Victor D. López's Blog: Victor D. Lopez, page 75

Business Law and the Legal Environment of Business 3/e just published

My Business Law and the Legal Environment of Business Third Edition textbook has just been published by Textbook Media Press. 

I’ve been writing business law and legal environment textbooks since 1993 with two goals in mind: 1. making the material accessible, interesting and compelling for students and 2. keeping the cost down. Over the years, I’ve been fortunate to find like-minded colleagues throughout the U.S. and in a few foreign countries who became very loyal adopters despite changes, mergers and consolidations in the publishing industry and pressure to cut titles from former competitors’ lists.

The first edition of my Business Law: An Introduction, published by Irwin/Mirror Press was kept alive for a decade after McGraw Hill bought out its former competitor solely through the efforts of my loyal adopters who simply refused to switch to other titles. My willingness to write a second edition of that book for my new publisher once the rights reverted to me and my willingness to expand my Legal Environment of Business textbook (originally published by Prentice Hall) into a second and now, greatly changed and expanded, into a third edition comes from the same motivation. I am very happy with this new edition and hope that loyal adopters of my prior textbooks will concur. I also hope that colleagues who never heard of me or used any of my prior textbooks will take a close look at this new title which, for good or ill, is very different from its competitors–old and new. And best of all, for me, students will find it both useful and very affordable–starting at $29.95 for an online version, with equally affordable soft-cover (color and back and white versions) and loose leaf plus online bundles starting at $44.95. Visit Textbook Media Press for a listing of all their business titles or visit my book’s page directly for more information by clicking here.

Tagged: affordable law books, business law, inexpensive legal textbooks, law textbooks, legal environment

On My dad’s Passing – Unsung Heroes – Felipe

Unsung Heroes – Felipe (3-11-1931 – 2-22-2016)

You were born five years before the Spanish Civil War that would see your father exiled.

Language came later to you than your little brother Manuel. And you stuttered for a time.

Unlike those who speak incessantly with nothing to say, you were quiet and reserved.

Your mother mistook shyness for dimness, a tragic mistake that scarred you for life.

 

When your brother Manuel died at the age of three from Meningitis, you heard your mom

Exclaim: “God took my bright boy and left me the dull one.” You were four or five.

You never forgot those words. How could you? Yet you loved your mom with all your heart.

But you also withdrew further into a shell, solitude your companion and best friend.

 

You were, in fact, an exceptional child. Stuttering went away at five or so never to return,

And by the time you were in middle school, your teacher called your mom in for a rare

Conference and told her that yours was a gifted mind, and that you should be prepared

For university study in the sciences, particularly engineering.

 

She wrote your father exiled in Argentina to tell him the good news, that your teachers

Believed you would easily gain entrance to the (then and now) highly selective public university

Where seats were few, prized and very difficult to attain based on merit-based competitive Exams.

Your father’s response? “Buy him a couple of oxen and let him plow the fields.”

 

That reply from a highly respected man who was a big fish in a tiny pond in his native Oleiros

Of the time is beyond comprehension. He had apparently opted to preserve his own self-

Interest in having his son continue his family business and also work the family lands in his

Absence. That scar too was added to those that would never heal in your pure, huge heart.

 

Left with no support for living expenses for college (all it would have required), you moved on,

Disappointed and hurt, but not angry or bitter; you would simply find another way.

You took the competitive exams for the two local military training schools that would provide

An excellent vocational education and pay you a small salary in exchange for military service.

 

Of hundreds of applicants for the prized few seats in each of the two institutions, you

Scored first for the toughest of the two and thirteenth for the second. You had your pick.

You chose Fabrica de Armas, the lesser of the two, so that a classmate who had scored just

Below the cut-off at the better school could be admitted. That was you. Always and forever.

 

At the military school, you were finally in your element. You were to become a world-class

Machinist there—a profession that would have gotten you well paid work anywhere on earth

For as long as you wanted it. You were truly a mechanical genius who years later would add

Electronics, auto mechanics and specialized welding to his toolkit through formal training.

 

Given a well-stocked machine shop, you could reverse engineer every machine without

Blueprints and build a duplicate machine shop. You became a gifted master mechanic

And worked in line and supervisory positions at a handful of companies throughout your life in

Argentina and in the U.S., including Westinghouse, Warner-Lambert, and Pepsi Co.

 

You loved learning, especially in your fields (electronics, mechanics, welding) and expected

Perfection in everything you did. Every difficult job at work was given to you everywhere you

Worked. You would not sleep at night when a problem needed solving. You’d sketch

And calculate and re-sketch solutions and worked even in your dreams with singular passion.

