Feature

“Yes, We Can” – How One Small Film Can Cause One Big Controversy


The trailer for Chris Townsend's short film, “Yes, We Can” begins with a phone call from the Secret Service. Unlike everything else that follows, this part isn't fiction. It really happened.

Even before cameras ever started rolling, Townsend's film about a group of Virginians planning to assassinate Barack Obama generated so much attention that it was almost shut down. In the summer of 2009, the Secret Service got wind of the project through local media reports and started calling the Lynchburg filmmaker. At first, the warnings were mild and friendly, merely asking him to give them a call back. Townsend contacted his lawyer, who said that he didn't have to do anything. However, the calls didn't stop, and when the Secret Service started threatening Townsend with a possible arrest, he finally picked up the phone.

While he was able to convince them that, no, he wasn't trying to spark a “race war,” the controversy around his film hasn't receded. Although it was released in November of 2009, Townsend hasn't been able to find a venue for an official premiere yet.

It's not surprising given the film's provocative nature, which comes through in condensed form in the trailer posted on the film's Myspace-page: underlined by Heavy Metal, the first scene shows a couple of 30-year-olds in sweat-soaked wife-beaters target-practicing with an Obama-poster. The only other glimpses we get into the film involve excessive cursing, racial slurs, and drug use. Immediately after one of the protagonists challenges his friends to join in his plan to assassinate Obama, the clip ends, asking, “What side will you choose?”



But even though the trailer focuses almost exclusively on the “Obama-assassination-plot,” as Townsend calls it, the film really isn't about that, he claimed, but a “love story.” Graem Kutt, one of the actors and a theater graduate of Lynchburg College, said the rejection they're getting is an example of “how misinformation and sheer ignorance can derail a creative process. – Which of course is ironic, because all of the characters in the film are quite ignorant themselves.” And yet the trailer makes it difficult not to misunderstand the movie. If the Obama-plot isn't the main focus of the film, it definitely gets your attention.

Townsend, who graduated from Liberty University, said that his interest in making the film was to see how people would react to watching these “not so educated characters talk from bullet point – like from Sean Hannity, or from Rush Limbaugh, or Glenn Beck – and use that as their education on politics.” The inspiration for the characters came from people he knows. “They didn't really investigate too much outside of those bullet points that were given to them on their talk radio to make decisions as to who they were gonna vote for,” he explained.

Kutt said that more than half of the film is actually a comedy, and that there is no way anyone could take it seriously. But given the violent content of the movie, it didn't come as a surprise to Kutt that the film did not sit well with many viewers, or that it evokes opposition even in people who've never actually watched the entire thing.

“None of us were fooling ourselves into thinking that this was going to be some sort of widely acclaimed movie that everyone would love, and it would be ground-breaking and earth-shattering,” said Kutt. “We had to come to terms with why each of us accepted the parts that we did.”

Kutt was involved in the writing of the script, which included drafting the psychological mindset of the protagonists. He described his character Sam as a “good Christian kind of misled and delusional.” He said the idea was to show that his character “genuinely believed in this plan to kill Obama and believed that it would be in the service of the greater good.” Of course, any good acting requires a certain degree of emotional investment in the part one is playing.

“When you are in character, when you are that person, all other issues outside that film, in that moment, ideally should stay out there – and they did, for everyone, I think,” he said. Kutt was able to connect with his role because of the underlying psychological issues that drive the action.

“In the end, the strength of the movie, and what it's really about, are these characters and their relationships to each other, and how someone with an idea can focus a group of people who otherwise don't have any focus in their lives,” he explained.

According to Kutt, the message of the film is not “let's go kill Obama, or let's go insult and slander and kill all the black people. It's not any of that, it's not any kind of racist message.” Instead, the film traces the development of its characters “from the plight of relative instability in their lives to just desperation,” he said.

Kutt explained that the racial hatred and violence exhibited by the characters derives from a deep frustration with their own lives – something that happens not only among unemployed drug addicts in rural Virginia. Kutt believes it's a mechanism that has always been a part of human behavior.

“It's very much a cautionary tale...This is a kind of mentality that has been enacted on various scales since the dawn of human history,” he said.

It's easy to understand your own film, but what about the average audience? Kutt and Shawn Lee Hansen, who star in the roles of Sam and Charlie, said they contacted several venues in and around Lynchburg to screen the film, but without luck. While some of the people they asked never called back (among them Sweet Briar College), those who did were either concerned about the content of the film and did not want to associate with it (the Kirkley Hotel and various Ruritan Clubs in Lynchburg), or simply charged too much rent. The Holiday Inn wanted one thousand dollars, said Hansen.

As all of Townsend's films, “Yes, We Can” is a very low-budget production; none of the actors were paid, and everyone had to pitch in to make the filming possible. Kutt doubts that they will be able to find a venue in town. “As far as Lynchburg has come, and is continuing to move forward culturally, there's really – still – no local independent film theater,” he said.

Even people they know personally are uncomfortable with the film. According to Townsend, even his own wife, who is African-American, found it “very racy.” She also warned him that it would probably not be well received by a mainstream audience.

The Danville band, “Timid,” who are friends with Hansen, told him they liked the film, but said they couldn't endorse it.

“They know that it's just a movie, and that I'm really not like that, but they're afraid that people are gonna get the wrong idea,” said Hansen. “They don't want it coming back to haunt them, and I respect that.” According to Hansen, the band's affiliation with the Christian community in Danville, and particularly with African-Americans was a deciding factor in their rejection of the film. And he does admit that the characters in the film are “pretty gosh-darn racist.”

