Net Worth

Net worth 

Noun:

".. the total wealth of an individual, company, or household, taking account of all financial assets and liabilities..."

Stripped of everything one owns, at that one moment, that final moment when all tangible assets no longer matter, defined by the expression, "you can't take it with you", how much is one really worth.  We can come up with at least one set of double meanings. We'll get into that.

First, we have this one clinical definition of net worth - efficient and unemotional, coldly detached - of the average human body.

Bill Bryson wrote in "The Body - A Guide For Occupants", his recollection while in high school in the 60s of what his biology teacher said the human body was worth based on the chemical elements that it was made from. His memory was hazy but he thought it was $13.50.  Perhaps, the teacher calculated that the human body is mostly water, carbon, nitrogen, phosphorus, calcium, about 99 % in all and the rest of other unknown (at that time) elements that can be had from the local hardware store. Skin, tissue and bones were worth $13.50 in 1960's dollars that are now worth about $140, due to inflation over all the past decades, which is about 3,682,280 VND (Vietnamese Dong) or 11,156 Russian Rubles.

But wait, the Royal Society of Chemistry in London, using only the purest form of elements, such as about 30 pounds of really pure carbon, and additional amounts hydrogen and oxygen (water being H2O), iron and rare elements of thorium, etc., puts the the value of the human body at "precisely $151,578.46 plus sales tax".

However, in a PBS 2012 broadcast of NOVA, a science program, the value of the elements to make an average human body was only $168.

It just goes to show how imprecise it can be to put values on anything. (Let me acknowledge Bill Bryson's incisive attempt at coming up with something based on inexact estimates).

Anyhow, that's about what the average human body is worth. Dare we mix financial net worth with that?  Just for grins, let's do that.  Let's pick on Ariana Grande.  She could tiptoe to 5'-1" and perhaps tip the scales at 100 pounds.  Financially, her net worth is estimated at $250 million plus several Guinness World records. However, her widely gossiped weight loss put her physical net worth at the bottom rung of the ladder, quite well below the average run-of-the-mill sumo wrestler at between 250 to 450 pounds. But then top ranked sumo wrestlers could only earn $100 grand annually, while most will barely get $30 K a year. Grand champions can earn more but they won't cover Ariana's jet flights and limo service alone between concerts and shows.

That's what I meant by a set of double meanings for net worth. Which is, "neither here nor there", some of you might say.

Let's segue to something else. You are reading this because your DNA, which is the most durable and enduring part of your existence, managed to survive countless and uninterrupted cell divisions over eons. Had there been just a single break, you would not be here.  Think about that. Before your parents met to conceive you also means that each of their parents had to have met to go through the same process as did all the generations earlier who started the "ball rolling", so to speak, that kept on rolling that hopefully is still rolling because you gave it another push through your own child or children.

DNA is not only a road map that leads backwards in time and towards the future, but it is also a blueprint for making generations of inheritors yet to come. 

This microscopic double helix strand of material is so plentiful in the average human body that if connected end-to-end into a single strand will extend to 10 billion miles, way past the orbit of Pluto, Bill Bryson wrote.

In a sense, there  should never be a question about your net worth, despite what your bank account says.

Let's talk about the other net worth. There are, for example, intangible net worth of a person's accomplishments and contributions for societies' benefit. What value should put on Abraham Lincoln's and Martin Luther King's moral and social net worth?

What is the net worth of a physician who chose to practice in the poorest rural communities of Bangladesh, Bhutan, or the mountainous regions of Mindanao in the Philippines or Quitman or Tallahatchie in the Mississippi Delta in the wealthy USA? 

How do we compare the net worth of a Masai herder in Tanzania who owns a handful of cattle with  a Texas rancher?

 

We can't. And, should we? No.

In the end, it is really what net worth anyone has accumulated that he or she will be remembered for.  In other words, what intangible net worth we leave behind is what counts. Of course, both intangible and physical assets are governed by the same rule, "you can't take it with you". Or, can you? Perhaps, there is that kind of non-material DNA that is also passed on from generation to generation with  a far wider and far longer reach than material goods. That, I suspect, is why civilization is able to transcend beyond moral inequities.  And so we must hope.

Hospital, Nurses, Doctors, Medicine

Hospital, nurses, doctors and medicine. Ordinarily we may say that it is a place where we would rather not be; and those are folks we'd prefer to know only socially; it is something we'd rather not take. But, there will come  a time when it is the place where we want to be, those are the people we want to tend to us, and yes it is something we willingly want to take into or apply to our bodies. 

Continuing on from the last musing in "Longevity Medicine?", this also takes us back to "Through The Eyes See You", (July 11, 2023 post).

But first, a little humor:

"A mechanic was removing a cylinder head from the motor of a car when he spotted a well-known cardiologist in his shop.

The cardiologist was there waiting for the service manager to come and take a look at his car when the mechanic shouted across the garage, “Hey doc, want to take a look at this?”

The cardiologist, a bit surprised, walked over to where the mechanic was working. The mechanic straightened up, wiped his hands on a rag and asked,

“So doc, look at this engine. I opened its heart, took the valves out, repaired or replaced anything damaged, and then put everything back in, and when I finished, it worked just like new. So how is it that I make $48,000 a year and you make $1.7 million when you and I are doing basically the same work?”

The cardiologist paused, leaned over and whispered to the mechanic…

“Try doing it with the engine running”.

It was in the early morning hours of Wednesday (before Thanksgiving) when I took my wife to the ER at the nearby hospital. She complained about severe pain on the left side of her  neck, just below the jaw line. Two days earlier, she was seen by a primary care doctor for the same pain. The doctor didn't really find anything wrong based on physically examining her neck. My wife's body temperature was not elevated to indicate an infection. Tylenol seemed to be the only appropriate medication.

She was fine until that Wednesday morning when the pain became unbearable. 

Again, there was little the medical staff were able to do for much of the early morning.  The ER doctor, in consultation with an off-site EENT doctor via phone, told us that my wife needed an MRI. All of these activities, of course, seem to be in slow motion that took up the rest of the morning. Then it was all about waiting for somebody somewhere to read the results, submit to the off-site EENT specialist, and wait for her recommendation.  As can be imagined it was all painstakingly glacial.

MRI indicated a mass of tissue right about where the pain was, between the base of her tonsils and part of the neck muscle.  It could be a tumor or some kind of an anomaly (hints of malignancy, reading between the lines). By late afternoon, it was decided that there was a pocket of infected tissue that needed to be drained. The procedure though not a full blown surgery was still going to be partly invasive and required the facilities and expertise of specialists at the  main hospital at the Texas Medical Center. This was almost a repeat scenario that I described in "Through The Eyes See You", just over two years ago.

