keeping things in perspective

Just after I posted the last post, I read this post that was linked from another blog in my rss feed. The theme of housing and the abundance of what we are used to in this culture is on my mind. It's hard to keep the focus off myself no matter where I live and what my circumstances, but it's even harder for me recently. Living in the States is no small part of that, with all that we have here and all we have to compare ourselves to. So, I'm thankful to have reminders to know I'm blessed in order to be a blessing.

abundance and motivation

We have a pretty big apartment. Not big compared to most of the places our friends live, but plenty big for us. The other day, Colin said "when we have a baby, do you think we'll have to move out of this apartment?" He loves the outdoor space that we have. He spends a little bit of his morning out there every day. We eat out there sometimes, I have a bunch of potted plants out there that Colin keeps alive when I forget to water them, and we hope to still get a little garden in before it gets too late in the season.

Today, I saw this article with this picture of a seven square foot space a single working girl rents in Beijing. Unbelievable! It looks kinda cozy, but mostly sad with its one tiny window and no space for anything but a narrow bed. The saddest parts though would be no kitchen (I think they have a shared one in the hall though) and that they have to use the public bathrooms on the street. I have seen and smelled such bathrooms while walking the streets of China, and they are nasty.

I wonder if she has any closet space. One of my Chinese students once told me that he wore one set of clothes all week and then went home on the weekends to change. His mother would wash his clothes for him and he'd switch out clothes again the next weekend. Our Chinese students were sometimes baffled that their foreign teachers had so many clothes.

This girl who lives in the seven square foot pod has moved there from an apartment she shared with a roommate so that she can send more money home to her parents in the country. Would that even cross the mind of a recent college grad in America? Maybe it would for some. It makes me think about an update I got from a friend who's still teaching where I did in China. She says the freshman class this year has the most discipline problems she's ever seen and she's at a loss to know how to motivate them. That was the thing about teaching in China - I could count on most of my students to be super diligent. They made the most of their time in university. But the new students have a new reputation. They haven't known economic hardship and they don't seem to care about learning much. As Colin said when I relayed that story to him, "Maybe China won't take over the world after all if those are the students that are in university now."

Vietnamese Market

We live sandwiched between a Korean neighborhood and a Vietnamese neighborhood. If I want to go to a "normal" supermarket, I have to go out of my way, but Korean and Vietnamese markets are everywhere! Korean markets don't seem so foreign to me, but since I can't read Vietnamese and I've never been to Vietnam, I thought these things were picture worthy.


I guess these are some kind of snack. Those little white eyeball looking things kinda weird me out.

Live blue crabs!

My sister used to love Little Debbie swiss cake rolls. I'm guessing she wouldn't be so into the green version.

Jackfruit or durian - I'm not sure, but it's HUGE!

Whew. I was wondering where I was going to pick up some congealed pork blood for tomorrow night's dinner.


So many varieties of ramen!

Korean moving tradition

About two weeks after we moved in to our apartment, we decided to try to meet our neighbors. We live in a complex that is mostly Korean speaking (we moved to the Korea town section of Garden Grove), with some Vietnamese families in the mix too. We rode our bikes over to the local rice cake shop (yay for bikes and fun places to bike to!) and Colin asked about the special rice cakes that you give to your neighbors when you move in. She made them to order for us and we picked them up the next day. They had some other ones that looked just like the ones we needed, but she told us those wouldn't do, we had to get the special ones.

So, the Korean tradition is to take these rice cakes on one of your own dishes. (I was going to take them on paper plates, but Colin wouldn't have it! We had to do it the Korean way. He's more well-versed in Korean culture and also more of a by-the-book person than I am.) Then, the neighbor brings the plate back to you with something else on it. It turns out it is a great way to meet neighbors, because you go to their door and then they have to come to your door too.


Our plates with rice cakes (covered in red bean powder) and banana bread mini muffins.


