PANDEMIC DIARY

“BURNT ONIONS AND ‘THE MATRIX’”
Part 1: THE MATRIX’ REVISITED
June 14, 2022

In 2001, I completed writing my staged performance piece “Surviving Pearl” [SP}, a kind of tribute to the memory of my mother. At that time, I was briefly a member of a playwrights group. We held monthly meetings as each member would bring a current project they were working on. We read a portion or the whole of the written script, finally asking for questions and comments of the group-at-large. It was at such a meeting that I presented ‘Surviving Pearl’ for the first time…its dry run.

SP is a performance piece, a one-man play in which I play myself and my mother in one-sided conversations where the other character’s responses are inferred by the dialogue. At one point during the performance, I break the ‘fourth wall’, the imaginary dividing line between what is occurring on stage and the audience, by speaking directly to the audience. At that moment, the audience and I are one. I tell them about my mother’s potato soup and describe its preparation. The first step is to cook the onions - “…saute them until they are brown, very brown and caramel in color. Don’t let them burn, otherwise it will taste bitter”. To this author’s memory, I had no intention here other than to share a recipe and have direct contact (intimacy) with the audience.

I finish reading the play to the applause and accolades of my peers. Then it was time for their critical observations and recommendations. One of the writer’s told me that she particularly liked when I broke the fourth wall, addressed the audience as a means of gaining empathy and trust, and then went on to describe my brilliant use of “burnt onions as allegory” …for, well, everything… in the world. I feigned acceptance of her insights and profound interpretation. To be honest, much of what is created in art remains unconscious to the artist and is left to the viewer to establish their own rapport with a work. Furthermore, her reading of that scene was, in fact, adroit and clever. It simply struck me as odd, and a little bit humorous, that of all aspects of the script writing product she would isolate and identify with ‘burnt onions’.

Recently, in conversations, the movie “The Matrix” came up, as it has become an unintentional allegory for…well, just about everything. It began for me in 1999 with the film’s release. To this five decade old cinema aficionado/conspiracy theorist, its message told of powerful forces that have constructed a world of deception, a duplicity of senses, a deep deceit upon which is layered a veneer of material wants, wish fulfillment, not enough’s, dulling dreariness, and arbitrary, distracting appeasements and indulgences. Add to that, the complexly insidious and invasive computer programming within a computer program in which life itself is a simulation, where what we see and what we think we know is a simulation of reality. That human culture is formulated by those ‘in control’ (in control of natural resources, finance and wealth, governments) of the computers and impose all messaging in the form of media, religion, advertising, etc. that ultimately determines our view of the world: how we perceive and experience ourselves and our environment, how we define our plight, and how and what we project onto others. A world of predestined, preprogrammed androids in human form.

This idea originated with Jean Baudrillard, a French sociologist, philosopher, cultural theorist, political commentator, and photographer. Baudrillard’s magnum opus is ‘Simulacra and Simulation’, the book taking center stage in the opening scenes of The Matrix when Neo opens a hollowed-out copy of the book where he stores cash and his important and illicit computer files. Baudrillard refers to images and signs and how they relate to our contemporary society, wherein we have replaced reality and meaning with symbols and signs such that what we know of reality actually is a simulation of reality - “a world saturated with imagery, infused with communications media, sound, and commercial advertising”. These simulacra - copies, clones and counterfeits - are the signs and imagery that infuse and saturate our society, surpass the ‘real’ world and become ‘hyper-real’ or more-real-than-real. In such a world apathy and melancholy permeate human perception. Empathy is lost to self-interest. There is no room for ‘common good’ as entitlement settles in and each person is in it for themselves.

Now, were this not confusing enough, Baudrillard ‘borrowed’ an analogy from the work of Jorge Luis Borges. “In it, a great Empire created a map that was so detailed it was as large as the Empire itself. The actual map grew and decayed as the Empire itself conquered or lost territory. When the Empire crumbled, all that was left was the map. In Baudrillard's rendition, it is the map that we are living in, the simulation of reality, and it is reality that is crumbling away from disuse.”

[As an aside, The Matrix was not written by The Wachowski Brothers but closely adapted from a story by Sophia Stewart, an author who in 1981 copyrighted a work called “The Third Eye” upon which The Matrix is based. Stewart sued the Wachowski Brothers, Joel Silver, and Warner Brothers, et al charging copyright infringement and racketeering. She won the case six years later receiving damages cited as one of the largest in copyright infringement history, the settlement based upon gross receipts from The Matrix I, II, and III of in excess of 2.5 billion dollars.. Of particular relevance to this discussion is the fact that then Warner Brothers’ parent corporation is the GIANT, “AOL-Time Warner which owns 95 percent of the media business: New York Times newspapers/magazines; People Magazine; CNN News; Extra; Celebrity Justice; Entertainment Tonight; HBO; New Line Cinema; DreamWorks; Newsweek; Village Roadshow and many, many more outlets.”] At the time of this writing this monopoly has been split into its parts.]

And so it continues, a disintegrating reality, greater reliance and trust in the manipulated illusions and misleading messaging based upon false assumptions and lies. It is these assumptions upon which we create worlds. The lies support the fake assumptions. In this process we create ourselves as projections of the adopted realities composing and fabricating the illusions of a distinctive ‘me’…and ‘them’. Shakespeare would be shocked to learn that in today’s world “To thine own self be true” would be a state so divinely to be wished as to be near impossible. What does it mean, ‘to know thyself’ when with so many outside influences we create for ourselves a being [self] so prescribed, dictated and indoctrinated to that our ‘true’ selves, our heart center, the human core from which emanates our original life force lies beneath an overt, yet somehow diffuse, invisible cloak of money, business, gain, fashion, etc. This onslaught of information is like a storm from which there is no shelter.

This passage was, some time ago, submitted by a dear friend and seems relevant at this juncture. I will close here to end Part 1 of this discussion:

There is this Magic Show…
And, some people live in the Magic Show…
And, some people are the Magic Show…
—————
And, some people wonder what the Magic Show is all about…
And, some people wonder what Magic is…
And, some people never wonder at all.

(to be continued)

PANDEMIC DIARY

MIASMA
JUNE 3, 2022

In its most elemental meaning, miasma refers to a highly unpleasant or unhealthy smell or vapor. Taken a bit further it defines an oppressive or unpleasant atmosphere besieging, enveloping, and hemming in. It is an uncomfortable feeling - a psychological coral, an emotional enclave - life circling the wagons to protect against the onslaught. I was reminded of this word reading today’s David Brooks’ column in the New York Times referring to opinion writers who “offer priceless life hacks to help you float effortlessly through the miasma of modern existence”. Yet, this was the second opinion piece this morning that utilized the imagery of ‘miasma’. The first was a Monica Lewinsky article in Vanity Fair Magazine (Yes! I read all sorts of things, and this is extremely well written) regarding the Johnny Depp-Amber Heard trial.

Lewinsky cites the science fiction author Greg Fishbone, founder of the microsite Mythoversal, “for the ancient Greeks, a miasma was a moral taint that hung over a person, family, or city after the commission of a crime. The miasma could cause crop failures, cattle disease, stillbirths, and other plagues until it could be dispelled by sacrifice, purification, or upon the death of the guilty party.” Lewinsky goes on to say, “What we have now, arguably, is a “cultural miasma.”

“Bingo”, I thought. That’s what I’m experiencing. Depp/Heard; Jan. 6th; Trump; Putin; Ukraine war; #MeToo; Inflation; Gun Control; and, kids being murdered in schools at the hands of ostensibly older kids; and, a two-party system that has one party acting like the Nurse Ratchet of politics with the rest of us wondering if we are in the Cuckoo’s Nest. Lewinsky points out “…I came to realize that distortion, not objectivity, has evolved into an acceptable lingua franca.” We have become so self-absorbed, so entrenched and drowning in social media that there is hardly a place to go for simple, straight-forward, unfettered news reporting. No one is any longer deciding, developing and determining from facts their own positions. We are awash in the opinions, commentaries, analysis, partialities and politics of others. Worse, all this taking place under the guise and cover of “reporting”. Lewinsky: “We are drenched in the taint of the dirt and aggression of the social media wars.”

