PANDEMIC DIARY

THE GOAL IS AVERAGE
August 3, 2022

If someone said to you, “You are average” would you be insulted? A Dutch person would not be. In fact, that would likely be taken as a compliment. At the very least, it would be an acknowledgement of a truism that we here in the United States know but are unwilling to admit to ourselves. The most basic statistical model is the “Bell Curve”, a graph depicting the normal distribution, which has a shape reminiscent of a bell. The empirical rule says that for any normal (bell-shaped) curve, approximately: 68% of the values (data) fall within 1 standard deviation of the mean in either direction. 95%of the values (data) fall within 2 standard deviations of the mean in either direction. This model has proven itself to be rather inflexible. That is to say that regardless of the subject of analysis, the model generally holds true.

Put simply, you are average. We are average. Americans are average as is the rest of the world. Despite this self-evident axiom, here in the United States, due to many factors not the least of which is the mythology of The American Dream, we adhere in practice to a belief that everybody can be financially successful…everybody can be rich. This is a fallacy. Worse, is the harmful and hurtful idea that because the opportunities exist for these goals to be attained, failure to do so is a personal failure, a defect in character, a lax effort, leaving you undeserving. In the average mind, being average is a deficiency. So, not only do those who have ‘made it’ stand out as glaring examples of what the average person has failed to accomplish, so does the average person stand out as exemplars of meager attempts at success or even incompetence.

This contrasts with the standard practiced in the Netherlands. In a July 29 New York Times article, “The Country That Wants To Be Average”, we learn of a dispute between Jeff Bezos, the Founder of Amazon and one of the richest men in the world and the ‘average’ citizens of Rotterdam. Traveling on his $500 million yacht, Bezos wished to sail his yacht through the Kings Harbor channel and out to sea. In order to do this, he had to pass the Koningshaven Bridge or ‘Hef’ as it is affectionately referred to. However, the bridge, at a height of 230 feet, could not accommodate passage. Bezos and Oceanco, builders of the ship, requested that local government approve the dismantling of the bridge which has not been in operation since the 1990’s when a tunnel was completed. The bridge is shaped like an “H” and its dismantling, by anyone’s estimation would not be complicated and the associative costs would be paid for by Bezos and Oceanco. “Fast, free, and disrupt nothing. So why the fuss?”

“There’s a principle at stake,” said Mr. Lewis, a tall, bearded 37-year-old who was leaning against his bike and toggling during an interview between wry humor and indignation. He then framed the principle with a series of questions. What can you buy if you have unlimited cash? Can you bend every rule? Can you take apart monuments?” This was a question of competing values - the Netherlands’ preference for modesty versus American extravagance. Even as the request seemed reasonable and the task taking a day or two, there was extreme opposition to this proposal and illustrated by Ellen Verkoelen, a City Council member and Rotterdam leader of the 50Plus Party.

“When I was about 11 years old, we had an American boy stay with us for a week, an exchange student,” she recalled. “And my mother told him, just make your own sandwich like you do in America. Instead of putting one sausage on his bread, he put on five. My mother was too polite to say anything to him, but to me she said in Dutch, ‘We will never eat like that in this house.’” Her children were stunned and a little jealous. At the time, it was said in the Netherlands that putting both butter and cheese on your bread was “the devil’s sandwich.” Choose one, went the thinking. You don’t need both.

For sure, there are billionaires in the Netherlands, however Dutch norms and attitudes towards wealth remain Calvanist at root, a respect for conscientiousness, frugality and discipline. The rich do not flaunt it and the powerful do not highlight or relish in their cachet. There still exists a premium on equality and an enduring ethos that no one is better than another or deserves more than the next. No wonder the Dutch are always near the very top on the list of the happiest people on Earth.

Back to Bezos, it is not surprising to learn that Dutch critics contend that employees at Amazon are underpaid. Worse, given his fortune, the disparity between his wealth and the wages of his employees is considered grotesquely unfair and immoral. Their accusation is not so much that he is a tax cheat as the fact that Bezos is not fighting inequality by sharing his success and wealth. This is a moral question that transcends the tax code.

It is sad that in the United States we accept a notion that success belongs to the successful. We reward the wrong goals. Instead of prizing wealth as a beginning and end all that belongs solely to the ‘winner’, we could offer accolades and special status to those whose contributions to society are commensurate with their wealth. That achievement is not a measure of dollars rather a barometer of those aided, assisted in their growth, educated and provided opportunities for themselves to achieve. And, it is not just for Bezos to realize this end. It is a cultural shift that places modesty, humility and community ahead of extravagance, luxury and indulgence.

PANDEMIC DIARY

STUPID
July 19, 2022

“I wouldn’t mind being 14 again so I could screw up my life differently. I have some great new ideas.” I saw this remark (or some facsimile) somewhere recently, laughed out loud and forgot it. For some reason it comes to mind this morning. Politics has taken such a hold on us all, we seem not able to meet with friends and avoid talking politics. A preamble to social gatherings begins with, “We are not going to talk about politics.” Yet, we inevitably do. We have allowed the mundane and stupid fringe to become relevant and part of the discourse of American life. People deserve equal time, for sure, but that demands a degree of rational discourse, both sides relatively informed as to what they are speaking about. The difficult way invites us to take the time to educate ourselves. The easy way is to allow others to frame the argument for you.

“Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the former.” attributed to Albert Einstein

From where does stupidity derive? Is it innate in the human being? Humans are indeed stupid - silly, absurd, goofy and crazy - as distinct from ‘can act stupidly. I think Frank Zappa got it right. “Some scientists claim that hydrogen, because it is so plentiful, is the basic building block of the universe. I dispute that. I say there is more stupidity than hydrogen, and that is the basic building block of the universe.” Napoleon (Yes! as in Bonaparte) said, “In politics, stupidity is not a handicap”, to which I would add religion. But even if you disagree with me, would you then disagree with Pope John Paul II, “Stupidity is also a gift from God, but one mustn’t misuse it”. So, can we all agree that either as an inborn trait or a gift from God, stupidity is with us human’s in equal or greater measure than intelligence. And, if so, that stupidity should be observed carefully, monitored, and defended against so we do not do ourselves harm.

Sadly, we live in an era of stupidity dominance. I believe this can be tested by what I call the “Truth Indicator” (TI), an arm of a pendulum that swings from one side to another, the extreme measures being “Absolute Verifiable Truth” AVT to “Absolute Verifiable Falsehood” AVF. Forgetting for the moment political partisanship and dealing strictly with an objective reality check, the current TI has swung almost entirely to the AVF. Although the truth or falsehood phases have always existed, I cannot remember it ever being so stilted in one direction. And, given the nature of politics, stupidity has always been utilized in equal measure by all parties to appeal to their discreet base of voters. It also appears, as a general statement, that the arm of the pendulum has swung far more to the AVF ever since the advent of the phrase, ‘Alternative Facts’. This seems to have given permission for one party, in particular, to effectively disregard and, dare I say, disparage reality. Where there was once debate there is now intransigence. Where there was once compromise there is now resoluteness. Where there was once flexibility there is now calcification. Where there was once movement toward progress, as defined by enlightenment, openness, and freedom, there is now regression defined by narrowness, diminishment, and retaliation.

“Against stupidity the very gods themselves contend in vain”
Frederick Schiller

Stupid is winning.

• Stupids insisting that Stupid is right;

• asserting that Stupid need not be analyzed or explained;

• demanding equal treatment from TV, journals, commentators, opinion pieces, etc.;

• insisting that those on the fringe of the non-stupid plane take non-stupid way too far;

• claiming the unfairness of and objecting to attribution of “Stupid-privilege” charging that non-stupid people are actually the ones being treated preferentially;

• challenging whether books by non-stupid people should be read in classrooms where our kids might be exposed to non-stupid truths and ideas which may have them think and act non-stupidly as adults;

• believing that non-stupid people think that ‘facts’ are incontrovertible;

• or, that stupid people don’t have a right to claim ‘alternative facts’ as facts;

• accuse non-stupid people of allowing kids to read non-stupid books that stupid people wish to ban because continued exposure to non-stupid information may be influential and have vulnerable minds impacted such that they grow up as non-stupid adults thinking non-stupid things and acting in non-stupid responsible ways;

• are threatening non-stupid people with harm for their non-stupid opinions, citing their attitudes of arrogance and superiority, believing that stupid people should not be questioned.

• reserve the right to make up shit like Robert Kennedy is returning to lead the movement of stupids.

“In one recent experiment, Paul Glimcher, a neuroscientist at New York University, and his collaborators asked people to choose among a variety of candy bars, including their favorite — say, a Snickers. If offered a Snickers, a Milky Way and an Almond Joy, participants would always choose the Snickers. But if they were offered 20 candy bars, including a Snickers, the choice became less clear. They would sometimes pick something other than the Snickers, even though it was still their favorite. When Glimcher would remove all the choices except the Snickers and the selected candy, participants would wonder why they hadn’t chosen their favorite.”

This is, I perceive, the Republican strategy which, to their credit, derives from their insight that humans are innately stupid as confirmed by Pope John Paul as previously cited. Therefore, Republicans have come to understand that if you throw as much sh_t as possible against a wall the result will be one of two outcomes: 1. already stupid people will not bother to consider how stupid what being asked of them is and will reliably be counted upon to remain and act predictably stupid; or, 2. people who are not stupid will be confused about being non-stupid and question their own non-stupidity, ultimately and likely making a perfectly stupid decision to only later realize how stupid they were.

Now here’s the thing: to believe that when you see or hear something stupid it is an aberration would be a severe error. It is not. This needs to be shouted from the rooftops. It is human to err. It is also human to be totally bat-shit stupid. It is this awareness and only this truth that can provide hope and solidarity. It is all our responsibilities to call out stupid how, when and where it occurs. And, that goes for when non-stupid people are stupid.

“In view of the fact that God limited the intelligence of man, it seems unfair that He did not also limit his stupidity.”
Konrad Adenauer

“Irrationality may be a consequence of the brain’s ravenous energy needs”

At the core of the model Glimcher designed lies the brain’s insatiable appetite. The brain is the most metabolically expensive tissue in the body. It consumes 20 percent of our energy despite taking up only 2 to 3 percent of our mass. Because neurons are so energy-hungry, the brain is a battleground where precision and efficiency are opponents. Glimcher argues that the costs of boosting our decision-making precision outweigh the benefits. Thus we’re left to be confounded by the choices of the modern American cereal aisle.

