PANDEMIC DIARY

PRIMORDIAL DARKNESS

November 4, 2020

“I wrote ‘The Index’ while attending a residency at Hedgebrook. I woke up in the middle of the night from a dream about an index that held the name and life story of everyone on Earth. I scrawled out the first lines in my bedside notebook, then I remembered a headline I’d read about the ‘discovery’ of a new Earth-like planet. I thought about that word, ‘discovery’ and how it was used to justify the dispossession and genocide of Indigenous Peoples of the western hemisphere. The poem was written with an urgent feeling that everyone ought to pull together and figure out how to live sustainably on this Earth with each other, otherwise, we carry ‘discovery’ forward in our hearts, as a justification for genocide and the continued destruction of our planet.”
—Rena Priest —

I, likewise feel that the word ‘Democracy’ has become code for the race to the bottom. Democracy has become our justification for self-interest, excessive power, economic control, white privilege, institutionalized racism and classism presenting the merest veneer of .choice, freedom and individuality. The ‘electoral college’ has been turned upside down to the advantage of low population states giving them out-sized power and influence in disproportion to those they represent. “The system is rigged” is now a quaint understatement.

On the heels of an election that went sideways, although when all votes are counted Joe Biden may still become our President, I am offering a poem by Rena Priest, the explanation of which introduces today’s blog.

THE INDEX

Rena Priest

In the beginning there was darkness,
then a bunch of other stuff—and lots of people.
Some things were said and loosely interpreted, 

or maybe things were not communicated clearly. 
Regardless—there has always been an index. 
That thing about the meek—how we

shall inherit the earth; that was a promise
made in a treaty at the dawn of time. 
It was agreed upon in primordial darkness                 

and documented in the spiritual record. 
The nature of the agreement was thus:
The world will seemingly be pushed past capacity. 

A new planet will be “discovered” 31 light-years away.    
Space travel will advance rapidly, 
making the journey feasible. The ice sheets will melt. 

Things will get ugly. The only way to leave
will be to buy a ticket. Tickets will be priced at exactly
the amount that can be accrued

by abandoning basic humanity. 
The index will show how you came by your fortune:             
If you murdered, trafficked or exploited the vulnerable,

stole, embezzled, poisoned, cheated, swindled,
or otherwise subdued nature to come by wealth
great enough to afford passage to the new earth;

if your ancestors did these things and you’ve done nothing
to benefit from their crimes yet do nothing to atone
through returning inherited wealth to the greater good 

you shall be granted passage. It was agreed. 
The meek shall stay, the powerful shall leave. 
And it all shall start again.

The meek shall inherit the earth,
and what shall we do with it, 
but set about putting aside our meekness?

PANDEMIC DIARY

ITS NOT A PREDICTION

OCTOBER 29, 2020

Weather prediction is, at the very least, an inexact science: [Actual forecasts]
”The sun will absolutely shine out of your butt today”.
”Today clouds will roll in and blacken the sky however, not as dark as my soul”.
“We can look forward to a sunny day that will continue to heat up. Get Back, you brutal yellow globe”!
”The forecast is for a cold, constant drizzle. Go home Mother Nature! You’re drunk.”

Of course, ‘normal’ weather forecasts are also comical and statistically speaking not more accurate:
”Variable clouds with a chance of light showers”.
”Intermittent rain with periods of intermittent sunshine”.
”The day will start off with wind and the wind might continue into the afternoon and evening hours”.
”Partial sunshine will make for a nice day. While periods of possible showers might dampen your plans”.

Nothing here makes sense. Nothing means anything. It’s all hedge and no forecast. A jumble of equivocation: Patchy; Partial; Mostly; Variable. I especially like the one that says, as an example, “rain likely in your area” - the “area” being a 50 mile swath of countryside. How likely? What area…within the area?
“Your guess is as good as mine.” should be their slogan.

Right now, I am less concerned about the weather forecast than I am about the political forecasts, which in 2016 more resembled weather forecasting. The Republicans were crying in their milk well into the wee hours. The Democrats were prematurely popping the corks of Champagne bottles, toasting their impending victory. Impending??? There is another of those words.

Last night, Adele and I attended a virtual meeting with Larry Sabato, who is the premier political forecaster in the business - rated #1 with FiveThirtyEight rated #2. A chaired professor of Political Science at The University of Virginia, he is a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist, Founder and President of Center for Politics, promoting public engagement and civic participation, and frequent guest commentator on CNN, MSNBC, and FOX News. In other words, he is well regarded for his methodology and accuracy.

This is Larry Saboto’s Crystal Ball prediction for the Presidential Election. (you can view online)

What he said last night that struck me is that over the past four year pollsters have learned a lot. They have learned of whole new sets of variables that were not in play in 2016: White non-college graduates; Outlying districts within States; Evangelicals. These were all glommed into larger, more inclusive groups. Their importance as swing voters was not fully appreciated. And, there are four times as many high quality polling organizations

If you know of anyone in those marginal or “Toss-ups” states, please call them and persuade them to vote. Also, Larry Sabato will be coming out with a final map for the Presidential race, Senate, and Congress on Monday. So, stay tuned.

PANDEMIC DIARY

“THAT CANNOT BE TAKEN AWAY”

October 28, 2020

“That Cannot Be Taken Away”

Because I remember the feel of cold steel climbing the jungle gym;
Because I remember being told “not to get dirty” in my new shorts;
Because I remember the taste combination of mom’s pot roast and Kasha;
Because I remember running for G.O. President in Junior High School;
Because I remember kissing Isabel while Johnny Mathis sang “Misty”;
Because I remember road trips to Kensico Reservoir for foot-long fried frankfurters;
Because I remember Dina breaking my heart;
Because I remember Friday nights spent with my brother, Chuck, and Barry Manilow;
Because I remember my lips and nostrils burning at Harbin Inn, New York’s first Hunan restaurant;
Because I remember seeing Nina Simone at the Fillmore East in Greenwich Village;
Because I remember eating with the great chef Alfredo Viazzi at his trattoria;
Because I remember my father and I going to the movies, just he and I, for my 14th birthday;
Because I remember jumping from a bus, chasing a thief who stole a pocketbook from an elderly lady;
Because I remember where I was when Kennedy was shot;
Because I remember where I was transfixed watching the unfolding of 9/11;
Because I remember having my hair clipped by Paul Mitchell;
Because I remember the sense of isolation waking on a Merchant Marine ship in the middle of the Atlantic;
Because I remember being reunited with my childhood friends, Bruce and Bob, after nearly a half century;
Because I remember holding Alexander for the first time;
Because I remember my blue Toyota Celica, the first car I purchased with my own money;
Because I remember the pain I felt watching Dustin Hoffman portray Ratso Rizzo in “Midnight Cowboy”;
Because I remember the great Zoe Caldwell in “The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie”;
Because I remember multiple anterior dislocations of my right shoulder;
Because I remember picking up and moving to Chapel Hill without a job;
Because I remember meeting Paul Bocuse, the ‘chef of the century’ who innovated ‘Nouvelle Cuisine"‘;
Because I remember behaving inappropriately and getting fired from my first professional job;
Because I remember how she responded to my question, “Are you Hungarian”…”No. I’m from BROOKLYN”;
Because I remember receiving the phone call advising me that our company had been sold for millions;
Because I remember meeting my ‘brother’ in Israel and becoming part of a family;
Because I remember how a college friend of mine and I purposefully set up camp in the path of a tornado;
Because I remember each day to express gratitude for having Adele in my life;
Because I cannot and absolutely will not regret what I have lived no matter what happens this election day.
I will not regret creating my own deliciously imperfect life.
That cannot be taken away.

PANDEMIC DIARY

HEALING DEFINES US

October 27, 2020

Healing defines us. I awoke this morning and, as I am want to do, examined my operative knee. My surgical knee. My ‘bionic’ knee’. The ‘invaded’ knee now implanted with military grade artillery metal and nearly eternally lasting synthetic polymers — the former for strength and endurance; the latter for durability and comfort - glides easily, feels no pain, no cricks, and no encumbrances. After three months of active recovery, I am beginning to feel like myself…none other.