Sadly, this today is what is called “the free press”. Can you imagine? Everything we hear or read is smeared with the corruption of bias and stink of partiality. Everything is filtered by the effects on readership. News is too bland, evidently. Our very physical survival…as individuals…as communities…as a nation…is insufficient unto itself to be newsworthy. Enhancement and augmentation are the filter by which stark existence sells. News is not challenging on its own??? - lives being lost on a battlefield; a nation invading another autonomous nation; a pandemic that persists; families falling into poverty; food supplies dwindling - it obviously requires additional color; a slant; an angle; added perspective, some so-called expert’s point of view to help us grasp the gravity of the situation.

On the May 24th podcast, Now and Then, hosted by Heather Cox Richardson, an award-winning historian, she spoke with Joanne Freedman, attorney and historian, about the American Founders interest in a free press, explaining how they drew a link between the importance of a free, unbiased press and its impact on government. The press was the only weapon that a people could employ to attack an unjust government. Thomas Jefferson: “A free press brings public officials before the tribunal of public opinion and thereby produces reform peaceably which otherwise must be done by revolution.” Unlike a monarchy, it is the public who determines what direction rule takes, but the public must then know what government is doing and therein lies the role of the free press.

Having become thoroughly exhausted and saddened with all that is going on in the world, I thought about a favorite couplet of mine by Edna St. Vincent Millay in her poem “Moriturus”:

“If I could have
Two things in one:
The peace of the grave,
And the light of the sun.”

May we discover our place of peace and light in this life.
See you all later.

PANDEMIC DIARY

A “HALLMARK” COVID
May 14, 2022

I tested positive for Covid this past Wednesday. For the three or so days prior I had been hacking, sneezing and wheezing. The Spring has been so fraught with allergies that I simply attributed my condition to the cruelties of changing seasons. On Wednesday I felt woozy. So much so that by afternoon it did not seem rash or over reactive to administer a home test that culminated in the pink line and not blue. (Odd that I associate pink with roses and toddlers. Most certainly not disease indicators. I’m thinking battle gray would be a more appropriate, if not ominous color to indicate what would in store for the next few days.) Adele jumped into executive function mode. I was sent upstairs like a misbehaving preschooler who was given a time-out.

“Stay in the room”
”Don’t come out of your room”
”If you need to come out of the room, wear your mask.”
”Don’t come out of your room”
”If you need something, I will get it for you.”
”Stay in the room”

I said that I felt woozy. In retrospect, it likely was the “brain fog” that has so often been described. Brain fog, not that I’m an expert, is a sort of combined breakfast plate of mild dizziness, lightheadedness, and a growing inclination towards, “I don’t give a fuck…my hair hurts.” Its mental mush, like cranial oatmeal. In this state of emotional desolation one may acquire a propensity for sentimentality and the banal. In the rarely utilized bedroom belonging to Alex, now converted into containment center, I inhale the ether of resignation. Unable to focus or concentrate, I relinquished all efforts at normal internal discourse. This miasma of self-pity was elevated to the point of having to supplant any empathy I might have had for my circumstance with the convenience of televised artifice.

I didn’t have the intention of watching the Hallmark Channel. I never have before. But, as I was scrolling the channels I saw a movie titled, “Paris, Wine & Romance”. It was starting in two minutes. What the hell! I love Paris, I love wine, and I need a little romance to quell the inexplicable longing I’m feeling. Maybe a cinematic coddling would do the trick.

“Paris, Wine & Romance” turned out to be like a two-hour long slog of a Barry Manilow song - commonplace, formulaic, and totally predictable. Did I change the channel? NO. I watched it to the bloody end. The handsome French winemaker of award-winning Burgundy wines (Jacques), falls in love with a gal (Isabella), from Oregon whose Pinot Noir earns a Silver Medal to Jacques’ Gold in a competition. The ending was a turn on the phrase, ‘He shows up on her doorstep’ to “He lights up her wine vats”.

I felt like I had raw string beans for dinner. You know you ate something because you chewed and have something stuck between your teeth, but are still starving for more substance. The Hallmark Channel seems to offer what need a romance novel fills without the ‘skin’ and writhing. And, without so many words. No analysis of character. People just show up. Anywhere. Anytime. Love is the common inevitable insertion. No difference between the movies. Simply a change in locale and accents. It reminds me of improvisational theater. Your sitting in the audience and the performers asks, “What is the most unlikely of places you can think of to fall in love.” Excitedly, members of the audience throw out the most implausible of scenarios: “Bumping into each other outside adjoining Port a Pottys”; “Meeting the caretaker of your invalid mother”; “Having the waiter spill Escargots on your dress”. No problem. He wears a colostomy bag and she suffers from Krone’s Disease. The caretaker is Premed while he is finishing his degree in Geriatrics. The waiter invites the lady to his home for dinner so she can pour Champagne down his pant leg. It always works out in the end.

It is certainly understandable that “happy endings” have a place in the world of film. However, It is one thing to portray a ‘normal’ story, both linear and mundane. But, normal is never without nuance and complexity. To leave that out is an insult to the viewer. And, life will never be less complex than it is now. I wondered who is the audience for this boilerplate corn? What is it they derive from digesting that the world is easy and not complicated. Personally, I am always suspect when things are purported to be easy. Ease can never be a goal. It is a state of being that reflects one’s comportment with reality. It is an indicator that you are in sync with your life.

So, there it is…I made judgments regarding the viewership of The Hallmark Channel. They would be more isolated from society, have more insular ideas (Conservative) about right and wrong. They would not be a diverse community having common views on politics, religion, social mores and, in general, be less tolerant. I, further, presumed, that Hallmark’s viewership would find solace in the plainly presented depiction of family values as they perceived them to be.

Sadly, I could not have been more right. First, I researched the popularity of viewership to determine if Hallmark was a serious player in cable television. What I discovered shocked me.

(from a cable rating site) ‘Riding high on the overwhelming popularity of the highly successful holiday programming, Hallmark finished the fourth quarter of 2020 as the most-watched entertainment cable network among Women 18+ years for the seventh year in a row. In Saturday primetime, the channel is the highest-rated of all broadcast and cable networks among the same demographic. Overall, Hallmark Channel regularly ranks as one of cable’s most-watched entertainment networks in primetime and total day ratings.

Then I scratched a little deeper to read viewer comments to get a sense of who watches Hallmark. (Please note that I did not cherry-pick these comments to benefit my argument. These quotes are in order from the most recent back and are not edited.)

May 12, Anonymous “I love how Hallmark does absolutely nothing to anyone with hatred towards Christians…”

What did they mean by this? Other comments answered that question:

May 8, Diane “ I am seeking another family-oriented channel for programming now. I am saddened by Hallmark’s disregard for us who wish to view family TV without having gay themes shoved down our throats.”

May 2, Julie “I love seeing the ratings each week go lower and lower for Hallmark. They are forgetting the fans who have been with them since the start…The continuing of casting Gay characters in every movie and having them kiss in every movie is getting a bit much.”

I love this one:

May 7, Liz “Hallmark USED TO STAND FOR FAMILY, QUALITY AND HOPE. The new WOKE themes DESTROY FAMILY.”

Really? And, finally Susie tells us what to do:

Mar. 26 “Let us pray for those actors who have faith in God to know how to navigate the current direction of Hallmark.

Far be it for me to draw a direct line between these criticisms, the viewers who wrote them and Nazi Germany. But, here it is all laid out like thousands of domino pieces that are aligned in a pattern, side by side, just waiting for someone to take the one step and tip the first piece that will cause a chain reaction that will tumble the whole structure. These same people who decry Islam, hate Muslims, believe in conspiracies, in the guise of family values and religious beliefs and personal irritabilities are more than willing to take their case to the court of authoritarians and dictators.

They are truly American Taliban with as much fervor, fever and fanaticism as those they despise. Except they carry the burden of the Cross as opposed to the Crescent and Star. They believe that they are the chosen. And, as a Jew, I certainly know has that’s worked out for us.