The brain is an evaluative elimination organ. It divides choices according to their value, eliminating the lower value choices to make decision-making easier. One way of doing this is not bothering with prior negative or lesser valued entities. In this instance, you eliminate any evaluation or comparison of worth and value, staying with the choice you know and prefer. Receiving benefits that are more advantageous to you are also dismissed in this process. This stagnation can get worse over time and can be reinforced by your environment. Energy reduction in the brain, the elimination of any conflict-resolving and choice making, also deprives us of a prime gift of the brain. This irony can explain a great deal about stupid.

Buddhists have gone to mountain tops to meditate in order to realize that our attachments cause us suffering. The religious retreat into silence also. They pray, sing, dervish, daven, and repeat mantras in hopes of finding wisdom and oneness with the universe. Enlightenment does not come easy. But, the desire for easy seems part of the pillars of our neural construction. All easy must be fought against. This may be why human intelligence is losing to stupidity.

Ignorance can be educated and crazy can be medicated
but there is no cure for STUPID.

PANDEMIC DIARY

THE JANES
JULY 14, 2022

The Janes were a heroic collective of young women activists running a clandestine operation providing abortions to 11,000 women of Chicago between 1969-1973, prior to the Supreme Court decision that granted women the right to abortion memorialized in Roe vs. Wade.

“Social progress can be measured by the social position of the female sex.”
Karl Marx

Last night Adele and I saw the movie, “The Janes” on Martha’s Vineyard - a documentary of such profound significance, so important and timely with the authentic voices of the women who began and joined The Janes to perform “illegal” acts of affirmative protest. These women, now in their late sixties and seventies reminded me of my early activism and participation in protest and marches. I am remembering how useful I felt during those times. Whatever cynicism I might have had over the political process, however much I disdained our representatives, while ‘on the march’ I knew that these social militant compatriots and these pro-active movements meant something and were influential in educating, shifting attitudes, and changing policy.

The Janes focused on abortion as an issue but knew that abortion, as a political tool, was integrally related (there is now a word for this understanding - ‘intersectionality’) to race, gender identity and other social issues foisted upon political landscapes by white male leaders. All opposition to efforts to enhance the lives of the disenfranchised, to prevent abortion, to denigrate any class of individuals, to limit access to resources are all related acts. Any action, statement, or law which opposes, impedes or prevents one of these issues impacts all the others.

The recency underscoring these events of the sixties and seventies cannot be overstated.

I URGE YOU TO SEE THIS INCREDIBLE FILM

PANDEMIC DIARY

LIVING WITH PAIN
July 11, 2022

Your pain is largely subjective.
Your pain is basically invisible.
Your pain is difficult for people to understand.
Your pain makes other people uncomfortable.
Your pain tests relationships.
Verbalize your discomfort too much and you are a complainer, a burden, a whiner and crybaby.
Hold in your unease and hardship and you are a martyr, a quiet sufferer, and ‘how do you expect anyone to assist you’?
You are told:
“Give it time.”
”Let’s see what tomorrow brings.”
”This too shall pass.”
”Here, take two Advil, Tylenol, Alleve.”
”Be grateful. At least you can walk.”
”It can’t be that bad.”

This last comment can be a soul crusher. You would do anything you can to reduce the searing Pain. Rid yourself of the pain. Expunge it permanently. Pain stands in your path’s way like a dark warrior preventing any movement forward unless you are willing to go up against it and risk its consequences. The question is do I live with the pain I have or try something else and add to it. Pain seeks to take over and envelop you, have you need to anticipate your every next move…and your next. Pain denies your ‘carefree-ness’ diverting your Presence to its Existence. Its absorption seeks to be complete. Pain is resolute, interceding you make a sudden, even subtle move to the side, or when you twist in the slightest way, or walking on the shifting sand, or rising from a rocking chair, or removing dinner from the oven. In particular, in the morning when life again rises and greets, as you receive the cool morning freshness and anticipation of sunshine, as you smell the ocean’s salty spirit, as you hear the chirping of the Black and White Warblers, Great Cormorants, Purple Martins, Sooty Shearwaters, and Eastern Meadowlarks, it is then the smile bringing daylight’s aspiration fades, attacked by an electric jolt, a whole-body concussion of torment and I collapse and attempt to draw breath from the excruciating, agonizing affliction.

Yes, this is happening to me. This is now my world. It is called Chronic Pain. However, that says nothing unless and until you realize that the synonyms for the word chronic are: incessant, constant, continual, deep-rooted, habitual, lingering, lifelong, persistent, protracted, sustained and, most disturbing to me, incurable. Advanced degenerative disease of the SI joint or sacroiliac and L5 L4 joint is what the MRI report states. After reading the profile, I had to go to the internet to understand the medical terms. It read like a disaster warning, a foretelling of doom, anguish, misery and finally paralysis.

And then I went to a Physical Therapist here on Martha’s Vineyard.

“Sometimes I think I shouldn’t feel the way I do. When I start thinking this way I tell myself that feelings are neither good nor bad—they simply are. In the midst of intense negative feelings, whether fear, anger, depression, etc., it can feel as though they will last forever, like they will never end. It promotes emotional balance to maintain an awareness that all feelings are temporary, and that they always change.” —From Pain Recovery: How to Find Balance and Reduce Suffering from Chronic Pain.

Upon our meeting, I handed Susan the MRI document. She made believe she was reading it when this two-page document was summarily dismissed, put down in twenty seconds, saying “Let’s see what I come up with and then we can see what this says.” Susan put me through a series of movements to assess whether the pain is originating from the SI joint or from L5 L4 compression. After determining that the source of pain was SI joint, Susan educated me, explaining how my right gluteous muscles have seized placing extraordinary stress on my left glute. She hypothesized that either I had an accident (which I did not) or unbeknownst incurred some form of trauma. Upon reflection, I realized that weeks before I played Pickleball for the first time. It was only after that event that I began to feel the onset of these issues.

Consider this, this same medical report was shown to and read by a chiropractor, a physician, and an orthopedic PA, and each in turn interpreted the data differently. Furthermore, each had a different take on what the report’s implications meant. And, each had advice particular to the orientation of their own practice. Lastly, each suggested they could help, they could work with me and improve my condition. It took for a wise, experienced, multi-disciplinary practitioner to investigate all the available data and come to a diagnosis that would be considered “outside the box” by the traditional medical community. I had sprained the ligaments of my SI joint as a result of the stress. “Let’s get to work”, she said .

I traversed from a doomsday scenario, technical words offering days, weeks, or months or years of extended pain and restricted movement leading to the potential for surgery to a diagnosis that was conservative, reasoned, and hopeful. This is the end of the first day following my PT treatment. I am experiencing the kind of relief that, although I remain painfully sore with infrequent shocks, is so markedly improved over what I have been living through these past two and a half months.

I am relived and grateful. Not knowing what your future holds and projecting from a place of misery and suffering does not bode will for tomorrows. I certainly have a greater understanding of what chronic pain means to those afflicted. Meanwhile, I will continue on with my anti-inflammatory, acetaminophen, and yes, the occasional edible to soothe and round out the edges.

Cheers from Martha’s Vineyard.

PANDEMIC DIARY

THE CURSE OF PRIVILEGE
July 1, 2022

Privilege is defined as “a right, immunity, or benefit enjoyed by a particular person or a restricted group of people beyond the advantages of most”. It is a word that has come into full use of late with greater frequency. I would like to examine what privilege infers socially, how the concept of privilege is being twisted, how this usurpation is linked to religious beliefs, and how religion and politics are coupled.

The derivation of the word privilege is anglo-norman from the middle ages. The middle ages (476-1520) expresses a period ranging from Constantine to Leo X who reigned during The Protestant Reformation and the era of Martin Luther. Leo was a spendthrift and nearly bankrupt the church. His answer: to bestow favors on well positioned donors. These ‘blessings’ were able to restore church coffers to the benefit of the wealthy by increasing their influence. An Ecclesiastic quid pro quo. If ‘privilege’ derives from the middle ages, the word ‘blessing’ is earlier from the Old English, Latin and Greek and contained within the earliest scriptures. Originally, its sense was ‘to speak well of, to praise’. In Hebrew, blessing brk, is “to bend (the knee), worship, praise. A semantic change took place over time and blessing became reference to a special ritual act - ‘to sacrifice’; worship; bless - and, finally, “pronounce or make happy, prosperous, or fortunate”. Now it was an act to “invoke or pronounce God’s blessing upon”.

EVERY BLESSING IS A PRIVILEGE. Blessing is “a special favor, mercy or benefit”. In religious terms, these are “acts bestowed by God in the form of favors or gifts” (thereby bringing happiness) . Blessings, privilege, favor, and benefit are inextricably entwined. Blessings are like human dog treats. “Sit”, says the owner of Pooch…and Pooch sits. What follows is the benefit: a morsel, a reward, an acknowledgement of a task well done. After the heavy panting is done, the dog habitually seeks more of what brought him happiness. The reward is intended to elicit a preferred behavior that otherwise would not be repeated or generalized. If you want the dog to lie down or turn around, you must start from the very beginning.

In every day parlance, God is the source of all good gifts, of all blessings. The Bible reminds us, “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change” (James 1:17). God is the owner; we are the Pooch. God doles out blessings in order that ‘his children’ shall repeat acts of faith, generosity, healing, etc., God wishes his/her spiritual gifts manifest in us, in this body, in this form, in this life. Therefore, the function of blessings as recipients is to acknowledge God as the source of all blessing. Your gain is not only of profit to you personally, it is also a gain for he/she that bestows the gift. How so? “A person who speaks for God or a deity, or by divine inspiration” is a ‘profit’. God benefits as those who receive the blessings speak the word of the Lord. In fact, the first blessing from God to man appears in the first chapter of Genesis (1:28): “God blessed them and God said to them, “Be fertile and increase, fill the earth and master it.”

