What I Told EPA About the Climate Crisis and Parenting

IMG_0753We ask our kids to be responsible. Brave, even. To venture out into the world with a sense that it is theirs — to explore, to learn about, and also to care for.

So today I asked the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) to do the same when it comes to developing new standards for carbon emissions for power plants. Working with the incredible Molly Rauch from Moms Clean Air Force, I testified at a public listening session downtown.

Here is what I said:

Good morning. My name is Laura MacCleery and I’m a public interest lawyer and blogger. But I’m here today as the mom of a wonderful three-year-old girl to tell you why the EPA should act for her and the other children here and around the world to quickly issue strong rules limiting carbon emissions from power plants.

Forty percent of U.S. emissions – 2.3 billion tons – come from power plants. This rule has tremendous power to address one of the major sources of climate disruption. It is an opportunity not to be wasted. Real leadership from EPA would allow the U.S. to act responsibly to address our role in causing a rapid, incipient change in global temperatures.

We don’t have much time. A study in the journal Nature last month found that by the year 2047 – when my daughter Maya is only 37 years old – Washington, D.C., will have a radically altered climate, in which even the coldest monthly dips will be warmer than over the past 150 years. Oxford researchers recently found the ocean’s rate of acidification is the fastest in 300 million years. An Australian researcher showed that by the time my daughter is middle-aged, large parts of the oceans will have slimy cynobacteria – basically black goop – where coral reefs should be. This is not the world I would like to pass on to my daughter.

I try to be a conscientious parent raising a responsible child. One who picks up after herself, and shares her toys without too many complaints. But I wonder, how will she look at me – how will our children think about any of us – if we don’t do what we can to stop climate change, right now? What will it mean to be human on this altered planet? And how will our children see themselves if we don’t act today: if we don’t do the most we can, using what we know, to curb climate change and to reduce the threat it poses to the systems that sustain our lives?

I’ll be 76 years old in 2047 – assuming I’m still around. Should I just tell Maya, then: sorry, we didn’t think it was worthwhile to even try to save your pleasant weather, or prevent asthma, or help prevent catastrophe to our agriculture, our wildlife and to the millions of people living in the tropics displaced by rising tides and violent weather?

I won’t be able to say we didn’t see it coming. The policy case, the scientific case, even the economic case have all been amply made. So I’m asking the EPA, on behalf of the many parents who couldn’t be here today, to act with real political gumption. To look past industry’s predictable objections and the facile compromises that could weaken a standard.

To make this moment – this rule – transformative, much like the fuel economy standards set in the 1970s that were aggressively front-loaded and ended up weaning the U.S. off its dependence on foreign oil for several decades. There is no progress without some disruption, but we are choosing between reform today and catastrophe tomorrow.

Decisive government action in this area would be smart and responsible, but it would also be – and I’ll just say it out loud – an act of love. Your job on this one is clear, and has high stakes. We always tell toddlers to use their words. So here are mine for you: Be bold. Brave. Creative. Visionary. Carpe Diem. Change our lives, and those of our children. Use your words for good.

Basically, I’m saying, make us proud, EPA. Make me proud. Don’t muddle along. Don’t accept half-measures that cut our future short.

Instead, be a super-hero. Get right to work to save this world for my child, and for all the other children who are looking up to us to do the right thing.

Laura at EPA###

My panel partner was terrific — he actually sang his comments in a moving, minor-key ballad on climate disruption. It rocked.

You can weigh in too. There are still sessions this week on November 8th in Chicago and Philadelphia. Here’s how to sign up. There are also instructions at that link about how to submit online written comments if you can’t appear in person.

Please, join me in telling the EPA that it must seize this moment to act to reduce carbon emissions, for our children and our planet. Let them know you’re watching, and you care about this enormous opportunity to do something substantial to help prevent a climate crisis.

Other posts you may like:

Infographic: The Power of Imagination

Parenting as Infographic, #6.

This happened last week, but is still cracking me up.

Mommy bunnyOther posts you might enjoy:

The Hollowing, and an Information Democracy

“Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow…”
— The Hollow Men, T.S. Eliot

“A world of made is not a world of born…”
pity this busy monster, manunkind, e.e. cummings

“All there is to thinking is seeing something noticeable which makes you see something you weren’t noticing which makes you see something that isn’t even visible.”
— A River Runs Through It, Norman Maclean

Sometimes trivial events are telling. I went looking for Lincoln Logs for Maya a little while ago, only to find that they are now not logs at all, but instead sad, cardboard-and-plastic affairs, with only the flimsiest relationship to the simple wooden toys of my childhood.

But the truth of what’s happened to the building blocks of our lives is far sadder than that. We make our consumption choices inside the bubble of a globalized, mass culture, on a steroid dose of marketing, with much of the information about how things are made and what they really cost us surgically removed. We can watch a video about “gangnam style” from the other side of the planet, and be exhilarated by vast quantities of information on the Interwebs and our fast life on an information highway, yet, curiously, we have no idea where most of the stuff around us comes from.

In fact, we have been carefully taught to screen out the material of our immediate world, to focus on whatever problem is assigned to us and nothing else. When we go to work, do we ask why the coffee is not organic or fair trade, or where the desks and carpets and chairs came from and what’s in them? Of course we don’t. If we go to some affair by a well-meaning charity, and the hors d’oeuvres are being passed, do we stop someone to inquire where the salmon is from, or whether the waitstaff is unionized? No, of course not. We look past the moment and write a check for social change.