Our immediate neighbors are Hispanic. They brought us these homemade tortas the next day. Some of the non Koreans just returned to give us the empty plate. We got a bag of organic apples, a plate of oranges and nectarines, and a jar of kimchi in return. I guess that in American culture, your neighbors are supposed to welcome you when you move in. This Korean tradition kind of makes that happen because the person that moved is supposed to take the initiative.

The Getty Villa

A few weekends ago, we went to the Getty Villa, the original Getty museum with Greco Roman art on the coast near Malibu. It was a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon, but I still recommend the Getty Center in LA if you have to only choose one.

Do you know him?

I had to quit my little part time job working at a Korean owned after school academy so that I could go to Kentucky for the birth of my second nephew. So, I've been meaning to post this story for a while. I went in yesterday to pick up my last paycheck from there and remembered it:

Tony, a middle schooler who has been in the States for about a year or so, asked me one afternoon, after he found out that I lived in Korea for a while:

Do you know James? He lives in Korea.
(puzzled look on my face)

He's white.

(I start to open my mouth...)

He's a pastor.
Do you know him?

(I ask him if he knows his last name.)

He's married to a Korean.
He lives in Seoul.
Do you know him?

(I tell him that there are probably many white pastors named James who live in Korea and are married to Koreans. I want to tell him that not all white people know each other.)

He has two dogs.
He's kind of huge.
Do you know him?

(Tony is totally serious asking me this question, and he's pretty sure that if he gives me a few more pieces of information on this James guy, I'll end up figuring out who he is. Stories like this are one of the reasons I love teaching.)

No Impact Week

Have you read about No Impact Week? It's starting on Sunday and it reminds me of things I want to be improving on. There's a downloadable guide here.

I've been driving way more than is healthy for the environment or me and I feel really wasteful, but it's hard not to just follow those patterns of consumption living in the suburbs of a huge city with people and places all spread out and no real option for public transportation. So, I'm going to try to re-think a few things to see how I can be less of a consumer.

I am taking a few steps:

• I asked if our small group could use real plates and silverware instead of disposable ones. I volunteered to put them in the dishwasher and then put them away afterwards.
  
• I use re-usable bags when I go to stores. (I've been doing this for a while, but I just started carrying a small bag in my purse to always be prepared!)
  
• I started carrying around a stainless steel container instead of using the styrofoam ones for leftovers at a restaurant. I haven't actually used it yet, though.
• I've been to three local Goodwills in the past week for furniture and dishes to get set up for the new apartment. I also got a few bottles I plan on using as centerpieces for the wedding.

I'd love to hear ways that you are being good to the environment! I've got a long way to go.

school stories

The part I love about substitute teaching is meeting new kids almost every day. If I'm working as an inclusion teacher, I also get to learn from the different teaching styles of teachers. I'm getting way more chances to learn from other teachers than I ever have before.

The younger the kids are, the more fun stories I take away from the day. A few weeks ago, I subbed in two different kindergarten classes for three days. There was one kid named Happy-Ethan. At first I thought that was some kind of mistake, but that was what he went by and that name, written with the hyphen, was what the teacher had written on his nametag. When I called him to stand up to help me with calendar time, one little girl in the circle said in a high voice, "Isn't he so cute?" And, of course, he was.

In the other kindergarten class, there was a kid named Jameer. I called him Jameel by mistake and he said, "You can't call me that! That's my Daddy's name!" In that same class, there was a girl named Breanna. I said her name too quickly when I was calling her out to come sit down and missed the last a. She said (with her hand on her hip), "Did you just call me Breahn? That's my twin BROTHER'S name!" I had no idea that it was so popular to name family members only one letter apart.

In that class, there was also a little girl who would take every chance she got when I was squatted down to her height to play with my hair. It felt so nice I didn't want to get up again, but I would soon have to deal with another situation somewhere in the classroom.