It was nightfall by the time the ambulance transfer occurred.  I drove to the hospital shortly afterwards after a quick stop at our home to get her medication and other things she might need while confined. 

She was admitted to the ER (again). It was shortly after nine p.m. when I got there. Just about then two young EENT doctors came.  (Remember, this was the eve of Thanksgiving). Young as in almost fresh out of a four year college but first impressions vanished when they started talking and examining her.  Apparently, one was the senior doctor who was doing much of the talking.  They left momentarily, then came back with some science fiction apparatus consisting of a potable gizmo with a video screen and a thin flexible black "snake" (as best as I can describe it) with bright eyes at its "head". He explained that it was going to be uncomfortable as the other doctor inserted the snake into my wife's nostril.  As they were doing it, the lead doctor had his camera ready while instructing the other doctor where to go with the probe. He took a series of still pictures as the probe changed locations.  I watched the screen and as far as I can tell the probe was taking different views all around what I assumed was the tissue or growth in question.  My wife didn't complain about the discomfort.

At about that time the nurse came with a clipboard, pen and some documents for me to sign in preparation for the planned procedure. 

The senior doctor told the nurse to hold off on the documentation. He had sent the pictures to the head EENT who I assumed was off-site, probably at home (it was already 10 p.m.).  He told me that they will discuss it among themselves (meaning the doctors).  He was going to recommend against  the procedure to drain and they left.  Shortly after, they came back.  It was agreed that they go with massive antibiotics through IV which will be done upstairs where my wife was to be confined. 

I went home and came back the following morning. All through the night antibiotics flowed through her vein via the IV at 6-hour intervals. She was feeling better.  We spent Thanksgiving at the hospital.  But, you know what, nurses worked around the clock and doctors came by.  They too were spending their Thanksgiving there and at work.  I found out later that these doctors, nurses, and staff will have days off around Christmas Day. For these folks it was simply a choice between which holidays they'd be at work.

All throughout, the nurse assigned to my wife came and went at precise intervals, always bubbly in her demeanor and each time explaining what medications she was giving, including administering medicines through syringes into the IV to keep her body's chemical balances appropriately maintained on  potassium, sodium, insulin and glucose, etc. 

By Friday afternoon, the day after Thanksgiving, the nurse came with the release paperwork signed by the doctor (from somewhere in the hospital because we never did see her or him) and we headed for home. 

Hospital, Nurses, Doctors, Medicine.

Today, these are the modern-day dispensers of  miracles.  We are deeply grateful for  the services of all four, including all the hospital staff.  But we are particularly grateful for the petite young nurse, barely  five feet tall in her thick-soled sneakers, who came and went in and out of the hospital room with her cheerful spirits for the two days that my wife was confined.

 

It is our greatest wish for this Season that soon, that in the not so distant future, everyone, everywhere will have access to health care, modern health care that is.  And is it too frivolous to wishfully imagine for the wealth of rich nations to also flow towards the health of the inhabitants of the entire world?  Someday perhaps.

Longevity Medicine?

What Is Longevity Medicine?

"Longevity Medicine encompasses several interconnected approaches that work to promote optimal aging".

It is not exactly a new branch of medicine as in pediatrics, internal medicine, OB/GYN, ophthalmology, etc., at least not yet, but is gaining interest both in the medical field and from among those of a certain age.  Namely, the seniors among us, me included. The quote below explains it best:

"As modern medicine evolves, a new and exciting frontier is taking shape—Longevity Medicine. Unlike traditional healthcare models focused primarily on disease management, longevity medicine aims to extend both lifespan and healthspan—the number of years a person lives in good health, free from chronic disease and disability. This emerging specialty blends cutting-edge science with personalized care to slow biological aging, restore cellular health, and extend one’s quality of life".

From the time of the pharaohs, and perhaps even much earlier, humanity grappled with ways to living longer.  Actually, in the case of the pharaohs, it was about crossing the threshold from one physical existence into another. What was puzzling, of course, was the idea of mummification. If the belief was about continuing into the afterlife of a non-physical soul, why preserve the old body devoid of internal organs and fluids? Then what? A skeptic might  ask. I included this merely as an aside with a trifle connection to what modern longevity is all about.

What is worth noting is that early on in the history of our species twenty years was an average lifespan.  By the time of the pharaohs up to the Roman empire, to be thirty to forty years old was likely terminal. 

Today we are at a place and time where the average lifespan has more than doubled from where it was many centuries ago. It is deemed a natural progression brought on by better healthcare, nutrition and environment. In developed countries, that is, but even in so-called third world nations lifespan has gone up a lot better than what was during the Roman Empire's model of modern life during that era. 

This can lead us to conclude that perhaps  generations from now people could be looking at a lifespan of 150 years?  We can't know what outlook and attitude those accorded that kind of opportunity - to live for that long -  because we can't know what life is going to be like one or two centuries into the future. That is assuming, of course, that humanity will somehow manage itself into a couple or more centuries into the future.  If humans get to that point we can only imagine what it would be like for anyone to be alive and see his or her great, great grandchildren. Imagine being alive for three generations of offspring past one's 75th birthday! 

Recently, a research doctor named Peter Attia who specializes in longevity medicine was featured on "60 Minutes".  "Attia’s philosophy centers on prevention, precision, and personalized health management. His mission is not merely to extend life expectancy, but to enhance the quality of those extra years". 

Apparently, according to Attia,  seventy years of age (+/- ten) is generally considered that point  when things begin to break down physiologically.  In other words if our body were an engine, parts would begin to wear out. Now, while an engine can be overhauled with new parts, only so much is attainable with human physiology.  And just like engines, human bodies are subject to normal wear and tear, abuse, varying responses to stresses or the occasional good fortune of the "luck of the draw" among centenarians. 

There is really not much new to learn  more than what we know already beyond the baselines of genetics, nutrition, environment, sociocultural influences, physical activities including regular exercise, and advances in both preventive and maintenance medicine (including physiological interventions, such as surgeries and skeletal replacements, i.e. knee, hips, etc.) and organ transplants.

Meanwhile, researchers and medical scientists have come up with the Longevity Pyramid.  If you can't read the fine print, they are from the bottom up: Diagnostics; Lifestyle interventions and non-physical aspects; Dietary supplements; Pharmacological and non-pharmacological interventions; Experimental strategies.

Like I said, there is little that we don't already know, given what little or plenty of reading we've done or what more we can learn in the future.  Meanwhile, those of us of a certain age may not only  learn or benefit from today's advances in medicine but also from a "holistic approach that focuses on treating and preventing disease by addressing many aspects of a person's life, including mental, physical, spiritual, and social health". 