This is no accident, of course. We are afraid of bringing on a confrontation, of making a fuss or asking too much. And the very purpose of the system is to keep us distracted and in the dark. Of course, there are notable and note-worthy exceptions. Students who noticed that they no longer wanted sweatshops making their university garb organized and made real progress in building a fair trade alternative. Organic foods were scarce only a decade ago and now can be found in nearly any real store. There are burgeoning movements about a new ruralism and biodynamic farming, about minimalism in consumption, and a new attention to DIY and upcycling, to slowness and conscientious choice.

These healthier signs notwithstanding, I don’t think it’s mere nostalgia about a more authentic past to suggest that we are living, today, inside an ersatz construction. Inside this simulacrum, we eat food, only to find out that it is mostly from a laboratory, rife with chemicals, gums and cheap substitutions, or from an industrial farm, and loaded with antibiotics, growth hormones, and cruelty to both farmworkers and animals. Even healthy food can now evidently be defined, as in a hotly contested government report, as containing only 50 percent of something recognizable as food (the agribusiness complex argued 50 percent was too high! In food for children!).

We buy furniture made mostly of pressboard and glue from someplace like Office Depot or Ikea, built for obsolescence and destined for a landfill rather than re-use. In fact, as you may have noticed, should some part arrive damaged, the company will ship you a whole new version of the item and won’t even bother to pick the faulty piece up — because while these items are costly, they are without any real value.

Our ‘tweens make “haul” videos of their most newly acquired pile of “fast fashion” clothes, constructed to last one season, and made somewhere else by people working (and sometimes dying) in deplorable, dangerous conditions, by suppliers that pollute the local waterways with toxic dyes and other chemicals. All of our plastics, as well as many of the chemicals and even some food additives, are actually byproducts of the petrochemical industry, thus making us pay them for the privilege of treating our bodies (and oceans) like oil company disposal facilities.

In sum, there has been an unmistakeable and steady hollowing of our lives. While the things around us look, more or less, the same as they did for our parents, with updated styling, there is far less to them in many ways — less wood, less actual food, less intention and care — and far more miles and sleight-of-hand.

The new equation combines the sped-up pace of global capital and the push to find a penny — or a fraction of a penny — from some new process, waste material or lab invention with ready markets ripe for exploitation in parts of the world that lack environmental and labor standards. We are then offered its glittering products, free of worldly taint or complex information. This is what the market wants, we are told. It’s convenient, modern, helpful — even necessary.

But is it really what we want? To be rather numb to the world immediately around us? To have the suffering of strangers quietly but insistently on the edge of our consciousness? To live inside the choices corporations have already made for us without questioning what other world there could have been?

There is, in fact, an alternative, and we already have many of the tools to make it so. We should imagine — and work to bring about — a future of radically unfettered information, and of a particular kind of augmented reality. Think a UPC code on every product, scannable with a smart phone, that brings up the full contents of what a purchase actually means for you and in the world: all of the components, environmental impacts, human health and safety issues, worker safety, life-cycle cradle-to-grave impacts, corporate policies, and even video images of the factory in which something is made, as well as maps of where it came from and how it traveled through space and time to the shelf. Nutritional or other helpful information in context with comparable items (hello, Fooducate), and even the full scoop on what the packaging is made of and its life-cycle.

This would help to foster responsibility all the way down the supply chain, and change the fundamentals of our economy to be both healthier and more sustainable. While many consumers may not care about such details, of course, enough would be impacted by the information to make better choices, and perhaps even to agitate for more accountable corporate and government policies. The agribusiness industry has fought labeling for genetically modified foods and country-of-origin labels tooth and nail for years out of just such a fear: the fear that consumers will care.

And corporations would have to compete in a world of information equality. With supply chains exposed, the quality of their goods and the ways in which they were made would be the distinguishing factors. Governments, which seem so sadly behind the pace of change and the risks, and too often end up being the keepers of corporations’ secrets thanks to outmoded policies on confidential information, could enforce existing rules far easier and dream of responding to new threats in real time.

Despite the fact that we humans have made many of the things now in our lives — we built the buildings, made the appliances, constructed the electronic gizmos and gadgetry — we have no record of what’s in our world. Instead, epidemiologists and allergists and others who study disease go on measuring things like our body burden for toxic chemicals, or the quality and contents of our water or air, and oncologists and other medical specialists go on treating the cancers we get from who-knows-what. To make connections will require rapid advances in both how the body works and what is impacting our health. This is not a medical problem or an environmental problem — it is an information problem.

Neither the government’s systems of protections nor the marketplace can function well when the signals about the differences in choices or products are so muddled. Consumers today — even ones trying to do the right thing — have to effectively get a PhD in multiple sciences, read past labels, ignore misleading greenwashing, and keep up with the latest findings from watchdog groups just to figure out which household cleaner won’t hurt their child. Better companies suffer in this environment, as their sacrifices are lost in the noise, and the engine of consumer choice cannot be harnessed as it could be to drive meaningful change.

In short, the information revolution must make transparent our lives and choices. People working on access to information and the quality of public information should be working together strategically to dismantle the barriers — including current rules about intellectual property and confidential business information, gag orders and secret settlements in court, and labeling omissions that shield hidden or vague ingredients in products and product packaging.

There is a massive agenda here for change, of course. But people working on these issues should knit them powerfully together, in the way that advocates addressing the climate crisis know that they are working on the same issue whether they are combating drilling in the Arctic or local zoning laws.