One of the places they're looking at now is an independent movie theater in Virginia Beach that promotes Virginian filmmakers. The idea is that the venue may be more supportive of regional artists, and more receptive towards edgy productions.

But it's not only local venues that are cautious about the film. So far, none of the film festivals Townsend submitted his movie to have accepted it. One of them is the Independent Film Festival in Washington, DC, another a film festival in Florida. Most festivals argue that the content is “too intense,” said Kutt.

And yet, this is not the first “intense” film Townsend has made. In 2006, “The Clarence Frazier Project,” a film about a man who intentionally infects women with HIV, made it into the New York Independent Film and Video Festival and even won the award for best short, dark comedy.

There seems to be a different dimension to a film that involves racism, especially after Obama's election in 2008. Maybe that's why “Death of a President,” a recent film about the assassination of George W. Bush, caused a lot less uproar. While both Kutt and Hansen suggested that race may have played into the mild reaction, Kutt pointed out that there's another reason, too: the movie was filmed and produced in Europe, where it's always been common to ridicule Bush.

The controversy around “Yes, We Can” affects not only the screening of the film, but also caused problems for some of the actors involved in it. Ernie Chandler from WSLS 10 in Roanoke almost lost his job because he posted the trailer on his personal website. The company forced him to delete the video clip. “Due to the edgy theme of this film, some backlash was most certain,” he admitted.

But Chandler doesn't regret making the movie. “Anyone who knows me understands the acting opportunity that I had here and knows that this is just a movie,” he said. “I really hope that anyone who watches this film can take away something from it, even if they just get a few laughs out of some of the comedy that my character provided throughout the film.”

Though both WSLS 10 and Fox 21/27 reported on the making of the film and its controversial content last summer, it's difficult to find information about “Yes, We Can” on the Internet. A news clip in which Jarret Henshaw (WSLS 10) interviews Townsend and mentions Chandler has been removed from youtube.

To make things worse, many of the copies Townsend has distributed so far don't work, and Kutt said they were starting to wonder whether that had something to do with the lack of positive responses from film festivals.

And yet, the fact that not many people have actually been able to see “Yes, We Can” doesn't seem to bother Kutt and Hansen, who are friends and roommates in real life, too.

“I just want my damn copy, that's all I want,” said Hansen, smiling. “I don't care if it gets into a film festival. I just wanted to be a part of something like that. I've never had that privilege.” But he does want his friends to see it. “I know a lot of people between Lynchburg and Danville. I don't care if I have to personally buy every copy that Chris Townsend makes of this movie, I'm distributing it to every one of these people, and they all really wanna see it.”

One of them is his former drama teacher, Barbara Anstead, who recruited him for Chatham High School's theater group and “always knew I was gonna be something in life,” said Hansen. “She's real proud of it.” He said he had warned her that she might not like the movie, but she still wants to see it, even if it offends her Christian beliefs.

To Kutt, it's all about the creative process, not how many people get to see it in the end. “It has to be about you. It also is about the collaboration,” he explained.

Kutt and Hansen are just happy to have made a movie, and are looking forward to the next challenge. Both actors will have small parts in Townsend's new project, and Kutt is co-writing the script. “The Life and Times of Sean Madden” will be Townsend's first feature film, and his first romantic comedy with “no death towards anybody,” as he put it. Kutt said that they are working on the “character bank” right now and hope to finish writing in May. Shooting is scheduled to begin in September.

In the meantime, Townsend and his crew are designing the DVD boxes and film posters for “Yes, We Can.” Inspired by the governmental interference that almost stopped the project before it was ever filmed, the slogan will be: “The film that the Secret Service did not want you to see.”

Bad publicity can be good publicity, too.

Profile

“If you wanna be a filmmaker, you gotta get used to working for free.”
Local Director Chris Townsend Talks About Film, Faith and Fame

I first met Chris Townsend in May of 2008, when he was shooting a music video for the local rock band, Spüknof. A friend's house on Rivermont Avenue had been turned into a makeshift film set – make-up was in the kitchen, pizza in the hallway, and filming took place just about everywhere else: in the living-room, the dining-room, the bathroom, and the bedroom. When I got there in the afternoon, Spüknof were playing “Going Nowhere” in front of the fireplace for about the fiftieth time, while volunteers applied Elmer's Glue to the face of a 20-year-old actress, hoping it would resemble something like wrinkles once it dried. (It didn't).

In between all of this, Chris was sitting behind his camera, dressed in baggy jeans and an oversized orange sweater, trying to get every shot just right. Occasionally, he'd get up and adjust props that came from the basement, jump in front of the camera to show his two actors and the band what he was looking for, or assure the policeman that had been alarmed by complaining neighbors that the noise would soon end. And it did – after a number of cigarette breaks on the back porch, one Mental Health Awareness parade marching past the house, and bassist TJ stripping down to nothing but his chucks during a scene in the upstairs bathroom.

Even though Chris shot the entire clip in just one day and basically without any budget at all, it made it into the Sunscreen Film Festival in Florida that year, along with eleven other videos from around the country. The finalists were chosen from thousands of submissions, many of which, according to Chris, cost hundreds of thousands of Dollars to make.



“A David-and-Goliath battle,” says Chris during our interview almost two years later. It's a Tuesday in January around 7 pm when Chris calls me from his Forest office at InService America to talk about his new film, and anything else I might be interested in. He says he'd probably be stuck at work until 1 or so in the morning, anyway, and that he's glad to take a little break.