This argument is a generalization, of course. It does not apply to the whole of Hallmarks’ viewers. However, I went deep into the comments section and did not find one individual who praised the channel for its bravery, or fair representation or simply acceptance of those persons previously excluded from society. Hallmark was not applauded or lauded. No praise. No accolades. Just scorn. These comments reflect a complete absence of personal and societal self-awareness and yes, sophistication, as exposure to the world around you. The message to me was clear and not cloaked. “We wish to live in our bubble. We will support anyone who substantiates this fantasy.

If this fantasy becomes a reality, we are all in serious trouble.

PANDEMIC DIARY

TURNING OVER THE REIGNS
May 7, 2022

Heather Cox Richardson (HCR), the historian and political commentator worthy of your attention, re-published her blog from “Letters To An American” on Mothers’ Day two years ago: “If you google the history of Mother’s Day, the internet will tell you that Mother’s Day began in 1908 when Anna Jarvis decided to honor her mother. But “Mothers’ Day”—with the apostrophe not in the singular spot, but in the plural—actually started in the 1870s, when the sheer enormity of the death caused by the Civil War and the Franco-Prussian War convinced American women that women must take control of politics from the men who had permitted such carnage.”

And, so it continues - carnage, destruction, pillaging, rape, bombing, sex trafficking, arms dealing, religious extremism - the origins of which have been variably attributed to “Guns, Germs, and Steel” (Jared Diamond) to Yuval Noah Harari’s projections on human development in the book “Sapiens” such as human’s capacity to imagine leading to beliefs (god, money, nation, and rights) that thusly lead to prejudice and discrimination (racial, political, sexual). To my observation, the only reality that all these arguments have in common is that the theories are based upon men acting upon men. Men who have established themselves as dominant, controlling, violent, quick to judge, impulsive, threatening and ultimately dangerous to themselves and the societies within which they prevail.

Mothers’ Day may have precipitated the thinking about its significance and meaning. However, Heather Cox Richardson has clearly framed a worthy argument. Women’s Liberation is simply insufficient to move the needle in favor of what Julia Ward Howe said, (President of The Woman Suffrage Association and who penned The Battle Hymn of the Republic), “Men always had and always would decide questions by resorting to ‘mutual murder’. “ With regards to the Civil War, “Why do not the mothers of mankind interfere in these matters, to prevent the waste of that human life of which they alone know and bear the cost? ARISE WOMEN. We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies. Our husbands will not come to us reeking of carnage, for caresses and applause.”

It simply is no longer a generalization that men not only are not the best leaders, but appear to be on a path to the destruction of civilization as we know it. Currently, it is decisively clear that amongst the world leaders of the last half century, the most powerful, potent, useful and rational persons of importance in world politics have been women including Erna Solberg, Prime Minister of Norway; Angela Merkel, Chancellor of Germany; Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, President of Liberia who received a Nobel Peace Prize in 2011 for her “non-violent struggle for the safety of women and for women’s rights to full participation in peace-building work.” Helle Thorning-Schmidt, Former Prime Minister of Denmark; Park Geun-hye, President of South Korea; Sonia Gandhi, President of India National Congress, who is advocating for a Woman’s Reservation Bill, “which seeks to reserve 33% of the seats in lower house of Indian Parliament to women.”

This may be a grandiose way of presenting a personal testimony to the necessity and value of women in my life, but also to the urgency needed to install more and more women in posts of power and influence. A 2021 article in Forbes Magazine states, “Over the past decades, scientific studies have consistently shown that on most of the key traits that make leaders more effective, women tend to outperform men. For example, humility, self-awareness, self-control, moral sensitivity, social skills, emotional intelligence, kindness, a prosocial and moral orientation, are all more likely to be found in women than men. Women also outperform men in educational setting, while men score higher than women on ‘dark side’ personality traits, such as aggression (especially unprovoked), narcissism, psychopathy, and Machiavellianism, which accounts for much of the toxic and destructive behaviors displayed by powerful men.”

—Narcissistic leader are too focused on themselves to care about others.
—Psychopathic leaders are cruel and immoral, lack empathy and engage in reckless risk taking.
—Machiavellan leaders will engage in callous manipulation and exploit their charisma and social skills to take advantage of their followers.

Meta-analytic studies show that women “are more likely to lead democratically, show transformational leadership, be a role model, listen to others and develop their subordinates potential, and score higher on statistical measures of leadership effectiveness”. And, it appears that everyone knows these truths. In 1953 a Gallup Poll revealed a 66 percent preference for a male boss - today that figure is nearly at 20%. In her position as CEO of “20-First”, a global ‘gender balance consultancy’, Avivah Wittenberg-Cox points to “The mountain of evidence keeps growing. Women leaders outperform. Especially during a crisis. Companies with more of them do better. Countries led by women are managing the Covid crisis far better than their male counterparts.”

This may be a long way of saying that our future may depend upon more mothers and women and the next generation of young women participating and leading our political process in far greater numbers. We need women’s energy, wisdom, sense of community, intolerance of violence and vision. And, it is to women at large that I dedicate today’s blog.

I also confess, and without any external coercion, that were it not for Adele, our home would not be as warm, sane, and ordered as it is. Thank you for all your leadership.

HAPPY MOTHERS’ DAY.

PANDEMIC DIARY

CONTEXT CHANGES EVERYTHING
March 23, 2022

Context provides meaning and clarity to the intended message. In a discussion, the context provides the container within which we are assured that we are all talking about the same thing. If it were a theater production, it would be the stage setting for it ‘sets the stage’ for the communications to follow. Context is vital, establishing a framework, intent, and direction. But, also, context can reveal subtexts and disclose nuances otherwise unrealized. I have experienced these phenomena in business and my personal life. We have all experienced this in sending emails whose intent was mistaken. Maybe you were attempting to be funny or serious yet totally mistaken. And, then sometimes we hear a phrase or refrain and appreciate the content but have no idea of the context until it is explained. And, then the whole experience shifts and it takes on new meaning. Even profound meaning.

The Drifters

Such was the case when a friend of mine sent me this synopsis of the origin of the song “Save The Last Dance (For Me)” made famous in the 1960’s by The Drifters:
The songwriter, Doc Pomus, was crippled, but his wife or girlfriend loved to go out and dance - so he would go with her to the clubs so she could dance. She would dance with other men while he sat on the sidelines and watched. But when it was time for the last dance of the evening, he would go out in his wheelchair and dance the last dance with her. Hence, the song. True story and very touching! That is how this wonderful song was written! Those were the days of good diction and you can actually understand the words!

Now the song has a completely different meaning and affect on me. It brought me to tears. See this version with Anne Murray and let me know what you think. (IMPORTANT:CLICK ON ‘READ IN BROWSER” THEN “WATCH ON YOUTUBE”)

PANDEMIC DIARY

A HOME SO NEAR - SO FAR
March 17, 2022

Adele and I moved into our home in Jan. 1999. A middle class neighborhood, the house was modest and what we could afford at the time. I wanted more land, but my eyes were often grander than what I could put on the plate. And, with 8-year old Alexander in tow, Adele was wise in insisting we move to a neighborhood where there were other children. I acquiesced, needless to say, knowing she was right despite my public demonstrations of shoulder shrugs and frowning dismay. We do not have a large backyard, but to our advantage we are bordered on two sides by community buffer zones which requires twice the separation from one community to the adjacent community.

Nonetheless, just on the other side of our house is another in the Spring Valley community. In the summer when the trees and shrubbery are in full display there is a layer of green shielding that prevents us from seeing our neighbor. In winter, the opposite is true and we can see the comings and goings of the owners, now elderly and frail. The wife appears to be restricted to a wheel chair. The husband, Jim, is likely 90+ years old and is stooped over in parabolic curvature like the arc of a vaulting dolphin.