The changes wrought by open information in the political economy — both within companies and in Washington — could be profound. I humbly submit, as one who’s labored in those trenches, that these types of solutions may prove more potent than some classic “good government” proposals. Publishing more details of the appalling record on corporate lobbying, powerful as it is, often triggers cynicism and resignation among voters. It highlights a government that is remote, making decisions on high and impacted by power in ways that ordinary people cannot compete with. And the best campaign finance reforms have, sadly, been taken off-line by recent Supreme Court decisions that crippled critical aspects of their design.

If corporations are people for political purposes, as the high Court, in its limited wisdom, has prescribed, well, it seems to me a pity that they now know so much about us while we really know so little of them. Equipping consumers with actionable information on corporate accountability speaks to the choices they make every day. If accompanied by thorough reporting to government bodies, enabling them to form a more complete picture, the impact could be substantial, perhaps even transformative.

In the end, what else do we have except for what we do in the world? Making it mean something to us, all the way down, and seeing what it does mean, is a task most worthy of us, our markets, and our public institutions.

###

I’ll be writing more on this subject in the coming months. Please send your ideas for posts on corporate secrecy and public access to information and the nexus to public and environmental health.

Some related posts:

Generator Madness

Do not go gently into that good night…

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

– Dylan Thomas

Pride goeth before a fall.

– Proverbs 16:18 (basically)

It’s often very hard to know the precise moment when a manageable situation turns into a complete boondoggle — when the McGyver movie you thought you were starring in turns into a comic caper flick starring Seth Rogan, minus the comedy and (sadly) Seth Rogan.

Such has been the past four days “prepping” for the storm-o-pocalypse, Sandy. After reading the scary weather reports Thursday night just before bed, I tossed and turned and whirled in my sleep like a tropical disturbance. Woke up Friday morning with the conviction that for once in my life, I was going to be prepared for the worst, not hoping for the best.

Here are a few things you should know about our sitch:

1) We always lose power. We live in leafy, green Takoma Park, where the power lines are strung up among the branches. Both trees and the lovely treehuggers who protect them are numerous. Since moving here, we have lost power 6 times in under 2 years, mostly for a few days at least.

2) We have a freezer full of line-caught salmon from a buying club (yum) and organic fruits and veggies. When we lose everything, it’s real money.

3) Due to this exorbitant pricetag for freezer hiccups, the last time we lost power, over the summer, we attempted an escape to my folks’ house in Virginia with a packed cooler. This was a disaster — flooded roads, downed power lines and trees, and then, when we were halfway there, the discovery that they, too, had lost power. We had to turn around and find our way back to our dark house, which took hours. Despite our raid on the one grocery store still with ice, everything eventually melted.

4) We are not Mechanically Inclined. At all. It took us months to figure out where, for just one example, the water main was in our house. Our toolbox consists of a few screwdrivers and a hammer, and a lot of nifty options for hanging pictures.

5) When I was a kid, I read all kinds of book like Treasure Island and Swiss Family Robinson, and actually memorized techniques for surviving a shipwreck on a desert island. So I have that store of useful knowledge in reserve, in case we need to make a barn from the roots of a baobab tree, or something.

OK, so you can see the acute tensions here between the possible and the likely. Thursday night I spent researching our options, which seemed to be, basically, a portable generator. None of the Internet shipping possibilities would get any one of them to our house before Tuesday morning, however, when Sandy would be over our heads, and so on-line options were useless.

Friday morning after a restless night I hightailed it to Home Depot at 7 a.m., and found two generators left among all the contractors poring over their checklists. Storm prep paranoia had clearly not yet infected area consumers. Oddly enough, I was early! I snagged D batteries, a couple lantern style flashlights, and a 5,700 watt generator and some associated thick cords for an additional $60 bucks.

Based on charts up on the Amazon Web site about typical appliance wattages, I knew this would be enough for the fridge (2,200 watts to start, 600 to maintain), furnace blower (1,200), and Internet router, as well as a few lights. How hard can this be, I thought? Why doesn’t everyone just get a generator?

I’ll say this: Home Depot at 7 a.m. is an even more masculine environment than it’s normally testosterone-laden shelving would support. I was the only one in a dress for miles, or so it felt. The same Amazon resource on generators, I dimly recalled in my self-consciousness, had also said something about needing a “transfer plate,” or “transfer switch” or something. I duly questioned a fella in the electronics section about this. He gave me a blank stare, and pointed me to something that was clearly not It.

It was at that moment that I realized that I really needed an electrician to come and set this all up at our house, and that the cost of the generator (which wasn’t cheap at $700) was just the beginning of our capital incursions. Upon hearing my cross-examination of the Home Depot fella, at just that moment, an electrician piped up to say that no, a transfer switch was not needed with a portable generator. I knew that wasn’t the case based on what Amazon said, but I nonetheless immediately made nice with him, and eventually inveigled him into promising to come install things at my house and even drop off the massive generator, which would have never fit into my Altima.

Home Depot was out of the gas cans we would need for fuel, so I called around and found 2 at another local hardware, Ace. They would hold them in my name for a few hours.

So far, so good. I got Maya to preschool, co-oped with her, and went to get the 6-gallon gas cans. They had been put back out on the shelf but were still sitting there, so I picked them up as well as two 5-gallon blue kerosene containers. All together, these would hold only 22 gallons of gas, and the box for the generator indicated it would use 6 gallons every 11 hours, running at half the load. So we would still need to refuel even with all those canisters, even after just a few days without power. I envisioned non-functioning pumps and gas lines. This will be fun, I thought.