 

You were more than a match for the academic and physical rigors of military school,

But life was difficult for you in the Franco era when some instructors would

Deprecatingly refer to you as “Roxo”—Galician for “red”– reflecting your father’s

Support for the failed Republic. Eventually, the abuse was too much for you to bear.

 

Once while standing at attention in a corridor with the other cadets waiting for

Roll call, you were repeatedly poked in the back surreptitiously. Moving would cause

Demerits and demerits could cause loss of points on your final grade and arrest for

Successive weekends. You took it awhile, then lost your temper.

 

You turned to the cadet behind you and in a fluid motion grabbed him by his buttoned jacket

And one-handedly hung him up on a hook above a window where you were standing in line.

He thrashed about, hanging by the back of his jacket, until he was brought down by irate

Military instructors. You got weekend arrest for many weeks and a 10% final grade reduction.

 

A similar fate befell a co-worker a few years later in Buenos Aires who called you a

Son of a whore. You lifted him one handed by his throat and held him there until

Your co-workers intervened, forcibly persuading you to put him down.

That lesson was learned by all in no uncertain terms: Leave Felipe’s mom alone.

 

You were incredibly strong, especially in your youth—no doubt in part because of rigorous farm

Work, military school training and competitive sports. As a teenager, you once unwisely bent

Down to pick something up in view of a ram, presenting the animal an irresistible target.

It butted you and sent you flying into a haystack. It, too, quickly learned its lesson.

 

You dusted yourself off, charged the ram, grabbed it by the horns and twirled it around once,

Throwing it atop the same haystack as it had you. The animal was unhurt, but learned to

Give you a wide berth from that day forward. Overall, you were very slow to anger absent

Head-butting, repeated pokings, or disrespectful references to your mom by anyone.

 

I seldom saw you angry and it was mom, not you, who was the disciplinarian, slipper in hand.

There were very few slaps from you for me. Mom would smack my behind with a slipper often

When I was little, mostly because I could be a real pain, wanting to know/try/do everything

Completely oblivious to the meaning of the word “no” or of my own limitations.

 

Mom would sometimes insist you give me a proper beating. On one such occasion for a

Forgotten transgression when I was nine, you took me to your bedroom, took off your belt, sat

Me next to you and whipped your own arm and hand a few times, whispering to me “cry”—

Which I was happy to do unbidden. “Don’t tell mom.” I did not. No doubt she knew.

 

The prospect of serving in a military that considered you a traitor by blood became harder and

Harder to bear, and in the third year of school, one year prior to graduation, you left to join Your exiled father in Argentina, to start a new life. You left behind a mother and two sisters you Dearly loved to try your fortune in a new land. Your dog thereafter refused food, dying of grief.

 

You arrived in Buenos Aires to see a father you had not seen for ten years at the age of 17.

You were too young to work legally, but looked older than your years (a shared trait),

So you lied about your age and immediately found work as a Machinist/Mechanic first grade.

That was unheard of and brought you some jealousy and complaints in the union shop.

 

The union complained to the general manager about your top-salary and rank. He answered,

“I’ll give the same rank and salary to anyone in the company who can do what Felipe can do.”

No doubt the jealousy and grumblings continued by some for a time. But there were no takers.

And you soon won the group over, becoming their protected “baby-brother” mascot.

 

Your dad left for Spain within a year or so of your arrival when Franco issued a general pardon

To all dissidents who had not spilt blood (e.g., non combatants). He wanted you to return to

Help him reclaim the family business taken over by your mom in his absence with your help.

But you refused to give up the high salary, respect and independence denied you at home.

 

You were perhaps 18 and alone, living in a single room by a schoolhouse you had shared with

Your dad. But you had also found a new loving family in your uncle José, one of your father’s

Brothers, and his family. José, and one of his daughters, Nieves and her Husband, Emilio, and

Their children, Susana, Oscar (Ruben Gordé), and Osvaldo, became your new nuclear family.

 

You married mom in 1955 and had two failed business ventures in the quickly fading

Post-WW II Argentina of the late 1950s and early 1960s.The first, a machine shop, left

You with a small fortune in unpaid government contract work. The second, a grocery store,

Also failed due to hyperinflation and credit extended too easily to needy customers.

 

Throughout this, you continued earning an exceptionally good salary. But in the mid 1960’s,

Nearly all of it went to pay back creditors of the failed grocery store.

We had some really hard Times. Someday I’ll write about that in some detail. Mom went to work as a maid, including for Wealthy friends, and you left home at 4:00 a.m. to return long after dark to pay the bills.