Here is where this all goes terribly wrong. God is conveying to us we are special - to multiply, to spread and occupy the Earth, to “subdue” and “master it”. This directive is in violation to Nature itself. It infers being of an ‘exceptional’ nature. It suggests that humans possess a unique and superior place and role on this planet. God wishes for us to be preeminent rulers of the Earth. Of course, this is disputable since it is not stated specifically as such but is an unfortunately unavoidable inference. The word ‘master’ has the regrettable presumption of being overlords. There are those who would wish supremacy, as in an owner of a plantation and slave holder. Mastery is not earned from practice, learning, or earning rather is an ENTITLEMENT. That is what we are witnessing today, that humans are the recipients of an advantage. That advantage is a superiority that makes us ascendant over someone or some thing - all advantage provides one with the “state, circumstance, opportunity, or means specially favorable to success, interest, or any desired end”.

“White Privilege” is a battle being fought on many fronts and is the prime example of the danger within this message. The simple fact is that privilege can become so ingrained, that one fails to see the privilege for what it is worth in the first instance. Privilege can easily decline into a sense of entitlement. If I deserve what I have, there is not guilt, no responsibility, no chance involved. I am special. For those who use religion as a scapegoat, God becomes the proof which confirms the individual as being deserving, “God chose me (us), so he must have intended for me (us) to have these favors and advantages”. In other words, there was nothing random about it. We got it, because we are special and entitled. This is the current state of the religious extremists and conservative right in this country. The sense of entitlement, laying claim or having inherent rights that others do not have, is justified by the very fact that ‘we have it and you don’t’.

Furthermore, the faithful’s zealotry is far greater than the general population since their interpretation leads the fanatic to believe this is God’s inheritance. That representing God in this way is ‘good’. It is God’s work. This is God’s directive to adherents. There is nothing that can convince them otherwise. This commandment makes warriors of a segment of the population that has pitted them against the rest of us, a battle between their perceived good against evil.

Religion is politics now more than ever before. A recent Supreme Court ruling has allowed a coach to have his team kneel at the end of a game and pray in the middle of a stadium. It has allowed certain religious thought to be taught in schools and is allowing other subjects to be restricted that are in conflict with certain people’s religious beliefs. This movement is dangerous and toxic. We must guard against this because it is leading to the institutionalizing of religion in our everyday lives. Worse, this license has given permission to hate speech, bias, prejudice that is condoned under the guise of religion.

From marriage equality, to gun control, to immigration reform and the threat of war, religion
plays a fascinating and crucial part in our nation's political process and in our culture On a Florida State road, Rte. 207, hangs a banner that proclaims. “Work Hard, Trust in God, Vote Republican”. At a conference where this was noted, a Chinese student responded by declaring, “All this superstition can’t be a good thing for American life”. I agree.

PANDEMIC DIARY

MYTH IS ALL THERE IS
(dedicated to my friend in Montana)
JUNE 7, 2022

We are approaching an anniversary. The anniversary date is June 21, 1988, and since June 21 is the day Adele and I leave for Martha’s Vineyard and The Berkshires I thought it important to commemorate the the momentous meeting and discussion between Bill Moyers and Joseph Campbell - Bill Moyers having been the highly regarded and trusted news anchor and current events reporter for the Public Broadcasting System; and Joseph Campbell, the prolific author and expert in comparative mythology and mythology’s ongoing role in human cultures and societies.

Bill Moyers (left); Joseph Campbell (right)

Loosely speaking, myths are allegorical narratives. Beyond that simple definition things can get fairly hairy because there are different categories and types of myths - fables, fairy tales, folk tales, and legends. The myths I am referring to today are more in the category of epic myths or parables that appear throughout history, have a universality in that the fundamental story-line is repeated amongst varying cultures and possess relatively coincidental timelines. The similarities suggest preexistence, as if the stories are inherent in our brain stems, for so long in our history have myths been related and retold. Maybe, aside from what we know of human consciousness, there is something to the notion of a cosmic consciousness. (I am not prepared to get into Quantum theory just yet)

Campbell defines mythology in “The Power of Myth”, the companion book to the interview and television series as “the provision of a cultural framework for a society or people to educate their young, and to provide them with a means of coping with their passage through the different stages of life from birth to death.” This definition, to my thinking, is highly esoteric in nature and does not address the origins and functions of myths. It deals with the more ‘cosmic’ nature of myth and not the practical. I sense that at their most basic level, myths answer a need. “The need exists before the myth, which arises to fulfill the need.” (Robert A. Segal - Sixth Century Chair in Religious Studies at the University of Aberdeen) Hegel suggests that myth is appropriate only for the “childhood in mankind” and when reason has grown up and matured, they become obsolete. If that is so, given myths have persisted for thousands of years, is mankind still in its infancy, childhood, teens? Have the needs that fostered the creation of the myths not been met? Do we need so deeply and beyond any power of myths’ ability to satisfy our cravings? Or, do we simply find the need addictive and would rather look to the future with wistful hope than face our demons and grow out of the need.

A mythology is inevitably bound to the society and time in which it occurs and cannot be divorced from this culture and environment. By this measure, contemporary society has failed to pay attention to the great myths of yore - the Hero Myth; the Journey Myth; the Myth of Reconciliation. Campbell in dealing with the universality and evolution of myths in the history of the human race and the place of myths in modern society suggests “that modern society is going through a transition from the old mythologies and traditions to a new way of thinking where a global mythology will [eventually] (my addition) emerge.”

This may be true, however, what immediately grabs my attention is the importance of keeping level-headed regarding the passage of time. It has taken tens of thousands of years and throughout the history of upright beings that walked the Earth, and before language, that there exists evidence of the presence of myths, no matter which era, which region of the globe, which culture or which society. These stories are regenerative, handed down from generation to generation, and form the practices, observations and rituals that still go on today. At the core of these stories are the recurrence of certain themes that portray universal and eternal truths.

Can it all be an illusion? Human existence is a struggle. God told us from the time of the expulsion from the Garden of Eden (myth) that humankind will pay a high price for consciousness, that is awareness of one’s own presence as distinct from other things in the universe. At that moment, humans acquired an internal existence…self-reflection. And, that internal awareness separated mankind and womankind from the rest of the natural world. That phenomena of consciousness was ‘selected’ for survival, as Darwin along with Materialists, would point out. But, all consciousness, as we know it, is allegory, metaphor, a representation of a reality, not the thing itself. And, that’s where language comes in to play. “Speech is more plastic than wax and other such media” (Plato’s Republic IX, 588 D) We spend a lifetime in our brains ‘describing’ experience, ex post facto, translating into words the lived experience.

If “function is the flip side of origin”, as Segal indicates, “the need that causes myth to arise is the need that keeps it going. Myth functions as long as both the need continues to exist and myth continues to fulfill it at least as well as any competitor. The need for myth is always a need so basic that it itself never ceases.” Included in those needs are basic needs such as the need to eat, and no less basic to the conscious mind the need to understand and explain the world we live in, to express one’s unconscious in the material world, and, to provide meaningfulness to life.

These latter needs are panhuman or apply and affect all humanity. It is these needs from which religion arises. However, unlike food which physically and literally can satisfy a need and thusly eliminate the need for myth, religion’s whole raison d’etre is to accomplish the impossible. That is, fulfill a human need with myth or an insubstantial attempt at a satisfying answer. For many throughout the world the gathering of like-minded individuals provides a level of confirmation of truth. Yet, while the myth has been historically powerful and unifying, it remains inadequate to satisfy the need. In other words, the need from which the myth arises is the need that keeps it going, like the ‘Duracell’ battery.

Will the need for myth be with us always? Here is a poem I wrote a paper on in college that (by the way) go me an “A”. It is by Stephen Crane, author of The Red Badge of Courage. It will not go down in the pantheon of great poems but is marvelously applicable here.

A Man Saw a Ball of Gold in the Sky
Stephen Crane

A man saw a ball of gold in the sky;
He climbed for it,
And eventually he achieved it --
It was clay.

Now this is the strange part:
When the man went to the earth
And looked again,
Lo, there was the ball of gold.
Now this is the strange part:
It was a ball of gold.
Aye, by the heavens, it was a ball of gold.

The need for myth seem basic to human life’s attributes - striving, ambition, pursuing, inquiring, seeking - while the answers do not always appear evident. However, even consensus reality may not satisfy a particular human need. In the poem, the answer is obvious - a ball of gold - right there in the sky. That should satisfy and quell a need. But, all is not as it seems. For all the effort to achieve the intended goal and satisfaction, nay, it was a deception. Or, was it? Was it, indeed, a ball of gold, and we, the seeker, could not appreciate it? Was it devalued the moment it was held/owned? Was it worth all the trouble in the first place? Yet, there the answer remains, oh so near.

As long as the need does not cease, myth itself will never cease. One has to ask, is what we are witnessing today in the world the expression of a need without a myth capable of any satisfying answer? Is that the origin of upheaval, revolution, terrorism, even international crime? Will science, which itself can be likened to modern-day religion, supplant myth? Is the concept of myth already obsolete in this modern society?

Myth has been a reliable resource for mankind and should not be dismissed “as mere myth” as Segal states. If you read myth literally and in an historic context, it may provide meaningful insights into human desires and even provide insight into a course of action. Myths can certainly have a hold on large portions of the population worldwide…and do. The problem is that once a myth takes hold and there exists consensus agreement, true or otherwise, the story holds strong for those who accept it; they are not willing to let the myth go. The resistance to giving up or the absence of persuading one to give up a myth is a clear testament to its power. Richard Dawkins, famed atheist, renowned scholar, author, Biblical scholar tells us, “Religion is about turning untested belief into unshakable truth through the power of institutions and the passage of time”, but insists “The universe we observe has precisely the properties we should expect if there is, at bottom, no design, no purpose, no evil, no good, nothing but blind, pitiless indifference.”

Is that the bottom line of existence? Is Dawkins suggesting we should give up the ghost. Absolutely not. I believe he is saying that we are making a mess of things. Our inability to fess up to the truth about life and death keeps us attached to myth, illusion, false gods, and hope. These dependencies shift our reliance from the love and trust in one another to the unattainable ‘pedastelized’ virtues of a Christ and Brigadoon-like places akin to heaven, which is like moving the goal-posts to another city from where the game is being played.