The electrician eventually showed up Saturday to do the job, and after several more trips to the store for the right equipment, he installed a power line to the main switchboard and disconnects both inside and out. It did require a hole in the foundation to the outside and a small chuck of drywall out of our ceiling, as well as another $750 dineros. Ouch.

Then, we got the wheels on the generator dolly, muscled it outside and down around the underside of our ramshackle back porch, where it would stay (we hoped) basically dry under a couple of heavy tarps. We also tidied up the yard and cleared what we could of the gutters.

Next, I went for gasoline, which turned out, for a non-toxics person, to be a form of torture. I had to stand above the gas tank, watching for spills, and whiffing the fumes. The gas came to $70. Then, like a moron, I evidently FUBAR‘d the kerosene tanks’ closures, and a small amount spilled in my car (the trunk was full of toddler gear, and I stupidly thought I could make it the few blocks home without incident).

The cloth upholstery stank like an Exxon. And I likely ruined one of Maya’s little jackets. Grr. Perhaps this is the moment when Seth Rogan enters the scene?

At any rate, on Sunday afternoon we sat down to actually read the full owner’s manual on our big new hulking machine. Words like “carbon monoxide poisoning” and “electrocution” really jumped out at us. As it turned out, we needed a ground wire for the machine itself, not just for the electrical wiring as the electrician had installed. I consulted my dad, and headed out for the store again.

When I got to Ace Hardware, we dropped another $90. They sold me a long copper rod (it was originally 8 feet, but I couldn’t even reach the top to pound it in, so they cut it off to 5 feet — and we hope that is good enough), a thick, wide hammer, some feet of number 8 wire, and a clamp to make a positive connection with the wire and the rod.

Seeing how overwhelmed I was as I balanced the bags of stuff while Maya pulled trinkets off every low-hanging shelf, the nice store manager at Ace actually said to me, “You know, you should really read the generator manual. I don’t want to read about you guys in the papers.” I reassured him that we had, and that it all looked very complicated to us. He did not look particularly reassured.

I also picked up a battery powered carbon monoxide monitor and batteries, to put inside in the downstairs window closest to the generator. And some rubber gloves, to try to break any connection when turning it on (I also will wear rubber shoes). We’re better safe than sorry on this kind of thing, and it’s almost guaranteed to still be wet whenever we’ll need to flip the switch.

Last, I took a trip by the car store, to pick up some completely toxic upholstery cleaner. I gave it a good spray with the chemical foam, and the chokingly intense gas smell abated a bit, but of course my car now just smells like the awful cleaner instead. Needless to say, every eco-principle I have bit the dust with this one. I tossed Maya’s jacket in the washer by itself with the strongest detergent we have, but it may be a goner.

When I got home late Sunday, it had started to drizzle. I picked a spot near the generator and started to pound in the rod. We’ll just say that my upper body strength is not very well developed. (My hubs offered to do this, but I was determined to follow through on my bright idea from a few days back.) I scraped my hand a little on one blow, still not sure how, and this was the end result of another near-miss, one day later:

In the end, the stupid rod went into the ground, except for a few inches, and we attached the clamp to the rod.

Now, we’ll just have to figure out where the ground wire goes on the frame, attach the electrical cord, flip the main circuit breaker off and the switch on at two locations, follow the reasonably elaborate starting instructions, and pull the cord.

And hope we don’t get electrocuted or die of carbon monoxide poisoning. And that our bank account will someday recover from my Friday morning panic, though we may need to also someday build a specific shed for the generator out in our tiny yard, to keep it even further from the house. So that’s another “cha-ching!” Yay.

At this point, a melting freezer doesn’t look too awful. Of course, IF it works AND we don’t die, it will be nice to be able to run the furnace blower and keep our food around a bit.

I’ll write after the storm, with luck, and let you know that we made it. I have faith, even if my finger hurts a bit, and even if I currently feel more fool than crafty survivor as Sandy comes roaring in.

Update:

Irony of ironies, we never lost power. This time. At least we’re set for the next incident.

Also, my finger is no longer painful. So there’s that. We’ll stick the gas in our car, and will add a storage and ventilated area for the gas and generator when we renovate the porch, which needs doing anyway.

We really didn’t get hit hard here by the storm. But I’ll note that the few area casualties from Sandy included three reports of carbon monoxide poisioning from generators, though all ultimately recovered. If you’re going to invest in a generator, please also drop the $25 bucks on a carbon monoxide monitor for your house! Seems to me that they should be sold together, always.

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Generator Tips

When my dad went to the hardware store on Sunday, he saw many families with large generators in their carts. Despite the buying spree, I’d be willing to warrant that many of these stay in the box, or get returned. Setting up a generator is more complicated than I knew at least, and I’d be willing to bet I’m not the only one who thought of it, wrongly, as an easy fix.

Please take advantage of our lessons learned if you are considering buying a generator.

Here’s what you’ll really need to do the job right:

1) A truck, or better, someone with a truck and dolly, to get it home: The larger machines (4,000 watts+) are very heavy and big. You’ll need several strong people to lift/move it and a large enough vehicle for transport, or to pay the store to do it.

2) The right electrical cords and connections: Be sure to check the length, plug type, wattage AND amperage on the cords. Home Depot sold us the wrong stuff twice.