 

The only luxury you and mom retained was my Catholic school tuition. There was no other

Extravagance. Not paying bills was never an option for you or mom. It never entered your

Minds. It was not a matter of law or pride, but a matter of honor. There were at least three very

Lean years where you and mom worked hard, earned well but we were truly poor.

 

You and mom took great pains to hide this from me—and suffered great privations to insulate

Me as best you could from the fallout of a shattered economy and your refusal to cut your loses

Had done to your life savings and to our once-comfortable middle-class life. We came to the

U.S. in the late 1960s after waiting for more than three years for visas—to a new land of hope.

 

Your sister and brother-in-law, Marisa and Manuel, made their own sacrifices to help bring us

Here. You had about $1,000 from the down payment on our tiny down-sized house, And

Mom’s pawned jewelry. (Hyperinflation and expenses ate up the remaining mortgage payments

Due). Other prized possessions were left in a trunk until you could reclaim them. You never did.

 

Even the airline tickets were paid for by Marisa and Manuel. You insisted upon arriving on

Written terms for repayment including interest. You were hired on the spot on your first

Interview as a mechanic, First Grade, despite not speaking a word of English. Two months later,

The debt was repaid, mom was working too and we moved into our first apartment.

 

You worked long hours, including Saturdays and daily overtime, to remake a nest egg.

Declining health forced you to retire at 63 and shortly thereafter you and mom moved out of

Queens into Orange County. You bought a townhouse two hours from my permanent residence

Upstate NY and for the next decade were happy, traveling with friends and visiting us often.

 

Then things started to change. Heart issues (two pacemakers), colon cancer, melanoma,

Liver and kidney disease caused by your many medications, high blood pressure, gout,

Gall bladder surgery, diabetes . . . . And still you moved forward, like the Energizer Bunny,

Patched up, battered, scarred, bruised but unstoppable and unflappable.

 

Then mom started to show signs of memory loss along with her other health issues. She was

Good at hiding her own ailments, and we noticed much later than we should have that there

Was a serious problem. Two years ago, her dementia worsening but still functional, she had

Gall bladder surgery with complications that required four separate surgeries in three months.

 

She never recovered and had to be placed in a nursing home. Several, in fact, as at first she

Refused food and you and I refused to simply let her waste away, which might have been

Kinder, but for the fact that “mientras hay vida, hay esperanza” as Spaniards say. (While there is

Life there is hope.) There is nothing beyond the power of God. Miracles do happen.

 

For two years you lived alone, refusing outside help, engendering numerous arguments about

Having someone go by a few times a week to help clean, cook, do chores. You were nothing if

Not stubborn (yet another shared trait). The last argument on the subject about two weeks ago

Ended in your crying. You’d accept no outside help until mom returned home. Period.

 

You were in great pain because of bulging discs in your spine and walked with one of those

Rolling seats with handlebars that mom and I picked out for you some years ago. You’d sit

As needed when the pain was too much, then continue with very little by way of complaints.

Ten days ago you finally agreed that you needed to get to the hospital to drain abdominal fluid.

 

Your failing liver produced it and it swelled your abdomen and lower extremities to the point

Where putting on shoes or clothing was very difficult, as was breathing. You called me from a

Local store crying that you could not find pants that would fit you. We talked, long distance,

And I calmed you down, as always, not allowing you to wallow in self pity but trying to help.

 

You went home and found a new pair of stretch pants Alice and I had bought you and you were

Happy. You had two changes of clothes that still fit to take to the hospital. No sweat, all was

Well. The procedure was not dangerous and you’d undergone it several times in recent years.

It would require a couple of days at the hospital and I’d see you again on the weekend.

 

I could not be with you on Monday, February 22 when you had to go to the hospital, as I nearly

Always had, because of work. You were supposed to be admitted the previous Friday, but

Doctors have days off too, and yours could not see you until Monday when I could not get off

Work. But you were not concerned; this was just routine. You’d be fine. I’d see you in just days.

 

We’d go see mom Friday, when you’d be much lighter and feel much better. Perhaps we’d go

Shopping for clothes if the procedure still left you too bloated for your usual clothes.

You drove to your doctor and then transported by ambulette. I was concerned, but not too

Worried. You called me sometime between five or six p.m. to tell me you were fine, resting.

 

“Don’t worry. I’m safe here and well cared for.” We talked for a little while about the usual

Things, with my assuring you I’d see you Friday or Saturday. You were tired and wanted to sleep

And I told you to call me if you woke up later that night or I’d speak to you the following day.

Around 10:00 p.m. I got a call from your cell and answered in the usual upbeat manner.

 

“Hey, Papi.” On the other side was a nurse telling me my dad had fallen. I assured her she was

Mistaken, as my dad was there for a routine procedure to drain abdominal fluid. “You don’t

Understand. He fell from his bed and struck his head on a nightstand or something

And his heart has stopped. We’re working on him for 20 minutes and it does not look good.”