Since the “Going Nowhere” video shoot, Chris has filmed a number of music videos for several local artists, including two more for Spüknof, as well as commercials and promo-videos for a variety of clients.

But the thing I'm really curious about is the controversy around his new short film, “Yes, We Can.” From film trailers posted on facebook, I know that it's about a group of unemployed white guys planning to assassinate Barack Obama during his campaign trail in 2008. Quite a risky subject, and I'm not too surprised to hear that it's been rejected by film festivals, or that the government felt the need to investigate the matter. So what's really behind all the rumors? Is it really a “hate film,” or “too racy” to show?

“The film is actually a love story,” says Chris. “The whole Obama assassination plot in the film is very, very small, it's just something that sticks out...The film, when it comes down to it, is about a jealous redneck. He's not very bright, he comes up with a plan to kill the president.”

He goes on to explain that his plan was to surprise his audience, but that many people automatically see the film as a political statement.

“I just thought it would be an interesting subject matter to see how people would feel about watching these not so educated characters talk from bullet point – like from Sean Hannity, or from Rush Limbaugh, or Glenn Beck – and use that as their education on politics,” Chris adds.

His inspiration for the film came from people he knows, and especially from the language they used when talking about Obama, but none of them were actually as extreme as the characters in “Yes, We Can.”

Chris wants to make clear that it's “just a film” that deals with the idea of killing Obama, but that he doesn't “wish death on anybody, including the president.”
Nonetheless, the film has caused very mixed reactions. While some viewers “flat out liked it,” as Chris tells me, others think it's “racy,” among them Chris' African-American wife, who told him that he shouldn't expect a mainstream audience to understand his film.

“She doesn't hesitate to tell me what she likes and what she don't,” says Chris.
I still have to see for myself what side I'm on.

“It's not the greatest piece of artwork ever,” he warns me. “My passion is music videos, and you see a lot of stylistic editing in this short film that kind of resembles that...It's not your typical stylistic standpoint. I really like to mess with audio, and I like things to be really distorted...I like to have more of an experimental atmosphere.”

Despite Chris's passion for music videos, his short films have earned him more attention so far. In 2006, “The Clarence Frazier Project” won the New York Independent Film and Video Festival for best short, dark comedy. Inspired by an article Chris read in the newspaper, the film tells the story of a man who intentionally infects women with HIV.

“Not so much a chick flick,” says Chris, “because it talks a lot about sex...A lot of people think it's just a perverted film, but it's really not that. It's an honest look at this guy and what his mission is.” Clearly, Chris doesn't shy away from controversial issues. But while his short films feature a lot of violence and sex, there's also a different side to the 29-year-old father and husband.

“I don't talk a lot about my faith, but I think my strength stems from my faith,” says Chris.

Besides filming his own personal movies, Chris also shoots videos for Christian bands, and he is currently working on a website for the National Prayer Center that features testimonials of Christians talking about their faith.

Recently, Chris directed a commercial with Stephen Baldwin, and filmed a promo video with former Arkansas governor, Mike Huckabee.

“I think those are the largest things from a bringing-home-bread-and-butter type, nine to five, job,” he says.

Perhaps it isn't surprising, then, that before studying at New York Film Academy, and working as an intern on various Hollywood sets, Chris started his career at Liberty University.

But when I ask how Liberty influenced him, Chris tells me that it was “just kind of a discouraging time.”

He says that the fines students receive for watching R-rated films or getting involved in sexual relationships made it seem as if money was more important to the school than fostering faith and charitable actions. It also affected his own faith.
“I had a hard time in church at that time and Liberty hurt my relationship with God and made me more angry at him,” explains Chris. “I hate the God the church has created for us to worship. Church is a great place as long as they don't tell you their God wants you to dress this way, or they try to scare a false God conviction into you.”

But despite all the negative influence Liberty had on Chris' faith, his struggle with the church also made him realize what really matters. “In the long run I found that my relationship with God is just MY relationship. I talk to God as if he were my friend, I have yelled at him, cried to him and even talked to him about my day. He knows me and that is what I like about God,” says Chris.

Because he grew up in a “fundamental, Christian household” and went to a Christian high school, he had no trouble with any of the Bible classes.

“But the Communications program there is one of the worst things I've ever experienced,” Chris says. “I don't know how it is now, but jumping from there to film school, I can tell you that they're as twisted as can be. They mix broadcasting and film-making, and they're really two completely different styles.”

While Chris was discouraged both by the curriculum and the strict rules he had to follow because he lived on campus, his time at Liberty turned out to be at least somewhat useful because of the different kinds of people he met.

“When I moved to New York, that kind of prepared me...It made me a little more open-minded towards things,” he says.

In order to prepare for film school, Chris took a year off and studied film editing in Washington, DC. “I had a mental idea of putting shots together, but from a technical standpoint, understanding software, I didn't know anything,” he explains.
Getting a crash course in editing turned out to be a good idea. When Chris got to New York, he was ready for what “had to be one of the most intense programs I'd ever experienced in my life,” as he describes it.

“Day one they hand you a 16 mm-camera, teach you how to load it, teach you how to understand lighting, so you don't overexpose or underexpose film...it was a great experience.”

Chris was lucky to move in with one of his teachers in Brooklyn, a full-time editor in the industry.

“My private time with him was awesome,” says Chris. “He took my skills to a whole new level, and he still does to this day...You know, your art always changes, whether it's film editing, writing, or directing, and the second that anybody says that they know how to do it, that they don't need any help, they're gonna fall flat on their face. That's the one thing I've learned: you always gotta be willing to listen to other people; even people that may not know as much as you may end up having a really great idea.”

