Planning For Catastrophe? Or Not.

I just ended my first year with no health insurance. This was a sacrifice (among others) that I made to pursue a career in radio after working for an environmental consulting corporation where I had enjoyed a full suite of benefits. Now I am in a position to buy health insurance but I am finding it difficult to do.

Health insurance premiums went up 9% in 2011, and it now costs an average of $15,073 for family health coverage through an employer. To cover myself and my kids (my wife has coverage through her employer) I am now looking at a minimum of $2500 for a year of health coverage with an annual deductible of $5000. So barring anything catastrophic, I can look forward to paying at least $2500 a year for what amounts to almost no benefit.

In this case, buying health insurance is almost nothing more than a way to cover the guaranteed exorbitant medical costs in the event of a catastrophic accident. Or, I could save the money that my employer puts into my health reimbursement account to use for routine medical costs and hope nothing catastrophic happens to me or my kids.

Plan for a catastrophe and give at least $2500 (and more each year) to arguably one of the most cynical industries ever known or save money and hope for a healthy future for myself and my family? Act in fear of what could happen or envision positive and happy days of health? Fall in line with a culture that says we should plan for the worst or take the radical risk that we may be okay?

What should I do?

I Wish I Had Run

I played football in high school and I was pretty good. I also broke my left leg playing football while being tackled after a screen pass left me lying on the 1-yard line. That leg is now one centimeter shorter than my right thanks to the doctor who decided to just set the broken ends of those bones together instead of using pins like they would today. Many of my teammates from my high school team also suffer today from football injuries, from neck pain to reconstructed knees and gimpy shoulders. Last night I watched a player from Florida State University get strapped to a backboard and get carried away in an ambulance after his head was sandwiched between two defensive backs. He was knocked out immediately, his arms twitching.

Such a brutal game, leaving even the young scarred and injured for life.

My son Caleb also loves football, he proudly wears Broncos jerseys to school, and has an uncanny memory for player statistics. He was all set to play his first organized football this fall but something happened. He went to a summer football practice, one of those casual gatherings where the coaches just focus on some running drills and throwing the ball around. Caleb got hurt that day, apparently falling hard on his wrist during some backwards running drill. We later found out from the coach that after he fell, and was sitting on the sidelines nursing his wrist, the coach decided to toss the ball to him to see just how hurt he was. When Caleb winced in pain as he caught the ball, the coach decided he really was hurt. Way to go coach.

About a month before school started, Caleb informed us he was going to join the cross country team. This was not a big surprise since one of his best friends is a runner and was clearly going that direction. I have no experience with distance running and couldn't relate. But I decided a long time ago that I would never pressure my kids to play (or not play) any sports, so we bought him some good running shoes and hoped for the best.

I went to Caleb's first cross country meet with some trepidation; in fact I didn't quite know what to do with myself. I was surprised to see how friendly all of the other parents were, even those from other schools. The whole atmosphere was very, well, non-competitive, with pretty much everyone cheering on everyone. I even saw two girls from different schools give each other encouragement midway through a race. Caleb placed well into the lower half of the finishers in his race, but as he sprinted into the finish he looked like a champion. And even better his team (and the other teams) treated each and every teammate like a champion. It didn't matter how they finished.

Last week Caleb admitted that he wasn't really into the competition, he just likes the social aspect of the meets, and having fun with his friends on the team during practices and at their team dinners (which happen the night before every meet). He seems so happy, and so content to just....run. And I don't miss seeing him in a football uniform at all. In fact, I'm jealous of him. I wish I had run and kept my leg intact, and learned much earlier in life that sometimes its not the competition that makes sports so great.

Who You Really Are

"You and I are all as much continuous with the physical universe as a wave is continuous with the ocean." - Alan Watts

The World Is Made Of Stories

At the radio station where I work we are pretty fond of stories. We want everyone to have a chance to tell their stories, and to be heard. There is a special feeling that we get when someone shares a story with us, especially a true story that impacted their life in a profound way. So at a local festival we set up a booth with a microphone and a recorder in hopes that people would stop by and tell us their stories, or at least answer some thoughtful questions we happily provided.

