The Height of Civilization

Sometimes I think human history is the outcome of a great war between civilization and barbarism.

When terrorists set bombs in a public place to kill and maim innocent people, that is barbarism. When neighbors and citizens arise to comfort and compensate the victims of such atrocity, that is one of the many functions of what we call civilization.

History has always been us civilized folks against the barbarians who assault the the gates of law and decency.

In the last decade of our nation's collective experience, many of us have borne the burden of tragedies in which innocents suffered terrible pain, suffering, and death. In the wake of these terrible events, there never fails to be a multitude of Americans who answer the immediate and subsequent challenges presented in sorting out and cleaning up bloody messes, and then ministering care and comfort to victims and their families. The most obvious heroes are the first responders, the firemen, EMTs, physicians, nurses, policemen, neighbors, compassionate passersby, good samaritans. But there are many others all along the way in the aftermath.

For instance, long after the fact, after the dust settles, someone has to sort out the financial damages and compensations; there has to be a person or persons whose job is to make the hard decisions in allocating limited money for compensation to victims and others who have suffered undeserved losses and injuries.

Fortunately for us here in the USA, there is a man whose God-given gift is to administrate those decisions, and their accompanying financial compensations, in a very public and transparent way. He is a man who is known for fairness, impartiality, and sound judgement.

Ken Feinberg is his name. He has been appointed, in days recently past, to help others sort out and distribute the sticky, inadequate financial damages that collect in the wake of such events as: 9/11, the Virginia Tech shootings, the Colorado movie shootings, BP oilspill, and many others.

And now the Boston Marathon bombing damage compensation fund.

In an interview today with Robin Young of Boston's WBUR Here and Now, Mr. Fineberg explained that there is "never enough money" in a situation such as this to justly compensate all those people who have suffered death, maiming, loss of limbs, paralysis, pain, suffering and loss of just about every asset that humans are heir to, including suffering to which no monetary value can be assigned.

But somebody has to do it. Somebody has to make the difficult calls, and then have the results of the distribution acknowledged generally as fair and sufficient. In the USA today, that somebody is Ken Feinberg and his crew.

I admire him. It is a very difficult job, and he has handled it well, with honesty and integrity that is widely, consistently acknowledged, case after case, disaster after disaster.

What a hell of a job.

I recommend you listen to his answers in response to Robin Young's questions: http://hereandnow.wbur.org/2013/04/29/one-fund-feinberg

At the end of the interview, Ken intimated that the job is stressful. He said he has to take little breaks after meeting with victims and their families, in order to deal with the pain and suffering that he sees in their faces and hears in their complaints.

Then Robin mentioned Mozart; she had heard that he enjoys listening to music at the end of such a stressful day. Mr. Feinberg confirmed it. After all the stress that his day's enquiries uncover, at the end of the day he finds release from the fierce collateral damages of barbarism, by fleeing to what he calls the "height of civilization": listening to Mozart, Wagner, Verdi, Beethoven.

I can relate, especially as he mentioned Beethoven.

It is true: a Beethoven symphony, performed by a professional orchestra, expresses the height of civilization.
In terms of music, that is.

But the deeper and loftier height of civilization is this:

what good people do to comfort, heal and care for their fellowmen/women, in the tragic aftermath whenever evil has been inflicted by barbarians at the gate.