3) Electrical know-how and a transfer switch: For smaller generators, if you know what you are doing, you can switch off the main power, and run extension cords from the particular appliances you’ll need to a multi-plug cord designed for that purpose. Of course, you’ll need all those extension cords, and this arrangement won’t power the furnace blower or anything that can’t be connected by cord (i.e., lights). Use extreme caution in wet conditions if hooking up extension cords — puddles, obviously, can conduct electricity. So hook up everything before you power up.

For larger generators, the whole point is to run more stuff. (For a link to typical appliances and their wattage needs, see this Amazon resource.) So you will likely need an electrician, as we did, to install a transfer switch and run a cable from the main power box through the house and outside. The clear advantage of doing it this way also that this avoids multiple extension cords, which have to get outside somehow. Keeping a window open with a larger generator may draw deadly carbon monoxide back into the house.

Either way, unlike what everyone initially told me, you DO need a transfer switch. This critical piece of equipment insures that the main power line into the house is off if the generator is on — otherwise, if you were running the generator and the power for the main house was active, you could send electricity along the line out from your house, just as some hardworking soul from the electric company is out there in hellish conditions trying to fix the power, and you could injure or kill that person.

All the same, Home Depot did not stock this essential item, and even the electrical supply stores had scant supplies, especially for generators the size of the one we purchased. You can get the transfer switches on Amazon, but you’d obviously have to have the time available to order ahead, which is reason #50 that generators are more work than you might think.

4) A place to put it: This is the trickiest part. First, it MUST be run outside. Carbon monoxide fumes can kill you in minutes. Also be sure that windows are closed if there is a risk of introducing fumes. Here’s the CDC’s guidelines, including specific instructions for generators.

Second, the instructions indicate that it must be a meter or more from the house, and yet also under a shelter from the weather. In addition, they ask for 3 feet of clearance on all sides, including above. Given that the machine itself is a good 3 feet long by 2 feet wide by 3 feet high, that means a shed that is approximately 6 feet high, 8 feet wide and 9 feet long.

How many homes have an enormous, basically empty shed a meter (approx. five feet) or so outside their house? I would guess very few.

Even in our yard, it was a close call. Our spot barely works, given that much of our yard is drainage that becomes a virtual stream with this much rain. Our porch happens to provide decent clearance on all but the top, and we can get the generator a meter away from the house and still have it under the porch. We added tarps on top of the generator itself (which must be removed when we run it) and also plastic sheeting above on the porch, to try to keep the water off and keep puddles from forming nearby. So factor in tarps, covers and any other weather protection needs to your shopping list.

We also looked at the insta-shed plastic options, which run about $200, and even so, none had the right clearances, ventilation or space. If you ran it with the doors open on these smaller sheds, the water would get right in. So it wouldn’t be easy to come up with a decent place for the machine, if you don’t have one available already.

5) Ground rod, clamp, wire and determination: While few people actually bother with this, the instruction booklet is very clear that the generator itself — particularly models on wheels with rubber tires — must be grounded. This is so that when you touch the machine, you don’t create that ground and draw the electrical current. You’ll need a long copper grounding rod (about $26), a copper clamp designed to make a connection, and several feet of thick wire (our model called for number 8). Pound in the rod (at least our soil was soft and clay-like — you may want to consider the work involved here); strip a few inches of rubber off both ends of the wire; attach one end with the clamp to the rod and the other to the machine where indicated in the instructions. Note that moving the machine will require enough wire to allow that movement and keep the ground connection intact.

6) Gas containers: You’ll want to have several gas containers on hand full of gas, and a safe place to put them, as well as a place to refuel for extended outages. Our 5,700 watt generator runs for 11 hours on 6 gallons at half-load, for a measure of how many containers and how much gas you’d need.

7) Safety equipment: You’ll want thick-soled shoes (rubber is best) to wear when turning it on and a battery powered carbon monoxide monitor with batteries. Put the monitor inside the house near where gas could enter the house from the machine, and do check to make sure the monitor and batteries are working.

Hope that this list is helpful to you! Please let me know if you have tips in addition to these.

Who’s a Moocher, Really?

Mitt Romney, former governor of Massachusetts,...

Mooch much?

Romney’s revealing slip at a private fundraiser has already occasioned a lot of commentary, including a piece by David Brooks bemoaning his campaign’s “incompetence.”

Brooks straightforwardly addresses some of Romney’s errant notions. First, the idea that those who get government money mainly vote for Democrats is false of course, as progressives often bemoan: instead, many are veterans and working class whites who tend to vote Republican. And he points out that these alleged “moochers” also includes millions of retirees. Gosh, vets, old people and poor people – why are you guys always on the take?

Brooks generously says that this is not the real Romney, but a gussied-up campaign version of a Romney-bot. But it seems to me that Romney’s comments instead reveal how uncritically he’s consumed the GOP’s “job creator” Kool-Aid.

One undercurrent of his comments is that unlike the “moocher” class, he and any other people rich enough to attend a big-money Republican fundraiser earned their extraordinary wealth, with bootstraps or otherwise. Of course, Romney perpetually appears not to notice that he was born on third base, which is one of the reasons he keeps committing the same gaffe over and over and over again, like hari kari inflicted with a sharpened silver spoon.