Healing takes time. It is a restorative process. However, the therapeutics takes place under cover of bulging blobs of black and blue bruising. The swelling is massive and ran up into my groin area and down to my foot. All definition was lost. All attributes and contours of my physical structure were hidden by contusion, a ‘fluid’ filled mass.

Now, here’s the thing. As I began to heal, the discoloration faded and resolved. The swollen hills reduced into dunes of definition. I could begin to see the outline of what was my knee. The abscess no longer hid completely what laid beneath. Like a sand sculpture, as more was removed the deeper the detail one could see. I thought, “exposure is revelation”. Take away the injury and you are left with insight. Remove the harm and authenticity is revealed.

Isn’t that exactly what is occurring during these difficult times? We are being attacked by concealment at its most destructive and venal form. I got to thinking about our lives in the age of Trump; Covid; Barr; McConnell; Meadows; Stone; etc. and how we have become ‘swollen’ with fear and anger; inflated with rage; and, bulging with a desire to repudiate. We are not ourselves. Or, we are our injured selves. And, just as a foreign object has been inserted into my body, so have individuals of a distinctly different moral and ethical bent been inserted (or invited???) into our societal psyche. We are inflamed by this presence of alien forms. We want to reject the entering fault and eject actively infecting systems so we may return to a semblance of normal functioning. It would be bad enough were it merely the pandemic of viral contagion. Add to that the raging illness of self-interest; racism; classism; caste; and, corruption and we may soon discover that it is too late to heal the body politic.

We have been the unwitting subjects of ethical surgery.

When Adele was pregnant and enduring her 16 hours of labor, she agonized in a room with a hanging statuary of Christ on a Cross. Despite the fact that she is Jewish, she asked for and garnered all the help she could get in a screaming plea to all who would listen. I feel like that now, willing…desperate…to ask the mythical gods for their help and guidance. To heal what divides us. To rid ourselves of what we created in our midst.

We shall bear witness Judgement Day, (of sorts), November 3. May the gods be with us. And, VOTE!

Love to you all.

PANDEMIC DIARY

HIGGLEDY PIGGLEDY

October 16, 2020

Let’s have some fun!

Higgledy Piggeldy is a poetic verse form in double dactyl format. Invented in 1951 by Anthony Hecht and Paul Pascal, HP has a strict structure, more difficult to write and more formal than a limerick, usually meant to be humorous or ironic.

[from Wikipedia’s complex definition] There must be two stanzas, each comprising three lines of dactylic dimeter ( ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘ ˘ ) followed by a line consisting of just a choriamb ( ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ). The last lines of these two stanzas must rhyme. Further, the first line of the first stanza is repetitive nonsense, and the second line of the first stanza is the subject of the poem, which in the purest instances of the form is a double-dactylic proper noun. There is also a requirement for at least one line, preferably the second line of the second stanza, to be entirely one double dactyl word. [for further examples by the best — https://www.math.wisc.edu/~robbin/Higgeldy.txt]

It looks like this to my simple mind:
Repetitive nonsense [Higgledy Piggledy]: 2 x 3 syllables; 1st syllable of each emphasized
Subject of the poem: 2 x 3 syllables like line 1
Have at it: 2 x 3 syllables like line 2
Finish your thought: 1: 1: 2.

6 - syllables
Usually one word with six - syllables, although you use a 6 syllable word in lines 1 or 2.
Bring it home: 6 syllable like line 1
Close with a rhyme to the fourth line of the first stanza 1: 1: 2.
—Remember this is supposed to be humorous—

The following are my creations.

Higgledy Piggeldy
fuck the Republicans
boorish old white men who
fart on command
Antediluvian
misanthropoligists
Trump calls to order, his
blowhards jug band.

Higgleski Piggleski
Putin’s name - Vladimir
Vladimir Vladimir
His given and middle
So repetitiously
imperialistically
has Donald Trump’s fat ass
on a hot griddle.

Higgledy Piggledy
Horrid Mitch McConnell
quadruple-chinned golem
So evil and vile
Lifted sanctions on Russia
unceremoniously
his soul sold to donors
a pile of bile.

I have had quite the difficult time taking my head out of the mire, turmoil and uncertainty surrounding the forthcoming election. I haven’t felt at the top of my game — lolling around hoping for it to be November 4th…and worthy of celebration.

Have fun with these and if I get a few I will publish them.

PANDEMIC DIARY

NEVER UNDERVALUE YOURSELF

October 6, 2020

Never let it be said that I am unwilling to ‘borrow’ ideas or stories when they accrue to some benefit. In a now famous interview, Dick Cavett asked Mike Nichols, the great film director of movies like “Kramer vs. Kramer” and “The Graduate”, who he was influenced by. Nichols huffed his response, “Influence me? You mean ‘who did I steal from’? No one borrows from or is influenced by another artist. They steal. They take what’s there and build upon it. That’s the ‘art’ part. How you build on what’s already there. That’s how we learn and grow.”

I saw this lovely story in a LinkedIn post that I would like to pass on:

“A father said to his daughter, “You have graduated with honors, here is a car I bought many years ago. It is pretty old now. But, before I give it to you, take it to the used car lot downtown and tell them I want to sell it and see how much they offer you for it.”

The daughter went to the used car lot, returned to her father and said “They offered me $1,000 because they said it looks pretty worn out.”

The father said, “Now, take it to the pawn shop.” The daughter went to the pawn shop, returned to her father and said, “The pawn shop offered me only $100 because it is an old, run down car.”

The father asked his daughter to go to a car club now and show them the car. The daughter then took the car to the club, and returned and told her father, “Some members of the club offered $100,000 for it because it’s a Nissan Skyline R34, it’s an iconic car and sought by many collectors.”

Now, the father said this to his daughter, “The right place values you the right way. If you are not valued, do not be angry, it means you are in the wrong place. Those who know your value are those who appreciate you. Never stay in a place where no one sees your value.”

I very much related to this story. As a young man I felt deeply each rejection. I might have reflected that the used car salesman was better than me, or the pawn broker simply trying to take advantage of me. I operated as if something was not right with me and I was at the effect of others. Those judgments did not serve me and they were not accurate profiles of the other people either. Each was doing his job. Their behavior had little, if anything, to do with me.

My epiphany came some years later when I was interviewing for a sales management position. I was brought into an office, sat opposite the desk of a positioned person who immediately struck me as full of himself. We talked for maybe a few short minutes, not really long enough to get any true sense of who I was or my capabilities, when he literally shoved some piece of shit on his desk towards me, maybe a pen and pencil holder or a sharpener, and said leaning back in his chair like some tycoon, “Here, sell this to me.”

I immediately felt sullied and dirty. What was this, performance art? An entertainment for his sole enhancement? My mind was operating at a furious pace jostling between “Fuck you” to accommodating him for the sake of getting hired. But, this was the new me. I said, “You haven’t asked me a single question about my experience or competencies. I admit, that is not the total picture, however, there is no way I am going to do a trained seal act for you to satisfy your neurotic need to embarrass and humiliate. All you’ve demonstrated to me is that you are not worth hiring.” At which point, I ceremoniously gathered my materials into my attache case (remember those) and on the way out smiled and said, “I just sold myself in case you missed it.”

I called up my then girlfriend and took her out to lunch.
There were two people at the table that valued me.
I was glad to be one of them.

PANDEMIC DIARY

ON THE WAY

October 5, 2020

Two years One Month 21 Days

Sorry! My mind and body have taken a slight vacation. Adele and I left for a one week ‘stay-near-cation’ at Topsail Beach. We arrived on Saturday. And, my physical and spiritual Presences have gratefully drifted along with the tide.

I hope to return to writing soon with some observations and comments about today’s events and things more jolly…plus Part 2 of Edward Snowden For President. In the meantime, on the way down to Topsail, we detoured to Tarboro, NC, where Adele read an article on a notable 19th century church cemetery worth a visit. And, it was.

Coincidentally, we stopped at a ‘double-wide’ grave site with the names of two children. And, in stone images, two crosses floating on water. (I do not have a picture of the stone) That evening, on a local broadcast, the newscaster was presenting historical events in the region highlighting Tarboro, NC. The story was about the same cemetery [Calvary Parish Episcopal Church] we had just visited, and in particular that grave site.

