There is a reason to emphasize the Paris attack beyond any other recent atrocity, but it sure as hell isn’t what you would expect.

OR

Why Everyone Actually Should be talking about Paris more than anything else. It has to do with 2 numbers: “21” and “400” and two words: ‘feedback loops.”

In the aftermath of the recent terrorist attack in Paris, everyone is trying to figure out how best to respond. There is much that is chilling about the attack; the coordination of multiple assailants striking at multiple sites, the targeting of random civilians, the timing of a Friday night.

This attack seems clearly calculated to remind Westerners going about their lives that they are not safe from the turmoil or violence that plagues so many other parts of the world.

A surprising amount of ire was directed at Facebook and other media sources that covered the event. The general complaint was that their concerned coverage was an illustration of inequity; how dare these news outlets place so much focus on this attack when they all but ignored recent comparable atrocities in Beruit, Kenya, Baghdad, etc. Social Activists all over bemoaned the discrepancy that Facebook offers the opportunity to change a profile picture to the colors of the French flag, while giving no such homage to any other place recently struck by senseless violence.

 Any honest answer Facebook could give to explain this double treatment would almost certainly just add fuel to the fire of righteous indignation.

“But those other places have violence all the time. In France, it’s surprising.”

Yeah, that’s not going to make people happy.

“Tragedies happen all the time. We have to only respond to the really bad ones.”

No way to make that sound good.

“Most Americans have no idea, which country Beirut is in, let alone the colors of the Lebanese flag.”

Let’s be serious. Before last week, the average American on the street couldn’t tell you what colors are on the French Flag. Since the Red, White and Blue France style has been spread widely lately, I thought I would balance the scales a bit by showing the Lebanon (that's where Beirut is) Flag. 

The Lebanon flag is basically a perpendicular version of the Canadian Flag, with an upgrade of the Maple Leaf for a Cedar Tree.

Ironically, the old Lebanon flag looked like this:

So maybe Facebook briefly considered claiming that their flag profile option WAS a homage to old-school Lebanon but they just removed the tree so as not to obscure the all important profile picture.

Doubtful though. That second one was that old school Flag of Lebanon during the French Mandate in the decades before WWII, so bringing up that time period isn’t really going to give them any points for equity. 

In reality of course, displaying any flag tint over your Facebook profile doesn't really do much. At best it indicates someone is thinking about a place, it matters for them. 

Flags and Facebook Tints aside, Paris really should be the place most on everybody's mind for the next two week. Paris does especially matter and should be on everyone’s mind more than any other attack site for a very simple reason.

It has nothing to do with Paris’s demographics, history or even the nature of the attack. Instead,  it has to do with what is about to happen there.

Next Week, leaders from around the world converge on Paris to try, yet again, to tackle the greatest threat of our time.

The 21^st Conference of Parties (COP) to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) kicks off on Monday and will run for 12 days.

For those unfamiliar, this is the  UN organization that is trying to get the nations of the World to come to an agreement that will place clear limits the amount on the amount of greenhouse gases that will be released into the atmosphere in the coming decades. This is a convoluted, flawed process, but it is still the best hope we have at working towards a goal that we so desperately need.

Recently, I’ve been writing a comic. In it, the villain seeks to inflame the world into war by attacking a peace conference at a critical moment, distracting people with terror when it is most important for them to work together.

Now I highly doubt that ISIS was thinking about the 21st UNFCCC meeting when it choose  Paris as it's target. But for a group that thrives on chaos, and the subjugation of women, it would be difficult to imagine a more important and devastating meeting for them to disrupt. 

           You see, the next two weeks are a critical time for our world. A battle for the future is being waged. The location is Paris. The stakes may well be the survival of our civilization. That's not an exaggeration; the Pope himself agrees with me.        

"We've been hearing about the dangers of climate change for decades. What makes this time especially important?"

             "You mean, aside from the fact that we as a global community haven't responded sufficiently to earlier warnings, and thus we're deeper into what was perhaps an avoidable crisis?"

              "Yes, besides that."

               Well, a big part of the issue is the severity of the problem. This week, the atmosphere passed an ominous milestone of 400 ppm CO2 in the atmosphere. This is a very objective measure of the amount of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere and it means that last week was the last time anyone alive will be alive in a world below 400 ppm; i.e. a world with atmospheric conditions at all like what they have been for the entirety of human history. That's a big sentence. Take it all in. That's the second important number: 400. 

            The bigger problem of course is not just where we are now, but where we are heading. This is where feedback loops come in. The word feedback refers to that awful screech that happens when you move a mic to close to a speaker. 

            In Environmental Science, it refers to a conditions that become self-perpetuating. It's a fairly innocuous phrase for the thing that is most likely to kill us all. The best way I can describe the danger of a feedback loop is with a simple story that took place right here: 

The House I lived in my senior year of college.

          I once had a real obnoxious roommate: Eli. One day, I was standing on the porch and noticed E trying to push his stalled car, in neutral back out the driveway. It looked pretty obvious that the procedure was a bit tricky given the slope, so I called out and offered to help him. 

        "I got it." Eli growled back in a surly way. He was indeed finally able to get the car moving backwoods. It quickly picked up speed. For several steps, he ran with it, trying to keep pace as it rapidly accelerated. He couldn't, and had to ultimately dive clear. His car picked up speed as it crossed 7th, bounced across our neighbor's lawn, clipped the fire hydrant, and crashed into the row of trees behind the stop sign at the bottom. The whole thing only took a few seconds, and cost thousands in damage. Pure luck that it wasn't worse. 

           In this metaphor, we are all Eli. The car is our climate. The gradually increasing slope is defined by feedback loops. The point is, as the climate shifts due to human action, we cause certain things to happen that accelerate the changes. 

