Retirement. The word can conjure visions of sweet oases of rest and relaxation between games of golf and lazy morning bouts with crossword puzzles, a permanent wave good-bye to the daily grind. Or it can conjure nightmares of days with nothing more to do than contemplate the cruelty of impending infirmity and reminisce about youthful revelries over jello and re-runs of The Price Is Right.
Last year I wrote about a Tucson Unified School District social engineering plan that had the effect of meting out punishment based on racial quota. The school board had insisted, reported Arizona Republic’s Doug MacEachern, “that its schools reduce its suspensions and/or expulsions of minority students to the point that the data reflect ‘no ethnic/racial disparities.’” (It wasn’t reported whether the students cooperated and started committing infractions based on racial quota.)
Some of us may have thought politics in America couldn't get more absurd than it was in the 1970's, when we had a President of the United States proclaim: "I'm not a crook." Now we have a major party candidate for the U.S. Senate beginning her first general election campaign ad with, "I'm not a witch."
Approximately two and a half millennia ago, Plato, in his classic work, The Republic, unveiled a more intimate look into our just discussed “National Law of the Harvest” — that is, Plato unveiled with precision and wit just what happens by and by to the individual "democratic man" when he foolishly, or by matter of course, abandons “liberty in law” for “me first!” and “anything goes!”
“Let me save you some trouble,” author Kenda Creasy Dean says in the very first sentence of her book Almost Christian: What the Faith of Our Teenagers Is Telling the American Church. “Here is the gist of what you are about to read: American young people are, theoretically, fine with religious faith — but it does not concern them very much, and it is not durable enough to survive long after they graduate from high school.”