I first met Jim when we moved into the house. He was immediately cordial but, as well, demanded a level of familiarity I had no desire to reciprocate. I found it strange that our inaugural conversation began with Jim telling me his age. I stood there hardly knowing what to say. I mean anyone who is 70, 71, 72 years old and brings his age into the conversation clearly did not expect to live as long as he had. Each subsequent meeting, by the fence separating our properties, elicited a chronological update as if his still being alive was a miracle of miracles. Jim was never at a lack for words having three children and wanting to tell anybody who would listen where they are and what they are doing in great detail. These stories could go on for a half-hour or forty-five minutes without his asking about me or my family. However, I dutifully listened wanting not to appear averse to his chumminess.

I sense that Jim has been old even before he got old. I was listening to someone talking about some earlier time in his life as if hypnotized down to the glazing, far away stare. An ethereal memory for his historical catalogue. I think his past has always been crucial to his present. He had no life that I could see. That leaves you with remains. He and his wife were persistent homebodies. I can count on one hand the number of times I saw he and his wife going someplace other than Harris Teeter. And now, given their conditions, they go nowhere except when driven to the doctor.

There is full-time day care for Jim’s wife. Helpers are in and out, wheeling her outside to sit on their deck, helping Jim around the house, and other chores I prefer not to imagine. They certainly do not need my help. But, as a neighbor, one who stopped meeting Jim at the fence nearly two decades ago, I wonder if it would be nice one day to bring over a box of biscuits. Maybe I should call out to Jim when I see him on his deck. What do I say? “How y’a doing”? I can only imagine what the pair go through on an average day. What real relief do I have to offer? What words do I have to offer?

I am guessing there is some biblical reference I could source for an answer to my behavior. Probably Emily Post once wrote an advice column on the subject. Or, possibly, The Ethicist, from The New York Times could help. For the moment, I am happy for them satisfied that their needs are being met. That selfishly relieves me of any sense of responsibility…or guilt. But, I shouldn’t have to like my neighbors to be neighborly. Should I?

———————————————————-

I saw a really perfect, small movie last night with Adele. It is called “About Time”. The premise is absurd. And, yet… The protagonist is one of the Weasley brothers from Harry Potter, along with Rachel McAdams who is the apotheosis of sweetness and beauty, and Bill Nighy, who can do no wrong in my book. A sci-fi, fantasy romantic comedy whose charm is irresistible. And, whose message will make you tear and make you cheer. Catch it on Netflix.

LOVE

PANDEMIC DIARY

NO ‘IF’S, AND’S OR BUTTS’
March 14, 2022

The ‘MP’s’ have arrived. No, this has nothing to do with the Ukraine invasion or military police. The MP’s I am referring to are the men and women of the “Morality Patrol”. They are next to you, around the corner, down the street and ready to report for duty. They are self-appointed, non-professional, and untrained, wear no badges or any other form of identification for that matter. They are watching you though you may not see them. They have the legal backing of several State’s governments that allow, no encourage you to spy and report on anyone, family, friend, or neighbor if they determine your life has crossed a line into a world of immorality which they have defined and determined to be unacceptable. They are creeping into our personal lives. They are peering into your private conversations with doctors. They are following you to observe if, having gone into the physicians office with a belly, you come out with a baby.

They also want you to stop reading books of a certain nature. What that is is anyone’s guess. In case you didn’t know it books can offend, and educational systems should not offend. Education is meant to be easy, kind of like K-Y Gel for the intellect. Never hurt the sensibilities of vulnerable students…or their parents. And, history? Well, re-write it if it is too painful. Better yet, whitewash it or rid ourselves of it completely. Truth can damage highly impressionable and emotionally susceptible youngsters. It is better to protect through beautiful lies and coverups than upset their sensibilities with ugly truths. To hell with reality.

This morning I read of a recent, actual case which also demonstrates the breadth of stupidity that goes along with these attitudes. The case is of a 20-year educator from a small town in Mississippi who read to a Zoom class of 4th graders the book, “I Need A New Butt” by Dawn McMillan. “

I Need a New Butt” which was published in 2012, is marketed to children ages 4 to 8 and tells the story of “a young boy who sets off to find a new behind after he sees a “crack” in his and fears it’s broken.” The teacher was called down to the administrative offices of his school district and summarily terminated. The school administrators told him they were worried they would get complaints from parents. “Do you think this is funny”? asked a school official. “I did until I arrived here” answered the teacher. (Enjoy the book reading [below] … if you dare!)

The teacher’s purpose was to inspire his students to read. Students in his impoverished community receive some of the lowest scores on national reading tests. After class the teacher received a barrage of texts and emails from students thanking him, telling him how much fun they had and that they would like to read more books. Parents also applauded the instructor because of the pleasure they observed their children having.

There is a current wave of self-righteous, self-appointed morality minders. And, what they don’t get is the same thing that the January 6th protesters did not get. And, that is, ‘be careful of what you wish for’ because “YOU ARE NEXT”. The very laws and limits, proclamations and decrees that get you what you want at this moment are the exact same means by which the MP’s will come after you. And, you will fall prey to authoritarian rule that got you there. Your wife may disagree and join a women’s right group. Are you going to report her? Your daughter may be raped and choose an abortion. Are you going to deny her? Your child started reading following a book reading of a child’s funny book about rear ends. Will you punish your child for laughing? Will you restrict your child from reading? What if you have a Jewish office associate. Will you be conspiring if you eat lunch together? What if the baby in the middle of the above picture turns out to be yours. What if the gun pointed is coming in your direction? Will you get it then.

PANDEMIC DIARY

H:O:M:E
March 5, 2022

COVID. Have five letters ever held such visceral reaction. Just about two years ago the world shut down - the daily distractions of work; kids going off to school; husbands and wives kissing spouses in a rush to catch a train; eating lunch standing at a food truck with the wind swirling; sitting at dinner with the family, each with a a day’s tale of opportunities won and lost; the usual angst, frustration, stress and disappointment of life, while none could imagine, in their wildest conjurings, a pandemic and its impact of what we once referred to as ‘normal’, that we now long for in its absence.

Of all the things living through a pandemic has altered for a worldwide population and despite the infinite varieties of stressors that uniquely define each of our experiences, the one thing we share is this: the pandemic has altered what home is and what home means to us. In thinking about this it occurred to me that the single quality of home that is almost totally subliminal but absolutely a requisite is that you can leave it. Yes, you have to be able to leave home to have a home. For it to be a home. If you cannot leave home it is a prison. There has never been a home, that one can call home, that cannot be left.

Life starts in the womb. It is home to a fetus where it is nourished and grows and prepares for what is next. And, when amply developed, the agglomeration of cells, have formed more self-sustaining being ready to leave its home. The child often has vague memories of home or, at least, diffuse feelings about the place they once occupied. But, once left, they move on. The mother’s womb is a human beings first home, which they rightfully leave when prepared and equipped. EXIT HERE.

The child is then a part of a family in a family home. The youngster may have siblings or be an only (not lonely) child. Nonetheless, after years of modeling and parenting the child is imparted tools (for better or for worse) for independent living, separate and apart from the parents…outside what has been home for that period. These memories are of a child having grown up during formative years and will represent a large chunk of one’s total life, and so, upon reflection have an enormous influence on us. Yet, it cannot be home unless we can leave it. And, we do.

Home becomes our universe. Our ‘first universe’ is the womb, an enclosure that has been, in a metaphorical sense, copied throughout history in architecture and intention - a place for safety and nurturing - the cache, the cave, circling of the wagons, shelters, walled villages - mother symbol. They were receptive enclosures like cloisters. Allegorical landscapes. And, all are temporal. We repeat the idea of home throughout our lives whenever we re-inhabit a space. Oddly, we imagine ourselves building walls that describe us and our uniqueness: not ramparts to keep people out, rather our replication of an earlier illusion of home as protection, safety, security and comfort. A place to return to…which, again, requires us the ability to leave. Here is where the pandemic has stricken us with grief. We have lost our affection for home because we have not been able to leave it. Being home has gnawed at us, trapped us, forced us to test our physical and emotional constitutions. We long for the home as it once was. When we have the ability to leave, we can choose to honor the place called home…and remain.