           Here's a classic example: Greenland is covered in ice. Ice reflects sunlight away from the earth, lessening the amount of heat that is retained in our planet. However, as the ice sheet melts, there is less ice to reflect, and more heat stays here. 

           For those hungry for more information, here's an example of 19 other feedback loops.  Any one or two of these would be extremely concerning, because they indicate that we are on the edge of loosing any ability to control the extent and devastation of climate change. 19 feedback loops is extremely worrying and depressing. 

          However, this article leaves out  a critical one. The most basic and lethal feedback loop is Human Desperation. 

         Yep. That's the kill shot. That's the thing that rips our global civilization apart at the seams and decimates humanity. The feedback loop of climate change and human desperation is our most clear and present existential threat as a species and it should be the prime problem that we are all working to avoid. 

        What does this mean?

        Put simply, reaching a climate deal in Paris requires cooperation, compromise, attention to detail and forward planning at an almost unprecedented level. Human beings are capable of all these things, but only when we are at our best. 

         If we are worried about being shot, or starving, we simply don't have the capacity to make long-term plans for big picture problems. We get caught up in the immediate need to survive. 

         As climate change sweeps the globe, it will shift the ecological foundations of more and more areas. The people who live in these areas will be forced to move, and the tensions these mass migrations make will not be pretty. The longer we wait to truly address greenhouse gases as a planet, to make it our top priority, the greater the number of people who are pushed to desperation, and the harder it will be to get the mass coordination we need to address this problems. At a certain point, it will become impossible, and the peoples of our world will become caught up in increasingly violent struggles over increasingly meager scraps. Think about the current debate we are seeing over Syrian refugees;  now multiply it by 100. Imagine what will happen when drought really does revert most of CA to a desert, and LA decides it has to invade Oregon to get water. 

          In human history, the most horrific mass die-off of human beings we have ever seen was the combination of microbial and colonial invasion of the new world 500 years ago. Armies of avarice and new diseases burned through two continents, killing tens of millions and wiping out civilizations. If we don't get a handle on climate change, this next century may set a new record. 

         Paris may well be one of the last clear opportunities we have to jump back into the driver's seat of the car and control its descent. I believe we can do this. 

       When you really consider the scale of what's at stake here, it makes all other political issues seem to be pretty marginal. 

* Some people say #blacklivesmatter; some say #alllivesmatter. Both sides hurl invectives at the other and accuse racism. 

But if you think lives of any sort matter, you should probably be thinking about Paris right now, and hoping the leaders of the world can stop thinking about the political games of the most recent shooting incident, and focus on the big picture threat.   

* Some people say gay marriage is the civili rights movement of our generation. Others say it is a threat to the 'sanctity of marriage' whatever that means. But marriage of any sort is a construct of society. It's not much of a thing in a Hobbesian jungle. And that's the state of nature we are heading towards if we don't pull our heads out of our assess and demand that the leaders meeting in Paris this week come to an agreement that actually has a chance of adequately responding to the science. 

* Patriarchal microagressions are still way too prevalent in our society, and they are a problem. But so is the macro aggression of major scale climate change. 

         I'm not saying that any of the above issues are unimportant. They are really, really important. What I am saying is that people kvetching about these things and not focusing even more on climate change kind of remind me of a group of mentally slow children sitting in a burning school bus arguing over who has the bigger paper cut. 

"Yes, that looks painful. It could become infected, and that would be even worse. Why don't we figure out who's right and what to do about that after we make sure we all don't get burned alive." 

            So what does our world needs to survive? We need to reach a climate deal that the US, China, India and every other major emitter in the world can agree to and take on serious and binding commitments. We need that ASAP. And then we need a major global push towards improved educational systems and empowerment of women across the face of the earth. Those are the aspects most needed to reduce future increases in atmospheric carbon pollution and the resulting increases in human misery. 

             
          That's is why I am praying for Paris; not for the scores of people who died, but for the billions on Earth that want to live. Beyond prayer, let's work to hold our leaders accountable. Let's spread this message.  For the next two weeks, voices from around the world should be echoing to our representatives in Paris. We are not going to live in fear of random violence, or avoid the hard decisions. Let's join together to ensure the survival of our species; let's build a better and more sustainable tomorrow; let's live. 

Flames of the Future.

In my last post, I pondered the irony that a historical figure, standing at a breathtakingly epic spot of a truly historic journey would feel that they had not done much with their lives. Frankly, I agree with a childhood friend (also a military man) who commented that Meriwether Lewis's rather pensive comments were more a reflection of the task at hand and a commitment to the future than it was his uncertainty about his own self-worth.

I also think it is a reflection of how none of us can fully see the future in our own time. One of the reasons I love teaching (and there are many) is that it is an opportunity to try to mold the upcoming tomorrows. One of my favorite teaching quotes: "Education is not the filling of a pail, it is the lighting of a fire." I like that.

Fire is the perpetual metaphor; our first technology, simultaneously symbolic of life-giving warmth and cataclysmic destruction. From a very scientifically objective, carbon-conscious perspective, we humans have been lighting far too many fires lately.

On one of the last days of Summer, on a 42 mile ride through beloved Sonoma County, we came across an intense sight.

Upon first glimpse, the smoke was deeply unsettling in its grandeur; rising like a mushroom cloud or volcanic eruption over the landscape. It was actually the Jerusalem Fire, freshly ignited, spreading quickly over nearby Lake County. One of dozens of fast-moving fires that have etched across drought stricken California in the past few weeks.

It would go on to destroy 43 homes, char 70,000 acres and billow smoke across the Bay Area. For the people who watched their homes reduced to embers, the concerns about a warming climate and the destructive power of nature must have suddenly seemed more personal than political. Rather than characterize the motto "Live Sustainably" as some sort of hippie mantra, it should be recognized for what it is: a much-needed strategy for survival.