Glass half-Full

Tales from the deep swamp

Down in Luzianna, way past Opelousas and Atchafalaya... I heer tell dar be strange tales emanatin' from da swamps at night. Folks be sayin' that ole Uncle Remus musta resurrected hisself, cuz he be dun toolin' hisself 'round on Bayou Lafourche.
I woodn lie to ya now, and 'sides it aint just me sayin...
Ole Couvillion and his buddy Broussard say they was out haulin in the crawfish nets 'bout dark-thirty. And land sakes alive if Uncle Remus don't come slowly polin' the pirogue and stops right beside of 'em, an' ax dem if he could have some crawfish, wif him be'in so hungry an all havn come all way from Gawgia.
"Sho'nuff," say Couvillion.
So dey carrys Uncle Remus backs to de fish camp and boils up a bunch dem crawfish wif a mess a poke sallet and chased it all wif a sixpack Jax.
After dey be done eatin Uncle Remus ax if da crawfish be a'right or was it tainted wif the oil spill.
Broussard he start to get little uppity but thought better of it. "Now what you think, Uncle Remus? Wha'd it tas' like to you?"
"Well I reckons it be a'right. It sho'nuff tas' good to me, been long time since ah had a mess uh dem crawfish."
"Well, a'right den!" proclaims Broussard, and he be lol.
"I do thanx you for the crawfish, sho'nuff, br'er, " an he lean back and got real still.
By n' by, da frogs got loud and da night gots quiet and still, 'sept fo da sacalait slappin' de cattails and de crickets rippin in de cypress knees. The lucky ole moon be shinin' an de swamp rabbit be yawnin' an' by n' by Uncle Remus he say:
"I gots to tell ya 'bout da tar baby."
Br'er Couvillion open one eye and he say, "De what?"
"De tar baby," say Uncle Remus."
"You means de tar baby what br'er fox got hisself stuck to a'fore he try to t'row br'er rabbit in da brier patch?"
"No," say Uncle Remus, real slow. "D'is be a dif'rent kind tar baby."
"What kinda tar baby dat be, Uncle Remus?"
Uncle Remus, he look down at the firelight and he thought for a minute, wrinkled his forehead. Den he say,
"In de wake of dat Deepwater horizon sitiation, ole Br'er Pet and his den of foxy lawyers--dey be stuck fast to da mucka muck claims and deepdown damages an' can o' compensational worms' mire in da boggy courts, an' it be like a big judicial tar baby fo' years an years fo' Br'er Pet, an' dey will sho'nuff be stuck to dem spill lit'gations and lit'gators--as stuck as stuck can be."
"Cluster-stuck!" say Couvillion.
"Da's right," say Uncle Remus, an he look so sad. "An' wha's mo--dat aint all."
"What else?" ax Broussard.
"All dem claimants and plaintiffs--dey be juz as stuck, cuz you cant get no bloody oil out'a no turnup"
"Naw!"
"Sho'nuff," say Uncle Remus, real sad.
"What what in world we gon' do, Uncle Remus? We's 'bout busted up now already as it is!."
"Well, dey's one thing you gots to remember, br'er Broussard."
"Whas'sat, Uncle Remus?
Ole Uncle Remus he raise his head up slow and he look Couvillion and Broussard in der eyes, and he say, "When you be ass-deep in lit'gators, juz remember your objective was to drain de swamp."
Couvillion he gots mad. "So what, Uncle Remus! How you 'xpect dey ever gon' clean up dat mess wid all dem lit'gators ass-deep?"
"Call in Br'er Bird."
"Say what? Br'er who?"
"Br'er Bird. He be one fine bird for cleanin' up dis mess, ya'll. He be bo'n and bred for juz dis kind of mediation. He sho'nuff will get Br'er Pet and de plaintiffs both unstuck from dat litigious tarbaby. Why, juz yesterday I hear him say to Br'er Neil on de radio:


"Until Novermber 23rd, if you're eligible...and very importantly, you must be able to provide minimal documentation of your damage, I will cut you a check without any waiver of any rights...Of course I will (give you compensation). Prove it. Give me some indication...doesn't have to be a tax return. It can be W2s; it can be a profit and loss statement; it can be a checkbook; it can be the statement of your ship's captain, the statement, even, of your priest, but prove you've lost what you say you've lost. I can't just give away the money.I have to be ever vigilant about fraud, but I'll bend over backwards to help get you some emergency compensation."

(And to a caller): "Show me your contracts that you lost.That's the simplest way. Show me the canceled contracts. Also, show me where you were employed, where your business was. Was it on the Gulf? How close to the Gulf? How directly impacted by the beaches and the fish and the shrimp, and the oysters, and I'll try to do everything I can to get you paid."

"Sho'nuff?" say Couvillion.
"Da's right," say Uncle Remus. "Dat tarbaby be one helluva a sticky mess, but you gots to start somewhere to drain dat swamp, and it look to me like Br'er fine Bird gots a good startin' out place."
"You so right, Uncle Remus," say Broussard.
Den dey all t'ree lay back and snooze 'til mo'nin while dem crawfishes crawl in de traps