THE BURDEN OF CHOICE

Take the world's population and subtract the American population figure; stack the numbers side-by-side and you'll see the probability against being born an American. Yet each of us has beaten those long odds.
We may thank God, Fortune or Fate for being born citizens of a country where we have the liberty and freedom to make choices. But it is this very freedom -- the freedom of choice -- which can also undermine our Nation and cause its eventual demise.
In the most undeniably wealthy nation in the world, we take for granted the daily ebb and flow of choice; it rarely impacts us on a significant level. Witness our homes, filled with the trappings of capitalism: the telephones, televisions and appliances; the driveways where rest two or three or five automobiles; the array of garments in our closets and on our shelves, the larders and refrigerators burdened with edible stock. The solidly-built walls which shield us from the elements, the comfortable carpets underfoot, the custom draperies and wall trappings all of which attest to choices made in a land where we are free to toss it all every few years, move to another place and begin making more choices.
Consider that in most countries indoor plumbing and fresh water are considered items of luxury. Transportation may be "modern" only in the sense that a vehicle is powered by an internal combustion engine; picture a farmer using a powered tiller to pull a wagon to market, burdened not only with crops to sell but his family as well. Consider in how many nations a bicycle is used as a commercial vehicle. Picture a meal of fishcakes or something similar prepared over a slab of rock surmounting an open fire.
Look at the materials most of the world uses for its dwellings: adobe, wattle, scraps of wood, canvas and flapping cloth. See people in their native attire; colorful, quaint, and the only clothing they possess. Ask a citizen of the world when they last saw a dentist, opted for cosmetic surgery to rid themselves of excess fat or asked their doctor to write a prescription for stress relief.
Looking at the trappings of American daily life, I wonder whether we are making good choices. Our homes are filled with more consumer goods than we need, even with America's preference for convenience and comfort. Look at the useless trinkets and fads being hyped on television and lapped up by consumer with disposable income. Walk into virtually any garage in America and try not to trip over the items being stored there until they're wanted again or placed at the curb to be buried in landfills where many of the world’s citizens would find a treasure trove of utilitarianism.
Consider the acres of woodlands and native creatures being displaced at a phenomenal rate by estate homes, golf courses and luxury villages. Think how a world citizen might take possession of a small abandoned ramshackle inner city structure, gladly expending weeks and months of labor to make it habitable, luxuriating in gas heat, electric lights, running water and indoor toilets.
"Well," you might say, "we've worked for all that. We've earned it." I disagree. We have simply defended our good fortune as a predator defends its kill. That we have done so honorably, nobly and sometimes at huge sacrifice of life and fortune I don't deny, but it is still a defensive posture. We snarl and snap at any hungry creature daring to salivate at the fringe of our largesse.
We have become so accustomed to choice that our decision-making process is often flawed and trivialized. I don't advocate a return to Calvinism and most of us wouldn't be comfortable in the spare surrounds of a monastic existence. But I do think we must be more aware of our choices and to the implications of each choice we make.
We choose to stuff ourselves with convenience store confections that culminate in health problems. We choose the drive-through rather than the inconvenience of making our own sandwich from our well-stocked refrigerators. We choose to drive our car two blocks to the library rather than make it the short, brisk cardiopulmonary workout most of us need.
We choose to fill our homes with plastic gewgaws and collectible trading cards rather than with books; we rarely take the time to write Thank You notes or to correspond with friends except through the speedy superficiality of the Internet.
We choose the mindless and hypnotic sway of the television over intellectually challenging pursuits, and we have chosen the escapist masturbation of video games over the interaction of personalities in a heated game of Bridge, Chess or Monopoly.
We have become so mired in our consumerism that the very economic and political structure on which our capitalistic lifestyle rests has ceased to have any appeal. Instead of "MacNeil-Lehr," we choose the superficiality of "Survivor" or the titillation of "Jerry Springer."
We've chosen to let governmental agencies and functionaries make choices for us rather than burden ourselves with intellectual involvement, to express our concerns at civic meetings or to inconvenience ourselves with going to our polling places to cast our votes. Sadly, we show more concern when making a choice between scented and non-scented toilet tissues.
Freedom of choice. That's America.
But choice is a responsibility, and it's a burden we should bear gladly.
History will tell us one day whether our freedom to choose will continue, and that story will hinge on the choices we make today.