Each of us walks their own unique path…

It is a story about two friends, girlfriends, who were inseparable. They lived next to each other and spent their waking hours together as one. Side by side. They went swimming one day, the tide making it difficult for one of the girls to swim to shore. The other girl, dutifully, turned around and swam back to help her friend. They died in their efforts. Died together. Buried side be side. Forever inseparable.

…and, beauty restores.

Have a great week!

PANDEMIC DIARY

“AT-ONE-MENT”

September 27, 2020

“Why, in God’s name, would they request I speak at synagogue? Years ago, I received an email from the rabbi asking if I would address the congregation on Yom Kippur, the highest holy day on the Jewish calendar. This must be a mistake I thought. I am effectively worse than a non-practicing Jew. I have no use for religion. I am more closely related to heathen than human. Who possessed this bright idea to have me speak? Like I was an expert? Did they think that I needed to repent for my extensive sin-making, and this was a sneaky way of me addressing my character flaws? Or, did they think that upon researching for this address I would discover some gem of insight and commit myself to ‘davening’ [praying] and daily recitation of liturgical prayers.

At the time of the request I am guessing I was in my early sixties. Not even an elder, quite yet. I gave annually to the synagogue, but was not a large institutional donor. Yet, the email said, words like, “to fulfill an honor”. I was being honored. Evidently, it is an honor to stand at the bima [pronounced bee’ma], or the raised area [podium] in front of the synagogue, while the Arc is opened and the Torah Scrolls removed. Worse than the idea of delivering an address to a congregation of Jews, who although were mostly not devout themselves, were Jews who at least practiced and some who attended synagogue weekly, was the idea of being bestowed this honor and facially and physically not betraying the indifference I felt while standing in front of the congregation.

My singular salvation was approaching this task like a scholar, delving deeply into inference, and suggestion, and interpretation and coming out with a new way of viewing the significance of this holiest of days. A view that I could get behind with all sincerity so that my expression and body language would not forsake me.

I promise to keep this brief just in case I am losing you already. Yom Kippur is a day in which God decides the fate of every Jew on Earth. How god knows who is Jewish and who is not is a mystery. So, before the arrival of this judgement, as it were, it makes sense to run to synagogue and say in the Hebraic equivalence, “Oy!, God, did I fuck up this year. I want to make amends and ask for your forgiveness for all the sins I committed this past year.” Cynical, you say? More sarcastic. But, in this day and age of wanting things fast and brief, it must be comforting to note that instant repentance has been around for the ages.

Literally, Yom Kippur translates to “Day of Atonement”. A day in which you receive absolution for the mistakes made. A kind of clearing of the emotional and spiritual house so you can move on with your life. And, then I saw it. It was right in front of me. Staring me right in the face. A concept I could get behind. If you simply broke down the work ‘atonement’ it revealed what it truly means.

‘At-One-Ment’

The true purpose behind Yom Kippur and most other acts, religious or otherwise, of forgiveness is so that the individual no longer has to live divided. The person is “at one’ with him or herself. That sense of living and being a vital part of the universe and nature and how and why it and we exist is why we ‘clear the slate’. And, forgiveness starts at home - the ability to forgive ourselves is the hardest lesson to learn. Each day we can practice forgiveness…starting with ourselves. Therein lies peace and satisfaction, gratitude and, of course, love.

The address went well and was received with polite applause. But, when the rabbi said, “I never quite thought of it that way”, I thought B-I-N-G-O. I was a scholar.

“May your name be sealed [inscribed] in the book of life”.

PANDEMIC DIARY

EDWARD SNOWDEN FOR PRESIDENT:
PART 1 — The Origins of Domestic Spying

September 25, 2020

On the morning of September 11, 2001, terrorists flew two hijacked passenger planes into the World Trade Center towers in New York City. The buildings imploded from the heat generated by the explosions and ensuing fires that raged.

[Note: Although Adele and I were living in North Carolina at the time of the terrorist attack, our apartment in New York City was a mere three blocks from the foot of The Brooklyn Bridge as you see it in the picture. (TO THE LEFT OF THE ARCHES AND DOWN THE STAIRS) Brooklyn Heights is an historical landmark community of 19th century brownstones and townhouses with a picturesque 1/3 mile walk on the promenade situated on the lower East River from which vantage point, overlooking Lower Manhattan, is the perfect view of The Twin Towers.]

At that very moment, everything changed for America. Along with the destruction of two of the world’s largest buildings, American Democracy began to burn and collapse. However, the real story is about the self-inflicted wounds. A genealogical tale of paranoia, projection and politics.

The American Flag at the base of the smoldering remains of The Twin Towers

One has to go back to 2006 when Mark Klein, an AT&T engineer provided a sheaf of papers to the lawyers at the Electronic Frontier Foundation, that revealed and established damning evidence that the National Security Agency [NSA], in cooperation with AT&T, was illegally compiling and amassing the internet usage of American citizens and funneling it into a database.

These same documents, this indisputable evidence, became the crux of a civil liberties lawsuit against the government and AT&T. However, in July 2008, Congress along with then-Senator Barack Obama (D-Illinois) voted to override the rights of American citizens to petition for a redress of grievances. Congress passed a law that absolved AT&T of any legal liability for cooperating with the warrantless spying. The bill, signed quickly into law by President George W. Bush, largely legalized the government's secret domestic-wiretapping program.

Mark Klein faded into history without a single congressional committee asking him to testify. And with that, the government won the battle to turn the internet into a permanent spying apparatus immune to oversight from the nation's courts. Mark Klein opined, “I didn’t expect the terrorists to be so successful ultimately in getting us to abandon our core principles.”

Following years of covert spying, in June 2013, The Guardian newspaper reported that the National Security Agency (NSA) was ‘collecting’ the telephone records of tens of millions Americans. The paper published the secret court order directing telecommunication’s company, Verizon, to hand over all its telephone data to the NSA on an "ongoing daily basis".

That report was followed by revelations in both the Washington Post and Guardian that the NSA tapped directly into the servers of nine internet firms, including Facebook, Google, Microsoft and Yahoo, to track online communication in a surveillance program known as Prism — a surveillance system launched in 2007 by the US National Security Agency (NSA).

How did this all come about?
A 1978 law - the Foreign Intelligence and Surveillance Act [FISA] - had set out the conditions under which a special three-judge court would authorize electronic surveillance if people were believed to be engaged in espionage or planning an attack against the US on behalf of a foreign power.

Following the 9/11 attacks, the Bush administration secretly gave the NSA permission to bypass the court and carry out warrantless surveillance of al-Qaeda suspects and others.

After this emerged in 2005, Congress voted to both offer immunity to the firms that had co-operated with the NSA's requests and to make amendments to FISA providing greater latitude to surveillance operations without prior authorization.

The relaxation to the rules introduced in 2008, meant officials could now obtain court orders without having to identify each individual target or detail the specific types of communications they intended to monitor so long as they convinced the court their purpose was to gather "foreign intelligence information".

In addition they no longer had to confirm both the sender and receiver of the messages were outside the US, but now only had to show it was "reasonable" to believe one of the parties was outside the country.

In 2019, Edward Snowden’s memoir, ‘Permanent Record’, was published.

He describes the 18 years since the September 11 attacks as “a litany of American destruction by way of American self-destruction, with the promulgation of secret policies, secret laws, secret courts and secret wars”.

Part 2 to follow…

PANDEMIC DIARY

THE BI-ANNUAL SWITCHEROO

September 24, 2020

Its that time of year again. Its the time of year when you wonder if it is yet that time of year. Wondering, as in a stalling tactic. You wonder because wondering is less painful that doing the “switcheroo”. You think, “I’ll wait”, and then a few days pass and the morning temperature goes from sixty-two degrees down to forty-seven degrees and you say to yourself, “I should have done the switcheroo sooner.” What yo are left with is having to hunt for a single piece of clothing that will get you through the day without knowing where you stored it at the end of the last season.

There is no exact time to do the switcheroo. Particularly, for us in North Carolina when the weather is so variable due to the competing influences of moist, warm, tropical elements and the colder, dryer forces of polar air masses. So we stand…and ponder…and eventually get it wrong. Inevitably, doing the switcheroo either too soon or too late.

