will wither away and all lives will be happy.

Of course, their idea of starving government does not mean lessening the services on which the rich depend. No, there must be a huge military to “protect investments” worldwide, a massive police force to keep local money and property safe, and a gigantic legal system to ensure contracts and property rights _ all,mostly, of course, belonging to the well off. 

The “starved government” is really code for starved everyone _ except the well off. Cut back on entitlements, food, healthcare, shelter,. “Let them eat cake,” “are there no work houses?” “well there should be.”

This elite knows it is the deserving rich, secure in the belief that they have earned their obscene surpluses and sure that the rest of the “loafers” and “takers” must be punished by being kept in their proper place.

By the iron fist of a government starved of all humanity.

To be an isolated misanthrope is surely not the best way to lead a good life. On the other hand, it may turn out that many of the modern varieties of social engagement are not all that healthy either. 

Some, for example, are clearly overstated. Giving money for food relief in Africa is _ on the scale of minor donors _ not making much of a difference. For a person donating $10 or so _ well, it may make them feel better. But it is mostly a shill game by those running organizations as a profession. 

Too many cries to engage sound a lot like ancient calls to conquer the world. To carry out God’s will as if God did not have the power to do it directly. To correct wrongs with a simple act of will or generosity _ although the wrongs may be endemic in time and space or misunderstood entirely.

And that is perhaps the nub of the problem. Modern media tales of engagement _ like all media tales _ are stridently overblown to give a sense of power where there is none. They emphasize the old call to “think globally and act locally” by pretending that minor personal acts can change vast world systems.

Yes, by all means, engage. But do it all around you, not using a remote screen. 

Every holiday we seem to be assaulted to remember “true meaning.” Patriotism, religion, whatever. But the true meaning of any day really is exactly what it is _ not its magical or historic baggage.  A holiday sharpens that perception.

For example, Christmas and New Year, the end of year holiday in the northern hemisphere. Truly reflective of life, from Neolithic times when the long memory began to have meaning, marking solstice and the gradual return of the sun. Celebrating survival of another yearly cycle. Enjoying companions present. Remembering those departed. 

Several thousand years of monotheistic religions have piled wooly mythology onto this ritual. With the vast uncertainties in the world today, a lot of Americans, in particular, find such stories easy and comforting and a useful guide for life.

But, “true meaning” is that this holiday is a celebration of life and family. Another trip around the sun, another cycle of seasons. Back where we began 365 days ago, much the same but different _ we are at least older, sometimes unrecognizable.

It is the proper time to be nostalgic and grateful and a little more aware of family and friends. Tempered by the frantic rush and sometime anger at what did not work out as planned. That depth of feeling is also “true meaning.”

Forget the media and political sloganizing. Time to embrace the cold, look to the future, appreciate the present, and give thanks for this instant of miracle of existence. And prepare for another cycle, which is never quite a cycle.

It’s in vogue to write “thankfulness” or “happiness” journals. That’s a good idea, but mine concentrates more on “appreciation” _ whether I’m happy, or thankful, or not. It’s important to appreciate a winter snow storm, even though I may not be particularly happy about it.

Why? Because it is all part of my conscious sensory life. Another universal wonder I can experience in my own unique way. Something to which I can attach memories, thoughts, analysis, and speculation. 

I’ve never been one to believe “everything happens for a reason.” Things just happen. It’s up to me to assign them meaning, and to find a way to fit them into my life narrative. And by so doing, to appreciate their contribution _ good or bad _ to who I am. 

Appreciating everything can be hard work, sometimes impossible. Sometimes the best we can do _ especially for distant horrors _ is simply to appreciate that they are far away. Sometimes I worry that such is an evil attitude, but I also believe that part of life is to recognize those things we cannot change, even if we can make judgment on them. 

Local things, no matter how awful, are usually easier. Maybe not pleasant, maybe shattering, but a true part of the tapestry of my life narrative. 

The other word which is invoked by all these types of journals is, of course, merely being grateful for the chance to exist.