Will humankind be able to break away from our own actions and their creations cannot supersede the needs and beliefs we impose upon ourselves. Our lives mirror our beliefs, projections and structures we create. Maybe it is time to look at our creation and write new myths? Maybe we need to examine our needs and determine what among them is vital and necessary, not merely desired as ‘pipe-dreams’? Until we satisfy our human needs, anticipate more myths, stories and conspiracy theories to fill the void.

Let us try to teach generosity and altruism, because we are born selfish. Richard Dawkins

Religion institutionalizes mythology. Religion is the intentional manipulation of myths to control populations.
David Roth

PANDEMIC DIARY

BUSY IN MY HEAD
February 15, 2022

TRUE STORY: On Sunday, Adele and I along with another couple went for a walk along a harbor pier that extended into the shoreline rocks alongside wooden stanchions standing in the water reaching skyward and providing a perch for large gulls and pelicans. One pelican flew onto the rocks just below us so viewing could be up front and close. A family was already standing there watching the pelican and their son was chatting away with such clearly articulated thoughts I had to ask how old he was. Well, he just turned five years old. I went up to him and asked him, “What if a Peli-can’t?”. He turned wearing a kid’s smirk and shot back, “That’s not funny…DUDE”.

—————————————————————————————————-

A POEM:

Death is an acquaintance I nod at while passing,
without shaking hands or asking, “how y’a doing”?
like a neighbor walking their dog in the quiet of morning’s
dawn or a runner in the middle of a good sweat,
eyes rolling back in her head and heaving with exhaustion.
I don’t invite Death to stand still. I keep myself and
it occupied knowing that on one of the walks around
the block on some warm summer day or in the midst of
a maelstrom it will stop, notice me…and smile.

Death is like that. It has no plan, no design, no
date certain; neither is Death random or without
association with you and the life you lead. Its nothing to
perseverate about and yet, it may be something you
want to keep in mind as you go about your days.
As a child, I used to talk to Death, but Death did not respond…
although, it wasn’t completely silent either. It’s presence is such that,
like a phantom, or like Harry’s Potter’s Invisibility Cloak, one
feels its presence and is unsure of what one is sensing.

Indeed, its odd that as I age I feel more accommodating with
Death, which suggests something is operating other than time.
I imagine my psyche to be playing a role and although my
cellular structure is slowly failing, my brain capacity diminishing, I find
my attitude has settled. Resistance has yielded to resolution. Disparities
and contradictions pass without comment. I experience something
larger at work and I accept its Nature. This recognition has
conformed me to gladly compliant. Maybe this is what is meant by
being ‘One and With’. I’ll go along with this for now.

——————————————————————————————————

Well, here we go again. A time of year when the faithful assert their fidelity with pedestrian rhymes, stale sentiments and trifles of trite earnestness while the adulterous disguise their cheating hearts with poetry’s perfidy. Everyone considers Valentine’s Day a farce - an annual excuse to mollify bad behavior - whether to appease or tranquilize a relationship that is faltering or add richness and sustenance to re-nesting happy lovebirds.

But, today I am thinking otherwise. We can bring more to the idea and design of Valentine’s Day. Certainly, it can continue as a testament to love - love for a spouse, love for family, and love for friends. Indeed, “love for” describes the necessary adjunct of relationship. Love is relational. It is you and the subject of that love you feel. In that sense, love is so much more than a kiss and an embrace. It is the admiration and caring for another. It is the act of appreciation, more meaningful than infatuation; the intimacy of acknowledgement, more personal than distant admiration; much more than sentimental; it is abiding more than adoring, honoring and respecting more than acceptance; it is forgiveness in place of willful magnanimity.

All of this came to mind while writing a Valentine’s Day Card to my wife. All of this came to me while reading ‘Sapiens’. What a depressing book. Humans, to the author, are either ‘subject to’ or ‘incapable of’…you name it. The mess we’ve made is inherent to the specie - our urge to dominate; our reliance on Wheat; our inability to manage large populations; our belief in Gods; our interminable desire for and pursuit of money. Our innate framing of “Us vs. Them”. We will never get what we had. We never had what we wanted. And, now we cannot catch up to technology. We’ve created a game and don’t know the rules. I haven’t figured out yet if the game is corrupt or the players…or both. But, this can’t end well. If you can never get enough of what you want, you are always wanting for more.

Yet, I have never felt so much love. Has love become a privilege? Do you have to afford love? Is Love a stage of life? Does everyone pass through it? I don’t know. Honestly, I do not know. I don’t know anything anymore. All I can observe is the feeling spurred allowing myself to feel the love I feel for my wife. The card did not say it all. My thoughts in those moments did not say it all. I do not know if I am capable of saying it all. I am not going to try. I will just remain grateful that I can still feel in spite of all that is going on around me.

PANDEMIC DIARY

“THAT’S US” : AN END-OF-YEAR MESSAGE
December 24, 2021

Typically, the end of the year is deluged with ‘Ten Best Lists’. From Broadway to books, from song interpretations to technological innovations, attempts are made to ‘sum up’ the year’s events. Humans love to rate and rank. I say ‘attempts’ to sum up because these baptisms to most notable lists do not necessarily reflect what is occurring on the ground, as it were, where life happens. So few in numbers have the ability and luxury to care. Then, Christmas Eve arrived.

Christmas Eve was a special day this year. I experienced that odd effect when every article of news, each email I read, was speaking directly to me, each in its own way, and all woven into a singular, oddly unified message. So, I would like to pass along these fragments of thoughts, less to summarize the years events than to utilize thoughtful writings to maybe help me make sense of things at a time when everything seems so random and futile. Maybe these sentiments will open your eyes to personal insights…as they have mine.

First off is a poem I read in this week’s Atlantic. The poem is called The Unspoken by Ada Limon.

The Unspoken
If I am honest, a foal pulled chest-level
close in the spring heat, his every-which-way
coat reverberating in the wind, feels
akin to what I imagine atonement might
feel like, or total absolution. But what
if by some fluke in the heart, an inevitable
wreckage, congenital and unanswerable,
still comes, no matter how attached
or how gentle every hand that reached
out for him in that vibrant green field
where they found him looking like he
was sleeping, the mare nudging him?
Am I wrong to say I did not want to love
horses after that? I even said as much driving
back from the farm. Even now, when
invited to visit a new foal, or to rub the long
neck of a mare who wants only peppermints
or to be left alone, I feel myself resisting.
At any moment, something terrible could
happen. It’s not gone, that coldness in me.
Our mare is pregnant right now,
and you didn’t even tell me until someone
mentioned it offhandedly. One day, I will
be stronger. I feel it coming. I’ll step into
that green field of stoic, hardened, hoof first.

I think we are all experiencing trauma of one sort or another. For myself, its noticing how and when I withdraw from being vulnerable. After reading the poem, I realized what courage it takes to feel out of it, disengaged, even powerless and then re-engaging, getting back into the fray, arming yourself (literally and figuratively) for the challenges ahead…and, still maintain one’s center. To remain open, willing to be hurt, able to continue.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Then, in the December 24 email issue of The Daily Stoic:

“You wonder why people don’t stand up and do something. The CEO of a large company. The elected official. The general. The athlete.

Aren’t these powerful people? They hold office. They have millions of dollars. They have large platforms. Yet, they stand silent. They look the other way. They hold their fire.

Its because they don’t see themselves as powerful - not yet anyway. The Congresswoman has an eye on a Senate seat, so she’s waiting. The CEO thinks that after their options vest, then they will be in a better position. The millionaire is trying to become a billionaire first. The athlete says after they sign their long-term deal, the general once they retire - then, they’ll do something.

The great Iron Maiden song (and album) ‘POWERSLAVE’ is all about what happens when one becomes addicted to power. It’s like a drug. Your first experience with it is utterly intoxicating, but from that moment forward you never feel like you have enough. And you never want to risk losing what you have, so you’re constantly chasing while simultaneously trying not to be caught out. You’re not in charge, it is.

Marcus Aurelius fought all his life against succumbing to this addiction. In fact, “Meditations” was really his treatment plan. Over and over again, he warns himself, to do the right thing - to not consider the consequences for his career. He tells himself to be good today rather than choose tomorrow. He refused to be a slave to power, and instead used his power to do things for other people.”

The Daily Stoic goes on to say that we need to fight this current battle together, whatever our position or station in life. We have to fight it NOW. Because there are things that need doing, now. Not later.

Then, I read Robert Hubbell’s daily email Dec. 24 - Today’s Edition. Robert is a reliable, insightful and realistically optimistic political reporter.

“Readers sometimes ask how I maintain my sense of optimism against the deluge of bad news. The answer is perspective. And there is no better description of perspective than the essay by Carl Sagan about a photograph taken by Voyager I as it left the solar system. In that photograph, the Earth occupies a single pixel in a vast darkness. [SEE PHOTO taken September 1, 1990] Sagan’s essay, “A Pale Blue Dot”, is an appropriate reflection on our place in the universe and deserves to be read out loud at family gatherings as we close the chapter on a challenging year.”

“Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves…It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.”

I realized that the thread that weaved these three, same-day issuances was the acronym CAP - Courage; Action; Perspective. Not a bad way, at all, to ‘cap’ off the year. I sincerely love you all for lending me your time and intellect and your critical appreciation. I don’t know what I would do without the ability to communicate with you. Have a healthy and productive New Year. May we realize one small thing in others we meet that will lead on us a path of discovering what is common to us all.
PEACE.

PANDEMIC DIARY

TIME
SEPTEMBER 13, 2021

TIME
Time is the essence of everything -
the backdrop of existence, the
hum of universal evolution, a parade of
creation and destruction. Time has no direction,
no inference, does not seek to achieve or accomplish.
There is no persuasive purpose to Time.

Time knows not [nor anguishes] of our existence.
It is detached from any claim of its presence.
It is not sympathetic, congenial, apathetic, or
antagonistic to life. Time need not assert its
impartiality. Time is neutral. Play with time as
you will; it is the ‘Play Dough’ of space.

Time is not measurement. It possesses no forward or
backward. It embodies all but takes no accounting.
All is free to interact. Time asks no questions, pursues
no answers, and bothers not with results, calculations,
outcomes or resolutions. Indeed, time allows capable
beings of manipulating it. A deception time would
laugh at…if it cared at all.