But even beyond his lamentable personal arrogance, the suggestion that he deserves what he has is worth examining. As a governor’s son, handed any opportunity in the world, Romney chose the easiest and most lucrative, but heartless, way to make lots of moola: private equity. This says something at least about his character, in a way that makes Brooks’ assessment look overly generous.

What is private equity, anyway, and is it something of real value, such that someone like Romney is morally better than a moocher? The basic model for private equity firms is to buy a company, in order to “fix” and sell it. The catch? “Fixing” it generally means you have to do one or both of two things: increase revenues or cut costs. To increase revenues is hard, requiring great management and long-term investment. So private equity firms cut costs – providing a short-term answer for investors wanting high, fast returns.

The upshot is that most private equity deals take advantage of tax writeoffs for corporate debt, leveraging a company and risking its health to improve profits for the equity firm. The focus on quick returns almost guarantees this approach. Does this add value? Perhaps sometimes, but more times than not it mainly pads the pockets of investors.

Does it generate “efficiencies”? Who can say, really? Efficiencies for whom and for what purpose? The received wisdom is that anything that makes someone a dollar expresses value, but in societal or moral terms that’s often far from the truth.

As Mother Jones has since revealed, the video in question was filmed at a $50,000-per-plate fundraiser at private equity manager Rick Leder’s house. Here’s what the New York Times had to say about Leder and his financial value-added:

Mr. Leder personifies the debates now swirling around this lucrative corner of finance. To his critics, he represents everything that’s wrong with this setup. In recent years, a large number of the companies that Sun Capital has acquired have run into serious trouble, eliminated jobs or both. Since 2008, some 25 of its companies—roughly one of every five it owns—have filed for bankruptcy. Among the losers was Friendly’s, the restaurant chain known for its Jim Dandy sundaes and Fribble shakes. (Sun Capital was accused by a federal agency of pushing Friendly’s into bankruptcy last year to avoid paying pensions to the chain’s employees; Sun disputes that contention.) Another company that sank into bankruptcy was Real Mex, owner of the Chevy’s restaurant chain. In that case, Mr. Leder lost money for his investors not once, but twice.

And Leder evidently also throws racy parties that require a lot of chlorine for the pool (yawn). So there’s that.

But even setting aside for a moment, if we can, this seedy world of hilariously cliched corporate raiders, why should we treat Republican’s moral assumption that corporate earnings are real, earned, and genuine as sacrosanct?

Obama got in some hot water a little earlier in the summer and was much-derided at the Republican convention for an honest and unremarkable statement about how the money earned by businesses depends on social investments by the government — i.e., all of us — for success. Really, this is fact, and not particularly controversial.

As Obama would know, it’s black letter law that companies may be sued wherever they do business because they “avail” themselves of roads, bridges, and the mail. In addition to the obvious examples Obama was describing, every time an uninsured low-income worker gets sick, and goes to a hospital for charity care, we all subsidize their care (an issue that “Obamacare” will help address by giving that person real insurance at last).

Every time the federal government makes college more affordable for students, or helps low-income families through Healthy Start, the workers of tomorrow become better equipped for a challenging future. Every family that gets a (ridiculously paltry) childcare tax credit is a family that can better afford to work. And every time a government safety or health rule saves a worker from being injured, that person can go to work tomorrow.

But it’s deeper than that as well. Guess who uses our court system, mostly? Businesses, suing other businesses. Without the power to enforce contracts, these arrangements would be enforced at the end of a gun, as in many less tenable economies around the world. A transparent, accountable marketplace is the sine qua non for a productive and stable economy.

And on the other side of the equation, it’s clear that corporations are good at producing stuff, and that a vibrant business economy is good for workers and companies. But there’s also a lot that’s wrong with the way corporate incentives are currently structured. This should be a much bigger part of the debate about the contributions of the so-called “job creators.”

Due to our shareholder incentive structure and a lack of meaningful rules for corporate charters, a corporation’s current job is to squeeze a dollar until it hurts (somebody else). This drive towards the bottom line often produces great suffering for workers, especially low-income workers in punishing, poorly regulated jobs like those in slaughterhouses or on farms.

There’s widespread financial predation as well – the Department of Justice and Attorneys’ General landmark settlement against the banks earlier this summer, though enormous, was the tip of the iceberg compared to the devastation in the housing market from no-document loans, robo-signing and other schemes, and from a derivatives economy that was – and is still – structured to produce careless profit-taking by Wall Street.

And of course there’s environmental harm – the “externalities” that businesses wish we would just clean up instead of them. And sometimes they dirty it up on purpose. In the case of chemical flame retardants, for example, the industry basically invented a need and poisoned every living room and public space in America with cancer-causing toxins, just to sell more pounds of their stuff.

Then there’s the corporate capture of lawmakers through campaign contributions, which puts decisions by government in hoc to the wealthy. The big dollars flow to the committee chairs who preside over issues of interest to companies: most of the same Republicans who mouth off against big government apparently see no problem when these companies attempt to purchase that government for a price.

My point isn’t that corporations are evil. They are structured to be profit-maximizing. But the equation of that with the high moral ground is puzzling, given the dubious mix of activities in which companies often engage. And what often gets lost in the debate about government funding versus corporate freedom is the hypocrisy: corporations readily exploit government money, lands and resources whenever they can, while criticizing any attempt to balance their often-rapacious activities with the common good.