After graduating from New York Film Academy, Chris moved to Los Angeles to be an intern on different film sets.

“If you wanna be a filmmaker, you gotta get used to working for free,” he says. “I was literally getting about fifty bucks a week...I never got a credit for one thing I did, but it was being around that atmosphere that helped me understand everything.”
While Chris worked as a production assistant on “The Shield” and “24,” his wife, then his girlfriend, supported him financially.

“She's been my rock in a lot of ways,” says Chris. “Having my wife in my corner is the best thing in the world.”

Another rock in his life are his two kids, who can't wait to play with him when he gets home from another long day of editing.

“I learn a lot from them,” says Chris. “It kind of gives me that Peter Pan-syndrome, and I get to dive back into being a kid, and use my imagination and learn from that.”
And they're part of the reason why Chris likes living in Lynchburg, even if it means that one has to dig to find “artful gems,” as Chris calls them.

“Would I love to move back to New York?” he says. “Yeah, but I gotta look at it from the standpoint of my kids now. I know when my kids go to school, I wouldn't want them to go there [New York].”

Besides, Chris doesn't think that location has a huge influence on one's art: “I think that the people you surround yourself with, the stories that you hear from them...I think that staying true to yourself, and how you feel, and what you can pull from your heart makes you artful.”

Chris finds his inspiration in everyday things, such as reading the newspaper, or people- watching.

“Some people find that creepy, but, you know, go to the mall and watch people. You can learn a lot about people,” he says.

When he's not hanging out at the mall or playing with his kids, Chris spends most of his time editing videos, even on weekends. “It's addictive to me,” says Chris. “It's like building a puzzle. It's fun.”

And just because a film is practically finished, or because everyone loved it, doesn't mean he's done with it.

“I'll come back to it, say, a month later, and try taking it apart, and rebuilding it like an engine, trying to make it even better than it was, and sometimes I've done that, and sometimes it's come out so horrible,” he says, laughing.

While Chris is proud of a lot of films he's done, particularly the music video,“Going Nowhere,” and the short film, “The Clarence Frazier Project,” there is one film he wishes he'd never made. “Supersize Me, Too. The Life and Diet of a Man Named Dan” is a documentary about a man who plans to lose 50 pounds while eating McDonald's every day, and exercising for an hour five days a week. Even though Chris knew that this was impossible, he took on the project, but problems with the main character soon overshadowed the film.

“What could have been, what I feel, a good documentary, turned into a two-and-a-half hour nightmare,” says Chris. “It basically just became this guy and his vision to wanna be famous. Anytime the camera was around he would try to be as extreme as possible.”

Disagreements between Chris and his protagonist led to a lawsuit, and according to Chris, the man even went on national television about the case.

“It got tons of national exposure, but the problem is that it was a huge let-down,” says Chris.

But as with anything negative Chris has mentioned during our interview, he can see something positive in this experience, too.

“I learned a lot about myself during that time that I don't regret,” he says. “I had put that film before my family, and I learned the dos and don'ts of a lot of things as an early married couple. I also learned a lot about patience...but making that film, I wish I had never made it. I wish my name wasn't on it.”

Luckily, not everyone is as difficult to work with as “Dan,” so Chris continues to be involved in a lot of different projects.

Besides filming music videos with the Christian Hip Hop artist, Humble Tip, and Richmond punk band, True Liberty, Chris is currently writing a script for his first feature film with local actor and Lynchburg College graduate, Graem Kutt, a former Theater major, who also stars in “Yes, We Can.”

“The Life and Times of Sean Madden” is a romantic comedy with “no death towards anybody,” as Chris puts it. “It's definitely challenging because it's a lot different from any content I've ever done.” Maybe because this is new terrain for the Staunton native, Chris decided to take Graem on as a writing partner: “Like I said, you can learn from other people, and I think he'll help me, and I'll help him, create a really good story line.”

While planning to shoot his feature film, Chris is also finishing Spüknof's third music video, “Weeds Have Grown,” which he began filming in August of last year.
Unlike with the one-day video shoot for “Going Nowhere,” Chris is clearly taking a lot more time with this one, “a complete art house video,” as he calls it. To give a sneak peek of the video, and probably because he's just so excited about it, Chris has uploaded a few very stylish black and white photos on facebook.

“There will be people out there that totally don't get this, and they don't have to, but it's imagery at its greatest,” Chris tells me.

“Music videos to me are kind of like painting. If a band comes to me, and they bring me a song, I will listen to it until I know the lyrics inside and out – just because I want to try to create something different to go along with their vision of the song, and let the audience kind of determine what they feel from both arts, from the song and from the imagery.”

One of Chris's longterm goals is to see himself more established on a national level with music videos. But in the end, success isn't everything.

“I don't necessarily see myself being a millionaire, or ever necessarily winning an Oscar or anything like that,” he says. “I just hope that I'm blessed enough to continue to be able to work, have a job, and create art...but overall, I hope that I'm a good father and a good husband...that's my primary goal for the next ten years.”

Chris Townsend (left) with Mark Carey, Terry Lee Johnson, and Jamie Bates from Spüknof.

Review #2

Experimenting With

Thai Kitchen Red Curry 10-minute Simmer Sauce

Although I should know better by now, I occasionally fool myself into thinking that I can create my own Thai food. I'm not a bad cook. I can make decent Indian-ish food with pre-made authentic curry sauces from Kroger. Just add the meat and the veggies, and you're good to go.