Have you ever stood in your closet, looked at your clothes and said to no one in particular, “Nah. Not yet”, then walk away thinking, “Aw, shit. I really should get this done”. Its not so much that you don’t like doing the ‘switcheroo’. Its more about what the switcheroo represents. And, this time of year it can only mean one thing. Winter is rapidly approaching. And, that sucks.

Of course, under current conditions of Coronavirus, the question arises “does it really matter”, particularly in this year of ‘stay at home’ and quarantine. I have hardly worn anything other than my shorts and tee shirts or sawed-off muscle shirts. I am doing so much nothing I don’t even shower daily. I am not going anyplace.. Why go through all this trouble?

Here are some of the exchanges which must take place:
— My Panama Hats made of Ecuadorian straw will get exchanged for a Beaver Fur Fedora.

— My glen-plaid cotton pajamas will be exchanged for scotch-plaid flannel pajamas.
— My shorts will be put away and my sweatpants will come out.
— My tongs will give way to my fleece-lined slippers.
— My short-sleeve tees will be replaced by long-sleeve tees.
— My open-toed sandals become actual shoes.
— And, my turtlenecks go on the shelf.

This past weeks', as morning as temperatures dropped into the high forties and low fifties, we finally got to use our two new patio heaters. They were purchased to extend the outdoor season.

I really am experiencing cabin fever. I am anticipating for these feelings to worsen and grow because of the cold and inclement weather ahead. So, even before I do this Fall’s switcheroo, I am already thinking of the time when early next year the weather will invite me to consider if its time to do the Spring switcheroo.

PANDEMIC DIARY

NOTORIOUS R.B.G.

Ruth Bader Ginsburg
May her voice rise above the din of fear and the pandemic of hate and ‘otherism’.

September 20, 2020

NOT FORGOTTEN

A body diminutive;
a chirp and a flutter
might her wings break

But, no. Her gilded intellect
Soars, casting shadows
on black robes

Her power makes men
cower having Truth
to bare and the
burden of law.

A conservatives carnage:
literalists, originalists
remain to mold freedom
for the few.

What is left but philosophical
squalor and civil unrest.
A pandemic of politics.

There is only us left
in her passing and Right
rubble. Only us.

The body will lie in
State. Our commitment
shall rise from narrow
pine encampment,

Like a vision of He who
had risen, and engender
the equality and freedom
that one body diminutive
fought and died for.

PANDEMIC DIARY

ROSH HA-SHANAH

September 17, 2020

You may wonder why a religious cynic would even take up the subject of the two Highest Holy Days on the Jewish calendar? However, here we are, one day removed from the start of the Jewish New Year, ‘Rosh Hashanah’, literally translated, “the head of the year’ or ‘the beginning of the year’, and I thought I’d give it a shot.

I think it was the great psychologist, Scott Peck, who said, “You can remember the past, but don’t ‘re-live’ it; you can plan for the future, but don’t ‘pre-live’ it”. Sounds very Buddhist to me. And, very good advise. I bring this up because Time is an important element in Judaism. Most religions, indeed the average individual, imagines time to be a straight line with infinite unique points that have never existed before and will never exist again. Ergo, George Santayana’s prophetic reflection, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

In the Jewish faith, time is more of a spiral where time moves ahead and each year passes through seasonal cycles, coordinates on the cycle that are imbued with certain qualities and spiritual meanings and potentials. Or, if George Santayana were Jewish he might have noted that, “Those who remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” OY VEY!

In truth, the holidays in the Jewish faith are guideposts. They are intended to reminds us of the spiritual opportunities that exist as we remember and reflect on the historical significance of the events that took place in our history. An example would be the Passover celebration when the Jews escaped the oppression in the Land of Egypt. Passover reminds us of freedom, a lesson not to be forgotten. So, on Passover we retell the story of our journey to freedom.

Rosh Hashana is the beginning of the new year and together with Yom Kippur we are provided the opportunity to reflect on our behavior the previous year and to make amends for our wrong doings. We celebrate the sweetness of life and the forthcoming year in which we can live a more perfect life. We dip apples in honey - the apple a symbol of harvest and abundance with the taste of honey that adds sweetness. It is also a reminder that when we were born, we we conceived in a state of innocence. Yom Kippur is a ‘cleansing’ from past mistakes and a chance to return us to ‘a clean slate’.

I have ignored most of the purely religious aspects of this holiday to keep this message simple and straight forward. I wish to take this opportunity to wish my friends of the opportunity to that life offers these beginnings everyday of our lives. I also want to extend my sincere appreciation for having you all in my life that makes my blogging of significant meaning to me. This blog provides me the opportunity to realize what is important to me and how I wish to exist in the world.

So, although today is the start of the Jewish New Year, may we all reflect on our lives for this moment and appreciate that we are all seeking to make this day and each day a possibility for better times ahead,

L’shanah Tovah! May we each have a good, sweet, peaceful and loving New Year.

PANDEMIC DIARY

Part 3 : “The Promise” : Cultism

September 16, 2020

No quote in recent memory has so concisely described what is occurring in these United States.

Stated slightly differently:

“There is a cult of ignorance in the United States, and there has always been. The strain of anti-intellectualism has been a constant thread winding its way through our political and cultural life, nurtured by the false notion that democracy means that 'my ignorance is just as good as your knowledge.”
Issac Asimov

What is the attraction of the “cult of personality”? In the previous blog post I provided a list of techniques associated with minutiae and its intentional use to misdirect our collective attention. Lo! and behold, this morning (as I do each morning) I received and read the daily post of Heather Cox Richardson, possibly the most dedicated reporter of pure news working today. Her post started like this: “Lots of people are tired right now. Indeed, the whole point of the constant stream of chaos coming from the administration is to exhaust us to the point we will stop caring what Trump and his supporters do.” WE MUST NOT LET THAT HAPPEN TO US.

In yesterday’s list of “Fallacies of Distraction”, this barrage of information is a technique identified as “the red herring: diverting the attention of the audience from the discussion of the real issues to irrelevancies.” In this case a constant assault of irrelevancies. Today, I wanted to examine the nature of “cults” as it relates to our current political environment and how it is impacting our culture.

“The first thing a cult does is tell you everyone else is lying.”
Anonymous

On July 13, Trump told reporters that “everyone is lying” with regards to the Coronavirus. On other occasions he said that he is not at all responsible for the current death toll, that he acted rapidly and prudently, that it’s the Chinese Virus and ‘they’ started it, that the information was unclear in the beginning, that the experts got it wrong, and as recently as yesterday Trump and his minions began counter-attacking the CDC accusing it of having formed a “cabal”, an inner circle of scientists who are disseminating false information to hurt Trumps campaign. “They want the death toll to go up in order to help their candidate (Biden) win”. He has repeated untold times that “if it wasn’t for me, millions more would have died”.

Insane you say, but “cult leaders utilize the ‘poetry of desperation and salvation’, safety and deliverance, which attracts the seeker both coming and going.” [my quote] So what is it people seek? What is the need that causes individuals to be so susceptible to seduction and cultist certitude? This is how I see it.

1. An alternative to the prevailing value system - Cults pray upon generalized discontent.

2. Failure to succeed within current societal structures - Lack of fit or constant rejection are repeated themes of new members.

3. Reductionist worldview - Cult leaders are reincarnated forms or they speak to God directly. Simplifying the message.

4. Paranoia - Cult members share the notion that those ‘outside the cult’ are enemies and after them.

5. Highly restricted - Once in you cannot get out.

6. End of world - All cult leaders declare in some form the “end of times” and its imminence.

7. Ready answers - like the reductionist worldview, complex issues are answered by easy solutions. Most humans want their lives to be “easy”.

8. Spiritual journeying - Many converts innocently and naively join cults as an alternative attempt to find their place in the universe.

9. Drugs - It should not be lost that a sizeable population of those habituating in communes are or have been addicted to some substance or mind altering chemical.

10. Rejection - After a lifetime of rejection, it is the follower who now rejects all forms of social order finding commonality with those who also reject societal norms. The outcast mentality.

