Author: Peter Watkins

The Children Are Watching

On By Peter WatkinsIn 20251 Comment

Dear Will:

For as long as I can remember, my dad was a member of the Rotary Club. He went to meetings and on the occasional trip, but mostly I had no idea what it meant to be a Rotarian except for a sign that hung on the wall of his office listing the organization’s Four-Way Test. To this day every Rotary Club around the world recites it like a catechism:

Of the things we think, say or do

  • Is it the TRUTH?
  • Is it FAIR to all concerned?
  • Will it build GOODWILL and BETTER FRIENDSHIPS?
  • Will it be BENEFICIAL to all concerned?

You didn’t have to see that sign on his wall to know my dad was an honorable man. It showed up in everything he did and was reflected in the respect he commanded both in business and in his private life. He didn’t talk much about his affiliation with the Rotary Club, but if you knew him and later learned he was a Rotarian, you would not have been surprised.

My dad’s sense of honor showed up all the time. I remember once all nine of us had piled back into the family station wagon following dinner at a Chinese restaurant. Somehow my dad realized that he had not been charged the full amount for our meal or he had received too much change or something like that. Well, he left us all in the car and marched back into the restaurant to settle his account properly. I was amazed. We had already left. No one would ever know. But for my dad, these things mattered. 

Tad R. Callister has said: “Integrity is a purity of mind and heart that knows no deception, no excuses, no rationalization, nor any coloring of the facts. It is an absolute honesty with one’s self, with God, and with our fellowman. Even if God blinked or looked the other way for a moment, it would be choosing the right—not merely because God desires it but because our character demands it.”

Throughout the ages, our most admired leaders have been men and women similarly committed to a life of virtue. George Washington famously walked away from the presidency when fawning admirers were anxious to install him as king. He chose instead (and once again) to put the interests of his country ahead of his own. (No wonder we all found it so easy to believe the apocryphal story of young George and the cherry tree.) Of Washington, Thomas Jefferson once wrote: “His integrity was pure, his justice the most inflexible I have ever known. . . . He was, indeed, in every sense of the words, a wise, a good, and a great man.”

Nor should we forget that our greatest president of all, Abraham Lincoln, has always been known as Honest Abe—a remarkable honorific, especially considering how little evidence of honesty remains in political circles today. The Lincoln Heritage Museum has called Lincoln “an exemplar and a model of virtue perhaps more than any person in world history other than religious figures.”

It is in no small part due to the character of such men and women that the United States has risen to greatness from its humble beginnings. Like any nation ours has an imperfect past, of course, but if we have ever been great and ever hope to be so again, it has been and will be due to those moments when we have stood tall and done the right thing, even in difficult circumstances. When we have put the broad interests of the many ahead of the selfish interests of the few. When we have made sacrifices for humanity and given of our riches and resources to lift those less fortunate.

This is who we are—or who we were, in any case. And who we should be. So let us not be too casual nor too forgiving as we watch those now in power openly violate their solemn oaths of office; as they act to do away with those appointed to enforce ethical standards and flag conflicts of interest within the government; as they instruct others to ignore laws against bribery. As they disregard commitments, betray friendships and alliances, cozy up to the sorts of strongmen and dictators that for years we have fought to constrain and overcome. Nor should we make excuses for behavior and policies that our forebears found abhorrent and worked so hard to eliminate in the United States of America.

I’m not saying we should elect only Rotarians; but it seems obvious to me that we should not lend our support to those whose lives make it clear that they could never get in the club. In any case, before we drive away, we must all remember that there are children in the backseat watching what we do next.

PW

Photo by Clay Banks on Unsplash

This Is Different

On By Peter WatkinsIn 20251 Comment

Dear Will:

I’ve lived in Southern California since I was seven years old. In those early years, we lived in Redlands, jammed up against the San Bernardino mountains, a place where all of the smog from the LA basin would gather and settle in for a nice, long retirement. During the summertime, we would play outside from morning chores to dinner until our lungs became so inflamed from the toxic air that if we tried to take a deep breath we would cough uncontrollably. Smog-lung remains a recurring, vibrant part of my childhood memories.

But you know what is not part of those memories? (I marvel even as I think of it.) Wildfires. I’m sure they were there since wildfires kind of come with the territory around here. My siblings assure me that I was not paying close enough attention. But if they had been as common as they are now, or as devastating, surely they would have left more of a mark. I would remember the smoke as I do the smog. If I had had to scoop ash out of the swimming pool, or hose down my roof, or flee with my family with only the things we could carry; if I had stood in my driveway and watched as fire raged down the mountain from Big Bear through Barton Flats toward my neighbors’ homes; if my friends had been displaced, their lives turned upside down by a raging inferno, surely I would remember that. But I don’t. This is new. This is different.

Climate scientists have been predicting for years that it would come to this. They warned us that a warmer planet would result in more intense weather phenomena. Perhaps like me you watched An Inconvenient Truth with a healthy dose of skepticism; but at the same time I remember leaving the theater and thinking: “Perhaps he is just a reactionary, but at the same time, the downside of trying to do something about this is negligible compared to the risk of doing nothing. Why wouldn’t we at least try?” Now here we are, almost 20 years later, and Al Gore looks more and more like one of those old-timey prophets who the people ridiculed and ignored. Some still do.

