The Review Revolution: Improving Culture through Kvetching

Take That, Delta Airlines!

For the last year or so I've been assiduously hoarding my Delta frequent flier miles.  The goal: to fly to the Outer Banks this summer for our semi-annual beach vacation with Phil's family, so as to avoid a 15-hour drive.  Our vacation is planned for the end of June, and so I called in November to make the arrangements. I had about 90,000 miles to work with, the result of a lot of travel in the last year as well as purchases on a Delta credit card.

But November was already much too late to snag a coveted "award seat" for summer travel at the 25,000 mile rate.  If we wanted to spend 50,000 miles per ticket, well, there was tons of availability!  But for 25K there was nada, zip, nothing, no way no how.  And that included flying from Cincinnati, Lexington, Louisville, Dayton or Columbus on dates all around our proposed travel dates. Aaaaugh.

Not to be deterred, I tried to use the miles for a later trip we'd planned to South Dakota, with similar results.  Apparently Delta opens up what few seats it saves for award travelers exactly 10 months beforehand, and the ticket agent told me I needed to call the exact morning 10 months before the trip if I wanted to have the best shot at seats. 

I then tried to use Delta miles for a business trip to California in May.  That trip is on my own quarter, so I thought it would be great if I could use miles.  No dice there, either, at least not for the dates I need (which is admittedly Memorial Day weekend).  Strike three.

When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping.  Isn't that the saying?  I took this to heart and stuck a knife in dear old Delta airlines.  When messing around on the SkyMiles page I discovered that Medallion members can take advantage of something called "Medallion Marketplace."  Basically, this is a little shoppers' paradise where road warriors like me who can never use their FF miles for actual award travel can trade in miles for gift cards to various stores.  Wow!  It was amazingly easy and I am now the proud owner of enormous gift cards to Lowe's, Circuit City and the Pottery Barn.  Phil is buying lumber and materials to build us bookshelves; we will re-tile the bathroom floor; and I am buying drapes for the downstairs. 

Thank you, Delta Airlines!  I travel all over the country to earn miles so I can be a more comfortable homebody.  There's irony lurking in there somewhere.

AP/CNN Story on Mormonism in the Public Eye

I am quoted in a news story today about how individual Mormons are responding to the increased media scrutiny Mormonism has faced because of the Romney campaign. Jennifer Dobner did an excellent job with the story, and her knowledge and experience exemplify what I was trying to convey in the quote: I think the media has improved a hundredfold in how Mormonism is covered now versus five years ago. (I sound very cranky in the article, but I am not misquoted or quoted out of context; I really am that cranky.) Most journalists I talk to do a great job, and I haven't seen that many media gaffes at all during the campaign.

But I question whether the nuances of Mormon belief that journalists are trying so hard to understand and get right are filtering down to ordinary folks, who seem to hold to a lot of strange ideas about Mormonism.  Some of those people write to me privately at this blog address with friendly questions about my faith ("Do you really think you'll be having sex for all of eternity?" Answer: Only if I get very, very lucky), and lots of Bible verses.  It's hard to know what to say when Mormon beliefs are taken so badly out of context.  I guess that is why I get a little cranky. 

The AP sent a photographer to the house the other day to take a portrait, which I don't think was used.  I asked him where he would like to set up, and he asked, half-jokingly, if I had a giant poster of Mitt Romney we could use as a backdrop.  I told him that might not be appropriate given that I am a Democrat and my big dilemma is whether I will cast my primary vote for Hillary or Barack on March 3.  But old stereotypes die hard, don't they?  At least he was super nice about it.

One thing that's been good about all the attention is that some churches are inviting Mormons to come and speak, explaining the basic tenets just so people can hear it from a Mormon's own perspective.  I just heard today from a former bishop of mine who was asked by an Episcopal congregation to come and do an informal talk about Mormon beliefs.  As I said in the article, I do get tired of explaining over and over what Mormons believe, but I'd rather have people ask actual live Mormons like me than go consult an anti-cult book that was written by some "expert" who has probably never deigned to attend a Mormon Sunday service.

Why are Christians so bad with money? And other questions raised in James Spurlock’s MAXED OUT

James Spurlock is prophetic as well as provocative: his book was written (and his documentary made) back in 2005, when it seemed that the real estate market could do nothing but continue its spectacular rise, yet he preached caution about the unsustainability of real estate speculation.  He blew the whistle on mortgage brokers’ predatory practices long before “sub-prime lending” became a household phrase.   And he closed his book by advocating sweeping reform measures to regulate the credit card industry, which is shored up by egregious fees that target the most vulnerable consumers. Several those ideas are now being considered by a Congress desperate to avoid Scurlock’s predicted recession. 