Thus, home is not merely nostalgia for the past as represented by a place, a house, a physical representation It is an idea. Moving from home to home is a journey that determines the direction of personal explorations and ‘pilgrimages’ throughout life. They are more than tangible rearranging; they are symbolic restructurings and in an effort to re-establish one’s relationship with home. That lost place is left behind and if correctly thought of is remembered as a launching pad. If it is more than in introduction to what’s next, that aspect of the search becomes ultimately futile. This is why we must move on.

That is why ‘home’ is as much a matter of time and experience as it is distance. “The 1960s song "Homeward Bound" by Simon and Garfunkel is really about an attempt to return to this past time of innocence. The home they sing about is really America of the 1950s. This homeward search has been a persistent theme of much American literature of the twentieth century and some of our greatest authors like Thomas Wolfe addressed this in his novel “You Can't Go Home Again”.

We are all in exile from the past. The novelist Czeslaw Milosz makes this point in his introduction to the book “Exiles” by Josef Koudelka. “…we may consider the life of every human being as an unrelenting movement from childhood on, through the phases of youth, maturity, and old age.” Time and place move us further and further away from our original home. “The past of every individual undergoes constant transformation in his or her memory, and more often than not it acquires the features of an irretrievable land made more and more strange by the flow of time.”

For the first time in contemporary history we are exiles from our homes without leaving them. We wish something of a time past without having departed. We are living concurrently in the place of our personal expansion and growth from our past and last home, while unable to live it as home as we knew it before the pandemic. One would think that since everybody shares this wrenching condition of displacement within one’s home that sympathies would bring people together. But, such is the mythology of home, that although on a metaphysical level our homes of origin are the same we each develop our own association with home that is unique and personal. Even mother’s wombs are unique.

What is left then for humans?
G-O-D?
Is God the manifestation of our most original home?
Is God a creation such that you can never forget home?
Is God a reminder that one day you will return home?
Is God the universal womb that pushed you out for a time so that you could travel in spacial circles only to reminisce on remnants of the past.

Or, maybe, you just have to move the furniture around.

PANDEMIC DIARY

IT’S THE NAME THAT’S WRONG
January 3, 2021

On September 9, 1776, the Continental Congress formally declares the name of the new nation to be the “United States of America”. This replaced the term “United Colonies” which had been in general use. Richard Henry Lee, by resolution presented to Congress on June 7, and issued the resolve on July 2 1776, “That these United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent States…” John Adams conjured that July 2 would be the “most memorable epoch in the history of America”. He was wrong. For it is on July 4, (our now celebrated Independence Day) Thomas Jefferson’s edited version of The Declaration of Independence was adopted. “That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be FREE AND INDEPENDENT STATES.” (CAPS are replicated as originally written) These aims place a good-faith burden on States to recognize a benefit in acting firstly on behalf of the greater Union. Particularly in light of the “free and independent states” nomenclature, it would be difficult to be a ‘representative’ of a people (your people) and their local interests and disregard their pleas, assertions, alliances and support in lieu of a national program that may run counter to constituency preferences.

Herein lies the original sin that is now the basis and bedrock of our current problems. The founders created a country loosely united from an assemblage of colonies that were, in reality, unified in name alone. What the Founders got wrong was believing that the diverse motives, regional differences, philosophical divergences, and embedded prejudices could be successfully woven into a consolidated and homogeneous fabric whereby ‘the greater good’ of America could stand at the pinnacle of purpose and intention. That amalgam between local and State interests and national welfare and prosperity seem never to have congealed.

The American experience, as defined by its own genesis, lacked homogeneity. Indeed, it’s national and ethnic diversity were intended to be its strength, a kind of ballast against the exceptionalism which caused settlers to expatriate from their countries of origin. England and the rest of Western European societies were implicitly homogeneous with centuries of royalty in leadership, a unified Church, multi-generational wealth, long lineages of aristocrats with fabulous land holdings and a form of government that granted all-power to those of means and education. It wasn’t pretty, but it was homogeneous. That cultural adhesion insured that there was, before all else, national pride - a pride of place; a pride of custom; a pride of ethnicity; a pride of heritage; a pride of folklore and mythology; and, a pride of ritual - that coalesced a people. These were not, by far, perfect systems. But, even in an imperfect political structure under imperfect social rule, national adherence and patriotic fervor, in general, prevailed. For America, there never seems to have been a time of cultural coherency. There seems never to have been a symbol or marker or celebration so uniquely American that the average person feels deeply enough to support and uphold before and beyond their own local, political concerns and private aspirations. America has never been ‘de-factionalized’. Even July Fourth means different things to different people.

So, with the power vested in me, I set forth a declaration that changes the name of our country from the beleaguered title of The United States of America to:

THE UNITED AMERICA OF STATES

Furthermore, I propose a change to the flag which currently is comprised of “Stars and Stripes”. Fifty individual stars to represent each of the fifty states. Heretofore, the flag will retain its stripes and be changed to reflect a United America by having in its upper left-hand corner One Star, that star being segmented into 50 parts representing the constant compromise of 50 individual and free States on behalf of a national good.

In all ways States remain free and independent. In all ways except for National Security, the defense of freedom, and the cause of Social Democracy and Liberty. This starts with free, open and fair elections. Elections policies and procedures are to be managed and monitored by the Federal government, workers and officers and Election Day shall be a national holiday to allow for all peoples to vote without loss of earnings. There shall be a single voting methodology throughout our land while no state shall have the right to restrict, modify or change those regulations. Voting will be required of all citizens. Schools will re-institute Civics classes starting in the fourth grade. Children will be taught the distinction between consensus and agreement. In this way we alter the mindset, reference points and allegiances over time. To understand that principled movement takes us all in an allied direction over time even as it is a bumpier road.

If it is unity we want, we must act unified. There will be early doubt, disapproval, objections, opposition and resistance, perceiving that any change represents a usurpation of states rights and individual freedoms. Yet, over time, our citizens will realize that big “D” democracy depends upon this. The American experiment continues.

PANDEMIC DIARY

LEANING
December 4, 2021

All things lean. To complete the process of photosynthesis, trees and plants lean toward the sunlight.

Infants lean toward their mother’s breast to receive nourishment and bio-essential elements. Toddlers to teens lean into a parent’s embrace gaining a sense of belonging, trust, and autonomy.

Roots lean toward a source of water literally searching and sending far-reaching tentacles that absorb moisture necessary for growth. Above ground and beneath the surface, all things lean toward what feeds and sustains them - sustenance for the body, mind and spirit.

These are, what I call, “Essential Leanings” or “Biological Leanings”. However, there is another kind of leaning that derives from the tendency, of a very different and distinct sort, that appears at first glance as hunger. The leaning toward “EASY” based on a compulsion to ‘feed off of’ - an unconscious, irresistible need to ingest, take in, to saturate ones self with the satisfaction of fullness - and to have that available automatically and at all times. For it to be total and sating. This is the easy of the appropriately infantile experience where one’s sense of autonomy and power is aptly derived from a demand to be fed and that need met. However, at a rather early age in development that immediate need is no longer age appropriate. The denied adult no longer cries like a baby for its symbolic supper. This is the easy of entitlement or the sense that “I deserve” because I exist - “I want what I want when I want it”. This is the easy where the goal is not receiving nourishment rather receiving attention; of not being fed rather, the act of taking in and being glutted.

The manipulation of Easy is the basis upon which authoritarians derive their power. It is how politicians have historically won majorities. Autocrats give voters what they want to hear. They possess the “formula”, the pabulum for the masses of “True Believers”. They instinctively know what a vast public wants, giving voice and representation to their needs, then taking it away leaving you more wanting and more dependent. “Vote for me and I will ensure you get…ensure you have…promise you won’t have to…vow to provide you with…”. “I will be your daddy and/or mommy”. It is the linguistic soil from which political dependency, party reliance and popularity grow. I call these “Faith Leanings”. These latter inclinations are powerfully addictive. The ruler now has complete control and those begging to be fed are left to starve.