“It’s easier to fool people than to convince them they have been fooled.”
Mark Twain

I don’t think it should surprise anybody that at the end of the day cult leaders institute policies extolling sexual freedom. David Koresh had sex with his multiple wives and with girls as young as 10 years old. David Berg sermonized that “God loves sex because sex is love, and Satan hates sex because sex is beautiful.” Berg was also an advocate of sex with minor-age children in an effort for the children to “embrace sexuality.” To the extreme, he contended that incest was necessary because it enabled children “to learn from their families”.

Furthermore, these rulers have a penchant for and are masters at manipulating empathy. What I mean by that is it takes a unique personality to be able to ‘read’ an others’ psyche and then ‘feed ‘ that psyche messages and values able to fully and totally supplant the original framework. The best description I have read of this process comes from Haruki Murukami, Underground: The Tokyo Gas Attack and the Japanese Psyche.

“If you lose your ego, you lose the thread of that narrative you call your Self. Humans, however, can't live very long without some sense of a continuing story. Such stories go beyond the limited rational system (or the systematic rationality) with which you surround yourself; they are crucial keys to sharing time-experience with others.

Now a narrative is a story, not a logic, nor ethics, nor philosophy. It is a dream you keep having, whether you realize it or not. Just as surely as you breathe, you go on ceaselessly dreaming your story. And in these stories you wear two faces. You are simultaneously subject and object. You are a whole and you are a part. You are real and you are shadow. "Storyteller" and at the same time "character". It is through such multilayering of roles in our stories that we heal the loneliness of being an isolated individual in the world.

Yet without a proper ego nobody can create a personal narrative, any more than you can drive a car without an engine, or cast a shadow without a real physical object. But once you've consigned your ego to someone else, where on earth do you go from there?

At this point you receive a new narrative from the person to whom you have entrusted your ego. You've handed over the real thing, so what comes back is a shadow. And once your ego has merged with another ego, your narrative will necessarily take on the narrative created by that ego.

Just what kind of narrative?

It needn't be anything particularly fancy, nothing complicated or refined. You don't need to have literary ambitions. In fact, the sketchier and simpler the better. Junk, a leftover rehash will do. Anyway, most people are tired of complex, multilayered scenarios-they are a potential letdown. It's precisely because people can't find any fixed point within their own multilayered schemes that they're tossing aside their own self-identity.”

“There is a cult of ignorance in the United States, and there has always been. The strain of anti-intellectualism has been a constant thread winding its way through our political and cultural life, nurtured by the false notion that democracy means that 'my ignorance is just as good as your knowledge.”
Issac Asimov

Any of this sound familiar? Suffice it to say, Trump should not be underestimated. His supporters are blind to his faults and manipulations. They reject his crimes and project crimes of the State…The Deep State. Our policy differences have conflated to “with us or against us”. The 40% of the population that supports Trump represent a highly disenfranchised segment of the population. They seem ready to dedicate themselves to Trump at all costs. They have eaten whole every conspiracy theory out there without paying attention to facts, science, evidence or reality. This political/religious fervor has justified Trump’s failure of leadership as God’s Will. All the psychological elements are present for a massive and potentially violent movement. Stay tuned.

“I discover that hardly a week passes that some one does not start a new cult, or revive an old one; if I had a hundred lifetimes I could not know all the creeds and ceremonies, the services and rituals, the litanies and liturgies, the hymns, anthems and offertories of Bootstrap-lifting.”
Upton Sinclair

“Nothing goes away until it has taught us what we need to know.”
Pema Chodron

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————-

Just wanted to add something to the last post on Minutiae. This cartoon I just discovered speaks volumes to the point I hope I made.

PANDEMIC DIARY

Part 2 : “THE PROMISE” : MINUTIAE

September 8, 2020

[Sorry, I failed to make my deadline by a mile. Here is Part 2 which took me considerably longer to organize and write. Simply too much going on in my head]

Several days ago, I wrote about a segment of the book, “The Promise” by Chaim Potok, in which a elderly and admired Talmudic scholar attempts to ply his stature and influence on a young student, his father, and his community, by demanding adherence to a strict interpretation of ancient texts. This is not new to us. We see this battle going on today, as an example, in our U.S. Supreme Court, where ardent, so-called ‘Constitutionalists’ (whatever the hell that is) claim constancy and faithfulness to an ‘original’ document written over 250 years ago. It is here where I would like to start today.

“It must not be forgotten that it is especially dangerous to enslave men in the minor details of life… It does not drive men to resistance, but it crosses them at every turn, until they are led to surrender the exercise of their own will.”
Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America

Rav Kalman poured over texts for the whole of his life believing there is no higher calling than the study of Torah. Studying! Not living Torah. To be fair, I don’t know how many Rebbe ‘live’’ their Torah. What I do know is that a life of parsing words, seeking historical contexts, desiring to discover the ‘true meaning’ of a phrase within the true meaning of the phrase, is like a man with a hand on his genitalia, it feels good in the moment but doesn’t end in relationship.

We are, and approvingly so, being deluged with minutiae, all in the name of ‘information’. Information was going to save us. It was to provide truth, immediacy, and relevance. The internet was to be an ‘information highway”. Except, as is often the case with innovation, the change came too quickly and we didn’t anticipate the highway crashing at the intersections. A pile up of data and noise. A cacophony of pointless drivel and nonsense combined with hateful rants and, of course, pornography which established the internet in the first instance. And, yes, as a concession to you admirers, the internet allows you to buy 13 pairs of shoes, try them on, select the one pair you most like, and ship the rest back. Convenience - a word I am beginning to hate. Convenience at what price?

We have been acculturated to the marketing and advertising industries like an addict who is weaned on small doses of opioids, at first for the legitimate use of pain reduction, only to have its power and allure enslave us. You cannot go to a website without a “pop-up” ad, banner ad, video ad or some other ‘hook’ on the page that forces you to step over or otherwise avoid its imposition. Worse, they are targeting you and your behavior, so if by chance you purchase an anal thermometer, you will receive persistent offers for the latest in anal thermometers for the next 6 months.

There's a saying in Artificial Intelligence that: “most of the time, intelligent agents do what they do most of the time”. That is to say, we only tend to do--and be good at--those things that we systematically practice throughout our lives. I would contend that humans have a powerful tendency toward ‘doing’ minutiae. Furthermore, minutiae has developed into the world’s main industry. That is, aside from armaments, oil, drug trafficking and human trafficking.

Minutiae is always distraction. It is, by definition, the opposite of “the big picture”. It is readily available but removes us from seeing what is important and of value to our society. The sheen of your lip gloss or the kick from a super-caffeinated drink bestow absolutely no insight to race, poverty or war. Its as if the scales have tipped in favor of nonsense having rejected reality. Or, our government has so effectively disregarded the needs of its people and their prevailing suffering that avoidance, denial, and obfuscation allows a population to absolve themselves of any responsibility to act on their own behalf. Minutiae is money. Minutiae is propaganda. Minutiae is a politicians’ “three-card-Monty” scheme. Minutiae is religion’s intermittent reinforcement.

[Caveat: I am not referring to minutiae such as details in scientific research; not to NASA as it seeks to coordinate and execute a precise and safe mission; not to an Olympic competitor whose every performance aspect is viewed by international judges seeking perfection. None of these are picayune. These pursuits are not trivial or trifling. The are exacting efforts demanding diligence, practice, commitment, and dedication to a goal. The big picture.]

Turn on the television any Sunday morning and you will witness the ultimate “sales job” and scam in America. It is the world of “preachers” who, like archeologists, each week dive into the depths of Bible verses with holy hammers, dusting brushes and tweezers plucking fine hair-line distinctions from Biblical verses to find a nugget of a word or verse that they can turn into a fable filled with analogy and philosophy able to turn even the less ardent into blathering ‘salvationists’. And one fellowship member touches another and exaltation spreads virally until a hall of thousands are diving into these dangerous caves of darkness with Bible in hand and a pencil for notations in the margins of the ‘good book’ in the other hand to be saved by the light of the ministering.