This week, I'm in the same second grade classroom all week long. It'll be nice not searching for jobs every day, but I'll miss the variety too.

post-election thoughts

I read two blogs this morning dealing with post-election thoughts. One of the writers I know, the other I don't. I recommend reading both if you have a few minutes.

The first reminds us of the global perspective of our presidential election and how many people of the world feel like their prayers have been answered. I think that's an important perspective that we Americans are often quick to forget.

The second, which is a blog I came across through links from other blogs, addresses the fact that we were able to peacefully elect a black man 43 years after black people were killed even trying to vote.

Since my allegiance isn't first to my country, I didn't get too worked up about this election, but I happily soaked in the excitement and hope that was in the air on Tuesday night: white people at The Tavern who commented that the cameras focused on the black people in the audience, saying that they deserved it, it was their time. Honking in the streets. Collectively knowing that we were witnessing history. The next night at church, hearing the disappointment from many and fear from some. I'm still not sure how to reconcile the two of those, but I know that there is a lesson for us, especially us evangelicals, in it.

Jesus for President

The book Jesus for President turned out to be less about politics and more of a radical restructuring to the way I think. Here's one quote that might illustrate that:

"The distinctly human question is not about how we should vote but about how we should live. The decision we make in each future election is no more important than how we vote every day. We vote every day for companies, for people, and we put money toward "campaigns." We need to think of the faces behind the scenes. Who are the masters and the Caesars that we pledge allegiance to by the way we live and through the things we put our trust in? We vote every day with our feet, our hands, our lips, and our wallets. We are to vote for the poor. We are to vote for the peacemakers. We are to vote for the marginalized, the oppressed, the most vulnerable of our society. These are the ones Jesus voted for, those whom every empire had left behind, those whom no millionaire politician will represent."
- Jesus for President, Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw

You can read a little more about the book and see some appendices at their website: http://www.jesusforpresident.org/

Through this book and others, and through experiences in my life the past few months, God is doing something in me that I'm not sure what to do with yet. I know it won't let me go, so it's not that I'm afraid of losing the passion for change and identification with the poor so much as I'm just wondering where it will lead and how I need to respond.

West Texas Wind

I went to Abilene for a few days to see my parents. My Dad has some visiting scientists from Bosnia, so we took a little trip up the interstate to get close to the windmills. There are different farms. I think we visited this one.

Wind, oil, and cotton.

The cotton was in bloom.


A cotton gin in the background.

On the way home, we ate at Allen's, a homestyle cafe in Sweetwater, where they had this great cash register. We sat down at a table by ourselves and they brought out a huge amount of food - fried chicken, meatloaf, and lots and lots of vegetable dishes, plus rolls and cobbler. Soon, two other couples came in and filled up our table and we all shared the food, family style. When we left, one of the visiting scientists paid for us because he was so impressed with the place.

morning at the ARCH

"I stake the time I'm grateful to have, the energies I'm glad to direct." - Annie Dillard

This morning, I went to the ARCH, the Austin homeless shelter for the second time. The first was Saturday for a volunteer orientation. I sat around for a while talking to people before the volunteer coordinator came down to show me what to do.

I discussed how hard it is to learn Chinese with a homeless client who had carefully painted on eyebrows. (I got asked a lot about what I do, so that led to me telling them I'm a teacher, but not currently teaching in Austin....)

I commented on how nice the building is to a guy and he said, "Yeah, but you know some people get too comfortable here, with this life and this place." He then went on to tell me that he wasn't one who was going to get too comfortable with it.

My first job was to check mail for people. Anyone can give out the center's address, and then their mail goes on file until they can pick it up. The clients were mostly so polite and patient as I learned the system and searched through the filed mail for theirs.

My second job was to go upstairs behind the soap and toothpaste counter to hand that out as needed. I also got a few requests for hydrogen peroxide, lotion and razors. We had the peroxide, but no lotion or razors. They give away what they get from donations.