In the Twelve Step programs there is a saying, that “at the heart of every alcoholic/addict is the desire for it [life] to be easy.” (“We should all get a free pass and forego life’s pain and suffering.”; “Why is this happening to me.”; “No one is listening to me”) This explains a great deal. Yes, alcohol and drugs provide a very temporary sating or euphoric relief, but relief from what? Is it relief from the reality that life is hard work; that life commands us to be conscious; that life is uncertainty; that life, for all and for a time, demands we live with physical pain and emotional loss. The “masses” that believe there is a ‘way out’ hang on to their faith, on to promises not actions, on invisible deliverers, on elixirs and quick fixes. They are not any longer neurologically /psychologically inclined to long-term solutions preferring public performance not work “behind the scenes”, preferring simple statements not complex resolutions.

This vast sea of true believers want little or nothing to do with change and its implications for their living experiences. They would prefer to accept the promises not receiving the benefits of what they wish for, what is to their benefit. Anger and rebellion make them feel in control. Military gear excites and titillates their sense of power. Ironically, these folks who pride themselves on independence fall prey to leaders who gather the camaraderie of other like-minded people. Being part of a throng provides a sense of belonging and righteousness. They are part of a cause greater than themselves which provides justification of their beliefs. (Take a look at the thousands of people that traveled to and lined the streets in Dallas, Texas where John F. Kennedy was assassinated and stood for hours commiserating while waiting for poor, dead Robert Kennedy to appear as Donald Trump’s running mate) Does it get any crazier than that?

Our current political leaders are nothing more than drug lords. They hang out at corners of legislative and congressional halls and plot how they can remain in power. They come up with new arguments that foment their supporters like variants of a virus. They spawn new representatives who are brasher, louder, and infinitely more insane, to spew messages and conspiracy theories which are slightly more extreme each time. Extreme enough, irrational enough, unlikely enough, implausible enough, un-f__cking believable enough to keep the show on the road…and on TV and the media.

I often hearken back to the concept most clearly elucidated by Alan Watts in one of his greatest works, “The Wisdom of Insecurity”. Odd, that in a world of random forces acting in persistently unpredictable synchronicity, we have not yet, as a specie, overcome our fear of the unknown. So needy are we, so great our demand for answers that we have famously relied on “snake-oil salesmen”; “quick-acting” remedies; an endless array of “wellness” solutions, medications and ‘neutraseuticals’ that cure whatever ails you with “side effects” that can kill you. That is when easy is pathological.

I told this story before, but it is worth repeating. Met a gentleman in Berlin. His father lives in the portion of Berlin that was in East Germany, where Adele and I had an Airbnb. I asked him if his father had a choice, would he return to the way it was? Would he accept the old regime? The man said, “Absoutely”. “Why?, I asked, What does it offer that he does not now have?” His answer was chilling. “CERTAINTY”. He once knew what he had, what to expect…and what not to expect. He did not have to compete. (This is a huge factor in authoritarian regimes) He felt more equal not on merits of achievement, but because everyone was treated the same regardless of ability and achievement. Furthermore, to “get ahead” you worked for the autocratic State, the embodiment of control and rigidity. The fundamental source of nourishment. The place where you go for certainty. The people who are committed to no change. Those who see change as a threat: a threat to their stability; a threat to their jobs; a threat to what is otherwise falsely propagated and propaganda. This is the perceived safety behind Fascism and all forms of dictatorships and autocracies. Make it easy.

PANDEMIC DIARY

THANKSGIVING
November 24, 2021

To all my friends and readers, I share with you a wish for consciousness, empathy, peace, sanity, wisdom and love. May light overcome darkness. May the desire to give of yourself become a greater measure of our human essence than the desire to own, possess, accumulate, cherish or display. May the only god be the multitude of possibilities and opportunities for all humankind. May we hold on to naught beliefs, neither in any way limit ourselves, constrain or constrict or contract our enormity of spirit. May the density to which we were born loosen its death grip; and, may negativity be freely transformed to expansive energy…which is love and laughter. Importantly, know that who you are, realizing your own personal nature as your birthright, is enough…and a contribution to the world of magnitudes.

And, friendships? Friendships. Adele and I attended a wedding in New York. Sitting at the honored ‘family table’, I listened to tales of trial, separation, disparagement, resentment, accusation, blame, finger pointing and shaming. A panoply of pain. A circus of sarcasm, snideness and excuses. Families…what can we do? We are manor born. But, just as the vegetable soup of cynicism was about to vomit out of me, off we went to our friends homes. Greeted with such shared love and affection, these are the people to whom my heart is dedicated, so appreciative am I that we are equally available to caring in the present and all that may befall us with the passing of time.

It is not a secret that life is a journey. Every mythology has some analog journey associated with a passage. We journey to gain knowledge of ourselves and our surroundings. We journey to learn about and appreciate that the stories may differ but at their core is a common desire to make sense of our presence here on this Earth, only to discover that meaning resides in the moment. Nothing else. So, to surround ourselves with the faces of friends and dear ones is to give meaning to the moment.

That is what I wish for you on this Thanksgiving. Spend your time with the abundance of warmth, the tenderness of being close, the fullness of love, the joy of laughter and the preciousness of friendship.

These are some of the faces of friendship in random order. [If you are not included it is simply due to the fact that your picture may not be on my iPhone]

The absolute salt of the earth. No one finer. Marsha.

How time flies. I worked with Ron forty years ago. Each time we meet its like yesterday.

There is Karen. X-roommate. Hardly separable. The two of them just floating along.

Friends ever since our kids were born three days apart, Barbara and Michael.

Adele’s goodest buddy from way back in High School, Esther.

My brother’s wife, Nawal. So gracious and giving and funny.

So close to our hearts, Karen and Craig.

My brother’s son and wife, Hatim and Hadil during their visit to North Carolina all the way from Daliyat al Karmel, Israel.

Our dear friends, Lily and Howard. The universe had to have us meet.

My oldest buddies from grade school. That’s Robert in the center, and Bruce to the right.

Our neighbor and charmed friend, Bruce.

Our friends and co-Havurah members Stanley and Marion during our extraordinary trip to the Loire Valley - Chateau Chinon in background.

Aya. We are the adopted aunt and uncle of this young lady.

My brother, Emad (right) and his friend Abu Safi - Daliyat al Karmel, Israel

The turret of The Gaudi Cathedral - Barcelona. A great trip for the both Alex and I.

Abu Rafik - Daliyat al Karmel, Israel. Died from Covid this past Spring. He will be missed. That smile!

All we seem to do is laugh…and eat. Frank and Carol.

The look of contentment. My brother Emad’s sister.

Dearest Yasmin who flew here from Daliyat al Karmel on her own to spend the holiday season with her aunt and uncle.

Alex introduced us to his friends (and brothers) and brothers who have allowed us into their lives. Marc (left). Stefan (right)

It all would not be possible without the extraordinary and loving courage of Adele.

DO NOT WAIT. Make friends of yourself as soon as possible…

…in all forms of truthful expression.

PANDEMIC DIARY

AUTUMN RELIEVES THE SPIRIT
October 18, 2021

Autumn Relieves the Spirit
The earth coats with fallen memories
As befitting heavens annual keepsake
Of passing days. Autumn is not melancholic, simply
Tinted with age. A mature time.

Spring’s budding anticipation; summer’s sunny
yielding turns to Fall’s Plenty and repose. Contentment
clears and heals the soil. Feeding Earth and
nourished by life’s nutrients. Soul food.

A gladdening relief is Autumn. The perfect
season for back porch slumber in a
favorite rocking chair. Or, a walk in wooded,
leaf laden paths, in warm ebbing sunlight.

There is less thought of tomorrow’s in
Autumn, so peaceful the dropping, drifting and
reveal. What remains? Remnant imprints. Listen.
Sound the sigh of solitude that rests within.

PANDEMIC DIARY

“SCARED PEOPLE ARE SCARY”
October 14, 2021

[A note to all: Much of the information provided was initiated and sourced from last Sunday’s New York Times Book Review, by Virginia Heffernan entitled, “Tech Mogul Provocateur”, a review of a book titled, THE CONTRARIAN written by Max Chafkin about the life of Peter Theil, a multi-billionaire, right-wing political kingmaker, and repentant white supremacist.] The ideas are wholly mine.