Yet corporations, more than almost anything actually, are mere creatures of the state and governing law. The tax incentives that reward debt and leverage, and the policies that are keeping borrowed money cheap basically forever? Those are government policies, of course. The outrageous, anti-American and anti-middle class policy that capital gains are taxed lower than income? Government again. A system of tax loopholes so porous that the top 10 most profitable U.S. companies paid an average federal tax rate of just 9 percent last year? We built that too.

I don’t really expect that most businesses will have much of a social conscience, because we (unfortunately) haven’t asked them to, by and large. And most people are just doing what it takes to get by, within the rules they were handed. But if you want to claim a kind of moral superiority, well, then forgive me for asking a few questions about how you came by that dollar. If you did it on the backs of workers, through fraud and predation, or by poisoning people or the planet, um, not so much.

And if you chose the private equity route – leveraging companies, gutting assets like workers’ pension funds, and often driving them out of business and pocketing the barely taxed proceeds, then I’m sorry, smug and superior are off the table for you. In fact, you have some explaining to do.

The posturing about the specialness of corporate-earned wealth comes from politicians’ clubby intimacy with the uber-class of the one-percenters – political donors, Wall Street barons, and ultra-rich. And Romney’s comments make clear not just his “incompetence,” but the narrowness of his version of who is righteous in America, and who is not.

In contrast, old-timey conservatives used to routinely acknowledge a role for even strong government in creating the rules and social conditions for businesses to thrive. But this new-fangled GOP doesn’t want to talk about grounding a strong economy in transparency and accountability — they seem only to know a particularly mean-spirited version of us versus them. As Clinton pointed out, this inability to compromise or see the whole picture makes for broken politics and political decision-making.

So we have to fix it. We should use this moment to call into question the thoughtless sanctimony of the discourse around the value of the corporation. We created these things, and if they really are “people,” then the least we can do is require them to act like decent citizens.

Show me a business that cleans up after itself, treats its workers fairly, gives back to the community, is transparent and accountable in its dealings, and creates a well-made, environmentally sound product, and I’ll happily nominate its owners for the moral high ground. Or for political office, because we need more folks with backbone in those jobs.

If that’s not you, though, please step down off that soapbox — …slowly…slowly... — and do try to keep a lid on it about how much mooching the rest of us really do.

The Impossibility of Modern Motherhood (and What To Do About It)

Washington hikers (LOC)

(Photo credit: The Library of Congress)

This post could just as easily be called: “Why Women Will Never Have it All, But Still Should Fight For More.”

Today’s Atlantic Monthly contains a blockbuster piece from Anne-Marie Slaughter on modern feminism, motherhood, and the demands of work, “Why Women Still Can’t Have it All.” Overall, Slaughter gives us a thoughtful discussion of the real agony working women experience in choosing between the demands of their careers and the joys and trials of parenting. The article also contains enough personal reflections to be refreshingly candid, which is a particularly welcome turn from someone with such a robust career in high-profile politics.

Like my own prior admissions of ambivalence about my choices with Maya, and my impulse to pointedly complain about the structurally unreasonable demands on women in a response to the absurd attacks earlier this spring by Elisabeth Badinter, Slaughter has decided to put down the “we-can-do-it-all” cheerleader pom-poms that sometimes obscures what should be the real goals of the women’s movement, and to keep it real instead.

She points out something about her talks with students that I’ve also found: women in their twenties who happen to be in my orbit generally observe the frantic pace of my efforts to juggle a baby, work and, lately, a blog, with a bemused and tragic smile, as if to say — how is this all supposed to work again? So we’re not fooling anyone, least of all the women coming up next who will grapple themselves with all these questions.

The truth is — if we’ll only admit it to each other — it doesn’t work very well. Like many women, but certainly not all, I’m far too invested in my professional identity to choose to “stay home,” as we all awkwardly say (as if moms “stay” anywhere for very long). But that doesn’t mean I’m not beset with regret most days, or that when the nanny and her son joined us at the pool the other night, and Maya obviously felt more drawn to play with them than me, I didn’t quietly, invisibly, seethe about it. After all, she spends five days every week with her, and only two with me, I thought, with more than a twinge of envy.

The challenge for mothers to our sense of priorities is profound, particularly when we acknowledge, as Slaughter tries to, that despite our efforts to achieve 50-50 parenting, the bonds that women have with their children are irreplaceably, undeniably deep. Whoever else they may have in their lives, she notes, for children a mother’s role is “indispensable,” and she makes a point of citing half a dozen powerful Washington moms (and dads) who agree with her or have left careers for at least some time to attend to the needs of their families.

I particularly enjoyed the criticism she has for female exec flavor-of-the-month Sheryl Sandberg of Facebook, whose work habits have now morphed into a kind of reproachful working moms’ urban legend. She dismantles the half-truths women like Sandberg promote: that “it’s possible if you just are committed enough,” or “it’s possible if you marry the right person,” pointing to serious but no-duh propositions like the fact that the school and work day are not aligned to make working easier, and that even the ideal marital arrangements can run up against a mom’s ambivalence about leaving her child.

Notably, Slaughter fails to consider what happens to women who unluckily choose a less angelically supportive partner, women who have no partner at all (single moms are raising fully one-quarter of America’s kids, and are a much higher percentage of minority and low-income households), or parents who might imagine a life with far more balance than the work schedules she describes, which are downright punishing. Despite her critique, even she can’t quite let go of the boosterism and elitism embedded in these expectations. In fact, at one point Slaughter unwittingly, and almost comically, reveals just how much she’s lived inside the privilege bubble by ridiculously claiming, with what appears to be a straight face, that “[j]ust about every woman who could plausibly be tapped [for a high-level Washington job] is already in government.”

