Oh, where to begin . . .

    It is, to say the least, a target-rich environment.

    I’m talking about a story I ran across in the International Herald Tribune. Apparently, Singapore, like many other countries, is having a problem reproducing itself. And, now, the Singapore government has a whole branch devoted to trying to get its young people to do the wild thing and crank out the next generation of Singaporeans.

    I’m not kidding.

    Really.

    And, come to find out, it’s hitting some snags along the way.

    The Singapore government has hosted tea dances, wine tasting parties, cooking classes, cruises, screenings of romantic movies, and, now, classes at the local polytechnic institutes on the basics of dating, falling in love, and staying together. Government-friendly newspapers have even given tips for having sex in the back seats of cars, listing the best places to go parking and suggesting couples put newspapers over the windows for privacy. And, still, the government cannot reverse its record low fertility rate of 1.24 children per woman of childbearing years. For the last 28 years, Singapore has stayed below the 2.5 children needed to break even in population.

    Furthermore, to rub salt into the wound, the Singapore government doesn’t like the babies it’s getting. Annie Chan, director of a matchmaking agency, said, "Our government wants smart ladies to meet smart guys to get smart children."

    In other words, “Too few people are having babies and too few of those who are belong to what Singapore considers the genetically desirable educated elite.”

    Why, you may ask, has this problem emerged, not just in Singapore, but in more and more developed countries?

    I have my suspicions.

    One, the Powers That Be want to have it both ways.

    And, two, more and more of us are wising-up to it.

    I’m not a Singaporean and I don’t play one on TV. But, I dare say my experience is not far removed from many young Singaporeans.

    When I was a little kid, I saw things that could have been changed for the better, but I didn’t have the power to affect that change, so I wanted out. Running away didn’t seem like a step up. But, I wanted off my parents’ farm more than anything. It represented dumb work, isolation, no benefits, and no future.

    Then, one evening after church, we dropped by the house of a couple in our congregation. My parents always referred to them with a sad tone in their voices, about how they didn’t have children. But, when we got inside their home, I liked it. They had pretty furniture and central heating and air conditioning. They had a nice TV and a stereo system. They wore nice clothes and everything was new and clean.

    And, they had no kids.

    A few years later, at my eighth grade graduation, we found out that two of my classmates were pregnant at 13 and would not be going on to high school. They had to get married. They wouldn’t be escaping Buck’s Pocket. They were sentenced to a life of hard work and low pay.

    They were having children.

    On and on, as I grew older, I saw it was to my benefit to not have children. I knew lots of folks who were smarter than me and more industrious than me, who got sidetracked into loser careers because the wrong sperm hit the right egg. So, now, when an exceptionally bright young student comes along, one of the first things I tell him/her is to avoid pregnancy at all costs. You can either spend your life getting by or getting ahead. If you start a family before you have your career and life aimed the direction you want it, you’re going to spend the rest of your life playing catch-up.

    Suffice to say, I’ve not found the world to be a very inviting place; in fact, I consider it a hostile environment. I have to succeed in spite of, not because of, the system. And, if the Powers That Be think I’m going to slave and sacrifice to raise a kid so some fat-cat can get rich off of the sweat of his brow, well . . .

    I think the Powers That Be and I are going to have to have a long talk.

    TWH