The latter is perhaps something we really need to focus on. I would like to think that it is an option we may need to give more thoughts into.  More on this at the bottom.

It can be daunting according to  Bill Bryson, an international best selling author, who wrote   in, "A Brief History of Nearly Everything": 

"It is a curious feature of our existence that we come from a planet that is very good at promoting life but even better at extinguishing it".

We can extract multiple meanings from that statement - from mass extinction of species to man's proclivity to make war and exact violence against each other that accounts for a large number of extinguished lives. And there are natural calamities too that do the same thing. We can also look at it from that perspective or from the limits imposed by nature or the Creator on our lifespan, for lack of a better way to express it. Setting all of these aside there is actually one thing that is worth thinking about.

You see, all things being equal, if we can for a minute assume that that is possible, doctors, clinicians and psychologists tell us that the power of positive thinking may indeed  have a far greater influence on the quality of life at whatever point, wherever and whenever we are along the way in our life's journey.  However, positive thinking is that catch-all phrase that is both easy and hard to define. Not only that but such a state of mind will vary from person to person.

Let's think about this for a minute. First, speaking of think, the greatest miracle in our existence is that of our ability of self awareness despite this one little fact - that every part of our body, singly and on their own, down to the single atom that makes up our entire physiology, such as our skin, liver, kidney, heart, including even the three pound mass that is encased inside our skull, every bone, etc. - is completely unaware of who we are. Yet, we have this thing called consciousness  that knows and think about who we are and where we are, yet it defies explanation.

Let's add another minute to think.  There again, we think but do we know how we just simply do it? Rene Descartes famously said, "I think therefore I am", perhaps one of the simpler yet intriguing explanations about being self aware. hence proving one's existence to oneself but clearly not defined as something that can be physically investigated.  Yes, surgeons during brain surgery can stimulate parts of the brain to trigger the body to respond but science is still unable to say exactly what consciousness is. 

This leads us back to thinking that leads to the question, "What is positive thinking"? 

I started writing this before Thanksgiving but did not quite finish it in time. It would have been most appropriate, really, had I finished it for the message that I wanted to convey.

I believe that to be grateful for not just one thing but for everything we can think of that is good prepares us to cultivate the plot upon which we plant, maintain, nourish and grow positive thinking.  Expressions of gratitude, vocally spoken to ourselves, to our loved ones and friends, and most of all in our prayers to God, for  all the good things we have, not for what we wish to have, is the best way to draw or invite positive thoughts into our minds.

Perhaps it is not so much our quest for long life but how well we live it and recognizing that the price of the ticket for living longer is to grow old. We, each one of us, were handed an open train ticket at the beginning of our journey with options to switch rails along the way, as often as we like, and that the final price for the ticket is not due till the end of our journey, wherever and whenever that may be.  Recognizing the ups and downs along the way is part of life's journey but it is by focusing on the "ups" for the most part that will make us grateful and it is by expressing our gratitude that invites positive thoughts. 

If positive thoughts are indeed part of longevity medicine, then gratitude is the best antidote to negative thoughts. There is no greater opportunity for gratitude than the coming holidays. If there is one thing to remember, gratitude and "speaking it loud" and shared with others will amount to heavy discounts on the final ticket price.  Let's all travel well with this longevity medicine.

P.S. I mentioned earlier about not finishing this before Thanksgiving. It was because I took my wife to the ER on Wednesday, then she was transferred to the Medical Center where we spent Thanksgiving Day. Thankfully, we were back home on Friday. And there was so much to be thankful for. We are  grateful for modern medicine, the doctors, nurses, hospital staff and the prayers and well wishes of loved ones and friends.  The entire experience is for another musing perhaps.

 

New York City Voted; Was It Murder or Suicide?

The second half of the lengthy title comes from part of a quote by Ayn Rand. Let's read the entire quote first and follow with a brief story of her early life that will help explain it. For those not familiar with Ayn Rand, she gained fame for writing the two critically acclaimed books, "The Fountainhead" and "Atlas Shrugged", both later made into movies and a TV series.

“There is no difference between communism and socialism, except in the means of achieving the same ultimate end: communism proposes to enslave men by force, socialism—by vote. It is merely the difference between murder and suicide.”

― Ayn Rand

She was born Alissa Rosenbaum on Feb. 2, 1905, the eldest of three children of Zinovy Rosenbaum, a prosperous pharmacist in St. Petersburg, which was then the capital of Russia.  She was twelve years old going on thirteen when in 1918, after the Russian Revolution, her father's shop, hence his entire business and means of livelihood, was confiscated by the communists who took over running the new government. Through the eyes of a twelve year old girl who witnessed what happened to her family, resentment would have been the least of her emotional responses. Certainly, it must have been more than a temporary psychological trauma to a young girl.

She grew up under communist rule. Later, she studied history at the University of Leningrad, graduated in 1924, but went on to take up cinematography, hoping to become a screenwriter. It was in 1926  upon the invitation of her cousins living in Chicago, when she came to the U.S. She was allowed to leave the communist USSR on the "pretext of gaining expertise that she could apply in the Soviet film industry", according to Britannica.

She changed her name to Ayn Rand (Ayn, pronounced  as in fine). Then her life changed even more when she met the famous film director, Cecil B. de Mille (of Ten Commandments fame) that brought her to Hollywood to fulfill her dream of working in the film industry. She became an American citizen in 1931.  She went on to become a screenwriter which led  her to writing several books including the two mentioned earlier.

Melding her experiences of growing up in communist-ruled Soviet Union, her studies of history and philosophy, and the obvious differences presented by the fortuitous turn of events in her life and those of her relatives in America, became the foundation upon which her whole life's philosophy was based.

Like the thousands upon thousands of immigrants who came to America to seek refuge from the ills and misfortunes they suffered from oppressive regimes of either socialism or communism that prevailed in Eastern Europe and Russia  after the Bolshevik revolution and China after Mao's regime, and the aftermath of two world wars, Ayn Rand saw America as an intensely bright beacon for all people around the world.

As a result of her experiences with communist rule and the framework of socialism that it was based upon, Ayn Rand detested the idea of collectivism as a means to supplant the rights of the individual. Collectivism is essentially the engine that powers socialism. Collecting the wealth and resources of the state through central planning and re-distributing it to society as a means of control effectively erases the idea of individualism.