Not so much with Thai food. The first time I tried to make my own with a chili-paste mix I had bought at an Asian food store in Berlin was a complete disaster. To put it bluntly, it tasted kind of like feet. Not at all like the Panang Curry I had grown to obsess over and devour at every Thai restaurant I've ever been to. I swore to myself that I would never try to make my own Thai food again. Ever.

The other day at Kroger, I was seized by a sudden craving for creamy coconut milk and lemon grass, accompanied by a brief but fateful attack of amnesia. No problem, I thought, I can make my own! Enthusiastically, I grabbed the $ 3.29 Thai Kitchen Red Curry 10-minute Simmer Sauce in a glass (they didn't have Panang). The carefully designed picture on the jar showed a classy white bowl containing basil-garnished chicken pieces in a temptingly glowing, orangey sauce: just like the stuff you get at a restaurant. But this one was much cheaper, and I could pretend it was all home-cooked. – Really, how hard can it be.

Back at home, everything started out great. After throwing some frozen chicken breast in the pan, I added a mix of frozen bell peppers that I got for 88 cents, painstakingly avoiding the chopped onions that came with it. (Real bell peppers cost a fortune and are purchased only for special occasions.) Last, I dumped the curry sauce over my deliciously sizzling dish. I could smell the freshness of the lemon grass amidst the subtle scents of coconut cream and ginger. But it didn't seem spicy enough, so I added a little of my husband's favorite garlic-chili, and grabbed some chili powder from above the stove to enhance the flavor. In a small pot, I was also preparing some Jasmine rice.

Everything smelled amazing, and it tasted fantastic, too. As I was stirring and tasting and admiring my work, I felt a sense of pride wallow up in my self-conscious chest. Maybe I could make Thai food, after all!

Within 15 minutes, the meal was done, and my husband and I each poured a heaping spoon of exotic goodness over the freshly steamed rice in our bowls. 'Success!', I thought to myself as I grabbed my chopsticks to take a first bite.

And then I tasted it.

Hmmm…something wasn't right. What had smelled and tasted so appealing just a few seconds ago was suddenly transformed into something entirely unexpected. My husband gave me a few careful glances, but finally couldn't hold back. “It kind of tastes like Chicken and Dumplings,” he said, smiling apologetically.

It was true. Somehow, the rice and the curry chicken dish had merged into a strange union of Southern food. I didn't understand. What had happened to the chili and curry and ginger and lemon grass? And didn't Thai Kitchen claim that its products were authentic? The picture on the 11.9-ounce jar sure looked like it would be nothing short of a gourmet experience.

We finished our Red Curry Chicken and Dumplings quietly. I felt utterly defeated, and a little betrayed by Thai Kitchen and its promise of quality – tempting me, and then metamorphosing cruelly into a generic dish of fake Southern food.

Next time, I'm getting take-out.

Column #2

Issues with Freedom

It's kind of funny I decided to call my blog "Random Things I Think About." Not only did I pick this title without paying much thought to it, but I also find myself unable to write anything that isn't random. Or anything at all, for that matter. I'm paralyzed by the fact that I can write whatever I want.

Maybe I should have been more precise when naming my blog.

And maybe I have issues with freedom. After all, I'm European. According to Glenn Beck, Europe is almost as unfree as Russia and China on his imaginary "socialism"-versus-freedom diagram (America being the freest, of course). We're oppressed because of universal health care, a substantial security net, and the crazy fact that a college education doesn't cost a fortune. Or having a baby. Or getting sick. Oh yeah, that's health care again. Growing up in a society in which insurance for everyone has been the norm for decades (or has it been a century yet?), it's absolutely incomprehensible to me that anyone might vote against universal coverage. Or that in 2010, a civilized nation has yet to make that step. ('What is this, Russia?' Oh, that's right, Russia's on the other end of the freedom scale.)

I will gladly pay a few more dollars in taxes if it means that everyone can have health insurance. But sharing would be socialism, and socialism definitely goes against the Christian beliefs that helped build this country. After all, where would we be if we actually cared about each other? If we actually started valuing human beings more than our SUVs, and decided that love and charity are more important than money? (Wait, that sounds familiar. Didn't Jesus mention something about that?)

I've been trying to understand the American definition of freedom, but after all these years, it still doesn't make sense to me. It's true that the American Dream works for some people, and that it's probably easier to become rich in America than in most other countries. But it's also a lot easier to lose everything virtually over night. Is poverty freedom? I'd much rather have a security net that catches me before I hit the ground. A law that ensures I will have health insurance no matter what – that I won't go bankrupt simply because I've been in an accident, or have cancer. A system that takes care of me even if I lose my job or become disabled. I'd much rather not worry myself sick.

Since I came here, I've been struggling with outrageous doctor's bills despite having health insurance. I'm not sure what it is my premium pays for if, at the end of the day, I still have to pay more. I'm also not sure how long we'll be able to afford that insurance. Every year, we have to cut more benefits to keep our premium at a rate we can live with, and I know that in August, it will go up again, and we might have to drop it altogether. The Health Care Reform is a step in the right direction, but I'm skeptical whether it will affect us at all. Because my husband is self-employed, we have to buy our own insurance, and without proper regulations, Anthem is free to charge us whatever they want. Mandating everyone to get coverage only works if that coverage is affordable, otherwise it may be more of a punishment than a right.

