A fun part of my work is being parodied or otherwise becoming part of other people’s creative projects. I stumble into lots of examples of this. And, while I’ve heard several songs about myself, this one — which I just discovered today — is my favorite. Congratulations, Brenton Haack. I’ll take your lyrics in the most positive light possible. Happy travels!
Click to listen: https://soundcloud.com/brentonhaack/rick-steves
The thought-provoking wealth distribution video I posted a few days ago stirred up more comments than anything else we’ve ever posted. Of the over 700 comments on facebook and this blog, there were many constructive suggestions, lots of questions, and — as usual — plenty of anti-government sentiment. Thanks for all of your comments.
The most common question: What can we do? There’s the obvious: Avoid needless wars. Cut back on military spending. Open up our economy for investment and growth. Go back to a more progressive tax code, as we had under Reagan and Clinton. And defend the inheritance tax (without which we encourage a future generation of idle-rich kids).
And then there’s something nobody seems willing to seriously consider: Why not institute a small but inescapable wealth tax? Imagine if just having a “net worth” here in the USA cost 1 percent of that net worth every year? If you sat on a pile of wealth (say $10 million) for 20 years, it would cost you 20 percent of that wealth ($2 million) to keep it in a country where it’s not scary to be rich. (Anywhere else on the planet, someone that rich would spend at least that much just on security.) I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t pity a person once worth $10 million now only worth “only” $8 million if it makes our country a stronger and healthier one.
Many asked why, if I care so much, don’t I just give more taxes? That’s kind of silly. We need to respond to this challenge as a society. A few caring, patriotic, wealthy people giving what all wealthy people should give would accomplish nothing. If being wealthy in the USA came with a higher tax obligation (as it did for most of the 20th century), we could — assuming smart use of that money entrusted to the government — create a better society. Remember, not long ago our tax dollars took us to the moon and built the Interstate Highway System.
What can we do? In short, I’d say support a return to a more progressive tax code. Making it more expensive to be rich would not deter hard-driven capitalists (like me) from investing and working hard to get rich — and, assuming they’re at all patriotic, it certainly wouldn’t drive them out of the country. I believe anyone who says otherwise is either mistaken or dishonest.
For all those who say, “Why don’t you just stick to travel writing?”, “I’ve been a loyal customer for years, but with this post, you have lost me,” and “Stick to your day job, comrade Steves,” I say life is political. We have to live with the political decisions we make as a society. And so do people struggling in our country, people struggling south of our border, and people who will be struggling generations from now with the mess we leave them. Politics is like stewardship. And I believe in thoughtful stewardship.
If you missed this wonderfully intriguing little video clip, check it out below. Meanwhile, next week, I kick off my spring travels overseas — reporting from Egypt, Israel, and the Palestinian Territories.
If you can’t see the video below, watch it on YouTube.
In my travels, I find myself noticing the relative gap between rich and poor in various societies. The measure of a healthy society is indicated, in part, by the income gap between the top and the bottom quintile (20 percent of society). All my life, I’ve considered a very wide gap to be the mark of less successful, banana republic-type societies. But in the last generation, the USA has become like a banana republic itself in its creation of a tiny economic elite and a vast swath of its population mired in structural poverty.
Sure, I am one of the elites — a hardworking business owner who creates jobs. And I see the way the status quo (which protects the obscene wealth of the top one percent) is demoralizing and demeaning our society. That’s why I’m a member of a group of wealthy people advocating for more progressive taxation so that we can build a society with a healthier balance.
I know the notion of “job creators” like me (I employ over a hundred people directly, and many more indirectly) advocating for higher taxes on the wealthy infuriates many Americans — especially those who have dropped out of what was once a healthy middle class. Part of our Cold War/Red Scare heritage is that we can’t even address class issues as problems. But I think doing so is patriotic.
Before you get really mad, watch this little video that explains the situation in a way any honest person who cares about our country can get their brain around. If you like it, share it. Then let me know what you think. Thanks.
If you can’t see the video below, watch it on YouTube.
The final leg of my Road Trip USA took me to New England and the Great Lakes. From St. Louis, I flew to Burlington, Vermont, and then stopped off in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, and at WGBH in Boston before giving talks in Cleveland and at the Rockford Public Library outside of Chicago. I’m finally back in Seattle to enjoy a week at home before packing up for Egypt. But first, here’s my final Road Trip USA report:
Burlington, Vermont, nestled just below the border of Canada, is a charming town with a fittingly charming little airport. Its pedestrian-only main drag, Church Street, feels just like England. Everyone I met was astounded that this was my first visit to Vermont.
We did a two-hour pledge event in the afternoon at Vermont Public Television — knowing that almost no one would phone in live, but that it could be rerun in prime time to get more attention (and more pledges). Then, after dinner with important supporters at Leunig’s Bistro, Vermont travelers (along with plenty of traveling viewers from Canada — Montreal is a short drive to the north) filled the Flynn Center for the Performing Arts for my talk.
Burlington’s classic old theater was one of several I’ve visited on this trip that were saved from the wrecking ball in the 1980s by caring and visionary citizens. Each is now a treasured part of its community and a delight for visiting speakers like me to use.