"The horrors of twentieth-century socialism—of Lenin, Stalin, Hitler, Mussolini, Mao, and Pol Pot—were the offspring of 1917 (Russian Revolution). Seventy years earlier, Marx and Engels predicted the overthrow of bourgeois rule would require violence and “a dictatorship of the proletariat . . . to weed out remaining capitalist elements.” Lenin conducted this “weeding out” using indiscriminate terror, as Russian socialists before him had done and others would continue to do after his death".

"The late Rudolph Rummel, the demographer of government mass murder, estimated the human toll of twentieth-century socialism to be about 61 million in the Soviet Union, 78 million in China, and roughly 200 million worldwide. These victims perished during state-organized famines, collectivization, cultural revolutions, purges, campaigns against “unearned” income, and other devilish experiments in social engineering".

"In its monstrosity, this terror is unrivaled in the course of human history".

Lenin’s coup on November 7, 1917, the day Kerensky’s provisional government fell to Bolshevik forces, opened a new stage in human history: a regime of public slavery. Collectivist economic planning led to coercion, violence, and mass murder. Marx and Engels had defined socialism as “the abolition of private property. The most fundamental component of private property, self-ownership, was abolished first".

Ayn Rand saw how communism was responsible for the death of millions. She witnessed later in life the pivot to socialism where the same principle of communism was sold to the electorate in democratic systems through legitimate elections.  Thus, "It is merely the difference between murder and suicide.”

Socialism has no regard for individualism; neither for individual achievement that will put that person in a position of personal wealth by working harder.  Socialism is a world where people like Carnegie, Ford and Rockefeller, Bill Gates and Elon Musk, Steve Jobs and Jeff Bezos will not and cannot exist.  These men are examples of the few who in the beginning dreamt as individuals. They were in fact minorities, so to speak, in terms of their dreams and aspirations.  Socialism does not recognize the plight of the individual and neither their rights. Society is socialism's ultimate minority and individualism a non-entity.

Ayn Rand came up with and founded the idea of Objectivism - "the philosophy of rational individualism". 

Those dreamers all had and still have in them the quest to excel in whatever  ambitions that percolated personally to achieved goals far beyond expectations of many others.  Ayn Rand saw that  the country that adopted her provided the counter argument against communism where by consent of its people adapted capitalism. Thus capitalism became the engine that moved the train of industrialization. And in her eyes the locomotive moved with very little interference from the government.

She supported "Laissez-faire", that in French means "let it be", which called for as little intervention from the government in the conduct of business and commerce, "suggesting that economies thrive best when left alone".  She saw growing up what it was like when the government had its hands and signature in commerce and industry.

Capitalism which embraces the free market and open competition was and still is responsible for innovations, provides fuel for the engine that powers growth and development, along with promoting a responsive business environment for a better economic order. For two hundred fifty years capitalism had worked in this country.

So, what has this all got to do with the New York City election? And the one in Seattle? Both mayoral candidates who won are self described democratic socialists. What is a democratic socialist?  A socialist brought to the seat of government through a legitimate democratic process.  But if we listen carefully they want to change the very same system that gave them the opportunity to be elected.

There are copious amounts of quotes from these socialists that provide insights into their political and social philosophies thru their speeches and responses to questions from the media.

Asked directly whether billionaires should have a right to exist, Mamdani, the new mayor-elect in New York, who identifies himself as a democratic socialist, told NBC News’ “Meet the Press,” “I don’t think that we should have billionaires because, frankly, it is so much money in a moment of such inequality, and ultimately, what we need more of is equality across our city and across our state and across our country.”

Both mayor-elects (New York and Seattle) and several others who aspire for election in other states/cities have a common agenda - change the system that had worked for two hundred years with something called socialism, as if this is a new thing.  Socialism has never worked anywhere it was tried and it will still not work even if dressed with a different set of clothing. It has not worked in the USSR, Cuba, Venezuela and everywhere it was implemented because it stifles individuals from innovating and striving for excellence.

Ayn Rand believes that:

"Objectivism holds that there is no greater moral goal than achieving one's happiness. But one cannot achieve happiness by wish or whim. It requires rational respect for the facts of reality, including the facts about our human nature and needs. It requires living by objective principles, including moral integrity and respect for the rights of others. Politically, Objectivists advocate laissez-faire capitalism".

"Objectivism is benevolent, holding that the universe is open to human achievement and happiness and that each person has within him the ability to live a rich, fulfilling, independent life."

Let's hear from another notable lady from recent history, Margaret Thatcher:

"In her famous quote, Margaret Thatcher succinctly captures the essence of socialism, highlighting a fundamental flaw in its economic structure. "The problem with socialism is that you eventually run out of other people's money." These words capture the essence of an economically unsustainable system, where the reliance on redistributing wealth can lead to an inevitable depletion of resources. Thatcher's statement serves as a cautionary reminder that without a balanced approach to economic policies, societies may face severe consequences. The meaning behind Thatcher's quote is straightforward. Socialism, as an economic and political ideology, aims to create a more equitable society by redistributing wealth and resources. However, this approach neglects one crucial aspect: somebody has to generate the wealth in the first place. While sharing wealth and providing equal opportunities are admirable goals, they are dependent upon the investment, entrepreneurship, and innovation that come from individuals and businesses.

We hear it from these new politicians (new in the U.S., anyway) that there is a need to "tax the rich" in this country to achieve a proper distribution of wealth in the ultimate noble goal towards equity. 

Perhaps, the silver lining, if there is going to be one, is that New York City and Seattle will become shining examples to showcase once again the folly and ultimate failure of socialism. 

On the other hand, we might see dark clouds gathering  if for some reason the unthinkable does happen. That is a scenario I do not wish for this great land which I described four years ago in, 

"2050: The Ebb of the Tragic Trajectory of a Once Powerful Nation"

Link:  https://abreloth.blogspot.com/2021/10/2050-ebb-of-tragic-trajectory-of-once.html

A Story Never Once Told Till Now

This is a story that needed to be told. Up to this moment no one else has known about it. I have not told anyone. Not my closest friends. Not my wife even. But it must be told now.

It happened a long time ago.  By right, this should have been forgotten, never to be heard by anyone else.  Never to be discussed.  But, I'm afraid I must. 

I was twelve years old when this story began as the long, lazy days of summer were about to end in 1958. I was actually excited for the new school year later that June when I and the rest of the baby boomers (those born immediately after the war - WWII) were about to enter high school. What we called the summer break at the end of the school year had nothing to do with the seasonal summer as known in temperate countries. The Philippines, like all the Pacific countries that lie along and near the equator only have two seasons - dry and wet.  Where I was born in one of the central islands of the Philippine archipelago, the two-month break between school years was merely dubbed summer just to be consistent with American education, upon which our school system was based.  The end of a school year usually fell in the middle of April and the start of the new school year began in mid-June. 