 

“Can you get here?” I could not. I had had two or three glasses of wine shortly before the call

With dinner. I could not drive the three hours to Middletown. I cried. I prayed. Fifteen minutes

Later I got the call that you were gone. Lost in grief, not knowing what to do, I called my wife.

Shortly thereafter came a call from the coroner. An autopsy was required. I could not see you.

 

Four days later your body was finally released to the funeral director I had selected for his

Experience with the process of interment in Spain. I saw you for the last time to identify

Your body. I kissed my fingers and touched your mangled brow. I could not even have the

Comfort of an open casket viewing. You wanted cremation. You body awaits it as I write this.

 

You were alone, even in death alone. In the hospital as strangers worked on you. In the medical

Examiner’s office as you awaited the autopsy. In the autopsy table as they poked and prodded

And further rent your flesh looking for irrelevant clues that would change nothing and benefit

No one, least of all you. I could not be with you for days, and then only for a painful moment.

 

We will have a memorial service next Friday with your ashes and a mass on Saturday. I will

Never again see you in this life. Alice and I will take you home to your home town, to the

Cemetery in Oleiros, La Coruña, Spain this summer. There you will await the love of your life.

Who will join you in the fullness of time. She could not understand my tears or your passing.

 

There is one blessing to dementia. She asks for her mom, and says she is worried because she

Has not come to visit in some time. She is coming, she assures me whenever I see her. You

Visited her every day except when health absolutely prevented it. You spent this February 10

Apart, your 61st wedding anniversary, too sick to visit her. Nor was I there. First time.

 

I hope you did not realize you were apart on the 10th but doubt it to be the case. I

Did not mention it, hoping you’d forgotten, and neither did you. You were my link to mom.

She cannot dial or answer a phone, so you would put your cell phone to her ear whenever I

Was not in class or meetings and could speak to her. She always recognized me by phone.

 

I am three hours from her. I could visit at most once or twice a month. Now even that phone

Lifeline is severed. Mom is completely alone, afraid, confused, and I cannot in the short term at

Least do much about that. You were not supposed to die first. It was my greatest fear, and

Yours, but as with so many things that we cannot change I put it in the back of my mind.

 

It kept me up many nights, but, like you, I still believed—and believe—in miracles.

I would speak every night with my you, often for an hour, on the way home from work late at

Night during my hour-long commute, or from home on days I worked from home as I cooked

Dinner. I mostly let you talk, trying to give you what comfort and social outlet I could.

 

You were lonely, sad, stuck in an endless cycle of emotional and physical pain.

Lately you were especially reticent to get off the phone. When mom was home and still

Relatively well, I’d call every day too but usually spoke to you only a few minutes and you’d

Transfer the phone to mom, with whom I usually chatted much longer.

 

For months, you’d had difficulty hanging up. I knew you did not want to go back to the couch,

To a meaningless TV program, or to writing more bills. You’d say good-bye, or “enough for

Today” and immediately begin a new thread, then repeat the cycle, sometimes five or six times.

You even told me, at least once crying recently, “Just hang up on me or I’ll just keep talking.”

 

I loved you, dad, with all my heart. We argued, and I’d often scream at you in frustration,

Knowing you would never take it to heart and would usually just ignore me and do as

You pleased. I knew how desperately you needed me, and I tried to be as patient as I could be.

But there were days when I was just too tired, too frustrated, too full of other problems.

 

There were days when I got frustrated with you just staying on the phone for an hour when I

Needed to call Alice, to eat my cold dinner, or even to watch a favorite program. I felt guilty

And very seldom cut a conversation short, but I was frustrated nonetheless even knowing

How much you needed me and also how much I needed you, and how little you asked of me.

 

How I would love to hear your voice again, even if you wanted to complain about the same old

Things or tell me in minutest detail some unimportant aspect of your day. I thought I would

Have you at least a little longer. A year? Two? God only knew, and I could hope. There would be

Time. I had so much more to share with you, so much more to learn when life eased up a bit.

 

You taught me to fish (it did not take) and to hunt (that took even less) and much of what I

Know about mechanics, and electronics. We worked on our cars together for years—from brake

Jobs, to mufflers, to real tune-ups in the days when points, condensers, and timing lights had

Meaning, to rebuilding carburetors and fixing rust and dents, and power windows and more.

 

We were friends, good friends, who went on Sunday drives to favorite restaurants or shopping

For tools when I was single and lived at home. You taught me everything in life that I need to

Know about all the things that matter. The rest is meaningless paper and window dressing.

