Wednesday, November 06, 2024

Oatmeal

In one of the hospitals or rehabilitation centers that housed me some years back, I asked one of the nurses why in such places they always seem to serve the patients oatmeal for breakfast.

“It’s warm, cheap, easy and sticks to your ribs,” she answered in a tone that told me she’d been asked that question before — a lot.

This morning, I made myself a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast. It was warm, cheap, and easy and I’ve heard that it sticks to the ribs. To make it slightly more special, I added some raisins.

***

The following excerpts are from a goodbye column I wrote when I left my position at Stanford almost 20 years ago:

Our society is plagued by alienation, disorientation, and isolation. It is a world of vast material wealth for the few but disrupted families and communities for the many, and an even vaster spiritual deprivation for all. 

It also is a world where it is often hard as individuals to find our way to form the lasting bonds based on shared values that we so deeply need, as well as any kind of lasting sense of collective commitment to the hard work that needs to be done on many fronts to make things better for all those who share this troubled planet with us.

I've known these things for many years, but in recent times I've often seemed to forget how important locating and nurturing a sense of hope really is for who I am and what I do in the world.

I don't mean to sound naïve here. It's not that finding hope in and of itself is an easy thing to do, particularly when we are dealing with the real difficulties life hands us. If there is a clue to be offered in this regard, however, it is that finding ways to really connect with others that eventually makes the difference. 

Tuesday, November 05, 2024

Election Day Diary

My main advice for anyone stressed out about the election today is to go outside, and weather permitting, take a walk. Call a friend. Meet up with somebody. Get a latte. Have sushi for lunch. Treat yourself to a chocolate milkshake. Smile at a stranger. Put out your flag.

Forget about the media until later in the day — we journalists will be driving ourselves crazy pouring over scraps of data. There is no good reason for you to watch television coverage or log on to election sites until about an hour before the first polls close on the east coast. That’s when the pre-election rumors will peak, which might be amusing, at least to the political junkies out there.

But when you do tune in, get ready for a long night.

As to how the polls moved on the eve of the election, there was some very good news for Democrats. According to 538, for the first time in over two weeks, Harris erased Trump’s lead in the Pennsylvania to move ahead by a slender 0.2 point margin. This represents about 14,000 votes, which is a hairs-breadth in a state where some 7 million are expected to vote. But it also comes as other polls indicate that independent voters in the state are breaking in Harris’s favor.

Furthermore, 538 now has Harris up by a full point in the other two Blue Wall states, Michigan and Wisconsin. I can therefore project Harris victory margins of 57,000 and 34,000 votes in those two, respectively.

If these projections come true, Harris will almost certainly be the next president. 

Trump leads in the other five battleground states — Arizona, Georgia, North Carolina, Nevada and Iowa, but his lead in Nevada is only 0.3 points or roughly 4,000 votes out of ~1.5 million cast.

To quote the experts: “According to 538’s final presidential forecast, Vice President Kamala Harris has a 50-in-100 chance of winning the Electoral College after all votes are counted (which could take a few days). We give former President Donald Trump a 49-in-100 chance to win.* Practically speaking, those odds are virtually indistinguishable — about the same as flipping a coin and getting heads versus tails.’

Of course, all of these polling numbers are within the margin of error, so it just appears to be excruciatingly close right up to and beyond the last moment.

So, for my part, this concludes my many, many posts leading up to the election. I’ve tried my best to provide honest, accurate coverage. But now all I can say is whatever happens, happens. So that, as we say in show business, is a wrap … 

… except to say that this past weekend, we got around to celebrating two family birthdays, for Oliver (13) and Bettina (6). When I was wrapping Bettinas present, my latest dose of Carbidopa-Levadopa had not yet kicked in, so my left hand was shaking and I did a lousy job of the task at hand.

Later, when I gave my youngest granddaughter her present, I apologized for how badly wrapped it was.

“That’s okay, Grandpa,” she said. “You’re my favorite wrapper.”

At least I think that’s what she said. Maybe it was “You’re my favorite rapper.”

In any event, that is a wrap.