The problem is that people are generally more than happy to share stories if they are NOT being recorded. The moment you ask someone to record their story, they take a step back and get squeamish, like the microphone might inflict a poisonous bite. I even had friends of mine begin to tell me really great stories as a natural part of conversation but as soon as I said "hey, you should let me record that story" the magic disappeared, and they looked at me like I was being a total dick. One guy told me that he couldn't record a story because "Uncle Sam had done things to him" and it might get him into trouble. Uh huh.

This went on all day, although a few brave souls did let us record really wonderful stories about how they met their spouses, falling through the ice while ice skating as a child, and even one animated story about a Backstreet Boys concert. But for everyone that was willing to record a story, 20 others practically ran away from that hideous microphone. Clearly, the world is not ready to have their stories recorded, even with the assurance that they would not be broadcast on the radio. Which just made me wonder how Story Corps and The Moth got so goddamn popular.

But then, just before the rains came and we had to break everything down and call it a day, a timid Navajo woman approached our booth. Defeated, I just smiled and let her explore the papers and pamphlets, but my booth partner asked her "do you want to record a story?". OK, she said, and I sprang into action as she positioned herself in front of the much-maligned microphone.

What happened next was amazing. She proceeded to tell us about a paper her daughter had written for a college class about the labels we give to people, and in particular about the labels that people give to all Native Americans based on the "drunk Indians" in the city park. That on the reservation the aunts and grandmothers never drink, and that we should go and visit them to see for ourselves. She ended her story by telling us that her daughter died in 1989, her voice and our hearts breaking at the same moment.

All it took was one story by a woman who lost her daughter for me to resolve to always ask people to share their stories. I'll ask a thousand times to get just one story that matters.

A Life of Cartoons

I love cartoons. Not just animation, which I love as an art form of its own, but cartoons. Like most of us this all started for me with Bugs Bunny, Wiley E. Coyote vs. Roadrunner, and Porky Pig explaining "that's all folks!" Then things got more sophisticated with Johnny Quest, Super Friends, and G.I. Joe. By the time my college years rolled around I was hooked on The Simpsons, Beavis & Butthead, and Ren & Stimpy. Now I am playing along as my own kids discover all of these and much, much more.

What is it about the fantasies that can be portrayed in cartoons? The unnecessary, exaggerated violence? The grade school morality? The bitter satire, and the just plain stupid that make it all so brilliant? Sometimes when I am watching cartoons I feel so relaxed; the unreal portrayals can make the real world seem so far away. And even hilarious.

The Top 5 Ren and Stimpy Moments of All Time - More free videos are here

Cowboys and The Cupid Shuffle

I was the DJ at the Lame Town Street Dance last night, which was fun but I can't shake this whole "Cupid Shuffle" thing. You see, apparently cowboys like hip-hop songs that you can line dance to. They really like them, to the point where a DJ might get like, 7 or 8 requests to play the Cupid Shuffle over and over again. I didn't even know this song and dance existed, and then this:

Does anyone else find this odd yet strangely encouraging at the same time?

Who Am I Between Love and Fear?

I heard from two great men today: Alan Watts and Bill Hicks. The great thing about hearing these two pioneers back-to-back was how remarkably similar their views were. Alan Watts wondered who the "I" is that we think we are, and explained how we are an expression of the intelligence of the universe. Through hallucinogenic experiences and laughter, Bill Hicks realized that life is one big ride. They both understood something about our experience that points to the beauty of letting go so that we can see the truth in who we really are. And how hilarious that can be. Terrifying and liberating and hilarious. But we have to be willing to let go of that "I", that character that we play, to see that if we are not afraid, love will set us free.