I knew all your few faults and your many colossal strengths and knew you to be the better man.

 

Not even close. I could never do what you did. I could never excel in my fields as you did in

Yours. You were the real deal in every way, from every angle, throughout your life. I did not

Always treat you that way. But I loved you very deeply as anyone who knew us knows.

More importantly, you knew it. I told you often, unembarrassed in the telling. I love you, Dad.

 

The world was enriched by your journey. You do not leave behind wealth, or a body or work to

Outlive you. You never had your fifteen minutes in the sun. But you mattered. God knows your

Virtue, your absolute integrity, and the purity of your heart. I will never know a better man.

I will love you and miss you and carry you in my heart every day of my life. God bless you, dad.

Free through the end of November: of Pain and Ecstasy: Collected Poems

All eBook versions of my first book of poems, Of Pain and Ecstasy: Collected Poems, is available

for free download for all major eBook readers only until the end of November from Smashwords. It will also be available for free download within a day or two from iBooks and Barnes and Noble.

The direct link to the book’s Smashwords  page is https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/181370. I hope you enjoy it.

Tagged: free eBook, poetry

August Free Short Story Download

There is a common thread in many of my short stories and even in my poetry about the nature of reality and the relationship between sleep and wakefulness and the conscious and subconscious mind. As is the case with a number of my short stories, this was inspired by a dream. It delves into one possible explanation for what lurks in the dark recesses of our mind for which science has yet to discover a clear use.

This short story (2,792 words) is reprinted from Book of Dreams: Science Fiction and Speculative Fiction Short Stories, (C) Victor D. Lopez 2011, Book of Dreams Second Edition: Science Fiction and Speculative Fiction Short Stories (C) Victor D. Lopez 2012, and Mindscapes: Ten Science Fiction and Speculative Fiction Short Stories (C) 2014 by Victor D. López.

Through the end of August 2015, you can download this short story free of charge here.

The short story will also be available for free download later this month at Barnes and Noble, iBooks, Smashwords and other leading retailers. I hope you enjoy it. (Note: Retailers other than Smashwords may take a day or so before the short story is listed as free.)

Also from Smashwords and other leading retailers:

My book of poems available free, but only through the end of July

 

Of Pain and Ecstasy: Collected Poems is a collection of some of my poetry from my late teens through middle age. It is an eclectic mix of sonnets, free verse and blank verse that like much of my fiction deals with the duality of human nature and the transcendent, transformative power of love that can help the heart soar to the heavens and dash our dreams onto the rocks. Hope and despair, joy and sorrow, dreams and reality, and the innocence of youth rent out of us in our  painful, bloody second rebirth into adulthood are rendered in the too few pages of an unremarkable life laid open.

You can download the book from Smashwords by clicking on its cover above or on the link in this sentence. The book will also be available for free download from iBooks and Barnes and Noble in a day or two, but only for the next two weeks.

If you’d like to hear my reading selections from the book, you can click on the following link (Youtube) and scroll down for some sample unedited readings.

 

 

Tagged: blank verse, free book, free poetry book, free verse, sonnets

Women Rule!

A society that all too often looks for heroes in all the wrong places would do well to look to the U.S. Women’s National Soccer Team for inspiration. Their awesome victory last night is but the icing on the cake for these largely unsung heroes who have much to teach us all about “the right stuff.”

I’ve been a fan of football all my life (Sorry folks, that’s the sport’s true name everywhere but here where a reworked version of rugby bears the name–call that hybrid sport “pigskin toss” for all I care–Football is THE world sport, and the name is taken.) I follow the World Cup with glee every four years–and the buildup to it, of course, rooting for the U.S., Spain (where all of my family hails from) and Argentina (the country of my birth). My wife and I (she is more fanatical than I in rooting for the U.S. (her country of birth), Spain (where all of her family hails from as well) and even Argentina (for my sake). We also always watch the Women’s Football World Cup, rooting as always firsts for the U.S. and then for Spain and Argentina. (likewise in the Olympics) For me, women’s Football is a purer form of the sport; it is understated, full of quiet confidence and selfless sportsmanship, focused on a team much more than on the highly paid athletes and “win at all cost” foul-riddled male version of the sport by extraordinary underpaid and generally undervalued athletes who for the most part play the game for the love of the sport and not for personal glory and personal gain.