The seaside barrio of the island where I grew up was sparsely populated with no more than a couple thousand people, almost half of which were children and teenagers. So,  everyone knew everyone.  Except for the  family that lived in a big house that stood out and a bit away from among the nipa huts and shanties.  That house somehow survived the war and the Japanese occupation.  It had a concrete wall and an iron gate fronting the street. The back that was facing the sea only had a picket fence and some shrubs and tall grasses.  Only  coconut trees and a few meters of white sand separated the back  from the surf. 

Typical of any beach, during  low tide a good swath of what's beneath the waves during high tide would be exposed to an ankle-deep watery sand, stones and rocks encrusted with barnacles, oysters, moss and seaweed.  It is during low tide when a handful of us boys would join many other locals to explore and exploit whatever was exposed by the receding sea.  There were small crabs and fish caught in tidal pools but what some  young kids and I did was to dig for clams that were under the sand.  But we didn't just dig randomly because there was strategy and technique involved. We had long bamboo sticks, the length and rigidity of a cane with a pointy metal tip fastened to the bottom end.  Beneath the wet sand or even with about an inch of water was where we would use the stick like a blind person would do when walking. We poked and probed the sand left to right, right to left, while pacing forward with our attention focused at each strike.  If the stick hits an area where there is clam underneath we'd see water squirt upwards.  That happens when the clam feels threatened. It rapidly forces water out through a tube-like appendage as it retracts that part of its anatomy downwards. That action helps it to burrow a bit farther down the soft, sometimes muddy sand. That's where we will dig to get the clam.

One afternoon I was by myself because none of the other boys were around.  There was a scattering of people who were busy doing whatever it was they were occupied with. I too must have been preoccupied as well by going a little farther away from where we usually went, unaware until I looked towards the beach. I  realized I was standing right at the back of the big house. 

Just outside the fence and under a coconut tree was a young girl who I imagined was my age hunched over something on  the sand.  She looked up and saw me staring at her.  She waved her hand for me to come over.  As I got closer she picked up an injured bird from the ground. She said that maybe one of the boys from somewhere nearby had hit it with a slingshot.  One wing was stretched out away from its body and I saw a bit of blood.

"What's going on out there?" said a voice coming from inside the fence.  It was from a lady of about fifty or sixty years. If she was that age she was old, I thought. But her light brown skin was smooth and wrinkle free.  

"We found this injured bird mama", I was surprised she said "we".  The lady summoned us both to bring the bird over.  She held it close to her face for maybe a minute or so while blowing her breath to the bird.  Then she gave it to her daughter.

"It's fine. Let go and it will fly away."  Sure enough, the bird flew away quickly and away. It happened so fast I was stunned to even say anything. Anyhow, she then said, looking at me, "This here is Adelina, my daughter", pointing at the girl.  Then Adelina said, "She's my mother and I have two older sisters".  

"You tell us your name and I will have  some bread and guava jelly for you two." I said my name.  "May I wash my hands from that faucet there"?, I asked.  

Adelina went inside the house following her mother.  Shortly after that, in about a couple of minutes, Adelina came back followed by the maid with a plate of sliced bread with a saucer of guava jelly. The maid said she'll come back with some soft drinks.  I knew Adelina noticed my eyes widened at the sight of the snack as the maid set it on the small outdoor table.  The plate with the bread  was a thick gold rimmed white China with matching saucer filled with guava jelly and fine silver teaspoon and knife on the side.  It was one unforgettable merienda for a boy used to nothing but boiled yam or banana or cold leftover rice topped with coarse brown sugar for snacks.  But Adelina hardly ate at all; instead, she just watched me with an easy smile framed by strands of jet-black hair that draped along the contours of her smooth, light brown face.  Actually she had a much fairer  skin than most Filipinos but nonetheless a true Filipina beauty.

I bade my goodbye to Adelina as the sun was about to sink over the horizon. I remember those beautiful sunsets. "I will tell mama that you said goodbye", when I turned my face towards the backdoor of the house.

I was so excited to tell everyone at home when I got back though I skipped the part about the injured bird. My mother was not too happy.  She said, "Don't ever go back there again." 

"Why?" I asked back.

"We don't know those people.  They are very strange and they also don't want to be part of this barrio. Do you see them come around even during fiesta?"

"But.."

My mother interrupted me, "Just don't ever go back there ever again, all right?"

I obediently heeded her admonition. The days went by fast as the new school year came. I was excited about high school but at the same time intimidated by having to compete with students who  finished from the different elementary schools from around the entire city and nearby towns who will also enroll in the one big high school. Our entire sixth grade class was twenty-two students.  The freshman class of the provincial public high school had twenty four sections of twenty to twenty five students each. Those who did well based on their sixth grade performance in elementary made Section One of the freshman class. Maintaining high grades to stay in Section One was what mattered most, we were told early on.

One mid afternoon I was at the school library doing some reading when from the left corner of the table I heard a voice, "Hi, you remember me?" 

It was Adelina. 

"You look surprised to see me". Indeed, I was.  There she was wearing the high school girls' uniform of white blouse and pleated maroon skirt. I expected her to go to the one private Catholic school blocks away from the public high school, so I didn't particularly look for her within our school.

"Shall we talk outside?  If the driver comes early I don't want him looking for me. So, why haven't I seen you out there in the surf?  I've actually looked many times to see if you were out there digging for clams."

"Actually, I avoided going  near your home.  I mean.."

"Mean what?"

"You know I live in one of those nipa huts out there at the end of the road further down from your home.  None of the houses there have electric lights. No electricity, period. And the clams I'd bring home were often part of dinner."

"Wait, are you embarrassed about all that? Before I could say anything, she said, "Oh here's the driver now.  And Mama too. I have to go."

That was it for  weeks that followed. I was focused on school. To stay in Section One meant maintaining good grades. And there are those in the lower sections striving to get elevated to Section One so the possibility was real and so was the embarrassment of demotion to Section Two, or worse, Section Four and beyond.

Every now and then  Adelina and I would run into each other.  It was a big school and she was a sophomore already so our classes hardly intersected. Sometimes she'd invite me to the school cafeteria if our breaks between classes coincided, but she had friends with her and she secretly paid for my snack without the other girls knowing it. I mean, I hardly had ten centavos in my pocket. 

Later though, I'd make excuses not to meet up with her and her friends anymore. She knew I was avoiding her.

It was almost near the end of the school year when Adelina caught up with me as I was heading to the exit gate to walk home.

"Hi. Are you still mad at me?"

"No, why should I be?" 