In a world of 7 billion plus, it matters to consider what personal tactics we can use to support that overall strategy. For myself, I often come back to teaching. In a way, this too is ironic: a profession that is often characterized as igniting fires used to combat a global conflagration.

In another way however, it is fitting. Any firefighter that works in the forest can tell you that lighting fires is one of the best tools for fighting them. This practice, sometimes called back-burning or swailing, has always struck me as poetic.

This morning is also struck me as a good representation of what I am trying to do in the classroom. Yesterday I taught my first day of a new school year. Today, I rise early, and feel excited to fight for the future.

This day I completed my thirty first year...

One of my favorite snippets of writing was a introspective note written by legendary explorer and fellow Leo - Merriweather Lewis on his 31st birthday. As most people know, Lewis and Clark had been given the assignment by President Thomas Jefferson to explore the vast new territory of land that America had just 'purchased' from Napoleon. Morally, I think there are a lot of issues with the idea of being able to buy land already inhabited by scores of indigenous tribes, but realistically, the Louisiana purchase was a clear turning point in American history. No denying that, and for that reason alone, the Lewis & Clark expedition (a.k.a the Corps of Discovery) would be a major event in history.

But it was much more than just the herald of territory expansion. The Lewis & Clark expedition has captured imaginations (and lent its name to my chosen college) over the centuries for a number of reasons. The expedition was a symbol of many of the best aspirational ideals of America. Decades before the Emancipation Proclamation or the Seneca Falls Conventions, a black man and a native female teenager became two of the most critical members and default decision makers on the expedition. When confronted with the raw, basic truths of the unexplored wilderness the institutionalized inequalities of society gave way naturally to the science of survival. The trip was also a scientific bonaza, a tour de force of cartography by 'dead reckoning' and the diligent, systematic examination of hundreds of new plant and animal species. Finally it was a voyage of peace. In an American history too often characterized by treating blue-collar soldiers as expendable and being callous towards native peoples, the Lewis & Clark expedition crossed thousands of miles of uncharted territory twice without losing a single member of having a single violent episode with any native tribe. On top of all this, it was a damn epic adventure.

Lewis was the leader, and he (along with several others) kept a frequent journal of the trip. On his 31st birthday, the group reached a milestone. The day was August 18th, 1805 and the group had left the Endless river of the Missouri behind and was standing on the Continental Divide. On that day, Lewis wrote the following entry:

"This day I completed my thirty first year, and conceived that I had in all human probability now existed about half the period which I am to remain in this Sublunary world. I reflected that I had as yet done but little, very little indeed, to further the hapiness of the human race, or to advance the information of the succeeding generation. I viewed with regret the many hours I have spent in indolence, and now soarly feel the want of that information which those hours would have given me had they been judiciously expended. but since they are past and cannot be recalled, I dash from me the gloomy thought and resolved in future, to redouble my exertions and at least indeavour to promote those two primary objects of human existance, by giving them the aid of that portion of talents which nature and fortune have bestoed on me; or in future, to live for mankind, as I have heretofore lived for myself.—

Yikes.

Kind of an epic mid-life crisis. I mean here was a young man leading a truly historic mission, embarked on a grand adventure, at a major milestone. And what is on his mind? That he hasn't done much of anything. I mean seriously, if that is the case, what hope do any of us have?

Of course, reality is messy, and there are a lot of ways to interpret this journal entry that make it seem both more uplifting, or far darker.

I'll share some of the thoughts I have on what significance this quote has for the modern world next week. In the meantime, what do you all think? Is Lewis depressed? Optimistic? Overly Self-Critical? Future-thinking? I am curious how other see it.

The Rocky Mountains at the Continental Divide

Teach the Change you want to see in the world

In a few short weeks, I will begin my 7^th year as a classroom science teacher. This journey has taken me from East Oakland, to the Bayview, to the rapidly changing Excelsior District of SF where I now live and work. When I look around at the gargantuan challenges facing our global civilization, it is easy to feel small and hopelessly outgunned. The technological, political, and economic changes our world has experience in the last century are profound.
There have been technological changes. In the past two centuries, we've seen communication technology go from this: 

 to this

"Nice little gizmo you got there, but I bet it's not faster than ma horse." 

Billy bob lost this bet. He also lost a career. And the world eventually gained emoticons. Plenty of other changes; we saw transportation go from this:

 to....

this:

and cutting edge technology development go from this: 

 To this

Unless you teach inner city public school science, in which case your supply closet may still include Hygrometers. 

In short, the changes in human civilization have been breath-taking. And they have been mirrored by tremendous changes to the planet. 

At the heart of it, there is this change:

Which is really the big one. When combined with some of the technological and consumption changes it has created oddly similar graphs such as: 

And...

In case, that last graph is unclear, it shows the rise of extinctions in the past centuries, to the point where we are right now, with thousands of species going extinct each year, at a rate much, much, much higher than what it usually is. We are in the sixth mass extinction are planet has seen since there were animals on it, and generally, large creatures (like us) don't do well when the planet changes and this many different types of things start dying. 

As Thurgood says in Half Baked: "We're in a whole lot of trouble guys." 

And while most people get that abstract idea, feeling it at the level of continued urgency it warrants is difficult. Feeling it and doing something productive (not just panicking) is even harder. 

The Following Course I am teaching this year is my most recent attempt to follow the "Better to Light a Single Candle than Curse the Darkness" philosophy:

Environmental Problems, Politics and Solutions:

Coming of Age in a Time of Peril

            This course is envisioned as an advanced upper level course. Think of it as a future-looking, interdisciplinary course that will be a bridge between the two AP courses that all our students take. It will be open to juniors and seniors.