In nearly 50 years of watching football, I never felt more inspired, awed or proud of a team than I did last night. My heart soared and sank in sympathy for other great teams during the tournament–England, France, Germany and the fledgling national team of Spain that with little support and even less fanfare qualified for the first time in history. It was a grand spectacle–as it is always. But yesterday’s finish brought tears to my eyes for the exceptional skill, sportsmanship and magic on the field. It was the highest rated TV sports event of all time–stick that in your pipe and smoke it aficionados of that other misnamed game. Keep the Superbowl with its deflationgate nonsense, ridiculously overpaid players and idiot sponsors paying millions to tout beer and sodapop. Give me the Supergirls instead–no capes, no tights and no fear of Kryptonite for these women, heroes all and finally not unsung ones. Well done. Well done indeed!

See article from The Guardian

On conservatism, liberalism, religion and gay marriage

There are too many conservatives who would impose their religious views on others. There are also too many atheists for whom religion is an affront and who with a straight face make patently idiotic statements like “Lets take Christ out of Christmas” and, if they could do it, would eradicate the “blight” of religion from the face of the earth, and all religious symbols along with it. That said, these are outliers, not the norm, and one has as much right to decry the right for having “too many” of one as the left for having “too many” of the other. They are at heart the same intolerant beings.

Religion is not the bright dividing line between conservatives and liberals, though. The onion needs to be peeled back a few more layers to get to the core differences between the two. The propaganda from the left firmly believed by all Kool-aid  drinkers and sold daily by the media with all the subtlety of a sledge hammer is that conservatives are selfish, Bible-thumping, gun toting brutes who care only for themselves. The truth is that there are selfish cons and selfish libs and hypocrites aplenty on both sides of the aisle.

Although most of my friends and professional acquaintances are middle class, I’ve had many, many friends over the years from working class and poor families through truly wealthy individuals both of the newly minted and old moneyed varieties.  I’ve known vipers and scoundrels and saintly individuals in more or less equal proportion in all of these classes (and among cons and libs as well). The only real difference is that the professional and wealthy folks boast better educations, better manners, better grooming and a better ability to hide their nefarious natures than do the poor and lower middle class folks. I’ve found that to be true also in more or less equal measure on three continents in my limited travels abroad. Money, privilege and empowerment do not eradicate the innate flaws in some human beings, nor do privation, prejudice and hardship destroy the better nature in human beings whose proclivity is for good. Good and evil do exist in most all human beings, but we are by no means equal at birth in our potential to gravitate to one or the other any more than we are equal in our potential to be great athletes, great thinkers or great scoundrels. Conservatives know this not because religion tells them human beings are flawed by nature, rather because the evidence is overwhelming and all around them. Nature plants the seeds at conception of our potential and nurture determines how well that potential develops. If you plant an acorn you will only get an oak. It may be a great oak or a small one; it may thrive or it may wither and die depending on its environment. But it will never become a redwood, or a fir or a maple. All thinking conservatives strive to make every single human being able to reach its full potential given its innate capabilities and proclivities. We owe that to every person. Every thinking liberal strives to make every human being anything it wants to be at any cost because they reject out of hand with little more than the justifications provided by Marxist ideology that we are all equal and it is society, our nurturing, that determines whether we succeed or fail.

Only racists believe that there are innate qualitative differences among the races. There is no credible scientific evidence to which anyone can point that would give that belief any credence. The under-performance of groups is the direct result of nurture, not nature. Poverty, broken homes, cultural preferences, and government efforts at social engineering that condemn the poor to multi-generational dependence on government handouts and provide greater assistance to one parent families (effectively punishing the poor who live in two-parent households) are the root causes of under-performance in poor minority communities.  Conservatives see that as clearly as the sun at midday in the desert. Liberals look at the problem and see only the need for more government programs to get people out of poverty that further reinforce the problem  and create unsafe neighborhoods and generations of tragically and needlessly wasted lives.

Liberals believe that if we take families from broken homes with troubled children and transplant them from a dangerous, impoverished  neighborhood in the inner city to a stable, safe, clean, stable middle class or upper middle class neighborhood in the suburbs, provide them with more generous assistance and the children with access to great schools the problem of poverty would be solved. Conservatives know that doing so would almost certainly lead to the deterioration of the new neighborhood over time if there is no change in the values and behavior of the underprivileged families involved.