They have an art class that started just as I was leaving. The clients can submit their artwork at the annual Art From the Streets show and earn the money from the sale. One guy commented on his way to the restroom "I know there are no starving artists in here! We might call them the gluttonous artists instead."

It's true that for most homeless the food is not an issue. Finding affordable housing is a problem, along with other barriers to employment that the homeless face. I'm glad that the shelter has made it easy for me to volunteer and learn more about the city I'm living in.

bus culture, part three

In Winston-Salem, the station after the traumatic ride, I found myself hoping to go to a sauna when I got to my destination. I only thought about it for a second, of course realizing that I was in America where there are no public sauna/bath houses. I was associating this kind of long public overnight travel with China, where I often end in a city where I can clean up in a steamy public bath.

During the wait for the next bus, a girl who had been on the same bus as me sat down beside me and told me she thought the curly headed guy she had been smoking with outside was cute. We decided we wanted some coffee, so we started to head out and she asked her crush to accompany us. On the next bus, less than an hour after our coffee trip, these two are sitting side by side, parts of their body intertwined. And she had just told me that you have to be careful around these guys you meet on the bus! For some reason, this makes me long for the redemption of the world.

The new couple is sitting behind a girl (who didn't look like a girl) talking about how she was going home to her wife and kids. The girl she called her wife was waiting at the next station for her and we got to witness their affectionate reunion.

I leave the oblivious new couple to get off the bus and wait for my last bus to Danville. I meet Calvin, a good looking, well dressed guy who looks at the vending machine but doesn't buy anything. He asks me if I know where he can look for a job. I don't know anything, of course, about jobs here, but I really wish I could help him.

An old man comes in and asks for my help to buy him a sausage biscuit from the vending machine. It won't take his $5 bill, so I use my $2 to buy it for him, but I open it to an empty door and it eats my money. I offer him my last two pieces of zucchini bread, but he says he's diabetic and can't eat it. A girl comes back with change for him and he proceeds to eat the sausage biscuit (which I successfully buy) and a Pepsi.

I arrive at my destination a little tired and am treated to a tasty Wendy's salad. I am glad for this experience of a part of my culture that I usually distance myself from. I know that I need to do something besides write three blog posts about the experience. This is on my top ten list of experiences from my year in America. I am meant to live more simply, to be more intentional about how I interact with people, to realize I'm entitled to a lot less than I think I am. I wonder if I could have learned these same lessons in China, or if I had to learn them as a part of my own culture first.

bus culture, part two

On the next bus, I sit next to a single mom and her three kids. They are so cute with their big blue eyes. I get to hold the youngest (5 months old) while the mom takes the girl to the restroom, and again at a stop where the mom takes a smoke break.

There's a little more variety than your standard bus riders on this one. I notice a girl reading a book in Russian, a guy who gets off the bus speaking with some kind of British accent and another guy who has an iPod (the only one I saw on the bus) and is reading a book on debating two different views of Calvinism.

Our bus getting in to Wythville at 4 AM is a little late and it's really cold outside, so those of us waiting on our next bus go into the waiting box (it's not so much a room). We are told that all the buses are late tonight, and we hear stories of people that have been waiting for 9 hours. So, we're thinking we might be here for a while when one of the guys that's catching the same bus I am goes out to double check on the bus that's out there. He comes back in saying, "That's our bus, y'all! (He's got a feminine lilt to his voice.)

So, I follow him out to the bus. The bus driver takes his ticket, but informs me that the bus is full. I tell him, politely, that I have had this ticket for two weeks, have two more buses to connect with after this one, and I would be happy to sit on the floor. He looks at me disapprovingly, saying "It's illegal in this state to sit on the floor of a bus. People who have tickets have to wait all the time."

I decide to wait until the bus leaves to see if he'll change his mind and I start to pray. The next bus wasn't scheduled to come for another 7 hours, so I don't want to give up yet. Right before he leaves, he turns around and tells me he'll let me sit on the steps beside him. Answer to prayer number two!