Time is blind to the condition of humankind
or for that matter Earth, our solar system,
our Star, the Milky or any other ‘Way’.
Its indifference is a feature of a
loving Nature. It isn’t phased if you are
with it, in it or out of it. Time has already
mastered Endlessness.

Time is constant - not moving ahead or
getting behind, not speeding or slowing down,
is unawares of seconds, minutes, hours,
days, years, centuries, or eons. It does not
parse even as we are free to order time.
Oh, the tick and tock of folly.

Time seeks not to overseer, control or
dominate. It is neither wasteful nor efficient.
It will not ‘leave things on the table’ or rush to
get things done. Time does not allot,
estimate, calculate, or total. In fact, do with
Time as you will. Time is disinterested.
Have at it.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————He laid there, his body like a bloated shipwreck, his breath causing an ever so slight rising and falling like faint waves keeping him afloat. His great white and gray beard added to the allusion of the sea as if he arose from its depths to command the surface - a passing Poseidon - taking his place one last time at water’s helm as all sea creatures awaited his last words. Will was not a god; he would soon die.

There were no words as I entered the vacantly occupied room of scarce life - white walls, white sheets, wires and tubes and white machinery counting time in persistent, nagging beeps. I am not sure why the living approach the dying slowly and with care, as if a misstep might trigger an early death. Maybe its out of some strange regard for the moment, how we step forward representing the somber, serious and austere mood. I moved to his bedside at a funereal pace not wanting to wake Will if he was sleeping.

Will’s body was a bulwark of masculine volume - his barrel chest enormous; his arms set apart lying atop the sheets were the remains of his primal muscularity; and every exposed part covered with woolly body hair. His presence a testimony to his youthful force. It made me immediately think of those times when we would argue over the meaning of art. Our disagreements were always a quarrel, friendly but contentious, the memory initiating a regretful smile knowing I would never sit over coffee quibbling with him again.

I leaned over him and just above a whisper said, “Will, it’s David”. He lurched. I stood leaping backward in that moment not anticipating he could hear me. Had he actually responded. I knew he was present. By god, he was in there, somewhere deep inside of him was consciousness. I turned toward the door to see if anyone witnessed this arousal. No one was present and I thought to myself, “I cannot speak of this. They will think that I am crazy. He was comatose. I felt like I had just witnessed a fleeting UFO, sure of its presence but not willing to testify because I would never be believed. His reaction would certainly be attributed to a reflex of the nervous system and not awareness. It certainly didn’t change anything. He was not going recover. He was not ever going to pick up a brush and paint another scene or fashion another sculpture.

I only had a few minutes with him before I was to be asked to leave by the members of the family who were waiting on the other side of the door. So, I began to talk to him. “Oh, you’re awake. Do you remember the time…” Will’s body moved, heaved at times like a paltry laugh. I began to cry believing he was responding to me in some distant way. His mind somewhere in the remote cosmos of time. His message seemingly communicated over the scratchy interference of space. I felt privileged to be by his side. But, I did not want his last moments to be one of dread. I wiped my tears and contrived a cheery demeanor.

It was almost time to leave. What are the appropriate parting words, I wondered? How does one say goodbye? I took his hand in mine. I told Will I love him. I expressed what he means to me. It felt so banal and inadequate. There was more to relate, more to tell, but the words were buried by the immensity of feeling. Finally, “Your family is waiting to see you, Will. I will leave now, my friend.” He yanked my hand with an assuring, near undetectable strength. Will gestured his final goodbye for me.

PANDEMIC DIARY

WHY?
August 24,2021

“Be kind for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” SOCRATES

[What is neurosis if not the adaptation to a desire to avoid reality. This blog is my self-help dialogue, an attempt to address somber, bitter, and sad feelings; a bid to speak to a reality I recently became aware of. Your comments would be appreciated.]

There he sits…a one-quarter turn on my left…at the dining table sipping our first cup of morning coffee with our wives. I have known this man for the better part of thirty years. Conscious and kind, generous and ‘fatherly’ in nature, Tim and his wife, Cathy, have been lasting and constant friends.

Our children, who were born three days apart. We lived one block from the other in Brooklyn Heights. Each of our full-time caretakers were friends and would spend their days together, the children sharing adventures, lunch, ‘boo-boos’ and birthdays. It is through them that we met and became friends. This was in 1989.

A discussion ensues. Three of us chatter away. Tim sits quietly appearing to listen…apparently listening…until, “What are you talking about? I missed it.” We keep our eyes straight ahead without any gestural reaction or verbal inflection. Nothing is out of place. Conversation continues. “Gerrymandering. How the Repub—-” Honestly, I let his wife’s response pass unattended rather observing my friend’s eyes’ disoriented gaze unable to prevent his mind’s wafting like puffballs of blown dandelions disperse and drift into air. I last saw Tim this time merely years ago. He was alert and present. Then, at age 72, he decided to wind down his exceedingly successful business as an investment counselor, accept a retirement program offered by his firm for which his portfolio was taken over by a group of young Turks that Tim trained and who would pay Tim for his clients over a four year period. He would be, thankfully, financially secure.

David * Adele * Cathy * Tim in Norway Summer, 2019

Over the course of their two careers and forty years in business, Tim and Cathy would purchase a house in a community famed for its educational system, bring up three children, send them off to college which demanded they refinance their house three times, and finally pay off their mortgage setting them up for retirement. This year, within four months, both their middle and youngest children are getting married. Despite the expense, they could not be happier or more proud. Still, in stinging contrast to the whiteness of their daughter’s wedding gown, there exists a silent pall of unspoken darkness. Tim’s light is fading.

“I am seeking, I am not lost. I am forgetful, I am not gone.” – Koenig Coste

Tim and I went to pick up the Sunday New York Times last Sunday. As he was coming down the stairs earlier, I asked if he wanted to drive with me to get the paper. He turned around and went upstairs to change from his pajama bottoms to jeans. When we got into the car he asked where we were going. I assumed he meant where are we going to get the paper. So, I answered there is a gas station just beyond town that sells the paper. When we arrived, I pulled in to a spot and Tim asked, “Are you getting gas?”. “No. I’m getting the newspaper here”. “Oh”.

TIM

Yesterday, the topic of the daughter’s impending wedding date came up, the fitting of the bridal gown, the last minute arrangements, etc. Tim and I decided to watch John Wick 3, a perfect distraction for the father of the bride who did not need to be reminded of what the whole affair was costing. Of course, for anyone who has watched the John Wick series, it is not what you might call compelling cinema. And, not feeling as we would miss much of anything, our watching was interrupted by regular viewer commentary. Tim again mentioned the wedding asking, “It’s on the 19th? Right?” I called into the kitchen, “Cathy, the wedding is on what day?” She said the 8th of November, which I conveyed to Tim. “So”, said Tim, “September is almost over. A little more than a month.”

Over the years of our relationship, Tim, always solid, sturdy, serious and strong, displayed little emotion. He didn’t speak much about himself even as he spoke endlessly about the stock market. At first, his silence was merely consistent with who I knew him to be. But, this was different. He is now slow to ascribe, identify, name, relate, and link. For the moment, I watch as he applies enormous effort to these tasks taken for granted: remembering he just ate three squares of chocolate; remembering the story behind the TV series episode just completed. I can see his self-awareness and personal struggle, like placing a foot in an intractable and inevitable pool of quicksand, slowly watching more and more of your presence sink into a fated oblivion from which you cannot escape. In the absence of encouragement, one day on the deck Tim offered the following, “I am more quiet these days. If I speak people may think I’m crazy.” But, he won’t discuss his condition. It was a surprising, blanketed comment about a specific truth not mentioned.

I have not known what to feel. That’s not to say I am without feelings. Quite the contrary. I have an abundance of feelings - deep hurt, sadness, frustration, anger, fear. Fear. The fear is not for myself, per se. It is that generalized fear that such a thing could happen to anyone…without warning. Such a thing. A thing, to me, worse than physical disease or a plethora of severe medical conditions. The fear of not ‘being’ yourself. Living a life of nihilistic extinction.

Tim now follows Cathy around pretty much all of the time. I sense he is feeling insecure in her absence. She was reading on the balcony, so Tim decided he would step out onto the balcony and join her. The heavy glass sliding door was open and the sliding screened door shut. He stood at the precipice unable to figure out the circumstance he faced and necessary order of events to get outside. My heart cried. Who are we but for our consciousness and self-awareness? Who are we but for our choices and decisions? What is time to the non-functioning experience? How will he love in the future? How will he know love?

I want to be there for Tim as best I can. I have spent time researching websites that inform family and friends as to how to act and behave with dementia patients. Their advice, as stated in the Koenig Coste quote, is to answer the questions that are asked with patience and love. Cathy has acted exemplary, tossing answers to a single question asked three times consecutively like a batter in a batting cage. Smack, swack, whack, bam, boom. Nothing to it. But, how long can that last? Hurt chips away at strength. The weight bares down. One life can consume another. They will both need support.

“Think of the life you have lived until now as over and, as a dead man, see what’s left as a bonus and live it according to Nature. Love the hand that fate deals you and play it as your own, for what could be more fitting?” – Marcus Aurelius

Is life fair? Is life just? I no longer question ‘why’ random things happen? That would be a contradiction in terms. Random is a defining term for Life. An IED explodes between the feet of two war buddies. One survives and wonders, “Why him and not me”? The mother of a baby discovers her child has an incurable disease - “Why my baby and not me?” Why? Random happens all around us all the time. It has to be dealt with. We cannot simply ignore or fail to acknowledge the existence of Life, [with a capital ‘L’] and all that is encompassed. Or, as is often the case, we cannot attribute ‘bad’ events as occurring to others…until they happen to us. That will deprive us the opportunity to prepare ourselves. Marcus Aurelius, an early Stoic, remarks, “Let us prepare our minds as if we’d come to the very end of life.” Today I will follow the dictum of the Sage, and let the mountain air enter and fill my lungs with freshness and gratitude. I will allow myself to feel the spectrum of emotions inspired by this journey. I will offer up my help to my friends when they are ready to receive it. I will stand by and be counted. But, I will not ask myself WHY? There is no legitimate answer to that question.