Both conservatives and liberals want a stable economy, safe streets, reasonable wages and fair treatment of their follow citizens. The disagreement is not on the address of the promised land, but rather on the directions for getting there. Conservatives believe that there is such a thing as right and wrong and good and evil, that people must be held accountable for their actions, that civil and criminal laws must be enforced and order maintained in order to prevent society from spiraling into chaos. They believe it is the primary function of government to protect the people from foreign and domestic threats and to establish and enforce laws that foster the stability of society and allow people to prosper through their hard work–and by making the right choices in life. Liberals do not share the belief that there is such a thing as right and wrong, and reject the idea that anyone is inherently evil or bad. They believe that all people are intrinsically the same–that we are all born with an equal potential for greatness, and an equal potentiality for good or evil depending on nurture rather than nature. It follows, then, that society is responsible for creating criminals and poverty, and lack of education, and prejudice are the root cause of all social ills. Liberals, especially humanists who reject religion, reject the existence of any absolute ethical imperatives, embracing teleology/relativistic ethics. They believe that good and evil as abstractions are meaningless, and that we can only judge the ethical value of an act by looking into the underlying circumstances and motivation of the actor. Stealing a loaf of bread to a conservative has always been and will always be both a crime (petty theft) and immoral (and a sin for those who derive their ethics from a Judeo-Christian [or Islamic] perspective). A “real” liberal will never judge the act of stealing bread as a sin, immoral or even a crime without knowing why the bread was stolen. For them, you can never judge a person unless you’ve walked many miles in their shoes. So stealing bread to give to a starving child if you cannot afford to buy it is no sin but a laudable act, and good luck on getting a jury of liberals to convict anyone for the “crime” regardless of how clear the law is or the evidence of the theft. thus liberals have little trouble ignoring laws they do not like–even liberal Presidents who knowingly misuse their executive power because they believe that the ends justify the means.

Conservatives believe that if you are a failure in life, the chances are very high that is is YOUR FAULT. Liberals believe that if you are a failure in life it is SOCIETY’s FAULT. Conservatives define fairness as equality of opportunity. Liberals define it as equality of results. Conservatives are prone to applaud anyone who succeeds in life through their industry and honestly comes by wealth. Liberals are prone to look at anyone who has obtained success as having done so at the expense of the less fortunate in society [unless the person is a liberal, of course]. Conservatives genuinely believe that taxing everyone as little as possible and allowing people to invest their wealth creates jobs and greater opportunity for everyone, creating a tide that raises all boats. Liberals believe that everyone, but especially the “wealthy”, must be forced to share their wealth through confiscatory tax policies, and they also believe that government can be better trusted to “invest” the money it confiscates by way of an endless stream of taxes to create jobs and stimulate the economy than private business and individuals can. Conservatives generally believe that government is best which governs least while  liberals believe that government is best which governs most. Conservatives are individualists. Liberals are collectivists.

Defining the labels we casually throw around helps. But more importantly, what gets lost in all of this is that there are really very few “true” conservatives or “true” liberals out there. Most of us–myself included–are somewhere in the middle. We are reasonable, flexible, and pragmatic. We compromise. Unfortunately, the “true believers” who are all-in to the inflexible dictates of their world view do not. They don’t want an honest discussion that makes them have to explain why they believe what they believe, or why the people who believe differently from them are wrong. It is far easier and effective to marginalize people with an opposing view by misrepresenting them as extremists, heartless, and selfish than it is to explain one’s position or engage them in a debate in which they are actually allowed to articulate their point of view.

What does all of this have to do with gay marriage? A lot actually. Marriage has always been defined as one man and one woman. It is not for me to defend why this needs to remain so, but rather for those who would change it to make a compelling argument for changing some 6,000 years of history and legal precedent, religious issues aside. Not incidentally, states have always been the final arbiter of defining marriage–who can and can’t marry based on age, familial relationship, etc. The federal government has not traditional been involved in the issue and nothing in the Constitution requires it to become involved now, as President Obama well knew when he opposed gay marriage before changing his mind and supporting it during the last election cycle. The silent battle being waged is about much more than legal rights for gays and lesbians which I for one most certainly support. It is about undermining traditional values and taking society further down the slippery slope of ethical relativism where anything goes and everyone had damned well better accept it. Civil unions provide all the protections to gay and lesbian couples that marriage provides, except for the name. There ends any reasonable “need” to change 6,000 years of legal precedent.

On conservatism, liberalism, and the lessons from Woodstock

Ethical relativism has run amock. There are few standards left and those are under attack by those who reject order and question everything either intentionally (e.g., anarchists) or unintentionally (well meaning people who are reticent to judge the actions of others, especially if they are outside the mainstream). Children show little respect for parents–or anyone else. Self-expression, however meaningless, is encouraged rather than self-edification in the democratization of ideas where everyone is entitled to believe and do anything they like and every person’s ideas and values are exactly as valid as that of anyone else. The new societal paradigm holds that right and wrong are outdated concepts foisted on the masses by false religions whose sole purpose is to keep people down and prevent them from self-actualization. If any religion has flaws (all do) such as the undervaluing of women, then the baby must be thrown out with the bathwater rather than the text reinterpreted in view of a more enlightened culture.  Standards= REPRESSION. Rules=OPPRESSION. Judgment=PREJUDICE.