            This course will be a solid addition for college going students because a) it will have a high level of daily reading that is expected, assessed and required, b) it is a precursor to many college courses that span disciplines, and c) ecological system knowledge is likely to be an ever more important piece of economies of the future.

           

            Four Over Arching Units: Each unit will last about 2 months; together they will provide a comprehensive approach to solving some very complex problems.

            Scale of the Problem:

            This unit will cover both scientific and political limitations on current action. It will begin with some of the large scale issues that are endangering our world today: drought, food shortages, rising oil prices and increasing scarcity, increased desertification, ocean acidification and global warming. This unit is heavy on both science (of the above issues) and history (looking at how many past civilizations rose or fell based on environmental factors). This unit is daunting.

            Environmental Heroes:

            This unit is an answer to the previous one. It highlights the efforts of individuals and communities around the globe to protect the health of their communities and the strength of natural systems. Recently, Luis and I attended a ceremony honoring this year’s winners of the Goldman prize. This struck me as a powerful way to simultaneously teach global awareness, community organizing and environmental activism. Each individual’s story will last a week, and will give students a chance to look at: a) a particular global region, b) a localized problem that harms that region, and c) how individuals organized themselves to successfully address that problem. Luis’s mother and I spoke about the possibility of partnering with that organization (http://www.goldmanprize.org/ ) which would be a huge win for the school. Even if we don’t, their awardees present a wonderful way to organize a unit.  This unit is inspiring.

            Legal and Political Systems:

            This unit focuses on the national and international law making systems, how they were created and what they respond to. It is great for students considering law or politics as a career.  This unit will involve numerous classroom debates, in which students will take sides of a particular issue and look at how the side they are representing could work to use the legal and political systems to advance their goals.

            Avenues of Action:

            This unit is cumulative. It gives students much more freedom to use the knowledge they have gained to create their own project that will put into action what they have learned.

The course will also be heavily focused on partnerships, with considerable emphasis put on bringing outside experts into the classroom, encouraging students applying to scholarships, study abroad programs extracurricular opportunities, etc.

Should be an interesting year. 

On Upward Mobility, Meritocracy, and the Fulfillment of Fairytales...

On Upward Mobility, Meritocracy, and the Fulfillment of Fairytales,

            Like many of my peers, these past few years have been a smorgasbord of weddings: an ongoing opportunity to see the myriad of ways young couples choose to express and display their love for each other with friends and family. I am always honored to attend these events and intrigued by the many ways they are all similar and yet each is unique. Recently, my best friend Kia’s sister Parisa got married. The lavish, fairytale feel of the event led to a number of remarkable experiences and musings. On the way home, via 5 friends - old and new and a BART ride, I found myself exhausted, satisfied and particularly reflective about what the event meant to me. 

            A Long Engagement:

            This wedding was a long-time coming, and when it finally arrived it seemed something out of a fairytale. I heard about the engagement many years ago. More than once, I had assumed it had come and gone simply because so much time had passed since I had last been promised an invite. Looking back now, the long Engagement doesn’t surprise me. It’s a reflection of Parisa’s style and self-control, as well as those same qualities in her husband.

When I first met Parisa, she seemed almost to be an ideal or a force of nature. Kia was one of the first new friends I made in high school and he quickly became my closest. We were both academically ambitious, pushing ourselves to do as well in school as possible.

Each of us had several reasons for that quest, but the one I heard most from Kia was: “I want to do well in school and be like Parisa.” So long before I met her, I saw the inspiring impact that she had on my best friend – a force that motivated him to climb higher.

Speaking of climbing higher… Kia and I eventually found another shared passion beyond academics: our love for outdoor adventure. This explained why I was both a legend and something of a persona non-grata in Kia’s extended family: “You were the one that got him into climbing?!? Aaaaa… why did you do that?!?” As a reply, I can only grin like a rapscallion because… really…  how else could I respond?

I could say that one of my habits (maybe a talent – it’s part of what makes me a good teacher) is a desire to share my passions with others, in the hope that sometimes those passions will ignite their own. In the case of Kia and climbing, that spark burned far brighter, larger and longer than I ever could have hoped. Kia’s adventurous expeditions have become legend – his mountaineering and extreme sport accomplishments are far beyond what I ever hope to achieve in those fields.

When we were teenagers however, we were just having fun. We would sometimes drive around without guidebooks, or even a very developed idea of what we were doing, and say: ‘Hey! Rocks! Let’s go climb them.’ The legendary climber Dean Potter was one of our heroes; we even wrote a parody song of Simon and Garfunkle’s “I am a rock” honoring his exploits on one long, triumphant car ride home from an early climb. Kevin Jorgeson was another inspiration, though at the time he was just the local kid who was the best climber but we all thought we had a prayer of catching up with in terms of skills.

(Spoiler Alert: he is still a bit ahead.

http://www.nytimes.com/2015/01/15/sports/el-capitans-dawn-wall-climbers-reach-top.html) 

But I digress. This note is about Parisa, who I did eventually meet her in person. While I found her gracious, nice, and kind, the most striking thing I remember about her was that she was always studying. Seriously, always carefully reviewing frightening large books. Now, Kia and myself studied a lot too. We were in the most advanced classes at school, no strangers to reading large texts, and we both took our education seriously. So to say that Parisa’s study materials seemed daunting is an impressive statement.

We kept improving our academic game, but we were also distracted occasionally; rock-climbing, parties, new sports, romances, etc. Meanwhile, Parisa, at least from my perspective, kept right on studying, ascending the mountain of educational excellence. UC Berkeley, Dartmouth, St. Louis Medical School. The fact that this wedding was touted as the union of the ‘Doctors Jordan’ was a testament to just how far the betrothed had climbed. So it makes sense that the wedding was delayed for a while, they were both busy walking the long road to academic excellence. Fortunately, I am convinced that all the wedding guests felt that it was worth the wait.