PANDEMIC DIARY

DO NOT SUFFER FOOLS
July 7, 2021

Two nights ago on “All In with Chris Hayes”, he previewed a soon-to-be released documentary produced by New York Times journalists about the January 6 insurrection. The film is composited by extracting videos from the phones of those accused or charged with various degrees of acts of violence during the breach and penetration of the Capitol Building. The filmmakers were able recreate exactly what was happening from all sides of the building at the exact same times isolating time stamped phone video sequences of events. This has produced a frightening, logical procedural of just what occurred, how it took place and by whom. It is a formidable piece of investigative journalism.

In the film, the producers were able to ask questions of the insurrectionists. “Why are you here”? “What do you hope to accomplish?” The stated goals and desired outcomes varied and reflected some of the conspiracy theories floating around, and likely generated by the very groups participating in the assault. More consistent was the fact that each person felt that once achieved they would be able to install some political framework that would restore integrity to our ‘corrupt’ system. They appeared completely naive or totally blind as to what it takes to run a government. Furthermore, and this is the point I wish to make, they each believe that they are vital to the cause. Indispensable. I find this absolutely incredible. And stupid.

I have watched and wondered about this phenomenon whereby these right-wing extremists truly believe that their contribution matters in some grander scheme, and that they will be a lasting participants and contributors to what’s next for some enduring length of time. Not one of these zealots has ever, to my knowledge, expressed remotely any doubt or concern as to what follows the deposing of our Democracy or hesitation about whether they would be of any lasting consequence to a movement. So I did some research, basically to determine whether and to what degree faithful adherents are expendable in the fluid circumstances of an overthrow of a government by an authoritarian, cult leader.

I used Hitler and the Nazi party as the example. But, before I go on, I want to introduce you to a term you will likely be as unfamiliar with as I was, and a fact that I did not know about that shifted the whole of my thinking about this subject. Firstly, the term is Democide: a label created by R.J. Rummel in 1986 and author of the book, “Death By Government”. Rummel realized that however an abomination genocide is, that it is, by international law, only one kind of act against humanity that has become singularly prevalent to the exclusion of other state and non-state sponsored acts. Whereas genocide is “the killing of people by a government because of their ‘indelible group membership’ (race, ethnicity, religion, language)”; democide is the murder of any person or people by a government, including genocide, politicide, and mass murder.

The distinction becomes important in light of other acts that do not fit comfortably in the dominant definition. Would the massacre of helpless villagers in the Sudan by government forces fighting a rebellion fall into this category; the Indonesian army’s purge of communists; the assassination of political opponents by the Nationalist government of Formosa; the “land reform” execution of landlords in the Soviet Union; or, the rapid death of inmates in Vietnam re-education camps? What about non-killing which has been called genocide such as in the absorption of one culture by another? Would Israel’s displacement of large populations of Arabs within its territories be a form of systematic genocide? If not, Rummel proposes a solution by re-categorizing those acts which do not possess legal international standing even though the actions taken are horrible and heinous. Democide is this classification. All genocide, politicide and mass murder would fall within the definition of democide.

Now, for the fact. On July 7, 1986, The Wall Street Journal published an article by R.J. Rummel entitled, “War Isn’t This Century’s Biggest Killer”. A methodical survey of democide, Rummel was provided a grant by the United States Institute of Peace to perform a more in-depth study. The culmination was the publishing of his book, “Death By Government”. In his article for WSJ, he later revealed that his original pilot article underestimated the number of deaths that fall outside the standard definition of genocide and mass murder by 42 percent.

“Our century (21st cent.) is noted for its absolute and bloody wars. WW I saw nine-million people killed in battle, an incredible record that was far surpassed within a few decades by the 15 million deaths of World War II….In total, this century’s battles killed in all international and domestic wars, revolutions, and violent conflicts is so far about 35,654,000.”

But wait, what is missed are the staggering numbers of killings by governments that inspire hardly a murmur, while a war killing ‘mere’ thousands of people can cause a world outcry and global reaction. An example of this misdirected focus is The Falkland Island ‘War’, a minor skirmish between Great Britain and Argentina occurring while Burundi’s were killing or acquiescing in killing about 100,000 Hutu in 1972; and, the slaughtering of likely 600,000 “communists” in 1965 by Indonesian military, or Pakistan’s well planned massacre, eventually killing from one to three million Bengalis in 1971.

As a Vietnam protestor, I also offer a double standard that I find relatable, even as I deplore the Vietnam War. The International Community was outraged at the attempt to militarily prevent the North Vietnamese from from taking over South Vietnam and, if as claimed, eventually Laos and Cambodia. An inexcusable effort. The “Stop the killing” outcry, the pressure from foreign and domestic forces impelled an American withdrawal. The total death toll on all sides was 1,216,000 people.

Subsequently, and with the United States refusing to provide aid or military assistance to the South Vietnamese government, the North, as predicted, swallowed up South Vietnam while Cambodia was taken over by the Khmer Rouge. In their attempt to restore a primitive communist agricultural society they slaughtered from one to three million people. Rummel points out that if we take the middle figure of two million killed, then in four years the government of this small nation of seven million alone killed 64 percent more people than died in the ten-year Vietnam War. But this was hardly a blip on the screen.

These examples repeat themselves throughout time. The first takeaway is relevant to today’s right-wing extremists. “ABSOLUTISM IS NOT ONLY MANY TIMES DEADLIER THAN WAR, BUT IS THE MAJOR FACTOR CAUSING WAR AND OTHER FORMS OF VIOLENT CONFLICT. IT IS THE MAJOR CAUSE OF MILITARISM. INDEED, ABSOLUTISM, NOT WAR, IS MANKIND’S DEADLIEST SCOURGE OF ALL.”

The second takeaway has to do with who are the subjects of these killings. When we think of the Nazi killings we automatically refer to ‘genocide’ and the killing of 6,000,000 Jews. But, the Nazis killed for other reasons (and non-reasons) other than religion or race. The Nazis killed anyone who hindered or opposed them, actually or potentially. [Please note that this is relevant to my point of how current day insurgents believe they will be part of a loyal opposition] Hitler assassinated hundreds of top Nazi SA’s or storm troopers. Over 5,000 citizens were executed after an assassination attempt on Hitler’s ife. “Indeed, it is why critics, pacifists, conscientious objectors, campus rebels, dissidents, and others of different political persuasions were executed or disappeared, or were sent to concentration camps. The Nazis killed some 288,000 Germans, not counting Jews, homosexuals, and those forcibly ‘euthanized’. It is estimated that the Nazis murdered at least 762,000 Germans. Along with the extermination of Jews, the military and non-military death toll increased the likelihood of dying to better than 1 out of 11 German citizens - low odds for survival.”

Most killings are not war related but are akin to administrative devices. They are tools used to terrorize society and opposition, to conduct mass reprisals, to maintain control, prevent sabotage, and safeguard their soldiers. What that can look like is if one man is accused of underground activities a whole village can be rounded up and executed, the village burned, and women and children sent to concentration camps. The long-term strategies of authoritarians rarely take into consideration the tactical necessity of killing. Murder and annihilation are a means to an end. In this sense, Hitler was, admittedly, different and saw an easily defined group of people as easy targets whose elimination he could get a population to rally around. But the necessity of ancillary killing along with the power to execute without restraint happening within a paranoid environment ended killing an estimated 31 million people in total.

NO ONE IS SAFE OR SECURE IN A TOTALITARIAN SOCIETY. THERE ARE NO ALLIES IN TOTALITARIAN RULE. YOU ARE EITHER COMPLICIT OR DEAD.

They are fools who believe they are expressing loyal opposition. They are fools if they believe the person standing next to them does not think him or herself more right than you. They are fools who hold to the notion that what follows is anything but chaos, more violence and endless rebellion. And, those who think that what they impose and inflict on others cannot happen to them, they are really foolish.

PANDEMIC DIARY

THE PRIVILEGED MUST PARTAKE
JULY 2, 2021

When Alex was a child, maybe five or six, Adele and I decided to teach him about kindness, generosity, and care for others. Yes, teach. Other than modeling desirable behaviors and attitudes as best we could, we felt that there existed a part of society where lessons learned deserved to be witnessed rather than merely described. We wanted Alex, by first-hand experience, to realize and appreciate that not everyone lives the life he is living. We set upon this educational, experiential pursuit during which we would expose and introduce Alex to those less fortunate without, of course, frightening him, or depressing his life’s outlook. In New York City, it was not difficult to discover examples of how unfortunate and unfair life can turn out - homelessness, PTSD, hunger, mental illness, etc.

At the time, we were not by any means rich or well-to-do. We were not what one would call ‘financially privileged’. Both employed, I was making a modest income and Adele was doing very well in her consulting business. Yet, we were still aware that Alex had everything a child could need: he was always exceedingly well fed; always had a roof over his head; wore clothing that was new and when worn replaced; lived in a New York suburb; was provided toys and tools for learning, and had resources that supported his well-being. Maybe the simpler way of saying it is that he was never wanting or lacking.

That reality, the mere presence of, if not abundance, adequacy might be for many or most a state of privilege. That is not to say that middle America escapes the anxiety of monthly bills or surprise expenses, and the burden of wondering how to grow their ssets and make life more manageable. But, there is a difference between struggle and needing to contend with deprivation. It is one thing to live within a plan and adhere to a strict budget. Quite another to be destitute, merely surviving having to wonder where the next morsel of food will be found.

It was winter, and the three of us were walking along the streets of the upper West Side of NYC when we came across a homeless person who was asking for money. We encouraged Alex to ask the man if he was hungry. I held his hand as we approached and Alex muttered the question in a somewhat shy and garbled manner. The man said he was hungry and Alex and I told him we would be right back. We stepped into a nearby delicatessen and together order a turkey sandwich, a bag of chips, an apple, and a drink. If I am not mistaken, we also purchased a muffin for dessert. We brought back everything in a large paper bag and Alex gave it to the man. The gentleman smiled in appreciation and thanked us both although looking solely into Alex’ eyes. We wished him well and moved on. To this day Alex remembers that episode.