I recently visited the original site of the Woodstock concert of 1969 with my wife (see the museum’s official page here: http://www.bethelwoodscenter.org/ A HIGHLY RECOMMENDED VENUE!). There is a lovely museum there and the surrounding area in New York’s Catskill Mountains is truly beautiful. I’ve said it before that I am a lousy conservative because I hate conformity for conformity’s sake and value rebels (but ONLY rebels WITH A CLUE). The organizers of the original concert had to move it at the last minute only weeks before it took place because people in the original New York community venue rebelled at the idea of hippies invading their small town with unbridled sex, drugs and rock and roll. Bethel Woods hosted the event at the last minute in a staunchly conservative, sleepy, small, country farming hamlet in the Catskills. The owner of the farm, a conservative, took a great deal of heat from the locals for allowing the hoards of hippies and their sympathizers  the venue. He did not agree with the anti war, anti establishment leanings of the movement that saw the zenith of its momentum at the three-day concert, but stated publicly that he believed the hippies had a right to express their views and deserved a venue for doing so. When some more than 200,000 people showed up on the first day of the concert and thousands of others kept right on coming, the local roads were overwhelmed. The local CONSERVATIVE townspeople saw a real humanitarian crisis for the young attendees who coalesced there with little or no money and with whom they shared little by way of values or lifestyles. But they did not reach for their Bibles to lecture the misguided hoards about the perils of free love and drug abuse, or reach for their guns to protect their homes. Instead, when one of the greatest traffic jams in New York history ensued, local residents flooded their local markets and bought thousands upon thousands of loaves of bread and non-perishable supplies, made sandwiches carried water and provided  food and drink to the hungry hordes of flower children and music lovers from all over the country that found themselves without food or shelter on their way to making history, going among the hoards of people to distribute food and drink as they were stuck in traffic with nowhere to go for endless hours. These mostly working class farmers that today are labeled as “selfish, haters, bigoted, Bible-thumping, gun toting REPUBLICANS” gave out tens of thousands of sandwiches, sodas, fruit and other essential nourishment and REFUSED TO TAKE PAYMENT WHEN IT WAS OFFERED. There was no price gouging and no profiteering from those with whom they fundamentally disagreed and likely disliked and distrusted, rather compassion and a helping hand in a truly CHRISTIAN, REPUBLICAN, CONSERVATIVE fashion. And though the concert was remarkably peaceful and free of significant violence despite the hundreds of thousands of attendees, lousy weather and lack of sufficient sanitary facilities, it was the make love not war, love-bead garnished attendees that ransacked the too few food concessions, “liberated” the food and burned down some 20 food stands.

These are facts, my friends. Think carefully on them. And think carefully of where we’ve come as a society since then–how much has changed and how much has not. Good luck on finding out about the incredible generosity of the conservative locals or the open-mindedness of the conservative owner of the farm unless you visit the museum or talk to a local historian. Some 50 years later, I don’t know whether the conservative locals would do it again. One can only turn the other cheek a limited number of times before sighing deeply, blocking the blows and punching back.

Free short stories through June 30, 2015

The two shortest stories in my Mindscapes short story collection are available free of charge through the end of June. Click on the book cover below to download “The Riddle of the Sphinx: Solved” and “Justice” from Smashwords. These will also be available for free download for the month from iBooks and Barnes & Noble.

Please check out my other current titles from Smashwords and other leading retailers. You can also find previews of my two current business law and legal environment of business textbooks at my publisher’s site: Textbook Media Publishing. These are among the most affordable, student-centered textbooks available. If you are a colleague who teaches business law or related legal studies courses, please request a review copy from my publisher of either Business Law: an Introduction 2e orThe Legal Environment of Business 2e.

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A Memorial Day Message

Once again, Memorial Day approaches. My wife and I spent Saturday enjoying the pleasure of her brother and dad’s company—both veterans we are so very grateful returned home from too many battlefields from Korea and from the much more recent past. Too many of their brothers and sisters in arms did not, their legacy a marker and a flag at home and in distant shores–and our freedom, paid for in full by their priceless sacrifice. Think of them these brave men and women too many of whom left this life before fully crossing the threshold of adulthood on Memorial Day. Think of them when you see Old Glory fluttering in the winds of freedom. Think of them when you see a flag signifying their service and their sacrifice on their graves in every cemetery. Think of them when you hear the liquid cascades of children’s care-free laughter. Think of them when you thank God for your blessings. Never forget them or their families who forever feel the tangible pain of their absence. May God bless our fallen warriors and may He look after their families. And may God bless all of our men and women in uniform, active duty and retired, who have served and serve with honor.