“Death looms large for those who seek solace in ‘the word’”.
David Roth

“Humility is not thinking less of yourself, its thinking of yourself less.”
C.S. Lewis

Ah, to be saved! “‘Tis a consummation devoutly to be wish’d.” The Sunday missionary or cleric has much in common with Rabbi Kalman. It looks different because of the outer garbs. It sounds different because of the distance between Birmingham, Alabama and the shtetl’s of Eastern Europe, the drawl and cadence of the South and the ‘sing-songy’ complaint of the pogroms. But, it is the same. It is the same as Trump filling the airwaves with drivel. Our news is like pellets you buy at the zoo, feeding a starving animal just enough so it keeps on returning for more. This intermittent reinforcement produces the most powerful, habit forming behavior. Just ask the casino owners in Las Vegas, or watch the widow/er sitting at a slot machine pulling that one-arm bandit like a frenzied morphine addict.

“It is a truism that almost any sect, cult, or religion will legislate its creed into law if it acquires the political power to do so.”
Robert A Heinlein

I found the following analysis of minutiae and the techniques of distraction on the website www.philosophyinaction.com. These are also the tools of authoritarian leaders and Fascists.
See if you can relate these to our current circumstance.

Fallacies of Distraction

...related to personalities

• ad hominem: rejecting or dismissing another person's statement by attacking the person rather than by disproving the statement.

• creating misgivings: stirring up suspicions about a long-forgotten (and possibly completely unsubstantiated) charge against one's interlocutor.

• tu quoque: trying to dismiss or downplay an accusation by demonstrating that the accuser himself is guilty of misconduct.

• poisoning the well: (damning the origin) arguing against an idea by showing that one's interlocutor has a non-rational motive for holding the idea.

• forestalling disagreement: attempting to make an opponent or audience unwilling to debate an issue.

• argument from intimidation: asserting that believing or arguing for a certain idea indicates immorality, in an attempt to intimidate a person into renouncing the idea without discussion.

• self-righteousness: confusing good intentions with actual good or truth.

• special pleading: refusing to apply the same principles to oneself that one applies to others.

• presenting the "good" reason: selecting, as the explanation for one's actions or ideas, a credible fact when other explanations could be had.

Here are the ways minutiae distract and deceive:

• oversimplification: reducing a complex situation to a simple, inaccurate statement.

• many questions: (plurium interrogation) posing a complex question and demanding a simple answer.

• vague similarities: asserting that two situations or ‘existents’ are similar without specifying the properties they share.

• diversion: attempting to support one proposition by arguing for a different one entirely.

• strawman: attempting to refute one's opponent's proposition by attacking misrepresentation of the his/her position.

• wicked alternative: attempting to support one proposition by denouncing another, when the second is not the opposite of the first.

• false dilemma: representing a situation as having only undesirable alternatives when the facts do not support such a judgment.

• all-or-nothing mistake: presenting a naked dichotomy when such an evaluation is unwarranted.

• slippery slope: arguing that if one event were to occur, other harmful events would result without showing how the events are linked.

• impossible conditions: contending that mankind should be changed or even perfected before any remedy for a problem should be considered.

• nothing but objections: continually objecting to any plan proposed to assure that nothing is done.

...related to minutiae

• wishful thinking: constructing false expectations though ignoring unpleasant facts.

• lip service: verbal agreement unsupported in action or true conviction.

• prejudicial fallacies: representing whatever position coincides with whatever prejudices the speaker perceives in the audience.

• red herring: diverting the attention of the audience from the discussion of the real issues to irrelevancies.

• pomp and circumstance: permitting the setting in which the argument takes place to affect the attention paid to the argument.

• humor and ridicule: using inappropriate humor to deflect attention away from the discussion.

I wish you all a week of continued health, peace of heart, joy with your children and loved ones and an abundance of charity. Be well.

Part 3: “THE PROMISE” : Cultism

PANDEMIC DIARY

Part 1 : “THE PROMISE”

September 7, 2020

I have just completed reading, for the second time, the novel by Chaim Potok, “The Promise”. Originally published in 1969, it is the second of two novels following the lives of friends, Reuven and Danny, religious Jews growing up in an orthodox Brooklyn community. They are both the children of Jewish scholars. Danny, belonging to the more traditional, ultra-religious Hasidic household, chooses to become a psychologist, breaking with the strict fundamentalism of his Hasidic community and its laws. Reuven, a brilliant student of Talmud, chooses to study for the rabbinic, oddly electing a more traditional path given his more liberal, contemporary orthodox upbringing.

From the earliest of school ages, these sects of Jews study Talmud. The Talmud is the comprehensive written version of the Jewish oral law and the subsequent commentaries on it written in two parts ... The Mishnah is the original written version of the oral law and the Gemora is the record of the rabbinic analysis and discussions over the Mishnah, known as the Commentaries. Exegetic in nature, these annotations, historically written on the margins of the page on which the Mishnah or law appears [like a university student might do], attempt to elucidate or provide further dimension to the complexities and sometimes seeming contradictions of the law. Oftentimes, they merely produce further discussion in the form of debates around a single phrase or even a single word’s meaning. These “discussions” can be sufficiently animated as to cause rifts among the various sects.

A Page from Talmud showing the Mishnah [boxed in red], the oldest portion of Gemora below and the Commentaries encircling the center.

There is a beautiful segment in the book in which Reuven’s teacher, Rav Kalman, a great and revered Jewish scholar and Talmud expert, asks Reuven to help him understand a complex series of texts and commentaries on Jewish law. Reuven is asked because the segments of Mishna and their interpretations are from a newly published book written by Reuven’s father, Rabbi Malter. Rav Kalman is exhorting Reuven to explain to him his father’s method of arriving at his understandings of the law and subsequent commentaries.

Reuven obliges having assisted in the editing and proof-reading of his father’ book and himself becoming highly familiar with and proficient at the total body of research. At issue is Rav Kalman’s claim that the Mishnah is the word of God, and therefore cannot be changed. Reuven explains that the Mishnah was written about the 4th century, two centuries following the oral tradition. As well, the Greek philosophers who lived in the 2nd century BC are known to have highly influenced the writers of the original oral tradition. Passages were cited that effectively were literal translations from the Greek sources, including Aristotle and Plato. “The similarities between the Mishnah and these Greek sources are palpable…the Mishnah offers a reasonably accurate reflection of the Platonic or Aristotelian teaching, suggesting some kind of influence. [Greek Philosophy and the Mishnah: On the History of Love that Does Not Depend on a Thing. Gabriel Danzig]

In many instances the Mishnah passages are nearly literal translations from the Greek, originally transcribed in Aramaic then written in Hebrew where the letters are merely transliterated from the Greek. Of course this will cause confusion as to original meaning. But, let’s not distract ourselves with truth. Like many ‘originalists’ today, Rav Kalman would not be swayed. The Aramaic of our people is the true word.

“I will no longer mutilate and destroy myself in order to find a secret behind the ruins.”
Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

Rather, he instructed Reuven, “Do you know yourself? You must know yourself first.” This is the Conservative Rabbi telling his student that in order to receive his degree and final ordination as a Rabbi, he must demonstrate his adherence to ‘Yiddishkeit’ or the whole of the Jewish way of life. This not so veiled threat is a demand that Reuven, no matter his intelligence, his openness to deeper understanding of original texts, or regard for modernity, fully accept what is written and, worse than ignore, actually reject vociferously his new insights and their implications. He must become a ‘faithful’, an uncompromising disciple of what he knows not to be true.

So, why did I go to this length to relate a segment of this wonderful book? (And, if you are interested in reading this, please read “The Chosen” first.) This is an example, a meager, small-scale example of “cult of personality”. By dint of his credentials, by the impression of his knowledge, by the force of his arguments, and by the staunchness of his commitment, Rav Kalman has divided his community into those who affirm or, at least and cowardly, accede to his positions and are therefore disciples and true to the word of god; or, you are intellectual dilettantes who feels at any time can interpret the writing of ancient books and scribes to your liking and to fit into an altering modernity.

This is not so described in the book as I am now interpreting it, written those many years ago. Nonetheless, from the inception of religious thought, among the obedient of all faiths the world over, it is our differences that are the hallmark of our lives and not our shared experiences and commonalities; not our love of country and commitment to a way of life; not shared human rights and the dignity belonging to us all. Oh yes, Jewish and Christian (and all other) scriptures advance a ‘lip-service’-style unity of humankind message while really envisioning a world in their “fold” — ardent followers who live a committed life of conviction to their truth, their belief…and no other.

Part 2 : “THE PROMISE” - I sincerely hope to get that out for publication tomorrow.

