It's that time of year

Following a very enjoyable and relaxing week back in the Midwest with family and friends, I'm scheduled to fly back to Seattle on Monday morning — but of course there's a snow system moving through the Chicago area on Sunday night that's apt to delay or even cancel my flight. When I actually depart is anyone's guess. I'm fairly certain it won't be on time.

Please wish me luck.

An end-of-life decision

Earlier this month, voters in Washington state approved Initiative 1000, also known as the Death with Dignity Act. The measure, placed on the ballot by public petition, allows terminally ill adult patients to request and self-administer lethal medication prescribed by a physician when the patient is medically predicted to have six months or less to live. A similar law is on the books in neighboring Oregon.

I-1000 was spearheaded by former Washington Gov. Booth Gardner, who suffers from Parkinson's Disease but will not be affected by the new legislation because his ailment is not terminal. Voices from both sides of the debate were strong; in the final month before the election, actor Martin Sheen appeared in advertisements in which he personally urged voters to reject the initiative. (Apparently, we were supposed to follow his advice simply because he's a celebrity, not because he has any connection whatsoever to the state of Washington. But that's an entirely different blog post.) In the end, some 58 percent of voters said "yes."

I won't use this space to indicate how I voted or to advocate for either perspective. Frankly, I've never had to deal with an end-of-life decision such as the one this ballot measure sought to address, so I don't claim to be an expert. Furthermore, I heard compelling arguments from both sides. On one hand, there are factors associated with a terminal illness that, in some circumstances, create misery that renders an independent and dignified life impossible. If I reached a point at which I could no longer leave my bed, eat food, or perform bodily functions without assistance, I would probably see little value in carrying on — particularly if I knew that I had a mere six months to live anyway. And I'd likely be resentful of those who would presume to make decisions on my behalf when, in all likelihood, they have no experience with the agony I'm facing.

On the other hand, there are legitimate concerns associated with such a proposition. What if profit-hungry health insurance companies target terminally ill patients, rejecting their treatment claims on the premise that it would be cheaper to simply facilitate the inevitable and end it all? What if these patients make a rash decision because they are clinically depressed? What about incorrect diagnoses? (For purposes of clarification, this initiative does require that the patient make two requests — one verbal and one written — with a 15-day waiting period between the two and another 48-hour waiting period before issuance of the prescription. It also requires the diagnosis and verification of two independent physicians.)

With the "live-and-let-live" culture prevalent in this part of the country (or, perhaps in this case, "live-and-let-die"), the success of this ballot measure isn't surprising. It does, however, raise some serious questions that merit discussion about end-of-life choices, regardless of where you stand on the issue.

For some reason, I suddenly have Paul McCartney & Wings running through my mind.

A bare-bones law

This article reports that it's not illegal to be naked in public in Seattle. It apparently only becomes so, according to the article, when wearing your birthday suit is done with "the intent to alarm and offend." Last summer, I saw the naked bikers and revelers at the Fremont Solstice Festival — but in that instance, I assumed that it was OK because police were simply looking the other way, not because it was legally sanctioned activity. Very interesting.

Perhaps I'm stating the obvious, but such an ambiguous and vague policy raises more questions than it answers. For instance, when is public nudity alarming and offensive, and when is it not? Does one's physical composition have anything to do with this? Without going into too much detail, I'd suspect that the naked appearance of some people is more alarming and offensive than it might be with others. And is denial an acceptable defense? If I choose to shed my attire in public and someone complains, can I apologize to the responding officers and say that I didn't mean to offend anyone? Would they document this and then decline to arrest me?

Most importantly, is this a legal standard worth testing?

Mount Rainier hike in September

One peculiar and perhaps frustrating aspect of touring Mount Rainier National Park here in Washington is that, on any given day, visitors only have about a 50-percent chance of catching a glimpse of the massive, glaciated volcanic peak for which the park is named (more like a 10-to-20-percent chance for those who visit during the winter months). That's because the peak is often obscured by clouds. In fact, it serves as a bit of a weather gauge for Seattle. Either the mountain is "out," and the weather is good, or it isn't (out or good). Pretty simple.

The day of this hike back in September wasn't an "out" day. Still, even when Rainier is hidden, this is a place of spectacular natural beauty. Old-growth evergreen forests meet expansive alpine meadows decorated with wildflowers, and deep blue, crystal-clear lakes are framed by vistas of rugged peaks and hidden valleys. Low-hanging clouds and mist in the air that blows between ridges like smoke help create an atmosphere that is indescribable by words but amazing to experience.

Photos of this trip can be viewed here. Just to clarify, my group didn't actually climb on Mount Rainier — or really even anywhere close to it. This was simply a day hike on the north end of the park that, on clear days, supposedly affords stunning views of the mountain. Oh well.

Pronunciation key required?