"He didn’t know much about death. Only that it could be as unpredictable as a lightning bolt and infinitely quieter after it arrived” from the novel “The Keeper of Lost Causes” by Jussi Adler Olsen

Heffernan opens her review recalling a podcast she listened to some years ago, “This Is Actually Happening”, in which a white supremacist recalled an incident and “formative childhood experience”. One night his mother asked him: “You enjoying your burger?” She continued, “Did you know it’s made of cow?”
”Something died?” the boy, then 5 years old, replied.
”Everything living dies,” she said. “You’re going to die.”

Is there a better way to imbue a fear of death in a youngster’s soul than this mother’s premature, procedurally incisive scalpel. This young child was plagued and afflicted with death. His particular handling of his abiding terror was affecting a “fear-concealing swagger” which quickly developed into more of a fascist high-step.

The author of the book’s review then reads “The Contrarian” and observes that Peter Thiel experienced a similar background story. “When he was 3, according to Chafkin, Thiel asked his father about a rug, which his father, Klaus Thiel, explained was cowhide. “Death happens to all animals. All people”, Klaus said. “It will happen to me one day. It will happen to you.” There is no simple way to address the subject of death. It is, most assuredly, not intended as an introduction to life. There must be an appropriate time to speak of death to your child. But, we can agree, not as the child’s consciousness is just beginning to bud into awareness.

However, this is not a discussion of parenting skills. What is common, and to me not just or merely applicable to these individual children, is the affect of fear, terror and self-loathing at such an early age. Peter Thiel also adopted a swagger never recovering from the the mind’s repetitive bulletin that death lingers in the daily background. However, his was not only physically manifested, he became bold, brash, intolerant, a bully, and all these later evolved into a “hodgepodge of libertarian and authoritarian beliefs.” He could not control death, yet he found ways to control an overactive brain and compensate for his fundamental fears.

The border dispute, as an example, [and here I will play the role of 5-cent psychologist] is less about the obvious objection to an influx of immigrants, or their being drug addicts, criminals, or those who drain Americans of jobs. It is a border in their minds - a symbolic line that if crossed the ideological internal pain would be too great. Too much giving in; too much acceptance of others telling us how to live; too much invading our land and homes. Just like the intolerable rush of a child’s unending horror. Death.

Thiel spoiled for a fight, choosing to collide with those he identified as liberals, “meaning anyone who he suspects of snubbing him". Their offense being a non-recognition of his self-proposed superiority, attention to his blatantly wounded vanity, and assertion by the absence of any recognition that Thiel mattered at all. Despite the fact that he aced the SAT’s, his strutting arrogance and transparent bullishness won him no friends or accolades. A classmate at Stanford reflects, “He viewed liberals through a lens as people who were not nice to him. He’d chosen [and I would add consciously or unconsciously] to reject those who’d rejected him.” [Does any of this sound familiar?]

INTOLERANCE OF DEATH IS INTOLERANCE OF LIFE ITSELF [That’s me speaking]

In any case, Thiel’s youthful life proceeds subjected to his father’s complicit acceptance and approval of apartheid as owner of a uranium mine in the Namib desert and the support of conjured evidence of a superior race. His literary favorite was Ayn Rand; he supported Ronald Reagan; he excoriated liberals at Stanford; and, short-stinted work at an old, well-established and prestigious law firm that disappointed and bored him because there were “no liberals to fight.”

Suffice it to say, well-defended and brilliant, Chris Thiel had all the right stuff to create and amass a fortune. As creator and founder of PayPal he made billions. He partnered with Elon Musk in an unholy alliance which, through some bumps, stops, and starts, led to PayPal going public and billions of more earnings. As Chafkin states, “Whereas (Steve) Jobs viewed business as a form of cultural expression, even art, for Thiel and his peers it was a mode of transgression, even activism.” That subsequently included investing millions of dollars in Facebook in the mid-2000’s, latching on to Mark Zuckerberg admiring of his information war and manipulation of data for financial gain. Today, he is the founder and CEO of Palantir, an international, ultra-high digital security company.

I want to be clear, I am projecting and conjecturing from this point forward so this may sound overly simplistic. Yet, even generalizations contain a modicum of truth. So, here we are at a point where a growing population of Americans are publicly decrying liberal politics. Their beliefs, I would assert, formed at early childhood must have inclined a large swath of our citizenry to grow up with feelings of inferiority, inadequacy and dejection leading to not only a panoply of fears but, more importantly, to a line-up of compensatory behaviors which laid dormant until, via the previous administration, given permission to spew lies and hate like a knife cut to a main artery as a consequence of their unconscious fears. DEBILITATION AS DEBATE.

I used to joke that it was hard to tell who were the patient’s inside the mental facility, and who were the doctors and nurses, the analogy made famous by Ken Kesey in “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest”. And now, we find ourselves in a situation where, however reasonable aspects of their complaints may be, the ‘crazies’ are a growing, even dominant force in our nation’s politics. Having said that, it is important to realize that fear is inherent to and a result of child rearing in general. So, this phenomenon is not restricted in any way to this population. It is though reasonable to assume, I would contend, that the degree of illogic, stupidity, rigidity, scorn and violence is representative of a population so deeply hurt and marred that their demands are neither rational or realistic and represent a total rejection of any ideas, evidence or lifestyles that lie outside their limited and highly constrained order.

The question arises, then what is to be done? My response was and is to repudiate. Repudiate instantaneously. Repudiate with certainty of its right, its humanness, its consistency with The U.S. Constitution. Repudiate utilizing all aspects of the law. Damn the blow-back. To hell with surveys and public opinion polls. As far back as 2015, I encouraged commentators (screaming at the television screen) to forcefully rebuff our former President (I still cannot believe it as I write). Not to dismiss his stated policy differences, not to pay attention to his verbal idiosyncrasies, not to conjure along with his sexual exploits, rather to renounce his hate, venality, and dishonesty and with strong and immediate consequences.

I know, as many of you do, that it is easy to hate. Hate purges the mind of all gray. It makes all things black and white, right and wrong. There is no middle ground. Hate is repressions aria. The extent to which enmity exists today in a minority population is dangerous, and more so because they are in possession of more armaments than ever before and nearly equal to our professional military, save for the atomic variety. We are on the cusp of an authoritarian and autocratic takeover. We have reached a point of normalization of heretofore behaviors outside usual boundaries. Fair play is a quaint nod to the past. Civility, a lost contract between old men. The unacceptable is acceptable. Everything that could not be said has been said. Whether you are a Native American, if you are identified as a not attractive woman or man, if you are physically challenged, if you are speech impaired, if you ar LGBTQ or ‘Trans”…or if you simply disagree, you are the enemy. When that happens there is no defense of innocence. It becomes, ironically, more difficult to identify and address, in our land of ‘free speech’, what is simply legislative opposition, from what is nationalistic extremism.

The majority populous, as in pre-Nazi Germany, also did not know what to do. They waited. Too long! “Maybe Hitler would not be so bad.” “Let’s see what happens.” “It won’t get that bad. Will it?” We are waiting. And, I ask why? What are we waiting for? We should be on the streets marching in lock step…not waiting for a goose stepping army. Not for some idealistic wish list of desired laws. No. We must garner the whole of the population that opposes hate, lies, deception and the illegal use of one’s position to do as he pleases. There is an enormity to the opposition’s pent-up anger. These objectors, though, have no claim to be legally, legislatively or otherwise treated unfairly. They seem not to have accepted that they are part of a rapidly changing society and, like the rest of us in varying degrees, learning how to keep up. The problem is real but their issues and radical exceptionalism is uncalled for. And, they are white, wish to keep the country white, and claim it as if that is inherently a truism for America. Were these issues and beliefs held by our Black brothers, there would have been armies standing against them have rivers of blood in the streets.