Because of this, I'm hoping that the public option is not completely off the table yet. Fear-mongering screams by Glenn Beck and the likes that this would mean a loss of health care quality (and ultimately, of course, America's downfall) are signs of serious delusion more than anything. While Germany may not even have the best health care system in Europe, its government plan still offers more services for a lower price than Anthem's most expensive plans. (And there's no waiting for treatment, either, something that is often assumed by critics of government health care.) I know, because I've had both.

When my son Fynn was born in 2004, I didn't have to pay a thing. Neither the frequent pregnancy care visits to my doctor, nor the five-day-stay at the hospital cost me anything at all. Not only did I enjoy special, out-of-order ultra-sound visits due to minor complications, but I also needed an ambulance ride to the hospital, and underwent a semi-emergency C-section, all of which would have cost me a fortune in America. With my German public plan, they didn't cost anything at all.
My mom has suffered from serious health conditions for the past few years, including colitis and an aneurism in her stomach. Both illnesses require regular treatment, check-ups, and sometimes surgery. I can't even imagine how much more terrible this would be if my parents lived in America. But in Germany, visits to the dentist or a new pair of glasses are more troubling financially than major surgery, and compared to here, they're not very troubling at all.

I don't know why so many Americans oppose a better health care system. Sure, it will mean a few more dollars out of your paycheck, but it will also mean that you won't go broke because you get sick – or never see a doctor that could prevent serious illnesses. When only some have insurance, that insurance is expensive because it pays for all the uninsured, as well. But if everyone is required to pitch in, premium costs might actually go down. And if a public plan ever goes through, it might actually force private insurers to provide better deals. So, even if your perspective is purely economical, you'll likely be better off with universal health care.

Not worrying yourself sick, that's freedom.

Review #1

Nothing like everything you've heard before
CD Review: Why? Eskimo Snow (2009) / Label: anticon

It's hard not to love this album, especially if you're into charming art rock with quirky lyrics. But even if you're not, you'll instantly and helplessly be sucked into the happy harmonies and intricate stories of Why?'s newest CD, Eskimo Snow. Recorded live in Minneapolis along with their previous LP, Alopecia (2008), Eskimo Snow was released on September 22, 2009 by the artist-owned Indie label anticon. It is the fourth LP by Cincinnati natives Jonathan (Yoni) Wolf (vocals), brother Josiah Wolf, and Doug McDiarmid, who classify their music as “pop-inflected psychedelic folk-hop.”

At first, Eskimo Snow sounds like the spirited, feel-good tunes of the Beach Boys, or less antiquated bands like The Thrills and Modest Mouse. For the first five songs, Why?'s lovely noise of harmonizing vocals and instantly pleasing melodies is interrupted only occasionally by grungy guitars that remind one of Weezer, or some of the other '90s bands whose posters likely decorated Yoni, Josiah and Doug's walls. On pianos, bells, and violins, Why? create the kind of enchantment that sounds like an endless beach vacation with 24/7 sunshine: pleasant and sugary, and perhaps just a bit overproduced. If it weren't for the weird lyrics and progressive changes, or for Yoni's charmingly imperfect vocals (“a sickly sweet, half-rapped, singsong style”), it might be nauseating.

But Why? know how to bring their own twist to the established table of post-2000 American Indie. In between the happiness there are welcomed glimpses of melancholy that grow more prominent as the album flowers into an eclectic cross between Bright Eyes, And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead, and The Walkmen. True, there’s nothing fundamentally new to Why’s sound, but they’ve managed to combine an array of influences and turn them into something fresh and exciting. Starting out rather slow and somber (“I conquered my own childhood silence, and now the world is my lit confessional marquee...”), “Into The Shadows Of My Embrace” transitions through several tempo and melody changes, until it bursts into a chorus of jumbled voices chanting, “We found a dead fox, and a dozen matchbox cars, when we cut back the hedges on Cortelyu place…” The rest of the quite wordy, 35-minute album is marked by equally imaginative lyrics that were probably not always crafted entirely unintoxicated. “Even The Good Wood Gone” shows that reflections on death don't have to be sad, but can also be oddly entertaining: “And when I'm really buried I'll be buried in Cleveland with a new pair of ski's and someone's old set of keys to their car...”

Eskimo Snow is uplifting and touching at the same time; it’s the accomplished work of a band that is clearly having fun, while also presenting a profound look at the “most mundane of life's happenings,” as their bio on Myspace explains. When, in “One Rose,” one of the masterpieces of this album, the singer/narrator tells us that “all the things inside me, I assume, are doing what they need to be doing,” we can relate. Why? know how to move us without being soppy or repetitive. And despite all the obvious references to other bands, Eskimo Snow is an original and inspiring take on love, mortality and everyday struggles. With their catchy tunes and heartfelt lyrics, Why? master the fine line between easily likable radio pop and intelligent storyteller songs that, usually, one listens to only on vinyl and by candlelight.

OP-ED

BYOB: German City Reaches Out To Local Drunks

Growing up in Germany, I never thought twice about the fact that we can drink in public. But moving to the US in 2005 has made me realize what a privilege it is to not feel like a fourteen-year-old sneaking a drink whenever I open a beer outside. Drinking in public has always been a vital part of Germany's culture: beer gardens, parks, campuses, and even subway trains are popular hang-outs for beer, wine and champagne lovers of any age or social class, and at nearly any time of day. But while there may be only few things better than a beer-happy cook-out at the park, getting harassed by the drunk at the bus stop on the way home might dampen some of that joy.

Now, one German city has launched a revolutionary program to keep drunks off the streets. By promoting inclusion instead of exclusion, Kiel's 'drinking room' promises to be a humane and effective way of dealing with alcoholism (http://www.spiegel.de/international/germany/0,1518,689975,00.html).