She also projects a bit too much from her own experiences with her child’s troubled teen years and thus understates the problem. She notes that a woman would want to be free to stay home, or to put family first, when her children “are 8 to 18,” a period of absence from the workforce which she calculates as ten years.

But the developmental stages from birth to 3 years old are at least as significant, if not more so, to a child’s growth, and any family with multiple children who are not twins would require this window of time to expand to account for siblings. And what about aging parents, or non-traditional families, or widely spread out births? Slaughter’s too-neat math fails, once again, to account for the variety and complexity of family obligations and women’s lives, and thus, the changes we need will be more far-reaching and fundamental than she suggests.

She does include a discussion of the problems that women, and career women in particular, now face with fertility at our more advanced maternal age. But even here her advice can be a bit tone-deaf, to say the least.

Given her own difficulties conceiving, Slaughter blithely recommends that women under 35 freeze their eggs. But she ignores the high costs of this advice. It seems utterly unrealistic to think that most women, or even most “career women” in their late 20s and early 30s, will have $7,000 to $15,000-odd just lying around (or double that amount if they need a second go at it). And even with all that expense and medical hassle, there is only a 40 to 50 percent chance of success, which makes it a pretty expensive gamble for most people.

As this has been an area in which people I love have experienced completely crushing kinds of disappointment, I think it’s critical that we not gloss over how hard this question of timing is for women, or, even worse, attempt to erase the problem by suggesting that an expensive scientific half-miracle is in the cards for all of us.

Last, although she casts her story as a cautionary tale for professional over-achievers, even Slaughter appears at times to need to prove to us, the reader, that despite her recent, renewed dedication to mommyhood, she’s really very smart and all. When her acquaintances cuckoo over the loss of such a brilliant mind to policymaking circles in Washington, it’s hard not to consider that for all but a handful of moms, whatever choices — and deep personal sacrifices in terms of ambition and foregone possibility — they make usually go unnoticed, remaining unremarkable except to them, or if they are one of the “lucky” ones, to their partners as well. Unless you’re Slaughter, or Mary Matalin, or that ilk, rarely in women’s lives are the costs of these sorts of decisions even added up.

Still, on the whole, the article is a timely and important account — the beginning of a picture of what really needs to change to make women’s lives more manageable, meaningful and free. While some internal agonizing about working and raising children is probably written into the script, steps to achieve wider agreement on what a “work-life balance” really means would help greatly to transform the sharp corners of our ambivalence into a cushier, more shapely set of supports.

Slaughter proposes a few, all of which I liked, including aligning school days better with work, allowing more flexible workplace arrangements, and shifting understandings in the workplace to lessen or eliminate penalties for women (and I assume, men) who would like to take a few years away from their careers to focus on family. And she closes the piece with a straight-up appeal to businesses to see new value in the many older women discarded as workers today.

I also deeply appreciated her call to all of us to stop making up fake, more “serious-sounding” excuses when we really have something to do that takes time out of work for family. If we all stopped lying and were honest about our obligations, this would give all of us, in turn, permission to have a life and work as well. And the perception of employers and co-workers that attempting this balance openly makes us “unserious” is in itself toxic to getting what we want, or even, achieving any kind of accurate picture of how hard this all really is.

To her ideas I would add more radical structural ones that still seem blindingly obvious to me, and that would lend a hand to many more women: mandatory paid parental leave of up to one year as they have in Canada and Europe; better pay for low-wage workers so that they can better balance the needs of work and family; far more accurate (read: adequate) child-care tax credits and robust funding for programs that work like Healthy Start; pay for low-income moms at a fair wage for caring for their own children (what better work program in a recession?); and paycheck fairness — the crazy idea that equal work deserves equal pay. Moreover, we must also extend every protection we have — and those we may win — on behalf of women, families and married couples to include same-sex couples and nontraditional families.

The truth is, the job of feminists in making society better for families is, at most, half-done. We don’t acknowledge often enough how partial our sense of completeness is in our own lives, and how tenuous is the wish-and-a-prayer is that it’s all constructed on. Instead, we suit up, kiss the baby goodbye, and push on with our many dutiful roles: pay the bills, send a tweet, call our own mom, plan a playdate, cook dinner, kiss our partner, work late, and somehow try to get some sleep.

A friend said to me on the playground the other day, “I never thought my life would be this hard.” I nodded. I grew up in the 1970s, a time of exploding opportunities and shape-shifting for women, and was told that anything I wanted was possible.

That turns out to be true in some ways only, and not even, perhaps, what I want anymore. In fact, it now seems like we’ve asked for so much responsibility, so much opportunity, that it’s exhausting — even superhuman — just to be us. Slaughter says that’s true of the overachievers — she misses the point that this is part of the fabric of all of our expectations, and that even “ordinary” women are now edging, however reluctantly, towards superhero status.

The next generation of women, looking up at the utter craziness that is our lives, must force governments and corporations to create the structural supports and understandings women need. What feminism will really mean is not that women can do it all — we certainly can, as we’ve all run ourselves into the ground to show everyone — but really, why should we?

Women of my generation — and older, like Slaughter’s — can help them. First, by being honest about what it’s really like to be us, as she has been and I have tried to be. And second, by raising these issues again and again, and joining the fight when the day comes — and it will come, my friends — that there is something big worth winning.