But the book is a mixed bag, mostly because Spurlock is so eager to place the blame on profit-driven corporations (as though he expected there would be some other kind) and the government with whom they share a king-sized bed that he repeatedly patronizes the little guy as a mere victim.  Everyday Americans, indeed, are feeling the squeeze of being the most indebted of any generation in our history, but Scurlock would have us believe it is entirely the fault of others.  It’s the fault of the debt collectors, who are profiled in a frightening and sad chapter on how debt is sold and resold again.  It’s the fault of mortgage lenders, who have extended loans to people who never should have qualified for them.  And it’s the fault of credit card companies for cracking down on debtors with draconian provisos like the “universal default” fee.

Yes.  I see all of that, and I think Scurlock raises some important points about corporate responsibility and the government’s role in protecting consumers as well as big business.  But . . . hello!  Surely at least some of the people who go into debt are to blame here.  I am not talking about folks who go into debt because they have no health insurance or who lose their homes through job loss, unexpected illness, or a death in the family.  Interestingly, those are not typically the people Scurlock profiles in the book.  I am talking about the ones who rack up tens of thousands of dollars in unsecured debt because of some sense of entitlement they seem to feel to plasma televisions, luxury vacations, jewelry, McMansions, or SUVs so enormous they need their own frappucino makers in the back.  The ones who gorged themselves on Thanksgiving and then went out at 12:01 on Black Friday to wait in line for the digital MP3 TV that also slices and dices and makes julienne fries. 

Those people make me mad.  They are not victims; they are greedy.  When are Americans going to step up to the plate and admit that we are a materialistic, selfish culture that has made an idol of wealth and all its trappings?  When will we stop behaving like adolescents who don’t know how to wait for things until we have the money to actually pay for them?  Scurlock wants us to believe that every one of the people he profiles in the book is merely a victim, even the woman who charged her Cadillac and a boob job to the U.S. government.  Scurlock holds her up as a casualty of the military’s policy of expediting purchase orders by issuing credit cards to Marines.  He seems to think that someone was holding a gun to her head, forcing her to charge her bar tabs and Rent-A-Center furnishings to the American people.

I like nice things, sure.  It’s wonderful to live in a comfortable home and to have heat in the winter and warm clothes to put on.  (It’s cold and snowy as I write this, so I am thankful for things like fleece and flannel today.)  I love having a reliable car.  But you know what?  It’s ten times better to have those things when you know that they are already paid for.  That you actually own them, and a debt collector can’t take them away.

I guess I am speaking with all the zeal of a convert here.  My husband and I started our marriage in debt.  We were young and just out of college, and we had a combined debt of about $30,000 in educational loans and a shocking $16,000 in credit card debt.  What amazed me about that credit card debt was how little we had to show for it—the money hadn’t gone to furniture or any big-ticket items that we could really point to.  It had just been frittered away during and after college, mostly on plane tickets home, gas and repairs for our clunker car, or meals out.  It was astonishing how quickly these little expenses added up and brought us into debt, and then how the interest rates on our credit cards—I think we were paying a perfectly usurious 19.8%--kept us there. 

We always managed to pay the minimum on our credit cards, but spent the first several years of our marriage just trying to chip away at debt when we should have been saving for the future and possibly investing in our first home.  The change came when I started graduate school and got a lump sum at the beginning of each semester as my stipend.  We had already been living almost wholly on my husband’s relatively modest salary, so we made a commitment to putting the entire stipend check each term to wiping out our remaining credit card debt.  I started tracking all of our expenses in Quicken and we pulled back our spending in lots of ways.  I can’t tell you how freeing it was to write that last check to Citibank.  Then we were able to start saving in a 401(k) plan, pay off our student loans early, put money toward a down payment on a home, and splurge in a couple of key areas—travel, a piano, and some nicer furniture.

It’s been a long time since we paid that last credit card bill, and we have never looked back.  Unless disaster strikes, we will never go into debt again for anything other than a home, a modest used car, or an education.  We still track every single expense in Quicken, even a 50 cent newspaper.  (Yes, really.)  We do this because we never want to go into debt again, never want to feel enslaved by anyone or anything.  Debt is dangerous and so, so slippery.  It makes you ashamed and fearful, which is just not how God wants us to live. 