Here in the present, circumstances were ripe for devastation coming into this week: Two years of heavier-than-usual rainfall brought wondrous growth to our hillsides and communities, but this year we’ve had so little rain that all of that new growth has been converted to kindling. When the atmosphere churned up dry, hurricane-force winds (double the intensity of our usual Santa Anas), it was a conflagration just waiting to happen. It’s hardly worth mentioning that 2024 was the warmest year ever recorded, breaking a record that was set . . . just last year. No wonder people keep using terms like “unprecedented” and “once-in-a-lifetime” to describe phenomena that are now occurring every year or so.

We Californians are not alone in our suffering. Around here, drought and fires are our thing. In the Southeast, it’s hurricanes and flooding, which year after year have become more frequent and more intense. Further north, they’re into “bomb cyclones” and the polar vortex. Everywhere it’s something. But what you won’t find is anyone who will claim that things were worse when they were a kid. If you find that guy anywhere other than some cable news rantfest, send him my way because I would like to check his alternative facts.

Meanwhile, this week it’s fires. Hundreds of people from Pacific Palisades to Riverside have lost their houses and probably most all of their possessions. I have friends and co-workers who have been evacuated from their homes and are spending tonight on a friend’s sofa or perhaps curled up on a cot in the local (but not too local) gymnasium. Just a block from my house, my neighbors remain without power going into a third straight day. 

Tonight Dana and I took Nacho for a walk through the streets of that darkened neighborhood. In a few places we could hear the chug-chug-chug of a generator doing its best to keep the cold cuts cold, but mostly it was just eerie and desolate—almost like a ghost town. Later, as we rounded the corner toward home, we saw other neighbors from a couple of streets over, heading into the home across the street to recharge their devices. In difficult times, it’s easy to find someone else who is willing to help out in whatever way they can.

You know what is not helpful, however? Pretending that what we can see with our own eyes is not actually happening—that it has ever been thus. It hasn’t. I know. I live here.

I hope, in spite of all of this, you are well. Please stay safe.

PW

Photo by Caleb Cook on Unsplash

Feeling a Little Down in the Mouth

On By Peter WatkinsIn 20244 Comments

Dear Will:

Dana and I were headed to Italy—not right that moment, but in a few days—when it occurred to me that maybe I ought to have a dentist take a look at this weird bump in my mouth—you know, in case it was something. It was, the dentist told me, and recommended an excellent endodontist who could probably do a root canal before I boarded the plane for Naples.

The endodontist was excellent—enough to recognize that I did not need a root canal after all. “A root canal won’t do you any good,” she told me. “That tooth has got to come out. But I can recommend an excellent periodontist.” (Which, I guess, is not the same as an endodontist, neither of which is a just-plain-dentist even though they all went to dental school. How are we supposed to keep up with this stuff?)

Isn’t it funny how we all talk like root canals are the epitome of horrible when all along there is something actually worse? Have the idiom writers never been to the periodontist? It’s like they’re not even trying! I did not know it was possible for “You don’t need a root canal” to be bad news.  Someone should tell you these things.

Just so you know—in case you have a weird bump in your mouth, for instance—when they tell you the molar has got to go, you may then find yourself having another conversation you may never have anticipated. It goes something like this:

“So, you have a couple of options. We can just pull it out and leave a gap at the back of your mouth. Eventually the bone and skin will just grow over the hole. But if you do nothing, over time your upper molar will gradually descend from the gum to fill the gap. Eventually it could start to create problems of its own.”

Having not attended dental school, I have no idea if that’s actually true or even if what I just shared with you is an accurate reflection of what the periodontist said. But it is certainly what I heard. So rather than going with the eventual out-of-control, mega-molar super-fang, I opted for one of those ultra-glam implants everyone’s talking about. Or should be, anyway. Did you know that a dental implant involves both discarded cow bones and cadaver skin? Think about that next time you’re about to kiss Grandpa goodnight.

So yeah, this is the new me, partway through a dental implant procedure with a gaping hole in the back of my maw. And although I’m sure I’ve already over-shared, I feel I would be remiss if I stopped here without sharing one last thing.

All of this pain and suffering naturally got me thinking about the most recent election. (Didn’t see that coming, did you? And now you can’t even say, “Do we have to talk about this? I’d rather have a root canal!”—because I’ve ruined that idiom for you forever. Ha!)

So anyway, politics. Regardless of how you voted, perhaps like me you are mystified that over half the country disagrees with you, that even though the choice this time around was so obvious, more than half of your fellow Americans either believe you got it wrong or don’t care enough to pay attention. How is that possible?, you might wonder. It should not even be close! Everyone has access to the same information, and yet we come to totally different conclusions. No wonder we often find it hard to co-exist.

And yet, we must. “There must be opposition in all things,” the scripture says—and that’s not just a philosophical observation. Opposition—I recently learned while someone was jamming sharp instruments dangerously close to my uvula—may be the only thing keeping us from growing even uglier and more crooked than we already are. Pushback is not only a good thing—it’s vital to the whole operation.

I can’t tell if this not-very-profound thought is my attempt to make myself feel better about the pain I’ve been suffering, but I have found it helpful perspective as I ponder the future—of both my mouth and my country.

Go ahead and spit.

PW