While many Americans might argue that without public drinking, there is no public drunkenness, and thus, no real problem, I argue that prohibiting drinking in public merely covers up the issue. Banning addiction from the public eye not only makes it invisible to society, but it also contributes to its reputation as something shameful that is best dealt with individually and in private.

Germany's progressive program has made me realize the benefits of a system that doesn't stigmatize alcohol consumption. Allowing public drinking can actually help to address the problem of alcohol abuse more openly. After all, alcoholism is not just a personal problem, but an issue that concerns society as a whole. Kiel's experiment proves this.

Funded by taxpayer money and by the Hempels social club, which also publishes a street newspaper, the bar “Sofa” offers alcoholics a cozy environment away from the public eye. Unlike regular corner pubs, this one serves only soft drinks and coffee, and guests are welcome to bring their own booze.

For many years, German cities have tried to battle public alcoholism and related harassment in their downtown areas. Attempts to ban offenders from city centers – either by physically removing them, or by blasting classical music from loudspeakers – resulted only in a relocation of the problem, but didn't solve anything. According to Christoph Schneider of the Kiel housing office, the city's unconventional approach has already proven successful: most of the 'public alcoholics' known to officials have migrated to the Sofa, and conflict has been extremely low. While the bar is rarely frequented by the homeless, it features a wide range of ages: alcoholics anywhere between 18 and 70 come to the bar for company and comfort.

But what's really great is that the Sofa is more than just a safe drinking haven: its organizers also provide addicts with advice on how to quit drinking, which has found broad appeal. Most of the Sofa's patrons seek help, and some have already managed to put down the bottle. Aside from providing information on recovery programs, the social workers at the Sofa help people resolve issues with their landlords, utility companies, or government offices. The bar even offers low-paying jobs in the bar itself, in the attached soup kitchen, or with the street newspaper to its unemployed guests, some of whom have been deemed impossible to place by Germany's employment office.

Other German cities have already expressed interest in Kiel's idea, and some, like Freiburg and Hamburg, have even visited the bar to see for themselves how exactly the Sofa operates. And it seems to do extremely well. Dortmund is planning to open a similar venue in its unemployment-stricken Nordstadt.

But as with any new government program, there are critics, too. Reinhard Boettcher, who manages the Sofa, told Der Spiegel that some people believe that the bar facilitates long-term unemployment, that it's merely a “place to park alcoholic Hartz IV benefits recipients and young people without a high-school diploma or a future.”

Such fears, however, are largely unfounded, given that Germany's recently implemented long-term unemployment benefit program barely pays enough to ensure decent living circumstances. At 359 Euros per month per person (not including rent), Hartz IV certainly won't make anyone too comfortable to look for work. And the Sofa's success speaks for itself : the fact that some of the alcoholics have managed to quit drinking and are now holding small jobs proves that there is a will to improvement, and that the Sofa may be just what they need to initiate such positive changes. According to Boettcher, the bar makes it easier for social workers to approach the city's drinkers: its welcoming environment stands in contrast to the alienation many alcoholics experience on the street, including the distrust they feel toward people that offer help. The sense of community they encounter at the Sofa helps to start conversations and build trust between the social outcasts and their community. Another aspect that makes the Sofa so appealing is its no-pressure approach. Boettcher and his colleagues offer help when they're asked for it, but avoid pushing initiatives on their 'patients.' Alcoholics looking for company don't have to commit to anything, and it might be precisely this lack of commitment that 'lures' them in eventually.

Kiel's humane approach is effective not only because it's helping alcoholics, but also because it benefits the city's image: the drunks are off the street, and Kiel's non-alcoholics can enjoy themselves without being harassed. In the end, both sides win.

It will be interesting to see if other European countries (most of which also allow public drinking) adopt Germany's idea. In fact, it's rather surprising that Scandinavian countries or the Netherlands haven't already launched similar programs; especially because they're so progressive in other social areas. But then again, maybe they already exist? Given its lax weed laws, drinking rooms in Holland probably wouldn't be as news-worthy as they are in Germany. Either way, the Sofa is a great model for the rest of Europe, where drinking freedoms may have turned into drinking troubles, too.

But would it work in the US? As mentioned earlier, America's unique attitude towards alcoholism and addiction in general makes for a situation that is a lot less 'welcoming' to such progressive programs. Because alcohol can only be consumed in designated areas, and usually never outside of bars or private homes, alcoholics with a residence are more likely to drink at home anyway. While this circumstance might prevent trouble, it also makes the problem of alcoholism less visible to the public eye: because alcoholics are rarely intoxicated in public, alcohol abuse is less likely to be considered a problem. After all, there is little harassment, so people aren't bothered by it. Sure, American cities may have to worry less about public manifestations of alcoholism, but without a public platform, alcoholism remains an isolated issue.

Kiel's program isn't just about keeping its streets clean, it's also about helping drunks to get clean. Allowing alcohol in public provides an open and potentially more successful approach to solving the dilemma of alcohol abuse.

Revised Column #1

"Googolplex WHAT?!"
A Day In The Life Of A Math Geek Mom

Public schools are great at making sure that no child is left behind, but what if your child is ahead? While intelligence is usually considered a blessing, it's really a challenge if you can't afford the luxury of a private education.

Our five-year-old is obsessed with math. It's like his brain never, ever, ever shuts down. He falls asleep singing numbers (“three-six-nine-twelve-fifteen-eighteeeen...”), and every morning at breakfast, before he's even fully awake, he's solving math questions that he poses to himself.