"Listen. School will soon end. I'd like to talk to you before the long break from school  begins. Tomorrow, Friday, my mom and two sisters will go to the hacienda early.  The driver will be back to pick me up from school in the afternoon but we won't leave together with the two maids till the following morning. I'd like you to have an early dinner with me tomorrow  at home. I promise you will be back to your family by sunset."

Somehow, I said yes, ignoring what my mother said. 

The following afternoon as the bell rang I gathered my books and ran to the front of the main school building.  There was a big black car and a hand was waving from the open rear window. 

"You didn't have to run.  I just got here myself". 

The driver, glancing at the rear view mirror said, "This is your first time to ride in a car, isn't it?"

That set Adelina to a controlled fury I did not expect. "Why don't you just drive us home.  There is no need to insult my friend that way. We pay you to just drive, that is all you have to do." It was a short drive really but the palpable silence that followed made  it painfully long.

By the time we got out of the car Adelina was back to her usual cheery mood.  The driver said something about the time of the morning he will be back for the drive to the hacienda. Adelina said, "Come a little bit early so you can eat breakfast here".  The driver smiled, said yes, and looked at me as if to say sorry. I motioned as if to say it was nothing.

"Sit down.  We'll start eating at before five, is that all right?"

"Sure," I said, almost absentmindedly as I marveled at the "sala" which means living room or receiving area of a big house. There was white polished marble floor and thick, heavy  drapes around, some paintings and small corner tables where there were corners.

The maid came with two glasses of cold water and some thinly sliced ham. "Don't eat too much of that so you don't spoil your appetite,"  Adelina said smiling.

"I know you probably have some questions to ask me.  Perhaps, why am I in a public high school instead of the private La Consolacion Catholic School?  My two sisters went there before the war and then went on to study in Madrid.  You see, our father together with my two sisters left for Spain just before the war started.  My mother was to follow but then after Pearl Harbor and the bombing of Manila the next day, she was not able to leave.  I was born in 1944 just as the war was winding down."

"My two sisters came back in 1946 without father.  He died there of a heart attack in 1945. I see that puzzled look in your face. My mother met another man who helped her manage the haciendas while my sisters and father were in Spain. So, Florinda and Esperanza are my half sisters. They're twenty three and twenty four years old now. You don't need to know the details about my birth.  Nobody really paid attention during the chaos of the war when my mother was pregnant with me. She stayed at the hacienda, secluded and away from those who knew her. 

So, that makes me two years older than you since you were born after the war. 

"Yes", I said.

The maid announced that dinner was ready.

Adelina continued talking as we headed to the dining area. "As you can see, unlike my two mestiza sisters who are very fair skinned,  I look all Filipina because I took after my mother's brownish skin. My mother wanted me to go to the public high school and I wanted to as well.  That is why I am not at La Consolacion."

There was a twelve-seat dining table at the huge dining area but food was laid out for us on a square table next to a window.  I have not seen  so much meat served on the table that way.  There was sinigang of meat and vegetable and meats cooked adobo style and one plate with grilled chicken.

Adelina talked and ate but she did it with such grace I hardly noticed  her mouth full. It was a new experience for me, to say the least. 

I was so full I barely touched the mango dessert.

She spoke for just a bit about her two sisters and their father. Their father was one of the  Spanish land barons who owned much of the haciendas that grew sugar cane. Florinda and Esperanza took more from their father. She showed me the picture frame on the wall. They were typical Spanish mestizas, half Spanish, half Filipina.  They looked beautiful, I thought, a most perfect blend of the two races. But Adelina was really pretty,  and I told her that. She blushed and thanked me for saying it.

It was close to six o'clock by the time we finished.  She understood I had to leave as the sun was setting. I walked home disbelieving what just happened.  I had to come up with a good excuse for coming home late and an even better excuse for not eating as much during dinner.

I didn't see Adelina for the next two months. She did tell me that the family would be spending more time at the hacienda or go on trips to Manila for  much of the two months that school was out. She mentioned about being excited at becoming a junior in high school next year and can't really wait to be in college. My prospect for college was a 50-50 possibility, I told her. She had some encouraging words for me at dinner that one late afternoon but I really can't remember what they were. 

I saw her  the weekend before the start of the new school year.

That afternoon I went to dig for clams during the low tide. I wasn't really into it other than to walk near Adelina's home. My heart beat faster when I saw her waving for me to come over.

"I will be away for good.  Sadly, I must and you won't see me after today forever."

"What?"

"I will tell you later tonight.  Make some excuse at home but be here at around nine. Come through the back.  I know the moon is out and it's going to be dark but please come."

Then out the back door, her two sisters appeared. Yes, indeed, they were gorgeous and tall. One said, "So, this is your friend. Hi, one of them said.  I'm Florinda and this is Esperanza.  Good to meet you. We're running late Adelina, you need to change quickly.  We're going out. We don't want mother to come out here to get us, do we? So sorry we have to go but it was good to meet you at last."

I was too, I said.  Adelina smiled, fluttering her fingers as if to say, "Later". Then all three turned towards the door.  

I mustered the best excuse I could come up with. I told my parents that I and several friends will get together that evening to bid goodbye to the last day of vacation from school. My parents bought it but I must be home by no later than 10:00.  Ten o'clock at night was really late, so my parents were very permissive that evening. In those days people were mostly in bed by nine.

I brought the flashlight.  That was not unusual back then when there were no street lights on unpaved paths. I did go see some friends who were just hanging out at a friend's backyard. I needed to have my story straight in case my parents checked later. I reached Adelina's home through the back.  Their home was dark except for the light downstairs.  Then I saw the door open. Adelina waved me in.

She explained that the maids are usually allowed  one weekend a month away to be with their families. "They sleep at the maid's quarter, of course, on most days but not tonight. There's nobody but me and you .."

"What about your mother and sisters?"

"That's what I was going to talk to you about.  Come upstairs.  Use your flashlight so we don't have to turn the lights on." We reached the upstairs foyer and Adelina pointed to a door.  "This room here is always locked. Nobody goes in here.  The three other bedrooms we use. I sleep in one and my sisters sleep in the other two. Our mother sleeps downstairs.  There is also a guest room next to hers."

"Won't your sisters hear us?" She ignored what I said.

"I have the key to open this door. Turn the flashlight off."  I was behind her as we entered and I sensed the windows were wide open because  I felt the curtains being blown in by the breeze coming from the sea but the room was pitch black.

"Let me explain and you listen carefully. My mother and sisters go out by that window and they come back the same way."

"What are you talking about?"