My weather luck ran out in Vermont. With a big storm rolling in, we cancelled my Burlington hotel so that I could head directly after my talk three hours south to Portsmouth, New Hampshire — assuring that I’d be in town to give tomorrow’s talk. Even though it meant arriving at 2 a.m., it was a good move; a huge snowfall made driving treacherous the next morning.
My hosts at New Hampshire Public Television gave me a fine tour in the snow of their town, which dates proudly back to the 1600s. It looked like a Christmas card with colonial steeples, bleak old cemeteries, and towering piles of lobster pots flocked in snow.
I was concerned that, after all the work they did to put together the event, the weather might decimate attendance. But the people of New Hampshire are hardy, and that night, the theater was nearly full — with only about a 10 percent no-show rate. I was all set to give my “European Travel Skills” talk. Then, luckily, just before show time, I noticed their promo slide on the screen saying “Travel as a Political Act.” I rushed to the control booth, swapped out PowerPoint files, and busily changed my mindset for an entirely different talk. I’m glad I did…the talk went great.
That night, to beat more snow, we cancelled my Portsmouth hotel, and my next day’s host picked me up and drove me through more midnight flurries to Boston.
The next day was my busiest yet. The morning was spent at WGBH (Boston’s public television powerhouse) taping promo spots, including ones for a fundraiser to auction off two seats on one of our one-week city tours (any departure to London, Paris, Rome, or Istanbul). Then I rushed to the airport to catch my plane to Cleveland, where we taped five pledge breaks for WVIZ in two hours before hosting a thousand people for my European Travel Skills talk in Cleveland’s Ohio Theatre.
Enjoying Cleveland’s impressive skyline on the taxi ride into town, I passed Progressive Field, where a banner trumpeted the good news for Indians fans: “18 days until the first game of the baseball season!” My cabbie couldn’t stop talking about Cleveland’s Horseshoe Casino. She couldn’t believe I’d missed it. “You can gamble and have your food brought right to your machine. And there’s a shopping mall right there!”
That night, in the same city where a local DJ first coined the term “rock and roll,” I had so much fun with the crowd. During the Q&A period, one spry, elderly gentleman from Hamburg marched up to the stage, saying I must do more on northern Germany, and gave me his card. Later, during autograph time, a woman made her plunging neckline a little deeper and asked for my John Hancock on her chest — the highlight of my Sharpie’s day. I was given a fun little ornamental guitar and reminded that the next time I visit, I have to make more time for the city — including its beloved Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum.
Cleveland’s climate has a unique “lake effect” from Lake Eerie. While the weather was mild and sunny a few miles away, moisture and cold air rolling off the lake brought snow as I flew to Chicago for my final talk of this tour with Rockford Public Library.
This is a vast and varied country. Visiting 12 cities in the last 12 days has been both exhilarating and exhausting. Thinking back on all the great people I worked with, and all the audiences who gobbled up my ideas about travel, I’ll conclude that it was time very well spent. To all who attended a talk or helped support their hardworking local public television station during this Road Trip USA, thank you very much. And happy travels.
I’m in the final legs of my Road Trip USA. Over the last two weeks, I’ve been very busy, with a lecture and TV appearance in a different city each day. Earlier this week, I shared my adventures from Maryland; Washington DC; the University of Delaware; Roanoke College in Virginia; Charlotte, North Carolina; the University of Illinois in Urbana; and Westerville, Ohio. Since then, I’ve enjoyed sharing our gospel of smart budget European travel in Bloomington, Indiana (WTIU) and St. Louis, Missouri (KETC).
Bloomington — home of Hoagy Carmichael, John Mellencamp, the Dalai Lama’s brother, and Indiana University — is a fine little town with venerable old homes around its town square, which is crowned by a stately courthouse. I understand Indiana is completely run by Republicans who have a supermajority in their state government, but Bloomington felt like a liberal bastion.
I enjoyed bedding down in Bloomington’s circa-1900 Showers Inn B&B. (Mr. Showers made coffins for the Union in the Civil War and had a booming business — you see his name all over town.) I made a quick pilgrimage to the statue of Hoagy Carmichael (the Bloomington native who wrote “Heart and Soul” and my dad’s favorite song from the 1940s, “Huggin’ and Chalkin'”). After a stop at the cute little on-campus studio of WTIU for a quick taping, I met an enthusiastic crowd filling the Buskirk-Chumley Theater, followed by a meet and great on the stage.
The next morning, my driver/assistant Keith and I drove about five hours to St. Louis. As it was St. Patrick’s Day, my talk was in the afternoon. Reviewing all the PowerPoint slideshows on my laptop, I realized I only had a couple of Ireland slides. I did my best to work them into the show so I wouldn’t ignore the Emerald Isle completely on its big day.
At the dinner KETC threw for its big supporters after my talk, I got a good feeling for how leading local families engaged in the arts and good causes like public television really make a difference in a proud city like St. Louis.
Keith and I had promised ourselves a celebratory beer to wrap up our time together and to celebrate St. Paddy’s Day. But the rain was hurling down, we were both beat, and our hotel — Hotel Ignacio — was one of the most comfortable and elegant of our entire trip. So we just both stayed in.
The next morning, Keith dropped me off at the airport. In 35 hours on the road, we had driven 2,150 miles — averaging 61 mph in our trusty Suburban. Lugging an extra bag of handout fliers for my next four lectures, I realized how much I’d miss Keith…and the car.