OK, sermon over.  Back to the book at hand.  I agreed wholeheartedly with Scurlock’s condemnation of our culture of debt, such as when he points out that while cigarettes can’t be advertised on TV and must come with severe warnings on the label, the credit industry—which is selling a product that, when abused, can also be damaging to one’s future and well-being—has been helped every step of the way by Washington.  But on the other hand, Americans need to accept their share of financial responsibility.  A key proponent of debt prevention is rigorous consumer education, both at home and at school.  This is something Scurlock just doesn’t discuss: how parents need to teach their children about debt, credit, and money management from an early age; and how schools need to educate kids about these issues before they get into college and start getting flooded with credit card offers that seem to good to be true—and are.  The book raises far more questions than it answers, such as why the states with the highest personal bankruptcy rates tend to have high religious adherence (including Utah, Missouri and Tennessee).  My own guess on this would be that these religious people are more likely to be living on a single income and also more likely to give some of their money to charity, but beyond that I don’t know.  Scurlock’s book would have been better if he had followed through with some of these questions, rather than skimming the surface of America’s debt culture. 

Baby Boom: Movie Reviews of BELLA and JUNO

Your New Year's Resolution, should you choose to accept it: go see Juno.  OK, so I am giving away the store by telling you up front that Juno is a great movie and you should run, not walk, to see it.  I'm also recommending Bella, an indy arthouse film with similar themes of unwanted pregnancy and the support of family. 

Most of you probably know the premise of Juno already: a sassy 16-year-old gets pregnant out of wedlock and discovers to her surprise that she can't quite go through with an abortion although, as she says, she has heard the troubling rumor that pregnancy often leads to an infant.  Which is undesirable.  So she answers an ad in the Penny Saver from a perfect-seeming 30-something couple looking to adopt. Before I saw the movie, I read several coy reviews that suggested this couple (sensitively rendered by Jason Bateman and Jennifer Garner) are not what they seem.  That’s true, but it’s not as sinister as it sounds.  They’re not hiding deep dark secrets; they’re just flawed, complex people who love each other but disappoint each other too – very much like people in real life, but very unlike people in most 90-minute comedies. What ensues is a coming-of-age story that manages to be both hilarious and thoughtful.  Ellen Page deserves every bit of the Oscar buzz she has been generating for her role as the title character.  Juno is on the surface a tough-as-nails, sardonic wiseass, a hundred pounds of hoodied ’tude.  However, she is never cynical about people, and in fact reveals a heart so pure and loyal that it broke my heart.  I can’t remember the last time a film made me laugh and cry simultaneously, but the combination of Page’s performance and Diablo Cody’s edgy screenplay did just that.  I would love to see Page nominated for an Oscar.  (She will never win, because comedies are notoriously overlooked by Oscar and because of the Kate Winslet rule: beautiful actresses cannot win an award until they make themselves ugly.  See Halle Berry in Monster’s Ball, Charlize Theron in Monster, and Nicole Kidman with an unforgivable schnoz in The Hours.  Ellen Page never stops being adorable in this movie, even when she’s about to drop a kid, so she’s automatically out of the running.)

Another movie out this winter in limited release addresses many of the same themes as Juno, but with an earnest, almost treacly emotionalism.  Bella is an arthouse favorite that won the audience choice award at the Toronto Film Festival.  In it, a waitress at a family-run Mexican restaurant in New York is fired for repeated tardiness.  In protest, chef José (who is also the brother of the restaurant owner) follows her out and they wind up spending the day together.  He learns that she is pregnant and quietly sets about teaching her the value of her baby, whom she plans to abort.  Bella is a beautifully filmed movie, where whole stretches go by with no dialogue and the director (a first-timer!) relies on visual symbolism to invoke a feeling.   It mostly works, and I happened to like the dreamy and non-linear quality of the storytelling; the saintly José, of course, has a past, which is carefully explored through flashbacks.  But that same non-linear quality makes for an ending so ambiguous that at the end of the film, a stranger approached me and my friend Peggy and asked, “Did you understand what just happened?  What really happened there, anyway?” 

Bella is a deeply Christian movie, and it offers a profound message not only about the sanctity of human life but also about the power of redemption from sin.  It is well-executed and very moving, especially considering that it was created on a shoestring budget by people with no reputation or hope of national distribution.  Now that they have  managed to get some decent distribution, my fear is that only about 3.5 Christians in America will actually see this movie.  So many Christians seem to be put off by the whole indy/arthouse scene, if they even live in cities large enough to have access to it.  But the irony of that is that if you took out all the subtitles and tidied up the ending, this movie is perfectly in line with mainstream American flicks made by various evangelicals.  It even has the overwrought emotion down pat, which was my chief criticism—in my view, less would have been more.  But it is a lovely movie overall, and well-deserving of a larger audience than it is likely to get.  If it doesn’t play in any theaters near you, it will definitely be worth a rental.