I load my bag, he takes my ticket, and he tells me that he considers the seat I'm getting "the best seat on the bus." It's where he often sits when he's riding. (So apparently he breaks that law anyway?) He quickly warns me that he will not tolerate it if I fall asleep and lean backwards on him.

It's dark and cold. I don't want to fall asleep, for fear that he'll have to take unwanted action against me, so I pull out my iPod. The white screen light comes on and he raises his voice at me, saying that is distracting. I say, "Yes, sir." I turn the iPod over so that the light shines onto the floor as I try to adjust the volume. He tells me that if I shine that light one more time he's going to kick me off. So, I spend the next hour and a half listening to a chapter of a book I've already listened to, but I can't really understand it anyway, because the volume is too low. I feel like a middle school student who is on the teacher's bad side and can't do anything right.

We pull into the station and I'm relieved to get off that bus. I get my bags and go into the station to wait for the next bus. While I'm sitting in the station, I hear people behind me talking about that poor girl who had to sit on the floor and how mean that driver was to her. One lady says, "He must have come from a hard home life." I smile, glad to have some people on my side.

bus culture, part one

Last week, I took a long bus ride from Louisville, Kentucky to Danville, Virginia. What would have taken about 8 hours to drive took about two and a half times that on the bus. It was the cheapest way to go, though, if I bought the ticket 2 weeks in advance - just $55. I had a feeling from the time I purchased the ticket online that it was going to be a memorable journey.

My brother-in-law, sister, and nephew dropped me off at the downtown bus station. I got my ticket from the counter and waited, praying for any connections that God wanted me to make. I began to realize from the outset that I need to live more in the world, instead of separating myself from the world that these bus passengers live in.

I got two seats to myself on the first bus, sitting behind a cute 2 year old and her mom who each had a candy necklace. I kept getting sweet peeks around the chair from the little girl. Behind me, there was an army guy returning to his base.

Beside the army guy was a big middle aged white guy with a few teeth missing who told us that he extradites federal prisoners. He talks about the days when he drove trucks, telling us that he would drink RC for energy. The black guy in front of him turns around and asks,
"RC? How old you is? That was WAY back in the day!"

The extraditer goes on to tell us about his 22 year old daughter. Her 26 year old boyfriend and three kids have moved in with her. The extraditer doesn't approve of the relationship and so they aren't talking at the moment. The black guy in front declares that he is going to be "Dr. Phil on Wheels" and give him some advice. He says that he doesn't have any business messing with his daughter's life now that she's old enough to have her own life. His job is just to love her, not judge her decisions. Not bad advice, actually.

We all get off the bus in Nashville where I have a two hour layover. I say bye to the extraditer and start to think about dinner. The food in the "restaurant" at the station looks pretty sad, so I go outside to check out other options. There aren't any in sight, but one of the guys at the corner tells me if I walk up a few blocks, cross the bridge, and turn right, I'll find a McDonald's. I leave
my big backpack at the station in between rows of seats and pray that Jesus will be like my travelling partner and watch over my luggage while I go to get food. When I get back, after more than 30 minutes, it's still there. I feel his companionship and I know that he's answered my prayer!

concerts and boots

A week ago, I went to the first concert I've been to in quite a while. It reminded me how wonderful live music can be. Over the Rhine at the Cactus Cafe. Everything about it was wonderful.


In other news, I've been increasing my percentage of being Texan. I've lived here since before kindergarten (and both sides of my family, although very different, are completely Texan), but I had never owned a pair of boots until about a month ago. I had also never cooked a steak until last night when I cooked one for my Grandmother for Valentine's day. There are probably quite a few other things that I need to cross off my list, too. When overseas, people are sometimes surprised that I'm Texan because I lose my accent (which was never too strong to begin with). The other day, someone commented that it must be funny when I speak Chinese with a Texan accent. I told her that I don't usually have much of an accent when I'm overseas because I'm not around too many Texans. She said, "It's funny how it comes back, isn't it?" I guess that means that my Texan accent is back. Maybe it came with the cowboy boots.

in Austin

I'm in Austin now, visiting my other grandmother, my cousin, and my home fellowship. I spent Friday and most of Saturday with my cousin in North Austin where she lives in an apartment complex that is almost resort-like. A nice pool (it's been hot here), free breakfast on the first Saturday of the month, shuffleboard table, and a little gym. I guess all that is not so uncommon, but I was still impressed.