I questioned this within a very short time of our arrival on Martha’s Vineyard. The morning after our landing on the island and somewhat settling in we decided to take a walk into Edgartown, the nearest village to our rental, about 4 1/2 miles round-trip as the crow flies. It was a lovely walk with brief views of ponds and marshes from the walking path alongside a major road into town.

Along the way and in the winding streets of shops and restaurants we alternately nodded, smiled, said good mornings, to complete strangers who mutually acknowledged our being here together enjoying what is special about Martha’s Vineyard. One woman in particular, caught our eyes, because our eyes were captured by her momentary flicker of acknowledgment, like the pressing of the shutter of a singe reflex camera, the quick flick of the shutter that contains all the information in the lens. We passed one another and Adele and I mentioned how friendly and open she was. After perusing the town, we went to have coffee at ‘Behind the Bookstore’ - a local, ‘secret garden’ location…behind the local bookstore…that had a long line of “first cuppers of the day”. And who was sitting there, but the woman we had passed and to whom we said good morning. We smiled at our second meeting and she asked if we knew each other. We chatted for easily fifteen minutes before finding a perfect table for two in the corner, as I stood on line to get served.

Cappuccinos in hand, we lingered happily while at the table alongside sat a vivacious lady who just greeted a young woman outfitted in tight exercise pants and a cut-off shirt who clearly was as fit as she was attractive. Upon her departure, the woman addressed us revealing that the young woman was Peliton’s # 1 instructor. She was one of the original exercise instructors and was gifted shares of the company’s stock which has made her very well off, to say the least. The woman was so friendly and generous of nature. We talked about the Vineyard, changes over the years, local traditions, the influx of ‘new’ people, etc, until it was time to leave. We shared parting words and warm smiles.

On our walk home, it struck me how sincerely friendly people were to us. Chatty. Spontaneous. Interested. But, I felt a tinge of sadness, wondering what it would take for those so privileged to step outside their own lives [our lives] of comfort to not simply acknowledge but act on behalf of needs of those a whole lot less fortunate. Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t know if they do or don’t declare or concede the reality outside their world. I also wish to confess that Adele’s and my world have changed to bring to bear further questions about how to impel ourselves to work on behalf of people otherwise so easily forgotten.

The point is that no matter how difficult it is for us, and now I am not only talking about Adele and I, who have striven and worked hard to build our futures into a present day level of comfort and satisfaction, we feel compelled to not forget what the world is like outside our privileged bubble. Adele and I are privileged now for sure, but I realize we were privileged even back when. Our ‘normal’ middle class upbringing was still privileged. Our years of personal and professional struggle were privileged. Privilege is actually more the absence of struggle rather than the presence of ease. And now the responsibility falls harder on us to take stock of all that we have accomplished in the larger context of greater societal needs and how we may be a part of positive change.

I am not saying we are responsible for what is happening all around us. But, we are responsible for asserting and claiming our Present that will become our kid’s future. Neither is it guilt that drives me to simply declare the more subtle ways I have been less available, more passive as a result of our abundance and prosperity. This is natural. It takes conscious effort, like the walk in the streets of New York, to allow oneself to ‘see’, to combat complacency, to overcome satisfaction and contentment on behalf of something more deeply gratifying and rewarding. I concede and affirm that I will work harder. There is much work to be done.

HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY AND HAVE A GREAT LONG WEEKEND.

PANDEMIC DIARY

WHEN I’M 64…NOT!
June 21, 2021

Who would deny the absolute genius of Lord Paul McCartney? At the age of 16 he wrote with utmost intuition and prescience the lyrics and music to “When I’m 64”. But, what if he wrote the lyrics to the song, “Now I’m 75”. How would those lyrics track? I wondered about this just moments ago when I stepped out onto my screened-in porch to read my book and smoke a celebratory Father’s Day cigar. With wooden match in hand I stroked and stroked and could not get the match to light. Realizing that I was attempting to light the match on the ‘box’ side of the box and not the ‘striking surface’, I contorted my face in mild self-revulsion while reversing the box to expose the rough, gravely striking surface, but unconsciously also reversed the match so that I was stroking the striking surface with the wooden end of the match. Only then should you have seen the face I made.

Have you ever wanted to cry at your own stupidity? That’s when I thought about revising the song lyrics to the classic opus, “When I’m 64”.

[The audio of the song is just below…lyrics follow.}

When I get older
losin’ my mind
A few days on from now
Will I still remember my address at home?
Will they find me out on a roam?

If I imagined
my tub was a boat
splashin’ while I dive
Would you then scold me?
Would you just hold me?
Now I’m seventy-five.

I could cook a dinner
Make you peppermint tea
And rub your back at night
Then I’d fall asle-ee-ee-p, sle-ee-ee-p
When I wake I would say ‘good day’
Fond memories you’d have to keep.

————————————————————————-

We could watch T.V.
Home on our screen
I’d kiss you in the dark
I could light a fire; we could watch the sparks
Making love like two little larks.

If we got lost
Climbing Jiminy peak
How might we survive?
Would you then chide me
Or would you guide me
now I’m seventy-five.

If I slipped my pants on
back to front all the time
And asked you the time of day
While reading your historie-ie-ies; ie-ie-ies.
I would pour you a glass of wine
And serve you on my knees.

———————————————————————————

We could still travel
Here and abroad
For many years to come
We could take a cruise along the Isle of Mann
I would cool you down with a fan.

You would remember
All that we did
While I was alive
Will you recall me
when life befalls me
Now I’m seventy-five?

PANDEMIC DIARY

FOR LOVE’S SAKE
May 31, 2021

FOR LOVE’S SAKE

I want to love for love’s sake
I want to love for the sake of loving.

I want to be love
gooey, gentle, sentimental love;

dedicated and devoted and
committed love;

moon, spoon, croon
kissin’ in the dunes love,

wet, just met, each day, every
day since we met love;

walk in the park, among the trees,
pee in the weeds love;

enigmatic, ambiguous, inscrutable,
puzzling, perplexing love;

“You’re wrong” “You’re right”
who gives a damn love;

cuddly, snuggly, ‘bear-
huggilly’ kind of love;

no holding back, all in,
balls to the wall love;

cozy, posey, day-time
dozy in my arms love;

everlasting, never-ending, beyond
death do us part love.

no half way, part way -
you’re either in or you’re out love.

ask nothing in return and
reap the world love…for love’s sake.

PANDEMIC DIARY

WHAT ARE MEN THINKING?
May 30, 2021

Friends are coming over to the house tonight. It was time to pop into the shower. I went to my closet, plucked a pair of undershorts from the drawer and proceeded past the bed where Adele laid comfortably, ignoring me as is often the case even as I antically tossed my underpants around my back and over my head. Unable to avoid my silly performance, Adele shook her head in absolute incredulity at my one-man; one-ring circus routine while I responded with my look of incomprehensibility at her dismayed amazement. It made me wonder what men do that women would never think of doing. And why? I will deal with that answer following the list. Here are eight suggestions that come to mind quickly.

1. The aforementioned tossing of underpants over your head or around your back.

2. Sticking protuberant objects in your nostrils for affect.

3. Wearing only a hat around the house butt naked.

4. Throwing food in the air attempting to catch the morsel in your mouth.

5. Sneaking food from someone else’s plate.

6. Daddy jokes about any and all things. (This Is clearly genetic)

7. Flicking the remote endlessly looking for nothing in particular.

8. Sticking your hand in your pants to scratch your ass.

9. Wanting to be left alone when you have a problem.

10. Wanting to be left alone when your wife has a problem.

Then I thought of this minister drawn from memory - I don’t have to reinvent the wheel. Life and marriage in all their glory are fully explained and comically delivered by the Preacher, yes, Preacher Mark Gungor of Gracepoint Church. [If the video is not embedded you can see this truly funny and hysterically identifiable routine via: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fTPUhMdfvzw] Also, if you don’t want to sit through the whole performance, just go to Youtube and you will see versions pulled from this and other of his seminars that are shorter.

Here is the answer to the question, “Why do men perform, maybe act like clowns, or put themselves in silly, childish, and apparently frivolous and empty-headed positions that baffle their wives? The answer is: MEN WISH TO PLEASE!
They are out there all day hunting and gathering and when they come home they want to be greeted by an admiring audience of one. Men will attempt to get a smile out of you at any and all cost. They want you to SMILE. Laughter may be expecting too much. But, in our hearts…our heart of hearts…is the desire to please. And, we will go to any extent to do that. We will put down our spear, remove our loin cloth, and dance around the camp fire while burning our feet on the hot embers, just to get you gals to be pleased and happy.

Having said all this, of course, we cannot admit to any of it. We will deny, deny, deny to our death that we are anything but muscle-bound, aggressive, “I can’t wait for the next fight”, “Have one on me” ‘good-ole boys’. That’s why we get tattoos, carry guns and are casually abusive idiots. Our true nature is abhorrent to us. What kind of pansy lets his dingle dangle, dancing around like a ridiculous grade-school wallflower to please his wife? NOT ME!

YES, ME! We are so good and caring we literally can’t stand ourselves. That’s why we have such a difficult time, as an example, carrying a bunch of roses. Have you seen a man carrying flowers for his wife? He looks like he’s toting fifty pounds of just made soft dough - fidgeting and balancing - all so that his manly appearance is not forsaken.

You know the famous saying: K.I.S.S.? I once saw a man with a tee shirt that said: KEEP IT STUPID SIMPLE. Yes, men get it backwards sometimes. But, it’s the effort that counts. Men keep trying. Admittedly, their antics go to extremes, like the guy who wanted to do yard work for his wife and attempted to start his power saw by putting it between his legs and pulling the cord. God knows we try.

So, I ask you, next time your man appears with whipped cream on his chest nipples, or wearing his pants backwards, or if he puts Chinese hot sauce on your peanut butter sandwich, please forgive him and remember, above all else, that this is man at his best.

Some fabulous quotes from commiserating women I have known:

“You are like a fine wine. I want to stomp on you and keep you in the dark until you mature”.
”If it weren’t for sarcasm, how could I possibly express myself in a non-threatening manner”?
”My ‘alone time’ is for everyone’s safety”.
NOTE TO SELF: “You cannot stab a man for being stupid”.
”Sometimes all it takes being with you is a positive attitude…and a knife”.
”No issues today: I’m in my awesome bubble, and you’re not allowed inside”.
”Be careful who you trust. Salt and arsenic look the same”.
”People say I act like I don’t care about you. It’s not an act”.
”I wish my life had background music so I could know what the hell is going on with you”.