Like today. It's 7:30. I have a hard time doing anything that requires brain activity this early in the morning. What I need is coffee, and food. And silence.
“Mama, what's 48 times 2?”
Oh, gosh. But I do want him to figure it out on his own.
“What's 40 plus 40?” I reply, smiling encouragingly.
“Oh yeah, 80.”
“So what's 8 plus 8?”
“Oh yeah...so that's 96!” Fynn's super excited. I can see numbers running across the computer screen in his head.
Before I can take another sip of my coffee, he's already found a new problem that needs solving.
“Mama...”
I sigh.

Don't get me wrong, I'm extremely proud of him. I don't ever have to help him with any homework, which is nice, because I'm busy doing my own. But when he's jumping on our bed at 8 on a Sunday morning, yelling numbers into our dreams, we do get a little stressed out.

“FYNN! Why don't you go watch some TV?” snaps one of us, or, “Where's your Gameboy?”

That's bad, I know. But any parent will probably agree with me that there are moments when mind-numbing, “electrical nannies,” as my mom calls them, can save your life.

And yet, there are instances when I'm in complete shock at the kinds of things Fynn can do in his head, within seconds. The other day, we passed the country club on the way to school. Fascinated by their swimming pool, Fynn asked if we could go there, too. Not really knowing at all how much a membership is, I explained to him that that would cost at least 2oo dollars a month. “Wow, so that would be at least 2,400 dollars a year!” he replied without hesitating.

One time, Fynn asked me how many more days it was until my birthday. “Five,” I said. He immediately pulled out his calculator, typed in some numbers, and announced: “That's in 120 hours!” A few days before, we had talked about the amount of hours in a day, but I couldn't believe that he actually remembered the equation and understood how to apply it.

I really don't have a clue where he gets his genius. Not from me, that's for sure. I was happy to secure a painfully earned C- in my math finals in high school. Since then, I've tried to block out most of it. Simple eighth-grade algebra in my geography lab makes me sweat. My husband's mathematical skills are equally limited. He's already worried that we won't be able to help Fynn in math one day, but I'm thinking: help? He's already figured out what division is. By the time he gets to middle school, he'll probably know everything there is to know about algebra. I just wish they'd stick him in first- or second-grade math. In kindergarten, he's still anxiously awaiting the day that they will learn what 1 plus 1 is. And of course that's fine for most kids.

Really, I don't think kindergarten should be as academic as it is. When I was 5, I was in preschool coloring. (In Germany, everything before first grade is called preschool, and usually you don't learn your ABC's or numbers until you're 6 or 7 years old.) But I would probably go crazy with Fynn if it was like that here. Quite honestly, kindergarten isn't academic enough for Fynn. So, to keep him interested, his teacher has bought a chess game he gets to play as a reward for doing his journal writing each morning. But while this might have worked initially, it doesn't seem to excite him very much anymore. He's obviously bored if he comes home dying to do math, and prefers getting a new math book at Given's to a nice, new story book. But I don't know if I'm helping or sabotaging him when I buy third-grade multiplication books. I want to challenge him, but what if that creates an even bigger gap to the stuff he's doing in kindergarten? Will he be even more bored because I support his ambition?

And yes, I've wondered whether public school is the right place for him. Clearly, seven hours filled with stuff he can already do doesn't seem reasonable. Sure, he does learn some things, especially in science, but they happen too infrequently. Every time he comes home and tells me just one thing that excited him that day, I'm happy. But sometimes he talks about that one thing all week, and his usual answer to my question what he did in school is nothing but a tired shrugging, or a monotonous “I don't know.”

What makes things worse is that Fynn expects so much of himself. When he doesn't understand a question right away, he gets extremely frustrated, sometimes smacking himself. One day, while I was taking him to school, he was playing the usual counting-in-threes, posing-math-questions-to-himself game. Although he got everything except for one question right, that one wrong answer made him feel like a complete failure.

“I'm just not good with numbers,” he grumbled.

I couldn't believe that he would be so hard on himself. I assured him that he was absolutely amazing and great with math, but even after I had tried to convince him in every way possible that he was smart, he cautiously asked: “Do you really mean that, Mama?” (Of course he knows that I'm proud of pretty much anything he does, so he had to make sure.)

Sometimes, he refuses to let us help him with a problem, and it happens frequently that he breaks out in hysterical sobbing because something doesn't turn out as perfect as he hoped. I find myself praising him more than one would deem healthy, just to make him feel half-way confident about his incredible skills. I try to tell him that nobody expects him to know any of the things he's eagerly learning, but Fynn has his own expectations, and there doesn't seem to be much I can do. Occasionally, though, I catch myself wishing he was a completely average five-year-old excited about kindergarten, and happier playing outside than solving math questions. It would make things so much easier.

If I don't want Fynn to become completely apathetic, or frustrated and obnoxious, something needs to happen. But until I graduate from college and find a job that pays well, we simply can't afford the thousands of dollars per year it takes to pay for a private school. The only realistic solution seems to be to move to a bigger city with a more diverse public school system. Many public schools have started to integrate Montessori concepts into their curricula, thus allowing for more individualized attention. Right now, however, we have to deal with a standardized system that ensures that no child is left behind, while failing to attend to those that are ahead.

It's 7:58. I tell Fynn that he really needs to stop doing math and get ready for school. With a slightly panicked glance at the digital clock on our stove, Fynn replies: “Oh no, has it already been 180 seconds?!”