I read this excerpt from a local news site, warning of the potential for flooding in Western Washington following some heavy rainfall amounts we've been having around here (highly surprising for November in Seattle, I know):

"Over a dozen rivers in Western Washington are now under a flood warning, meaning flooding is imminent or already occurring. Included in the flood warning: the Satsop, Nooksack, Skagit, Stillaguamish, Skykomish, Snohomish, Tolt, Snoqualmie, Cedar, Carbon, Puyallup, Nisqually, Cowlitz, and Chehalis Rivers."

Anyone who is able to pronounce each name in that list — and who is not familiar with the area — immediately earns my respect and admiration.

California's Constitution tainted on Tuesday

There's a saying applicable to the debate over same-sex unions that I've seen on Facebook, bumper stickers, and elsewhere, and it almost perfectly summarizes my perspective: "Against gay marriage? Then don't get one and shut the ___ up."

I can respect those who oppose homosexual relationships on a personal level for religious reasons or otherwise. I can also respect those who publicly voice their opposition. In a great nation like ours, citizens are guaranteed the right to free speech and expression, even when the message is outrageous. Church pastors can preach judgment against gay people for the same reason that I can publish almost anything I want on this blog without fear of governmental reprisal.

But in a great nation like ours, citizens also have the right to privacy and dignity in their personal lives without interference. For this reason, I cannot respect the use of the vote to impose one's moral standard on others — particularly when that vote presumes to govern or restrict someone's personal, private affairs, and when those affairs have no bearing on public well-being.

Indeed, gay marriage bans have nothing to do with public safety, health, or peace. They have everything to do with the base emotion of fear. In every state whose voters have approved such a ban (and thankfully, I've never lived in one), the proponents of the ban have used advertisements that attempt to warn people of what might happen if the initiative failed. The reason for this is simple: Without falsely scaring people — and consequently influencing their votes — gay marriage ban supporters have no viable argument to support their case. In Massachusetts, whose high court legalized homosexual unions in 2004 and whose citizens have enjoyed that right ever since, the sky has not yet fallen. Anarchy has not taken root. No plagues have decimated the population.

I've heard the contention that, because issuance of marriage licenses is a public, legal matter, voters have every right to weigh in on the established criteria for obtaining one. But if that reasoning is to be accepted, then by the same measure, voters should be allowed to decide whether homosexuals are eligible to obtain driver's licenses. Or run for public offices. Or apply for professional licenses of any kind. All of the aforementioned are public, legal matters. Restricting rights or freedoms on that basis alone is a very slippery slope.

I don't believe that sexual orientation is a choice, but even if it is, such a factor should be irrelevant. In this free nation, citizens deserve the right to pursue happiness in their personal lives without meddling by others who may disapprove of the decisions they make. Let's not forget that there was a time in American history when voters would have "disapproved" of desegregating schools or granting suffrage to women or blacks. With these examples in mind, it's clear that California (and yes, Arizona and Florida) chose to join the losing side of history this past week. Let's hope that its residents realize this quickly and reverse their decision. Until then, it will be part of the growing list of states whose most sacred document is stained.

A day to be remembered by history

Nearly two years ago, on a frigid winter morning at my parents' home in Illinois, I was gathered with family and a group of friends to watch Sen. Barack Obama announce his candidacy for president of the United States from the steps of the Old State Capitol in Springfield (the building where, nearly 150 years earlier, another famous future president from Illinois delivered his "House Divided" speech). I remember viewing the event as historic, but also thinking the same thought that many others probably had: As the state's junior senator, under the age of 50, and an African American to boot, he probably won't get very far. Maybe in 2012 or 2016.

Having said that, I suspect that few could have predicted or even imagined just how rapidly Obama's campaign would meet with unprecedented success. I include myself in that assessment. To be writing a blog post reflecting on his election as the next president of the United States is rather surreal.

Surreal, indeed, but also a tremendous source of pride. To see the senator of my native state at Grant Park in Chicago addressing a crowd of hundreds of thousands — many of whom were understandably overcome with emotion — was perhaps the most uniquely patriotic feeling I've ever experienced. Americans made history on Tuesday night; and regardless of the triumphs and trials we may face during the next four years, that alone is worth celebrating. It's a hallmark of the tremendous progress made by a nation that has seen more than its share of racial struggles — from slavery and segregation to riots in our cities' streets and social stigma. When Martin Luther King, Jr., spoke of the dream that his children would one day live in a nation where they would be judged by the content of their character rather than the color of their skin, did he envision the astounding success of an individual like Barack Obama?

The impact of Tuesday's election will hardly be confined to America's shores. All around the world, people watched as the United States elected its first black president — a charismatic and youthful individual whose message of hope, unity, shared purpose, and cooperative spirit must be a breath of fresh air for those overseas who had grown disillusioned with the obstinate and arrogant tone of America's foreign policy during the past eight years. I'm extremely hopeful that, in the next four years, this nation will make great strides toward repairing its deeply damaged reputation and restoring its standing in the international community. Tuesday was a giant leap in that direction.

