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IMPACT TIMES magazine

Summer 2010, Vol. 3, No. 10

Gold Pen Award 2009

AMERICAN INNOVATION:

ALIVE AND WELL IN THE 21ST CENTURY

 

by J. Conrad Guest

 

Forty-seven years ago, John F. Kennedy challenged America to put a man on the moon and America responded. That the first lunar landing took place a mere sixty-five years after the Wright brothers’ first successful flight and forty-one years after Charles Lindbergh crossed the Atlantic in Spirit of St. Louis only makes this feat more remarkable.

Today, President Obama faces the challenge of melding the automotive industry with the environmental lobby, state governors, and Congress, in the hope of providing a solution, through innovation, to the issues of energy and climate change, while nursing back to health an ailing American economy.

Obama recently stated that he is committed to working with Congress and the automotive industry to meet one goal: leading the world in building the next generation of clean cars.

       We are at a crossroads where the future of this country’s automobile industry is concerned. What happens over the coming months will have a lasting impact on this industry as well as the global economy.

Key to the survival of Detroit and the Midwest, as well as to a healthier economy, is a thorough understanding of how we got here.

Make no mistake, the automotive industry, its greed, is largely to blame for its current predicament.

Sixty years ago, after World War II, General Motors, Standard Oil and Firestone Tires were brought before Congress on conspiracy charges. They were found guilty of creating dummy companies that bought up mass transit systems that had served many major cities so well for so long, to tear up the tracks and sell the trolleys to South American cities, where today many still transport people to and from work.

Guilty, and fined one dollar.

After the war, the automotive industry led America into a new era: a car in every driveway; and when that wasn’t enough, two cars in every garage. What was good for the automobile industry was good for America. Even while, thirty years later, cities like Los Angeles, stuck in gridlock, began to clamor for a mass transit system to alleviate the congestion on their freeways.

Fact: a horse and buggy traveled faster in LA in 1911 than does a car during rush hour traffic today.

The ad agencies continue to sell automobiles on the glamour of luxury and horsepower ─ bigger is better and faster more advantageous. Ads show sports cars boasting two hundred horses under the hood zipping through city streets empty of traffic while in reality these same two hundred horses merely consume more gas while they sit idling in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Glamorous women sell luxury cars on the premise that it’s important, when the owner turns on the car, the car returns the favor.

       Engineers in Detroit first claimed they could not improve on the efficiency of the internal combustion engine; then they told us they had the technology but it would be too costly to the consumer. I wonder how costly had they, thirty years ago, funneled profits into new technologies rather than to lining the pockets of executives who sat on their hands until they had no alternative but to ask Congress for a bailout.

Opponents of Obama state the government has no place in the private sector, that they should stay out of industry, even as they should stay out of the financial industry.

I have no answers, but I’m open to all suggestions for a solution.

Some of Obama’s rhetoric smells like socialism, and for the first time in my life I’m wondering if that’s so terrible. Wall Street couldn’t police itself, gave in to greed, just as the automobile industry did. If an industry can’t be trusted to have ethics, what is the alternative but to appoint a watchdog?

The old ways failed. We have what amounts to a clean slate. Will American ingenuity and innovation take over, or will greed hold sway?

Stay tuned…


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Gold Pen Award 2008
THE VIOLENCE AND BEAUTY

by Craig Elliot

Walking between the 6 foot high berm of sand and the violent, unforgiving surf, I am completely immersed in the spectacle of this unpredictable landscape. I am entirely at home. As the 25 knot winds whip the berm into a menacing blast of sand that stings the face and threatens my camera gear, I turn my back and wrap myself around my camera, waiting for the screaming to subside. As I walk towards the bay side of this Katrina-ravaged barrier island, I come to a large inlet, complete with a heron, crabs completely covering the floor of the 4 foot deep inlet, and an occasional fish jumping out of the water. Flocks of seagulls appear, and are gone. Where the bay meets the island, virtually no surf exists on this windy, hostile day. A narrow walkway of sand, 10 feet wide and 100 feet in length, extends between the bay and this inlet, creating a sensation of being surrounded by water with virtually nothing between one and the temptress. The quiet nature of the surf on this side, in contrast to the gulf side of the narrow island, is surreal. As I reach the end of this walkway, I come to a stream of ocean water that breaches the path and feeds the inlet. The current is swift enough to take your balance, despite the shallow depth. The crabs are waiting for a misstep. Such a brittle, helpless stretch of sand, surely to be destroyed by the next hurricane.
      Going past this obstacle leads to a large area of sand that looks more like a lake bottom that is trying to dry up. Mucky, sticky, and a bit treacherous, as the depth of the semi solid area is unclear. Katrina debris is still evident. This section of the island, the extreme west end, is flat. It has been totally decimated, and it reminds me of a war zone. An oval shaped hole, filled with water, appears 4 feet across and 8 feet long, the water looks deep. I wonder if I could get back out if I were to enter this crater. Very deep, but with a sloping side. After dark, one could easily step into this abyss. Beyond, nearing the end of the current configuration of the island, lies a bevy of watery twists and turns carved into the fragile landscape. The sunset casts unimaginable colors and patterns upon the odd canals. Like a painting of pastels. Beyond lies a one mile cut that was formed by the hurricane. Five feet deep I have been told. At the narrow tip, where no further exploration is possible, someone has turned his back to the cut and written in the sand: "I’ve Always Been Here Before."
      Reversing my course back along the gulf side, the surf is crashing with a deafening noise. Again, the sand is swirling and blasting me as I turn away in defense. Ahead, lights shine in the distance, a 30 minute walk. This uninhabited stretch is my solitude. I love the cold, dreary, gray walks along this beach. Maybe the appeal is knowing the powerful, unforgiving lady will kill me if given the opportunity. I am in awe and respectful. Nothing remains in its place here. A month passing will create a new landscape of shells, driftwood, and debris. And the narrow, fragile walkway of sand I have wondered what would be my thoughts if caught in a sudden storm on this stretch. Surely this thin, flat, devastated piece of sand would be washed over with a minimal storm? Was the surge 25 feet during the hurricane? During a recent event 60 knot winds were reported on this part. Whiteout conditions existed due to driving sand. My mind drifts to a solitary walk along the edge of the gulf during this event. The challenge. I prefer the gray skies with the gale force winds, and the privilege of respectfully coexisting with nature’s extreme, raw power. Driftwood, large and small, washes up. Holes are bored in the side, with shells inside the openings. Clinging for life. These are my souvenirs, not the postcards with the pretty beach and umbrellas. The tumultuous life of anything that survives here. This place is my solitude.

Gold Image Award
Photographer: Lee Lawrence
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NOTE: Works of the managing editor are excluded from consideration for the Gold Pen Award or Gold Image Award.
Copyright 2008-2010 Impact Times. All rights rerserved.

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