"Surely, you have heard the stories, haven't you?  In a minute I will let you turn the flashlight on but not for very long, okay.  My mother and two sisters leave the lower half of their bodies here and they fly out.  Don't worry, they go far away from here.  Your barrio is safe from them."

I was trembling with fear at that point.  I wanted to leave right away but I froze. My legs felt numb.  

"Listen and listen carefully.  I like you and I wish we can really be friends forever but I am leaving after tonight."  Her voice is loud and clear but I can't see anything. 

"Now turn on the flashlight and turn it off right away."

I let out a shriek.  I felt the urge to pee but I held it. There were three pairs of legs under the skirts attached to their abdomens and nothing of the upper half.

"Shut the flashlight off now." She grabbed it from me and turned it off herself.

I was frozen stiff.  "You'll be alright. I'll get you some water downstairs.  Let's go."

I could not talk.  I don't know how I made it downstairs

She sat me down on a chair. I drank the water when she handed me the glass.

"I found out who my real father is and for all of fourteen years since my birth he knew who I was all along.  He manages one of the haciendas up to now.  I was oblivious to all of that but I knew he was always kind to me every time we visited the haciendas. He too is a mestizo. All that time I just knew him as the manager of the hacienda. He will be here before midnight to take me." 

"What will happen to.."

Before I could finish my question, Adelina said, "My father will know what to do.  Don't worry, everything will be alright. And by the way, I am so very sorry about all of these.

I thought I was going to throw up but I did not have the energy. "I am really sorry, I am. But we will make it right.  My father and I will, I promise."

I did not hear anything more what Adelina said after that although I knew she kept talking as I stood up to leave. I bolted out of there while Adelina started sobbing.  I managed to beat the 10 o'clock curfew.

The following morning it was all that people in the barrio talked about. Actually, it was all the talk over the radio stations in the entire city.

There was a fire in the early morning hours. It was not so much that but what the firemen and the police discovered. The top floor of the big house - Adelina's home - was completely burned.  Discovering that there were  bodies found in one of the rooms was one thing but the biggest mystery was the missing upper parts of the three pairs of legs near each other.  

Murder investigations started right away. The maids were cleared because they were with their families.  The driver and everyone that worked around the house were likewise cleared. It was established that Adelina was at one of  the family's haciendas that night. Forensic investigation back then was rudimentary but it was assumed that the bodies were those of the mother and her two daughters. The sympathies were focused on Adelina as the lone survivor of a heinous crime. However, people knew little about the family.

I never told anyone about what I saw that night and about ever knowing Adelina or what little I knew about her family.  First of all, I knew my mother warned me about  going back to the house ever again so it was  prudent to never tell anyone at all.  The crime remained unsolved and after a year the talks and rumors dissipated. Partly, that was due to the lukewarm sympathy for the rich family and their isolation from most people.

In the beginning it was a struggle to forget everything. But it got easier as time passed. I focused on school  and I stayed at Section One for all of four years of high school.

Somehow I was able to blot the whole saga out of my mind. I did go to college and worked in Manila.  I met my wife there and years later we immigrated to the U.S. with our two children. Fast forward to now and I am happily retired. My wife and I are enjoying the dream home that she and I both longed for from the time we got married, followed by the decision to immigrate to the U.S.

I have never once recounted that part of the story of my childhood to anyone.  Never once did I want to revisit those memories.

Never once until recently. 

I and my wife  would often hear strange sounds around the house, at night mostly. Then every now and then while watching TV in the family area, I'd catch a fleeting shadow of something move across the foyer about sixteen feet away where lighting was subdued.  One day my wife was looking for a couple of checks she had prepared to send out. At the same time I was missing a tool that I knew I had with me while working on something in the bedroom. I know there was no way I mislaid it and if I did I looked everywhere, even under the bed. It was just simply impossible to miss it. 

My wife never found the checks.  She knows she had written them because the duplicates were in the checkbook. I didn't find the tool either.

I woke up one night.  It was just past midnight. Nothing unusual because I would get up twice throughout the night to go to the bathroom. Or, as the case this time, I wanted to get a drink of water as my throat felt dry. I went out of the bedroom and walked to the kitchen. Before I could turn on the light I saw someone sitting on one of the chairs around the breakfast table.

She had a white dress. One elbow was resting on the table while the other was on her lap. She looked at me. It was the smile that brought it all back.

I said quietly, "Adelina?"

She just smiled. "But this is not possible. You should be over eighty years old now but it is you, isn't it?" Actually, it was her if she were in her twenties.

Then she spoke. "I aged only a year for every five of yours. You don't have to calculate. I would be twenty five, right?

"No, this is impossible.  How can you do this to me? It was torment that I was put through that night in 1959.  Why?"

"I am so sorry again. But this is really my last goodbye to you. I promise. I'm moving on to somewhere I will never return from to torment you, as you put it."

But how? How on earth is this happening? But I must know before you leave, if you are leaving at all.

"My father came half an hour after you were gone. He set the house on fire before we left just a little after midnight . My father knew that that was the only way to end the curse. He did not know about my mother and my two sisters until much later. I kind of suspected something when I turned thirteen. But it was when I turned fourteen when I confirmed to him what he suspected.  But it took him a while to conceive a plan."

"Did you know already when that bird flew out of your hand back on that day I met you?" 

"Yes. But I knew I was not like her or my two sisters."

"But why did you not age as much?"

"That is the sad part. You talk about your torment.  What about  my torment? I am my mother's daughter.  I had and still have her genes."

"You mean?"

"Yes. But this I promised myself then and now. You were really my only true friend although it was not much of a friendship, was it? I mean we didn't really get to be around each other much like real friends, did we?  It was two years later after the fire when I knew I had my mother's blood in me. But I kept my one promise.  I will never bother you, your family or any of the people in your barrio. But I became what I became and still am. But this is goodbye forever.

She smiled.  Then she looked sad. Her face transformed, then she vanished into thin air.

I stood there for a minute. Her face .. 

Socialism: Good Only For Ants, Bees and Termites

Socialism is a known success - for millions of years - among certain organisms.  These organisms owe their  existence and survival to that one and only that one system. We are talking about ants, bees and termites.  

The cartoon above, of course, illustrates the obvious - the entire ant colony is the offspring of the queen ant so every single ant is related to it and, naturally, to one another. (Note: Antcestors.com on the computer screen adds more to the humor). 

Even more significant is that the colony is a monarchy, lorded over by the queen which runs a socialist system that has made both the ants and termites as the  most successful species to have lived since the time of the dinosaurs.  They are also likely to survive, if it happens, the end-of-the-world cataclysm  that could wipe out  other species.  We'll get back to this later.