PANDEMIC DIARY

A FOND MEMORY [reprise]

AUGUST 29, 2020

[Due to a posting glitch, I am not sure y’all saw this post from two weeks ago. It was attached to another post that ran consecutively. I wanted to ensure you had a chance to experience this. Thanks.]

The year is 1961. I am 15 years old and living with a family in Paris for a too brief period of three weeks. In recognition of their hospitality and the sincere affection I felt for my hosts, I thought to express my deepest regard and admiration by purchasing a going away gift. It would not be a ‘lasting’ memento because what I had in mind was a consumable. It would be eaten and enjoyed likely within a matter of a couple of days. Still, I thought it an appropriate and tasteful gesture. So, on this misty morning, I ambled down the cobblestone lane of rue Eugene Delacroix, along the boulevard Avenue George Mandel, through Trocadero and across the Pont D’Ilena into the Seventh Arrondissement, to a ‘chocolaterie’ famous for their handmade and distinctive chocolates.

With my new found French language skills and my French dictionary tucked in my jacket pocket, I confidently took hold of the ornate brass handle to the grand, art-deco glass door and stepped into this chic wonderland of seemingly endless displays of chocolates.

A very beautiful young lady [as most young French ladies were to this rampantly hormonal male] approached me wearing a knee-length, dirndl-like skirt with an apron top. In French, (‘bien sur’), she asked if she could be of assistance. So dearly did I want to be French, and willing to assume the role of a young Frenchman, I confidently proceeded to request the following having practiced along the route, “I would like a half kilometer of chocolates.” There was a wisp of a pause and a telling look of confusion on the clerk’s face as she asked me to repeat what it was I wished for. I adjusted both speed and tone. “May I please have a half kilometer of chocolates.” The charming service person was now clearly nonplussed and mildly upset not knowing how to handle this situation…a situation I was causing without any self awareness.

Curtsying ever so slightly, the young lady excused herself indicating that she would get someone else to assist me. And, in just a few moments a fine, tall, elegant looking gentleman who I took to be the proprietor appeared and, with the clerk by his side, repeated for thrice time, “How can I be of assistance?” And, so as not to disappoint, I repeated. “Sir, I would like a half kilometer of assorted chocolates.” Then, without a moment’s pause, and absent any suggestion of sarcasm or smugness, indeed with a generous gift basket filled with patience, sympathy, grace and respect for my linguistic efforts, he earnestly inquired as if willing to accede to my request,

“Would you care for the chocolates to be lined up…

THIS WAY

OR THAT WAY

Politely adding to insure I did not miss the error of my ways, “Of course, you will get very many more pieces if they are aligned vertically.” Slapping my hand against my forehead {a real ‘zetz’} in what must have looked like a precursor to Homer Simpson…

…it finally dawned upon me that I was asking for chocolates in distance…not weight.

“Kilogram!” I blurted.

It was their knowing smiles and laughter that kept me from feeling any sort of embarrassment or humiliation. This comedy was not idiosyncratic, a foible or deficiency. It did not reflect on my innate character or characterize a nationality. They did not gloat, demean or debase me in word or deed. In fact, instead of setting themselves apart, my hosts became integral to the burlesque. I also was rewarded a block of chocolate to enjoy on my walk home.

Why did this youthful interaction have such a lasting and important influence on me? Even as a young man, I was aware of reports from family and friends who traveled to Europe extolling the societal delights and pleasures they experienced. They would spend thousands of dollars and return with stories of how they were treated by the department store clerk, the supermarket attendant, the lady at the vegetable store who wore a simple, black ‘A-line’ dress with high heels and pearls, the waiter who brought them a taste of something viewed and commented upon at another table, the street cleaning machines that would pass by the hotel every morning washing and brightening the streets,

These acts, all, are measures of self-reflected, egalitarian, societal attitudes toward service, civility, humanity and culture. The clerks and attendants were as vital and necessary to the mutual functioning and enjoyment of society as were the financier or politician. Each had a significant role to play. They were not anathema to the whole. They were neither bane or burden. They were essential. And, when I speak of essential I do not mean something to have to “put up with” or grudgingly accept. No! I mean essential to the ‘good life’ - a shared daily existence without encumbrances and impediments like regards for race, presumed intelligence, status, class, presumed wealth or any other claims to privilege or exception.

Americans, instead of blurring the lines of distinction seem to relish in drawing and defending lines…and for a false psychology that infers somehow one is elevated if another is demeaned. In that system, no one gets what they want. Everyone is resentful, hateful, feels either underprivileged, dismissed, disregarded, and/or denigrated. Americans sacrifice the ‘inter’-relationship and forego the compatibility emphasizing the unworthiness, the discord, the infliction those in lower classes impose.

As it happens, just the other day, I heard an interview with Gene Sperling, author of “Economic Dignity”, a new book that advocates for economic justice and market reforms that would allow people to “care for family without economic deprivation or desperation”. Referring to Martin Luther King Jr.’s speech delivered to the Sanitation Worker’s Union, he quoted King, “the Sanitation worker was as essential as the physician”. He pointed out that especially at this time we are realizing that farmers, delivery drivers, grocery store clerks, and home health care workers “are now people who are literally saving our lives”. But, they remain underpaid and allowed to work in unsafe conditions without personal protective equipment. He goes on to say, “…you do not achieve dignity just with applause, just with respect. You have to have dignified treatment”.

PANDEMIC DIARY

“CORE” THIS!’

AUGUST 27, 2020

A day cannot go by without someone referencing “CORE”. ‘Core’ this. ‘Core’ that. I am getting a little sick and tired of hearing about core. There has been enough citings about core over the past half century or more before this new vernacular application of core, which really brought core to common usage. Examples:

CPU : Core Processing Unit — [technology] A core, or CPU core, is the "brain" of a CPU. It receives instructions, and performs calculations, or operations, to satisfy those instructions. A CPU can have multiple cores.

Core [geology] — The central or innermost portion of the Earth, lying below the mantle and probably consisting of iron and nickel. It is divided into a liquid outer core, which begins at a depth of 2,898 km (1,800 mi), and a solid inner core, which begins at a depth of 4,983 km (3,090 mi).

Core [banking; finance] — Core Banking System is a back-end system that processes daily banking transactions and posts updates to accounts and other financial records. Core banking systems typically include deposit, loan and credit processing capabilities, with interfaces to general ledger systems and reporting tools.
Core Area [zoological] — Part of a range in which an animal or group of animals may rest securely, in which young may be raised, and to which in some species food may be taken to be eaten.

Core [horticulture; pomology] — The core is the fibrous seed containing center of some fruits.

Core [psycho-spiritual] — an individuals’ core is the essence of a person and how they treat the world around them.

But, what put me over the edge was this new core entering the picture over the past 15 years or so. Where none of the above made me relate on a personal level, this new core reference made me feel inadequate, insufficient, like I’m not working hard enough, seemingly always just under the mark. The core I am referring to falls into the category of health and fitness. Those perfect, youthful, attractive specimens that possess the strength, mobility and agility to contort their bodies into odd poses and movements designed to strengthen your core.

A variation on The Plank

Your core is made up of many muscles, including your rectus abdominis (what you think of when you think "abs"), transverse abdominis (the deepest internal core muscle that wraps around your sides and spine), erector spinae (a set of muscles in your lower back), and the internal and external obliques (the muscles on the sides of your abdomen).

As a young man interested in developing my body strength and conformation, I read ‘muscle’ magazines and learned I possessed arms, legs, biceps, triceps, shoulders, upper back, lower back, ham strings, quads, etc. I had body parts, all of which needed attending to. Each of which was distinct; yet, each of which belonged to a muscle group. There were exercises called: bicep curls, triceps extensions, pull-ups, chest presses, knee bends, and shoulder shrugs. Exercises named after the part of the body being enhanced.

Today, you have core-strengthening exercises called: Planks; Panther Tap; Butterfly Sit-Up; Dead Bug; Half-Kneeling Wood chop; High Boat to Low Boat; Jackknife; Wheelbarrow. Then, there are yoga ‘poses’ for core: Cat; Crane; Dolphin; Happy Baby; and, let us not forget Downward Facing Dog.

These are insanely difficult poses and movements that require an initial core strength to even initiate them.