I wonder if that was how the German SS, Schutzstaffel (literal meaning “Protection Squad” began. We now have men and women participating in an ex-military army that rivals or exceeds most fighting forces throughout the world. And, like the SS, these groups are being encouraged to act on their own in support of a charismatic leader. Will their new roles be little toy soldiers defending the corrupt institutions and leaders who rob the natural resources and wealth of a country who own multiple estate dwellings on coastlines and on mountaintops. The popping of Dom Perignon as a daily ritual. The dining on goose and caviar. The attending of theater and events where those in power can be rushed by crowds wishing to view his or her excellency panting to receive a wink and a nod. The most scary thing is to consider that the U.S. has the most powerful military in the world. Who then possesses the capability of assembling an opposition that could defend democracy once it has slipped into irrelevance, if not oblivion. One has to wonder where do we go from here?

The reality of a horror scenario is sinking in. Its pertinence unavoidable and urgent…if too late. A takeover of legislative bodies replacing elected officials with “hacks”. Appointing Supreme Court Justices who are “ideological cronies”.

We no longer only suffer the usual and, by comparison, fanciful familial abuses, but additionally are subjected to societal trauma. The consequence is that ‘normal’ society becomes imbued with fear, like atmospheric white noise or electromagnetic waves, unseen, unheard but affecting the neurology of the body. The fear, in fact, is logical and a rational response to events. But, to live wary, suspicious, vigilant and distrustful is hardly a life. Hardly the freedom we have come to blindly accept. We have too long dangerously rationalized the dangers. We have too long accepted the unacceptable. We have too long justified the unjustifiable. We have too long excused the inexcusable. We have too long marginalized the worst in us. We have for too long lost ourselves in hope of a savior. We are well past that hope. If we do not act, it is then that death will move to the forefront of our minds.

PANDEMIC DIARY

“YOU’RE RIGHT”…or, The Last Words of a Confident Woman
May 3, 2021

Sunday evening, sitting outside on our screened-in porch having a casual meal with friends, the conversation turned ‘local’. Both couples know young people who are moving. We have friends whose daughter and husband are moving to the Boston suburbs, another young couple to Ann Arbor, another to an outlying part of the borough of Brooklyn in New York, and finally our mealtime friend’s son and fiancé are trying to find a starter home in or around Decatur, Georgia. We all acknowledged that none of these people can afford

The exchange then turned to the Triangle - the Chapel Hill, Durham, Raleigh corridor - and what has occurred in real estate over the past year of Covid. Nationally, there has been a middle-class, white flight from inner cities to suburbs and beyond. Real estate prices have skyrocketed. Here, in Chapel Hill, real estate prices have increased 7.7% year over year. Good news for home owners. Not so good news for the town’s infrastructure and Rte.40 traffic., or for the minority communities wanting to get a start and share in the now more distant hope (fantasy?) of the American Dream.

However, this post is not about financial, economic, or political issues. Let me explain. Adele and I are frequent walkers. On our jaunts, it is fairly common that we come across home renovations. About one month ago we strolled passed new construction. The house was about 2,800 square feet, but narrow and plopped on, I’m guessing, a less than quarter acre plot. The asking price of the home was…? Well, let’s pause for a moment. Ladies and gentlemen, have you ever had a difference of opinion or disagreement with your spouse when one or the other becomes vehement regarding a shared experience. And, what ensues is a, shall we say, spat that can and does escalate into a brouhaha and finally a falling out that denies both of all pleasure and unity.

I did not pose this as a question because I already know the answer. A most definitive YES. And so, to reduce the chance that Adele and I feverishly interact and say things we will later regret, I devised this game that has worked so incredibly well that these divergent views never escalate into anything more laughable contrariness. Here’s the game: when either of us makes a statement that the other feels is blatantly false or untrue, we will make a bet. The size of the bet depends upon the degree of surety that each marks. Of course, we don’t exchange real money, but we also cannot bet less than a million dollars. If either of us is on the margins of the debate, the bet will be small, albeit a million dollars. But, when we are willing to bet the bank, the sum can go up to 5 or 10 million dollars. At this very moment, Adele owes me 2 million dollars.

A photo from 2014. Adele and I kissing across the International Date Line in Ecuador - O’ Longitude : O’ Latitude
A symbolic gesture to the mediation of differences.

Back to the dinner: Adele and I are one day walking and passed this new construction. When we returned home Adele checked the price of the house on Multiple Listings. The price of the house was $875,000. 875,000 divided by 2800 sq.ft. equals $312/sq.ft. I mentioned this to our friends and Adele immediately corrected me suggesting I was thinking of another house in construction on Hillsborough Road. I insisted that Adele was the one confusing the price of the two homes. She told me, without any hesitation, that I was wrong. Our guests were utterly delighted and amused by this exchange. What did Adele and I do? We bet. Then, Adele went to the multiple listing site and, low and behold, with a peep that rose to the level of a shy mouse I heard the words, “I was wrong”. But, we were in the midst of a conversation so the table hardly heard what Adele said. “Would you please repeat that so everyone can hear”, I cajoled. “I was wrong”, a barely louder confession was uttered to laughter around.

Mind you, Adele did not say, “You were right”, which is likely the next level of self-discovery, admitting that one is wrong by congratulating the party that was correct. Joyfully, this did not feel like a victory because Adele and I have found a way of resolve with a sidebar of ‘funny’ thrown in. But, it does make me wonder about (and here is the question of the day) if it is more common for men or women to be more self-righteous. I know there are a lot of jokes made about men never hearing the words, “You’re right”. Or, conversely, the charge that men should learn to say ‘yes’ to make women happy because they will get their way anyway. But, what is the truth of the matter?

In any case, what is your experience, ladies and gentlemen? Is your wife more right than you, husbands? Do you find that your wife has a better memory for past events? Is she Hermione Gingold to your Maurice Chevalier…”Ah, I remember it well”. (see the wonderful movie, GIGI)

PANDEMIC DIARY

More thoughts of a 75 year old
May 1, 2021

CHECKING THE BACK OF A RECENT HAIRCUT

1. There is only one beauty - the beauty of the moment.

2. Corruption follows the sense of entitlement that comes from the belief that life should be easy.

3. Feet get you to where you need to go; heart gets you where you dream of going.

4. Do not despair of Covid, it has taught us the ways in which we are One.

5. Pancakes were likely the earliest and most widely prepared Stone Age food. That flipped me out.

6. Wouldn’t you like to see how Ivanka Trump looks in a smart, orange horizontal-striped outfit?

7. I recently read a great deal on cryptocurrencies and have come away totally flummoxed.

8. We can now travel to Mars but cannot figure out a way to not act like jackasses.

9. Isn’t Matt Gaetz justification enough for the right to abortion.

10. If you had to lose either hearing or seeing, would you rather not see stupidity or hear stupidity?

A BEFORE COVID OUTFIT

PANDEMIC DIARY

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME
April 15, 2021

I celebrated my 75th birthday on April 15. These are some random thoughts inspired by this event:

1. The bigger lies than the “Big Lie” are the lies we tell ourselves.

2. The horizon appears ever closer; twenty-four hours pass quicker.

3. What matters, matters less, and less matters.

4. It’s a pity that drinking heavily has consequences.

5. I shave the hairs on my nose once a week.

6. The average 75 yr. old in excellent health has an optimal statistical risk factor of 17.4% of a heart incident.

7. I am convinced there is nothing cute about a squirrel.

8. Religion has always seemed useless to me. Now it appears downright dangerous.

9. Our greatest vulnerabilities are the susceptibilities to the hurts of our past.

10. If our home galaxy, the Milky Way, contains at least 100 billion stars, and the observable universe contains at least 100 billion galaxies…How much toilet paper is used daily?

11. I used to ‘stop’ in order to slow down; now that I am slowing down I don’t like it one bit.

12. Philosophy is simply a way of wasting time on “what if’s”.

13. I used to look at my face in the mirror. My private excuse for sporting a beard is that I no longer have to do that as often.

14. No doubt I am wiser…and nobody seems to care.

15. I used to be attracted to women. Now, I am appreciative of women.
    

STAY IN GOOD HEALTH EVERYONE1