Now, how do we rate socialism in terms of its success or failure throughout our own human history? For one thing it has been tried more than once. There were several versions of it  and some iterations of socialism have been tried at different times or eras.

Formally, this year, there are 12 countries that have socialist constitutions; 10 countries that have  socialist ruling parties; 4 countries that have communist constitutions; 38 countries that have tried and abandon them altogether.  The only true remaining communist countries are China, Vietnam, Laos and Cuba.  China and Vietnam apparently run a hybrid version of communism where they run their economy like a capitalist while ruling the country as a communist regime.

By geographic area, about a third of the world have tried socialism and communism although a good chunk of it was the former USSR and the Warsaw pact countries like Hungary, Romania, Poland, Ukraine, etc.

Today, proponents are sensitive to being labeled as adhering to communism and insist that their idea is based on democratic socialism, not its extreme version which is, of course, communism. So, let's just call it socialism then. A generation ago, no political candidate in the U.S. would have had the courage to even hint the slightest inclination towards socialism.  Today, we have a New York city mayoral candidate openly admitting and espousing the merits of a socialist administration.  A handful members of congress are sympathetic and openly supports the mayoral candidate. 

Young people today seem to be enamored with socialism so let's see what definitions we can share with them. Italicized paragraphs signify actual quotes from several references but the "theme" is consistent.

"Communism is one of multiple variations of socialism. Therefore, communist countries are inherently socialist, but not all socialist countries are considered communist".

 

noun:

"A theory or system of social organization that advocates the ownership and control of the means of production and distribution, capital, land, etc., by the community as a whole, usually through a centralized government."

A political theory derived from Karl Marx, advocating class war and leading to a society in which all property is publicly owned and each person works and is paid according to their abilities and needs.

"Communism is a political and economic system that seeks to create a classless society in which the major means of production, such as mines and factories, are owned and controlled by the public. There is no government or private property or currency, and the wealth is divided among citizens equally or according to individual need. Many of communism’s tenets derive from the works of German revolutionary Karl Marx, who (with Friedrich Engels) wrote The Communist Manifesto (1848)."

What is a Socialist State?

"It can be difficult to accurately define a socialist country because the term has come to have many meanings and interpretations. Broadly speaking, socialism is a political and economic theory that seeks to close the gap between a nation’s rich and poor by ensuring that the means of production, distribution, and exchange of goods and services are publicly owned, not privately owned, so that the profits are shared by all, not hoarded by a few rich owners. However, that basic definition encompasses a wide range of real-world variations on socialism. In its purest form, socialism is decidedly progressive. In practice, socialist countries can run the gamut from impressively progressive to staunchly conservative, often hinging upon the level of corruption in the government."

That last phrase above is significant.  But first, we need to recognize that it was primarily the concentration of power and wealth among the royalty that primed the French Revolution (1787), followed by the Chinese revolution against the Qing dynasty (1911), then the revolt against Tsarist Russia (1917). Let us not forget though all the above were preceded by the American Revolution in 1776. Some historians claim that the French actually got their inspiration from  America. 

It was Karl Marx, German philosopher and revolutionary, who brought to light the brewing discontent of the people against the unjust aggregation of wealth and power only among the elite members of royalty that at that point was merely dictated by bloodline. But what he abhorred the most was capitalism that was fueling the emergence of industrialization and the notion that the workers were being taken advantage of. Perhaps true then but no longer true now.

Both are economic systems; however, their political platforms are diametric opposites.

A. Capitalism

1. In a democracy, its economic foundation is the capitalist system. It puts no limit to how much individuals, or groups pooled together into corporations, can earn in terms of return on what they put into a business. This creates different classes of people, tiered into Rich, Upper middle class, Middle class, and the Poor (usually needing public assistance)

2. Government is not generally involved in commerce

3. Individual freedom is guaranteed

B. Socialism

"From an economic perspective, socialism and communism are the same. They’re both based on government ownership, central planning, and price controls.

From a political perspective, however, there’s a difference. Communism is an authoritarian form of government, while socialism can be the outcome of the democratic process".       --------- Dan Mitchell

1.There is no class system, strictly speaking but in reality there is.

2. Individual freedom is severely curtailed. The power of the state supersedes everything

3. Resources and wealth belong entirely to the state

The two statements below are a way of looking at the difference between the two systems:

"It is easy being a communist in a free country

Try being free in a Communist country".

Back to the ants and termites. The way the colony is ran the queen rules as a  monarch - the one true benevolent dictatorship.  Each member of the colony is its offspring.  The rest of the colony are made up of infertile females (not capable of producing offspring) and males called drones.  The females do most of the work - foraging for food for the colony, caring for the eggs and the young. The queen can lay hundreds of eggs everyday and it determines whether those eggs will become females or males. The drones do very little until the need for their service arises.  At some point in the life of the colony, it will have grown so large that the need arises for a new colony to be established somewhere else.

At that point the queen will produce fertile females which will sprout wings and for many drones as well.  Both fertile females and drones will take to the air in a swarm to mate. Each female will mate with several males. The sad part is that every drone dies after mating.  It is also certain that few of the fertilized females will survive because of predations from predators like birds and bats and dragonflies, etc.

The surviving females will later find a suitable place in the ground to establish a new colony of her own where she will become queen. The cycle begins again.

And that is true for termite and bee colonies as well.  The queen gets the bulk of the food gathered by the workers and the rest goes to the larva after each egg hatches.  Each worker and drone gets only enough food to sustain them literary for just one day. Therefore, except for the queen, every other member of the colony gets only their daily share.  That is socialism. The fate of every other member of the colony is determined by the monarch queen. None of the workers or drones may determine on their own how to live their lives except as dictated by the queen. That is monarchy and a severe example of dictatorship. It works and splendidly so but good only for ants, bees and termites.

In March, 2019 I wrote then:  "The Freaky Economics of Income"

A quote from it: 

To get the very notion  of "equality of income for all" deeply ingrained in our psyche  defeats the very principle of the free economic system. 

Socialism is the illusion created by those in power so all their subjects will feel as if indeed they are all getting equal shares provided by the state. When Mao prescribed that everyone wear the same jacket style that came to be known as the Mao jacket, little did the general populace know that while they were wearing the same style, theirs was from coarse cotton while Mao and his entourage had theirs made from the finest silk or linen. 

Every would-be socialist must ask this question. Is income equality good for me as an individual? Is it so bad that I strive to have more income than the next person if I am capable of working harder to earn it?  Will socialism be as inspiring to entrepreneurs and innovators in a country like the U.S. that was built solely on the belief that "if we try harder we can be better than anyone else".