That’s the thing about uphill climbs that take a while; when you finally get to the top, it is an incredible view.

Incredible View Indeed

Marshmallow Interest:

            There’s a funny experiment on human behavior that has become something of a legend. The methodology was simple: a diverse sample group of 4 year olds were gathered. Each was brought into a room, and an adult presented them with a marshmallow. “Don’t eat the marshmallow,” the adult intoned, “I will leave the room for five minutes, and if the marshmallow is still here when I get back, you will get two marshmallows.” Then the adult left and the autonomous child was left to decide for themselves what to do. Tricky choice. I mean there is a marshmallow just sitting there. They know they can eat it before anyone stops them, and they know it will be delicious. Do they go for the assured immediate gratification, or do they wait, adhere to the instructions of the adult stranger and hope they will be rewarded with greater fluffy culinary riches later on. Some children have the self-control and faith to hold out for marshmallow interest. Others don’t. These test subject were monitored intermittingly for decades afterwards and the researchers were stunned to see a direct causation between the length of time the child could resist the sweet siren calls and the future success of the adult they became.

            This wedding was the most exuberant display of marshmallow interest I have yet seen. All the guests experienced an evening of awesome opulence that wowed us one way after another. I have no doubt that the Great Gatsby himself would have approved this wedding. 

            Sleek SUV busses arrived at 4:30 in front of each of the three hotels. Your name had to be on the guest list to get on the busses. We got on the bus with a feeling of rising excitement. The obvious question on everyone’s mind was: “Where are we going?” The invitations hadn’t listed an address or venue: merely a mysterious: “Private Estate.”

            This private estate turned out to be a luxurious mansion on one of the largest privately-owned piece of property on the San Diego Coast line. A large private gate swung smoothly open and as we drove down the cobblestoned road, lush tropical plants lined the road. Strange sights were visible; here a menagerie of exotic birds, there two score young men in bright red matching boy choir uniforms.

The Venue

            When we stopped in front of the intricate front gate to the actual home, it too swung open invitingly. Four impeccably dressed servers were there, each holding a tray with a set of different drinks. I choose the Lavender Hurricane – an homage to the groom’s home state and the color the bride had chose to be a running theme in the wedding.

            We descended steps into a large courtyard, complete with burbling fountain, an eclectic assortment of large statues from around the world and a large mahogany table upon which were arrayed a shrine of exquisitely-framed paintings and artful guest books paying homage to the photogenic glory of the betrothed couple. Step from the atrium into the home itself and you find yourself in a large welcome room, neatly dividing the home into two vast halves. The next bowing butler (we had encountered at least 8 by this point) encouraged us to look around if we like, and to be sure to come back at 6:45 for a personal tour of the home’s art collection, which included not only a Picasso and Michelangelo, but a collection of art pieces from indigenous cultures around the world.

            The house was of course classy, but it was not where we were expected to dwell. The wedding party itself was in the backyard. The backyard boasted a large swimming pool, surrounded by numerous tables and chairs, and a variety of bars and snack stations. The two large families and their guests mingled briefly before descending to the lawn. To reach it you past through a carefully maintained forest, with each gorgeously pruned tree and shrub labeled, identifying both its scientific classification and its botanical lineage. Here in the lawn was where the ceremony itself would take place.

            The day was gorgeous, the afternoon sun transforming the Pacific Ocean below the bluffs into acres of diamonds, glimpsed between the muscular palm trees, arced over by hang-gliders. I was hanging with a platoon of Kia’s friends; the flying people caught our attention, and several of our compatriots remarked that on any other weekend they would be up there tilting horizons and navigating thermals rather than being bedazzled by luxury.

            Bedazzling it was; each new aspect of the wedding setting a gold standard that wedding planners across Southern California would croon over. Here was the intricate wrought gate, standing along, rather unnecessarily alone in the field. Just beyond the gate was the raised white carpet aisle, stretching its long causeway length over the grass. The intricacies of the gate design dimmed in comparison to the design on the aisle, etched in rose petals, made all the more beautiful by its temporary nature. For surely, this meticulously designed petal work would be trod, disrupted and scattered as soon as the pathway was used. A metaphor for human lives; for the temporary nature of the works we build. Just as my thoughts were beginning to descend into the philosophical depths, the brass band struck up, swelling notes from an eclectic mix of instruments heralding the arrival of the wedding party.

            I always find the pairings in wedding parties fascinating. A betrothed couple tends to find some commonalities before they make their way to the alter, but this is not always true for their family. Watching the best friend of one fiancé walk arm in arm with the sibling of another can frequently make for some fascinating juxtapose. The most different people will all play nice with each other out of respect for the lovebirds.

            The families at this wedding were beautiful counter-balances: vastly different at the surface but surprisingly similar on the lower, deeper frequencies.  

             Parisa’s family is Persian, a large extended family who fled to American after the fall of the Iranian Shah 35 years ago. Their relatives span the spectrum in terms of Americanization, some spoke primarily Farsi, others fully immersed in the entrepreneurial, English-speaking American hustle culture. They were, everyone of them, exquisitely dressed: meticulously adjusted hair and flawless grooming on the man, and elegant furs on the women.

Bilal’s family was a large African American family from Baton Rouge Louisiana. They were gracious and excited, some had never been to California. While the groom’s family also displayed a range of success, it was clear the immediate family was up and coming, doing quite well for themselves.  Achieving upward mobility anywhere in the world is a challenge; accomplishing that while contending with the institutionalized racial biases of the American south is especially impressive. Besides his family, the groom had about a dozen of his employees in attendance as well. All spoke of Bilal with a deep loyalty and admiration that bordered on reverence. Here was a soft spoken, self-controlled, ferociously hard-working and fiercely intelligent young man who had pulled his whole family up through his remarkable capacity. He ran the insurance company his mother had worked in for the many years of his childhood, and ran it remarkably effectively. He had graduated medical school, and was debating whether to take a pay cut to become a doctor. Most likely, he would just practice medicine on the side, as a hobby, another way to give back to the community.