PANDEMIC DIARY

WHY DO I WRITE?
May 27, 2021

Three years ago, I took a writing course with Julia Green at the Carrboro Arts Center. Julia is terrific - a teacher, novelist, short story writer, and even a bit of a raconteur. Plus, she knows how to teach and provide instruction.

Over the years, I have developed a style of writing that, I believe, can be likened to a bad golf swing. Developed over years of non-instruction, I was always innately talented enough to surpass some one person in a foursome, but never a handicapped golfer despite my natural abilities. It is clear to me that as it was in golf, it is in writing. I have not been totally dedicated to the cause of either, therefore, never able to claim the moniker or byline: ‘golfer’ or ‘writer’.

Last week, Julia popped an email into my inbox (along with her sizable mailing list) to invite me to a summer writing course. I mulled this over, testifying in my head to all the reasons this would not work over the course of six weeks of summer. After all, Adele and I are leaving on June 26 for all points north. We will be with our friends much of the time. We will be hiking. I will be cooking. Blah. Blah. Blah. I cannot, for the life of me, shut my fucking brain prattle.

I signed up for the course. I could not stand listening to myself for another moment. The utter bullshit my brain produces is absolutely heroic…and no less annoying, like that Pileated Woodpecker that is fond of a tree right outside our screened-in porch. Peck, peck, peck, peck, peck! Then follows an hysterical cackling sound as if The Joker was a mad, laughing female opera singer escapee from The Cuckoo’s Nest. Cackle, cackle, cackle.

It’s not polite to lay this on my friends, but I thought you may find this therapeutic. I discovered I am on the spectrum, the Asperger’s spectrum, a couple of years ago. Mildly so. It has to do with what is identified as low Executive Function. Too late to really do anything about it. There was no such syndrome when I was growing up, so I was left thinking I was ‘not working hard enough’. My parents told me I was lazy. “You have so much potential”. Can you imagine all the kids out there suffering and believing that all it takes is to ‘try harder’.

Writing permits me to work at my own pace. Some days on and some off. If I need to get up and do something else, I simply get off my ass and move around. I remember when Alex was 4 1/2 years old, we brought him for a neuro-psych evaluation. During the exam, which was about 4 1/2 hours long, Alex asked the tester to stop. Alex got out of his chair and started doing jumping jacks. Afterwards, the psychologist told us the story saying that Alex was the first patient that he ever worked with who interrupted the exam to release his energy. He thought it was quite remarkable and commended Alex. Until my diagnosis, I had never really given much consideration to that incident. The son does not fall far from the parent.

The blog I write is a perfect match for my ‘special’ mind. Mel Levine, a Doctor of Pediatrics and x-Professor at The University of North Carolina wrote a breakthrough book called “All Kinds Of Minds”, which became a non-profit institute, in which he describes the numerous and different modalities of the brain. He exhorts us to realize the multitude of ways in which the mind works and unless we adapt to each individual we shackle that child with the unintended and unachievable task of having to navigate a world in which education is taught in a singlular modality that suits a particular type of young person but is denying a majority of children the opportunity to learn, flourish and succeed.

In the 4th grade, my school went on a class trip to, if I remember correctly, The Museum of Natural History in New York City. We lived in the Bronx, so we were to take a subway downtown. On the way we passed an Italian bakery which was famed for its Italian Gelato. So, I snuck off line, avoiding all eyes, and went inside the shop and ordered a gelato which was scooped into these soft, squeezable paper cups. Meanwhile, the teachers took a count of their students and realized one child was missing. They searched for me up and down the block without any luck until I exited the store with my gelato. I was a ‘pissah’.

By the way, I ordered a flavor called “Lily with Nuts”. This flavor never existed anywhere else. Then, years later, out of sheer curiosity, I looked up this flavor and lo’ and behold I found a posting in 2015 in which a woman asked a question on ‘reddit’, “In the Bronx borough of NY there is a section that makes an Italian ice flavor (Its a creme ice) called Lily with nuts. My family is addicted to the stuff and I want to replicate it. It has slivers of almonds and tastes of spices like cinnamon or nutmeg. I can't figure it out. Has anyone ever heard of anything like this and if so does anyone have a recipe? You would be a hero to my entire extended family!!!!! This is my white whale!”
An answer came back, "One of the more unusual flavors, lily with nuts, is a Bronx invention of vanilla, rum and slivered almonds”.
That’s it. That’s the taste. I could really go for a lick of that right now. By the way, the Italian Bakery was on Castle Hill Avenue in the Bronx.

PANDEMIC DIARY

THIS IS WHERE I DRAW THE LINE
May 24, 2021

I was riding in my car to and from chores when I turned on NPR. Whatever the segment, I had arrived mid-broadcast, mid-sentence. In a mere moment, I realized that the subject matter was a retelling of a difficult time from a difficult place. The person retelling the story conveyed a pall of dark memories in literal moments of time. And, without my having any context regarding who the is, where she is from, what happened and why, I was struck in my heart by the words to follow.

She retells that “he” asked her, “Does it hurt to die”.

Later, she noticed he would not keep away from his sister and was kissing and touching her to her mild annoyance. She recounts asking, “What are you doing?”.
”If I die I want to make sure I remember her”.

I teared up hearing the trauma through the eyes of a child’s experience. How fear to the uninitiated is all-encompassing. How experience to a young person is not particular, rather universal. They know one thing: what is happening to them in this moment. That becomes their world. Later their assumption. Then their burden.

I am thinking of all the moments in my life that I am still dealing with, and even sometimes still addressing. But, my world was still safe within its conclave of family. True, my mother was a sneaky, self-centered manipulative narcissist. But, she bathed us, cooked for us and ‘kvetched’ incessantly enough that we felt a non-threatening uniqueness of oddity. I still could ‘go out and play’. Nothing was ever falling from the sky and going ‘boom’. Noises did not infer impending doom or an urgency to run and hide in shelter.

There appears to be a world-wide fascination with authoritarians. We are witnessing a time when the odyssey of subverted corruption is surfacing and what lays beneath the surface of public political debates and partisanships has bubbled to the surface for all to see. There is no longer a model government. They are all…and have always been…corrupt. Those in government have always sought to serve themselves. When it came to their own political survival, policy was up for grabs. Integrity never seemed to matter except for the few. The concept of ‘servants of the people’ never took hold. The difference now is that what existed before, I believe rarely without exception, has become more entrenched, more institutionalized, more politically acceptable; more blatant and shameless; and, more popularly and commonly accepted than ever before. In other words, imminently threatening what remains as our democracy

I remember a pleasant happenstance that occurred to Adele and I. We were in Berlin on the day of their Marathon. We decided to become part of the crowd and position ourselves near a turn in the run where we could get a good long glance of the racers. Standing by us at the barriers was a gentleman with whom we started up a conversation. What’s relevant here is that we were staying in a portion of the city that was designated as East Berlin prior to the fall of the Berlin Wall. It has since become gentrified with young singles and couples with children and is really quite lovely. The gentleman went on to explain that his father, who is still alive, opines for the days before Berlin’s unification. He liked it under the old totalitarian regime.

We asked him what about authoritarianism his father liked? His answer was that like so many of his peers, they liked the certainty. They did not have to stand on line for jobs. They were given jobs. They did not have to worry about having a place to stay. They were given an apartment. They didn't possess much, nor could they go far, or did they have things to do and enjoy. Yet, he was satisfied. They didn't worry about capitalism. Decisions were made for them. Steady as she goes. Limit choices. Believe in the voices that tell you what is going on. No cares.

In now famous experiments from the 1960’s, Stanley Milgram, a Yale professor, questioned why people follow authoritarian figures. His first conclusion he called “The Power of Authority”. “Too often, orders from people with positional power can overrule individual judgment. Psychologist Stanley Milgram’s landmark study showed how people mindlessly obeyed an authority figure. They followed his commands to administer potentially fatal shocks to a person in the next room whenever he gave a wrong answer to a test question. Despite the victim’s cries of pain, pleas to stop, and complaints about his heart condition, the vast majority (82.5%) of research participants obeyed the experimenter. While hearing the screams from the person next door, these participants kept pushing the button to deliver severe shocks increasing to the level of 450 volts. Milgram (1974) concluded that most people will follow an authority figure’s commands because our culture reinforces us for obedience.” Later experiments conducted by psychologist Jerry Berger (2009) discovered that ‘testers’ could be easily persuaded to continue shocking to near fatal levels even after hearing subject (victims) cry out in agony. [All participants were actors and the pain performed).

Then there was “The Power of Limited Information”. “Without other reliable sources of information, they were forced to rely only on the claims of the authority figure. Is it any wonder that authoritarian leaders seek to cut people off from valid information? They censor and discredit the press as well as the academic and scientific communities so that people are left with only their authoritarian propaganda.”

Another critical stage in the development of authoritarian rule is “The Power of Avoiding Personal Responsibility”. In the obedience segment of the test, “the experimenter told participants that he alone was responsible for any adverse effects on the person subjected to shocks. The participants were just “following orders,” able to avoid personal responsibility because they were obeying the authority figure.” We see this occurring now in government, where legislators are falling in line with a dominant figure to mask their complicity and hide behind the idea that someone else is in charge.

A final reason is explained by the study of tyrannical regimes during WWII. Historian Timothy Snyder (2017) recognized how often authoritarian leaders prey upon our fears. They will discredit facts, deny credible news and abuse sources of information, finally drawing the public into false webs of conspiracy theories that produce a toxic mix of angst, polarization, scapegoating, and chronic cultural positions and anxieties that potentially undermine a civil, free society.

We are at a critical vector in our history. Republicans seem to have been planning for this for decades. Their hateful, racist policies have been with us since Reconstruction and the ‘Southern Strategy’. I am thinking of ways to re-engage and start marches. But, what I absolutely am committed to is “to not tolerate fools”. They are not my friends. They are not who I wish to socialize with despite our past, despite what other good qualities they may possess. I am using my voice, not to apologize or compromise, but to repudiate.

THIS IS WHERE I DRAW THE LINE!