The challenges awaiting President-elect Obama are monumental — so much so, in fact, that they're scary to even think about. He'll need a competent, well-prepared Cabinet and a cooperative Congress to tackle historic economic and energy crises, two ongoing wars, a broken health-care system, an environment in peril, and a nation still deeply divided. Nevertheless, I have confidence in his ability. Obama is a man who has earned his place in the annals of American history before even setting foot in the White House. The next four years could truly be a remarkable time for a nation crying out for hope and change.

Election Night Ales

This will be my selection for Tuesday night as I watch the election returns come in with friends. It's called the Night Owl Pumpkin Ale, a seasonal favorite at Elysian Brewing Company, a popular pub just two blocks down from where I live. Here's a description of this fine brew, in the words of its creator:

"Brewed with 150 lbs. of pumpkin in each batch. Made with Pale, Munich and Crystal malts, green and roasted pumpkin seeds, pumpkin in the mash, boil and fermenter. Bittered with Horizon hops. Spiced in conditioning with nutmeg, clove, cinnamon, ginger and allspice."

Night Owl is not simply a good autumn beer, suitable for observing the brilliant fall foliage or huddling around a crackling campfire on a crisp evening — although it would be great for both purposes. No, the Night Owl is a brew that seems to capture the essence of a season in a pint glass. The drinker is treated to a pleasant, comforting aroma even before the first sip; and with that first sip comes a perfectly rich, smooth, balanced blend of pumpkin and spices. I've tasted several beers that are too heavy or too light on either the former or latter. Not this one. The balance is impeccable.

Elysian has two other pumpkin ales — one is the Imperial Pumpkin Ale, which is higher in alcohol content, and the other is the Pumpkin Stout, which sounds fantastic even though I haven't yet tried it. For Nov. 4, however, I've selected a comfort brew that is perfect for the onset of long winter nights — and, dare I say, celebratory occasions. I'm hopeful that Tuesday night will present such an opportunity. If not, at least I'll have a top-caliber ale in which to take solace.

Obama: Unity, pragmatism, vision

As I've said repeatedly, Sen. Barack Obama is not a perfect candidate. Even in a well-executed campaign like his, mistakes have been made; and on the issues, there is more than one point on which I disagree with his policy. He won't be a perfect president, either. Candidates for high political office are human beings just like the rest of us.

But a pivotal election like the one coming up on Tuesday isn't a question of who will be perfect as the next commander-in-chief of the United States. It's a question of who represents our best hope for the next four years: Which candidate, despite all of his flaws, is best suited for this critical juncture in American history? Who can best meet our gravest challenges and help heal the wounds this country has suffered over the past eight years? The answer to both questions is clear.

Obama is an exceptional candidate. He recognizes the culture of polarization that has taken root in America and the damage this has caused: red states versus blue states; Republicans versus Democrats; conservatives versus liberals. Throughout his campaign, Obama has tried to transcend these divisions by instituting a tone that invites all Americans to once again come together in shared purpose. His efforts are commendable. They hearken back to the famous words of one Republican president who warned his nation that a house divided against itself cannot stand. Indeed, this hurting nation cannot begin to solve its catalog of problems as long as Americans view each other as adversaries — categorized by fabricated, meaningless, black-and-white labels that facilitate hostility and give us an excuse to dismiss others simply because we disagree with them.

That catalog of problems is daunting, to say the least, and Obama has been consistently straightforward about its depth and gravity: tens of billions spent each month on a war that was started dishonestly and unnecessarily; millions of Americans who can't afford a doctor's visit or a college education for their children; and a tax policy that pads the pockets of millionaires, while working-class families struggle just to pay their bills and keep their homes. Indeed, Obama has identified these challenges with clarity and understanding. But more than that, he has proposed pragmatic solutions that repudiate the status quo and give hope to hurting Americans. Meanwhile, his opponent, Sen. John McCain, does just the opposite — playing on people's base emotions and waging disingenuous attacks about the Illinois senator being a "socialist" and "palling around with terrorists." Character assassination is the hallmark of a campaign that lacks good ideas of its own.

This represents the biggest distinction between Obama and McCain: The former has articulated a clear vision for America and has explained with eloquence why voters should stand with him. The latter, conversely, has waged one attack after another against his opponent, arguing why Americans should not support the Democratic ticket but doing little to convince them why they should support him. Voters deserve to know why their backing of one candidate isn't merely a rejection of the other, and they deserve a candidate who presents a strong, cohesive, positive message, rather than just a series of disconnected, arbitrary attacks against the opponent.

Of course, Obama's candidacy is historic just by virtue of his identity — but his offerings go far beyond that. If voters should choose to elect him as the next president of the United States on Tuesday, I'm confident that the next four years will represent a very positive departure from the past eight in American history.