“My friend tried to convince me that yoga is a workout...
I told him it’s a bit of a stretch.”

I grew up having a beautiful, medium build. My proportions were admirable. That’s what I was told, not how I felt about my body. I felt I looked like the proverbial 90-pound weakling who got sand kicked in his face. I had more of a swimmer’s physique. I would never be…could never be…muscle bound. This Jewish boy was never meant for intense, repetitive physical labor. I was too mental, [and I don’t mean that as a compliment]. I had to fight through my resistance to put together anything resembling a full workout. “It was a time in my life when my favorite exercise was chewing.”

Truth be known, I am in awe of this new generation of fitness conscious young men and women who are able to go to the gym with their iPhones and workout with an online instructor by themselves, executing these sophisticated exercises and physical workouts.

PANDEMIC DIARY

IS ABNORMAL NORMAL?

AUGUST 24, 2020

“If I could have
Two things in one:
The peace of the grave;
And the light of the sun”
from “Moriturus”, Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1928

One of my favorite poets, and certainly one of the greatest couplets in written history.

The reason this simply perfect verse of universal lamentation came to mind is because of (and not by way of literary comparison) the last fitful nights:

Last night, I didn't get to sleep at all, no, no
I lay awake and watched until the morning light
Washed away the darkness of the lonely night
And, last night I didn’t get to sleep, didn’t get to sleep at all”
written by Tony McCaulay, and performed by The Fifth Dimension

Has anyone else been sleeping erratically…or not sleeping? I am well. My knee is healing. I am in generally excellent health. What exactly is going on? Adele is well. Alex is well. Then, Adele reports that she has not been sleeping regularly. Alex mentions that he has been up at night. Yesterday, I met with a friend and he communicated that he has experienced “slumber-interruptus”. Seriously, what the hell is happening? Is it malaise? Is it societal? Are right-wing conservatives sleeping? Are Evangelicals convulsive?

Two weeks ago, Adele and I were sitting on the porch having our coffee, when at approximately 8:30 AM we felt a rumble, as if a giant backhoe were moving earth underneath the house. It lasted for maybe 10 seconds. We glanced at one another with curious grins, “I dunno”. It wasn’t until later that morning that we heard of the earthquake originating near Sparta, North Carolina. I am reminded of this due to the upset I am feeling. It is not blinding fear or despair. It is, though, disquieting, disturbing and uneasy making.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware that you do exist. Or something like that. I think wanting that is very morbid, but I want it when I get like this. That’s why I’m trying not to think. I just want it all to stop spinning.”
Stephen Chbosky, “The Perks of Being A Wallflower”

What is happening to our world? Is this a human inevitability? To self-destruct? [I will be writing about this at a future date.] Am I overreacting? Is there solace or consolation in today’s turmoil? I am glad that I do not have young children with whom I may have unwittingly shared these silent concerns by my unspoken turbulence. Are we reaching an absolute nexus where we either change or suffer dire consequences? What I do know is this: that it is not egoism for me to believe in myself, care for myself and trust and admire myself; it is a necessary precursor to self-fulfillment through which change occurs. I wish only to be a model for that change.

Embrace yourself today.

Love to all.

PANDEMIC DIARY

A ‘Schmear’ of Trump

August 22, 2020

“The goddam New York City elites, they add capers, garlic and sun dried tomatoes to their cream cheese and think their God’s gift. If you elect them I promise you that you will have to search far and wide to find just plain cream cheese.”

"I mean, the way our country's run, if it doesn't happen to be me that wins, you know what's going to happen? They are going to import walnuts from Iran, crush them, and put them in your cream cheese and you will never know that the Americans are making Iranians wealthy from walnuts”.

“26,000 unreported sexual assaults in the military-only 238 convictions. What did these geniuses expect when they put chocolate & cashews together?” You know what chocolate does to women. Then put it on a schmear and the whole thing becomes totally unpredictable”.

“I have a great relationship with the blacks currants. I've always had a great relationship with the black currants. In fact, I prefer them to red currants. If they really look closely, that is if they are interested, but who knows, they will see that no one has done more for black currants. And, now they are all over the place…even in cream cheese.”

"Thousands and thousands of people were cheering when they took the strawberries out of the cream cheese. Yes. I watched when the World Strawberry Center advocated for strawberries in cream cheese. I, personally, don’t like fruit in my cream cheese. But, these strawberry haters cheered as the strawberries came tumbling out of the cream cheese. Disgusting!”

“I just think that we are now, we are going to start the process of denuclearization of North Korea, and I believe that he’s going back and will start it virtually immediately to remove the Kimchee from the cream cheese. Can you believe, I heard it say that Kimchee Cream Cheese is most popular in North Korea. However, in exchange for stopping the war games [with South Korea] which will save us a tremendous amount of money. It is very provocative. Americans can now be saved from a rash of Kimchee Cream Cheese imports. So its a fair deal.”

“She had the little bits of carrot; she had the right amount of celery; she had lovely chives. I love her chives. Add to that slivers of the smooth skin of a tomato. Ooh La La!, she had put everything – the whole thing - in that cream cheese. I call it “Chunky Cream Cheese” because you can bite on it and hear the crunch but it still schmears on the bagel” At first, I thought the whole idea was crazy. But, I wouldn’t pass it up if it knocked on my hotel door and stayed for the evening.”

“She gets out and she starts asking me all sorts of ridiculous questions. Do you prefer peanut butter in your cream cheese? Have you ever used vanilla and almond extract in your schmear? Totally inappropriate. She had nice attributes.Don’t get me wrong. I liked her attributes. I appreciate when women attribute their attributes. That’s an attribution I can readily make. But, then you could see blood coming out of her, well you know…wherever…her eyes. In my opinion, she was off base. Too sweet for her own good. Give me a natural tasting cream cheese.”

“If Ivanka liked pickled squid ink cream cheese, I would eat it. And, if she weren’t my daughter I would share the bagel with her. I’d eat every part of it including the hole. But, she’s my daughter so all you people who think you know better because you’re in the m-e-d-i-a will judge me because when I think of Ivanka, I think of a thick schmear. Just lay it on. But, Jared’s a decent guy. I gotta tell you though, thinking about him schmearing my daughter. What’y’a gonna do? It is what it is.

PANDEMIC DIARY

Alone With My Thoughts

August 21, 2020

Upon rereading yesterday’s blog it struck me as dense, too long, and a tad all over the place.

Well, Yeah!

That’s what happens when you are home all day, alone with your thoughts recovering from a total knee replacement. I’m like a caged animal. Do you know that wild animals in zoos are actually psychotic? That’s what all that pacing is about. They pull out their hair. They chew on their hides. They bang their heads against the cage. Or, they become completely docile.

I wonder if anyone else is experiencing that. The roster of people I know who receive this blog are busy…busy…busy…a Director of a Not For Profit; a Cardiologist; a Statistician; a Museum Docent; Commercial Real Estate Manager; Human Resource Consultant…

I am retired. I am no longer the entrepreneur. I no longer lead a team. I am no longer mentoring. I no longer am answerable to anyone but myself. This blog has become a welcome, self-charged commission. I actually love writing this blog. Not for the exercise of it. Not because it absorbs time. Because it is absorptive. I don’t think I knew I had so much to say. I’m (humbly) amazed some days at how much I know or remember. I cannot for the life of me remember where I leave my cell phone or why I find myself in one room and not the other. But, I can reach back and tell a story about an insignificant event that took place fifty years ago. Go figure.

Writing this blog has allowed me to remove much of the internal rumination and turn it into a thing of substance that I hope can be enjoyed. However, I am still dense, too long, and generally all over the place. My brain continuously jumps from one thing to the next making associations and drawing relationships that sometimes have me asking, “Where the hell did that come from?” That has always been the case with me. I have meditated on and off for more than 40 years and every guru and ‘baba’ is turning in their graves at their failure to slow down my neural connections to a state that distantly resembles quiet…not to mention bliss.

In this sense, the blog is primary to me. And, because it requires reflection, research, and sometimes rumination I do find that although I can get caught up in cerebral cycles firing on all cylinders, blogging offers a dose-a-day of subject matter that keeps me focused. And, that focus is healthy.

I thank you all for being there.