For both families this was a special moment; the union of their best and the brightest with someone very different but very clearly special to another large, diverse, equally talented family.

Kia! The flowers!

Watching the pairs of the wedding party walk through the gate arm-in-arm and scatter the rose petals as they progressed towards the alter, I was struck by this remarkable alliance. It seemed to symbolize the beautiful promise of America and its maddening contradictions. Much has been said of the discriminations and prejudices that black people and middle-easterners have faced in America. In spite of these persistent injustices, the ideal still beckons, flickers, taunts; this idea that anyone can succeed, anyone with enough talent and discipline can live like royalty. They can have as many marshmallows as they want.

Finally, Parisa emerged from the foliage, flanked by her mother and uncle. Every bit the beautiful bride, she was the glorious climax to the magnificent procession of the wedding party.  The minister had been chosen by the groom’s family and spent a while reminding them that they were now bound by Christ and owned by each other. Parisa and Bilal each took the proper Christian vows.

            Either the secular Zoroastrian bride had undergone a religious conversion at some point in the pass decade or she had simply deemed the catechism worth repeating to appease her groom’s family. The Persian Brothers ahead of me grumbled at the repeated fixation on Jesus. I grumbled because I had downed a quartet of the luscious Lavender Hurricanes and had not located the bathroom before the ceremony began. I pondered the rapidly increasing urgency of my bladder while the minister expounded on the significance of Ecclesticies and I thought: “This must be a common dilemma for regular church-goers.” I pondered sneaking off to try to provide some additional hydration to one of the exotic trees in the yard, but didn’t like my odds at avoiding the throngs of roving butlers. So I stayed in my seat. The thorough expose on what the bible thought of this union was the longest part of the ceremony and I half expected a Jesus actor would swoop by on a speed wing, strike the buddy pose he favored in the movie Dogma and announce: “I’m the son of god, and I approve this union.”

            No such luck.

Instead we got a brief set of songs from the brass band, another set from the Boy’s choir and the spectacle of 2 dozen white doves released into the air at the moment the newlyweds was kissed. The wedding party departed the way they came and the rose petals completed their conversion from order to chaos. The instant the last of them left the platform, I bolted for the bathroom.

Everyone was mesmerized except for one kid.

            Wandering in the post ceremonial reception, we placed guesses about who the estate belonged to. We asked one of the wait staff who owned it, and they shrugged: “Not sure. I heard he was some lawyer.” Tracy and I chortled. “What kind?” We’re both in the legal field and are reminded every month that … well… we have both proven clearly demonstrated that we didn’t choose this career path for the pay. Some types of lawyers make a lot more money of course, but it;’s usually expressed by buying a new BMW or an elegant condo. This mansion was a whole other level, whoever owned this was tossing around 7 figure sums without blinking. It had to be inherited wealth was the consensus, some loaded heir, possibly a new generation of an old money family who was trying to make their empire work for them by renting an ostentatious domicile out as the setting for big parties with big budgets. 

Spending an afternoon in such opulence can be a dizzying experience. I’ve never expected life to be easy. I aspire to be versatile and disciplined enough to try and endure whatever hardship comes my way. My adventures over the last few years has certainly taken me to lavish events a few times before, so I was able to mesh with my surroundings easily enough. Even so, the artistic perfection of the entire event was striking, like an afternoon spent in another world, where you are torn between just relaxing and enjoying, or darting around trying to take in as much as possible.

It’s one thing to see a fairytale wedding handed to someone. That would be obnoxious and off-putting.    It is entirely different to see a couple build a fantasy from the ground up. This wedding spared no expense. Neither bride nor groom was born rich, but they had reached a point where they didn’t have to spare any expense.  That was the most incredible part about the wedding, the realization that it was constructed entirely from marshmallow interest.

Bookshelf Ladders

While wandering through the garden, enjoying the variety of plants, including some familiar strands Chris K had brought with him, we suddenly remembered the art tour. “C’mon guys” I cried suddenly, we need to go see Michelangelo.” We walked into the gallery a few minutes into the art talk. A white-haired man of around 60 was introducing a variety of pieces and discussing the impact that African artists had on Picasso. It was a fascinating point, reflective of the surprising interconnections of the world, but I am rarely one to stick to the guided tour, especially when in a room with so many curiosity flashpoints. I kept one ear on the speaker as I wandered through the display marveling at the variety of pieces and stunning diversity of geographic origins. The room was a cross-section of the vastness and eclectic nature of the African continent, displayed in microcosm within a single room.

There were multiple walls like this.

            Primarily African, but not exclusively. I particularly marveled at a trophy made of an enemies’ skull by an indigenous Papua New Guinean warrior.  I would have been fascinated by the stories behind to objects in this room even if I hadn’t fine-tuned my aesthetic appreciation antennae with sensimilla. Soon though, I found myself drawn to another room – the library. I’m always curious about the book collection in any new home I enter. It’s how I get a better sense of the mind of a new acquaintance. Over the years, I have found myself lose interest or fall harder for a woman based on the contents of her bookcase or lack therein.

            So I was tremendously interested in seeing the corresponding bookshelf that went along with the art collection. I was not disappointed. The room was about an 18 foot cube. One side was filled with large windows. The other three walls were absolutely filled with bookshelves. Like an old school library, the walls of books had ladders.