I hear that Yanji is getting cool - that it's almost time to start wearing long johns underneath clothes. They just finished their October holiday, which doesn't make me jealous, since I'm on a long holiday myself, but I did miss the annual harvest volunteer trip, where students and teachers go out to a nearby farm to spend the day cutting rice, corn, or soybeans. I missed seeing the new freshmen going through military training before the fall semester starts and seeing their impossibly wide eyes when their first foreign teacher walks into the room of their English conversation class.

I'm not ready to go back yet. I've still got a lot left to do here in the States and I'm looking forward to spending Thanksgiving and Christmas with family. I don't feel so out of place here, but there are still moments when I find myself in a little of a surreal atmosphere. One of those, strangely enough, is in bathrooms that provide toilet seat covers. I am now used to public restrooms providing toilet paper, but providing seat covers too? Wow.

I was also a little shocked on Saturday while out to celebrate my younger cousin's birthday with her family and my grandmother. I thought we were in a relatively normal restaurant. It was packed with people, but most of the entrees were at least 20 dollars! I found myself looking around at all the people there - they looked normal. I couldn't believe all those people were paying such prices.

Anyhow, life here is good. I'm enjoying it while also missing being in China.

the last of Kentucky

I took these pictures of the stage in between tobacco growing in the field and tobacco in the barn. I posted them out of order, but here is the tobacco staked in the field, where it dries for a few days before they hang it upside down in the barn to dry some more.


On Saturday, there was a fall festival hosted by the fellowship next door.
There is one guy who comes to the gathering in his horse and buggy whenever he can. He offered horse drawn carriage rides and a sorghum making demonstration. Here you can see the sorghum being stirred as it's heated.
They used a horse powered sorghum press to get the juice. The guy in charge of the sorghum making gave me some rhubarb last week, so I shared the pie I made with him. He gave me a jar of homemade sorghum in return.
There were gospel bands and an auction under the tent, as well as taxidermy on display, a dunking booth, a yard sale, and other attractions outside the tent. I leave Kentucky for Texas this Saturday. I was glad to get to experience a concentrated taste of Kentucky on my last full weekend.

Go.

I read two posts recently on a blog of someone I don't know. They are really challenging for me. As I've been here for a month now, I realize how easy it is to be caught up in myself. I could give a lot of excuses for that, but I won't. I have gone to places where I could engage with people outside of my comfort zone and I haven't. It's not limited to my time here in the States, either. I certainly get comfortable and stuck in a routine when I'm across the ocean, too.

If you have any spare time, read and consider this. Here's one quote. (I modified it just to keep my blog on the safer side for when I go back.)

Following J requires following J; and He’s far from the home-bound, television-loving, non-Democrat we’ve made Him. The real J is out on the fringes going, moving; alive, enlivening. He might hang out with a few rich people, but mostly J is with the outsiders and nogoods. It seems to me that if many of us had to follow J through the Middle East of A.D. 30, we would have let him walk far ahead of us until finally our obsession with ourselves left us hanging out at the Jerusalem Starbucks to talk about mnstry with other Pharisees.

There's a great follow-up here. The author says "This is not a list for 20-somethings who have not yet “put down roots” alone. This is a list for 45-year olds with three kids in school, a mortgage, and a shaky retirement plan." Take a few minutes to read and consider. I know I need to.