            I inhaled the ambiance and smiled. Classy.

            I looked closer, studying the titles of the shelves on the tomes. The sheer number of books made it seem clear that I this was either something collected over generations or a show library. Gradually though, I noticed there were a lot of recent books, and that there were specific subjects of interest: presidential power, the Holocaust, Financial markets.  As I looked over the shelves, I felt a slowly dawning incredible realization: this was a Personal library. I wasn’t sure what exact clues or general intuition made me realize that fact, but I was suddenly certain of it. Along with that understanding, two other thoughts occurred to me: 1) the incredible wealth in this house was not the product of an inheritance, it was a created by a single mind; and 2) Someone with this level of knowledge and wealth must have made a mark on the world. I must have heard of him. I whirled around the room, seized by the sudden revelation of the mystery. Whose house were we in?

I really, really like books.

            I reviewed the room again, searching for clues. Books focused on financial markets, Holocaust, Presidential Politics, legal issues. On one counter by the door, there was a single bobble headed figurine: A middle-aged man with large glasses and wild, white hair was holding a book piled with what looked like shredded paper. The box said, “ENRON.” At the base of a figure was the name of the character: “Bill Leranch.” There were no other figures. Surely this single one was a memento of an experience. Was this our host? Or a adversary of our host, mocked in effigy?

            I moved over to the desk. Several letters lay out; one was addressed to Bill. It was. “Tracy,” I asked, “That guy in the figure there, does he look like a younger version of the one giving the art tour?” It was. This was our host, the mind that had devoured the books in this library and assembled all the art pieces outside. A butler/security guard walked into the room we were in. I looked at him, and then gave an admiring look at the books around the room. “This is really something.” I said, “Even to gather all of it together seems like a Herculean task.” The security guard butler was an older black guy, looking more like he had lived his life in LA Los Angelas than LA – Louisiana. He had a competent, contemplative look about him. He nodded, “I actually read a lot myself, but I’ve never seen anything like this beyond Bill’s house. I tried to help him organize it all once, and I think I just wound up jumbling stuff more.”  I gave a small laugh of acknowledgement, for I wouldn’t know where to begin. I gazed again at the height of the bookshelves. The ladders weren’t for show. Our friend saw my gaze and continued, “Bill told me once that he put the law books on the very top intentionally. He said it was a custom developed in ancient Rome, the books of law are displayed, but they are out of reach. That was done in order to show people that there are rules, but they are not easy to understand or change. You can’t just reach up and grab them because you want to. That knowledge isn’t readily available to anyone. You need to climb.”

I felt a bit of a chill at the connection, and a deep appreciation of his words. Bill Leranch was clearly an intriguing individual; he was like Parisa or Bilal, taken to the next level, decades later. His mind, his capacity to absorb and utilize knowledge has created this home just as the young couple’s dedication had created this event.

            Such wealth and grandeur, all achieved through climbing bookshelf ladders.

Perils of Ascension: 

So that was the general idea, but what about the specifics. How does someone super smart actually get there: they mythical realm of the successful?

Different ways of course. Parisa and Bilal had journeys through medical school, climbers like Dean Potter and Kevin Jorgenson had mountains that others saw as out of reach.

It wasn’t hard to guess that Mr. Lerach’s path had reached high enough that his course would be charted out in the public record. Still in his library, I did a quick Google search on my phone and found out a bit of his back-story. A working class boy from Pittsburg who finished up with law school just as a Supreme Court decision opened the door to a new method for shareholder derivative suits that allowed normal shareholders to go after high and mighty CEOs. All they needed was a lawyer to file the suit. Mr. Lerach became the lawyer, again and again, one multinational, multi-million corporation after another.

Over the years, the targets got bigger. Bill quickly became one of the most hated and feared people in Silicon Valley, and on Wall Street. The largest companies had teams of lawyers, enormous resources, they could outspend and out litigate most anyone who tried to mess with them. Not him though. The settlements from early victories went right into the war chest to finance the pursuit of bigger prey. Some called him a legal hood, others called him Robin Hood.

I can’t claim to know Mr. Lerach well enough to know which title is more accurate. What I do know is that he fought against entities that usually consider themselves to be untouchable. And he made them feel fear. That, in of itself… is tremendously refreshing. How often has someone, anyone presented a true test to the entrenched power system of our nation?

The progressive left always loses itself in arguments over who is more self-righteous. The goals are noble and should be basic: a more equitable system, respect for all, a healthy planet. Yet the movements often consume themselves long before they create true change. Occupy Wall Street had so much potential, and then the people get fully immersed in writing pamphlets and blog postings to each other, arguing over who has the best understanding of the righteous administration of Marxist philosophy, the accurate depiction of racial micro-aggressions, and the proper use of gender neutral pronouns for LGBTQQIP2SA allies to use. This is the nonsense that fills my facebook feed and passes for social activism issues at a time when we are dealing with national income disparity and global ecological devastation on a scale that is unprecedented in history. Meanwhile, the people with real power who are profiting off this short-sighted system are dispatching drones to pepper spray dissent in the face and are laughing their way to the bank. Talk about distraction, talk about taking our eyes off the prize and dividing ourselves like sheep to be conquered. No team has ever climbed Everest by debating whose climbing boots were more sustainable. And the world does change for politically-correct victims.

As an example of alternative path towards creating change, consider Bill Lerach. He was an ascendant star during the 1990s, a champion for righteous causes who had a knack for winning major legal battles. He went after Joe Camel and represented Holocaust victims but mostly, his bread and butter was the wealthy. And oh how much butter there was. He was forcing one fortune 500 company after another to disgorge its wealth back to shareholders, to the tune of $45 billion over his career. He was firing off litigation discovery orders like machine gun volleys, turning golden parachute descents into free falls.

He had made them tremble.

And some of the powers that be…. don’t take kindly to that.

Lerach’s prominence grew even more for his instrumental role in taking down the energy giant Enron. Having crested that peak, he fixed his target on an even higher summit: Halliburton.

This was when Icarus’s wings melted.

Governmental investigations turned on him, and suddenly Bill was the target of the very, very powerful interests he had threatened. Ultimately, his deal with them was simple: the investigation ended, he plead guilty to breach of a small technicality, and paid a fine that hardly made a dent in his fortune. Oh, and he had to give up his bar card. Forever. Early retirement. Surrounded and outmaneuvered by the superior forces of the empire, Hannibal is told he can live if he lays down his weapons. So Bill did. And he picked up art collecting. When considering all the ways it could have gone, it was not such an awful ending to such a thrilling ascent. He still got to host some really cool weddings and tell really cool stories.

On our way out of the house, heading towards the wedding dinner, I thanked him for his work. When he realized I was talking about his previous career, he nodded his head thoughtfully and reflected, “The powers that be, the corporate industrial complex, they don’t want a very intelligent, very determined individual with tremendous financial and legal resources holding them accountable. They may say they are okay with that, because it gives them a veneer of respectability, but they want that show of accountability orchestrated in a very manipulated and controlled way. They don’t actually want to be at risk.”

Which is the other thing about making ascents that intimidate others; there is an incredible risk that goes along with that.

I was reminded of that at Dinner. Like the rest of the wedding, the dinner was an incredibly elegant affair, which blew us away with how delicious, decadent and well designed it was. There were a number of eloquent, thorough and heartfelt tributes to both the bride and the groom. What struck me most though, was Kia’s tribute to his new brother in law: “People who know me well know that I visit the hospital occasionally. A few years ago, I had a really bad one, and they thought I might never use my wrist again. Bilal went to work in his network, and he was able to connect me with the top doctor in that specialty.”

The message was simple. Had it not been for Bilal’s diligent effort, Kia might have been deprived of the use of his hand, and thus been deprived of many future adventures. There is a bigger lesson in that simple story. The community we keep, our strongest allies, can help us offset some of the risk we incur in our assent.

Perhaps that is one of the things I enjoy most about weddings. We are all here on this planet for only a brief time, a few short seasons in a vast expanse of space and time. Plagued by inner demons, taunted by existential dilemmas, we know all too well that the accomplishments we build will soon crumble to dust. Yet, we persist. We forge bonds that will resonate and perhaps last beyond our own lives. We love all the stronger in spite of our mortality. We laugh in the face of eternity. 

No friend or beloved one can remove or protect against all the risks inherent in life, but perhaps they can get our back whenever possible. Perhaps they can enliven our own lives and the lives of those we care about. Perhaps they can help to make the risk worth it. “Welcome to my family” says Parisa to Bilal and vice versa, and scores of new friendships are made.

Human connections are a type of artwork, and we were painting beautifully that night. Dinner gave way to dancing, music provided by the original Iranian band the Black Cats. We twirled for hours, in defiance of dawn. Drinks flowed and mountains of succulent hors d’oeuvres and desserts kept up the energy. When we emerged for a breath of air on the balcony, the dark San Diego night stretched around us, warm and comforting. From somewhere, a light was projected onto the distant lawn, etching the couple’s initials in glowing artful script. It was beautiful; we didn’t want it to stop. When our bodies and bellies surpassed their last limit, we caught the last shuttle back to the hotel.

All nights end, but the best ones in my opinion are those so epic that they make the subsequent dawn seem like the start of a new age.

And so it was.

We awoke physically exhausted, but feeling fresh and energetic. I went and met up with Kia and the rest of the boys, and we went out for breakfast. While waiting and over food, we excitedly discussed the incredible night before, and planned future adventures. Then one man eagerly said, “Guys, you’ve got to check out this video. They’ve actually made working jet-packs.” We leaned in with excitement, and watched a ten minute long, artfully shot video of two pilots testing out prototype jet packs over the skies of Dubai. Most of that group were adventure athletes, some were aeronautical engineers. They were watching and commenting not as spectators of the supernatural, but as scientists. How did it work? How could it be emulated? Improved upon? When do we try it?

The mood was obvious; after the wedding last night, anything is possible. The future is wide open and primed for the fulfillment of fairytales. We are limited only by our imagination.

Weddings of the future?

Except of course, that is not entirely true.

On the car ride north, I checked the news. While we had been reveling at the wedding, legendary climber and adventurer Dean Potter had died. This man had done dozens of things no one else thought was possible, lived his life with a kind of reckless freedom that inspired and slightly intimidated us. Now, due to a minute miscalculation, or perhaps an anomalous variation in atmospheric pressure, there had been a Wingsuit accident, and a sudden end to his story, as well as his partner.  A somber juxtapose to the seemingly invulnerable enthusiasm that had filled us hours earlier. 

The legal and economic system turned on Bill Lerach but spared him a death-blow. Gravity and granite turned on Dean Potter and had no such mercy. Who knows exactly what waits in the future for any of us? While I wish Parisa and Bilal all the best in the years ahead, I know they will face their own challenges, threats and adversity just as we all do. No happily ever after is really the ‘ever’ part and no fairytale would fully entrance us half as much if it didn’t have its share of danger. However skilled, however talented, however self-controlled we are, there is no way to fully avoid the perils of ascent. Be they mountain peaks, bookshelf ladders, or the long path to success that is the American dream, any journey up brings its share of danger. That’s why few climb to such elevation, and that’s why we give such deserved applause to those who do.

Ultimately, these are some of the most central questions we can wonder about our lives: How high will we rise? What amount of passion and effort are we willing to put in to reach those ambitions? And when and how will we finally be brought down.