On a somewhat related note, also check out this gem of a website: 6 Billion Others. You can click and hear different bits of life stories from people around the world. It's so good to have your worldview expanded and your heart touched. It could lead to so much more with an open heart and a willingness to go.

thinking about China and me

I just finished reading Wild Swans: Three Daughters of China, by Jung Chang. I've read a few different books on China, but this is one that really helped me get a clearer picture of China's history. It's kinda long, but enjoyable and totally worth it if you are looking for a glimpse into Chinese life from before the time of Japanese occupation of Northern China in the 30's to just after Mao died in 1976. Reading it has given me a better understanding of the Chinese people and perhaps any people under leadership that exploits them.

Lately, there has been talk in the news which has led to a lot of talk among people in the community of how Chinese products are unsafe. Some people even bring it up in the context that the Chinese are out to get us.

My Dad subscribes to the New York Times and sends me articles on China occasionally. He just sent me this: As China Roars, Pollution Reaches Deadly Extremes. I took some lines out of the article that I relate to.

Chinese cities often seem wrapped in a toxic gray shroud.
Environmental woes that might be considered catastrophic in some countries can seem commonplace in China: industrial cities where people rarely see the sun.

On windy days in Yanji, I'm thankful that the pollution is blown away and we can see something other than gray sky. Whenever I visit bigger cities, though, clear days are much harder to come by. Here in Kentucky, I've been reminding myself to be thankful that there are beautiful white clouds and blue skies so often.

Chinese buildings rarely have thermal insulation. They require, on average, twice as much energy to heat and cool as those in similar climates in the United States and Europe, according to the World Bank. A vast majority of new buildings — 95 percent, the bank says — do not meet China’s own codes for energy efficiency.

This is too apparent in the winter. I have seen snow blowing in through the roof of a hallway in the winter. The rooms we teach and work in are heated, but we almost always wear our long down coats and sometimes hats and gloves inside when it's cold. The wind in the winter makes our buildings whistle.

This spring, officials in Yunnan Province in southern China beautified Laoshou mountain, which had been used as a quarry, by spraying green paint over acres of rock.

I often think about how some of the things that bother me in China or about Chinese people are things that are common in America, too, but just are covered up a little better. Often when I ask what students want to do when they finish college, they'll bluntly say, "I just want to make a lot of money in business." Of course, most people in America want the same but say it in a way that sounds better. Americans are also destroying our environment and doing other things we blame on other people, we just know how to cover it up in a way that is more distinguished or less recognizable than green spray paint.

Chinese manufacturers that dump waste into rivers or pump smoke into the sky make the cheap products that fill stores in the United States and Europe. Often, these manufacturers subcontract for foreign companies — or are owned by them.

Indeed, Britain, the United States and Japan polluted their way to prosperity and worried about environmental damage only after their economies matured and their urban middle classes demanded blue skies and safe drinking water.

But China is more like a teenage smoker with emphysema. The costs of pollution have mounted well before it is ready to curtail economic development.

Wednesday night, China and what they are doing to the things they export, was brought up. Another person then commented that maybe we should stop pointing the finger and look at our own greed for a second. I was really glad to hear that. We should be concerned about health and safety, but we can't forget our own role in world events. The actions we take when we hear news like this should cause us to make changes in our own lives and hopefully changes in our community and world. That will mean different things to different people, but I know one place that I can look at is whether I treasure my Maker and the things of him over things that don't last.

The toll this pollution has taken on human health remains a delicate topic in China. The leadership has banned publication of data on the subject for fear of inciting social unrest, said scholars involved in the research.

In some countries, not all the news gets out to the people. Surely even in the States there are things that are hidden from us, but what are we doing with the information that we do have? Are we allowing ourselves to keep delicate topics in the news from impacting our lives? I have recognized a callousness in myself lately with all the news I see on the internet or hear from other people. We, as people who have great freedom, have great responsibility. I don't know the full extent of what that means, but I know it's something I have to deal with.