HEADLINES:

 

Monday, November 04, 2024

Monday Diary -- Trump is 'okay' with shooting journalists

There’s one day left. For those looking for last-minute indicators leading into tomorrow’s election, there are several of note:

  1. Polls indicate that independent voters in Pennsylvania may be breaking for Harris. This is the state most likely to tip the balance one way or the other.

  2. The most surprising poll of all shows Harris leading in Iowa; this may indicate an unexpected shift inside the Midwestern states.

  3. Trump leads among men but the growing gender gap favors Harris because women voters outnumber male voters and are more likely to vote than men.

  4. Democrats appear to have a very large advantage in the ground game, i.e., knocking on doors, making phone calls and other ‘get out the vote’ tactics.

All of these factors favor Harris, but the latest polls remain deadlocked in all eight battleground states, which now include Iowa.

In the closing days, Harris is staying focused in her message of hope and optimism, whereas Trump spews darkness and continues to fly off the rails. Sunday Trump delivered another of his coded messages to his supporters that it would be okay with him if they would shoot journalists.

Sometimes I can’t really believe this is happening in our country but it is. These are the actions of an authoritarian trying to incite violence and intimidate the press. Tomorrow will be my last entry in this ‘diary” series leading up to the election. 

Earlier diary entries:

  1. Tuesday Diary -- “One Week Before 'What Happened' Happens” — the romantic intrigue of this moment of witnessing history together.

  2. Wednesday Diary -- “How Math Determines the Fate of Democracy” — the numerical basis behind mass fascism.

  3. Thursday Diary: “Who is that Man in the Garbage Truck?” — how not to go insane when a train crash is happening before our very eyes.

  4. Friday Diary: “Healthy Societies Embrace Choices” — focusing on uplifting activities rather than fretting that this may be our last good week for a long, long time.

  5. Saturday Diary -- “Love Under the Mosquito Netting” — because sometimes love prevails over hate.

  6. Sunday Diary — “It’s Come to This” — a day trying to avoid the election comes to naught.

HEADLINES:

 

Sunday, November 03, 2024

Sunday Diary -- It's Come to This

Yesterday there were three days left; today two. With so little time until the election, and given my issues with blood pressure, I thought a good plan for Saturday would be to avoid politics altogether. So I made a plan involving some combination of bingeing on a political docudrama (good idea) and watching college football (bad idea) and an NBA game (good idea) until it was time to see how SNL would end my day.

As it turned out, SNL was the best idea. 

But before getting to that, the reason I tried to fill up my day with non-election stuff was to prevent myself from going down an emotional rabbit hole by taking a peek at the polls to see how they were trending. 

I fear that I’ve turned into some version of a gambling addict who should be forcibly restrained from placing his next bet. But no one’s going to do that, so I went there and here’s what the polls said: According to 538, Harris is leading Trump in Michigan and Wisconsin and Trump is leading Harris in Arizona, Georgia and North Carolina. The candidates are tied in Nevada and Pennsylvania. 

So it’s a draw. Great. That does wonders for the nerves. 

But wait, what’s this. A major poll now indicates that Iowa may be in play with its 6 electoral votes, when everyone assumed it would automatically go to Trump. Nobody saw that one coming.

None of this changes the fundamental statistical truth that whichever candidate wins the Keystone State is going to win the election — barring a last-minute meltdown or natural disaster.

Finally, my Saturday almost without politics came almost to its end, my bedtime. But first, there would be SNL. Its surprise guest? Kamala Harris. She talked to herself and that actually was funny.

Earlier diary entries:

  1. Tuesday Diary -- “One Week Before 'What Happened' Happens” — the romantic intrigue of this moment of witnessing history together.

  2. Wednesday Diary -- “How Math Determines the Fate of Democracy” — the numerical basis behind mass fascism.

  3. Thursday Diary: “Who is that Man in the Garbage Truck?” — how not to go insane when a train crash is happening before our very eyes.

  4. Friday Diary: “Healthy Societies Embrace Choices” — focusing on uplifting activities rather than fretting that this may be our last good week for a long, long time.

  5. Saturday Diary -- “Love Under the Mosquito Netting” — because sometimes love prevails over hate.

HEADLINES:

Saturday, November 02, 2024

Saturday Diary -- Love Under the Mosquito Netting

Day five of eight. Three to go. It’s time for something different. You might call it a diversion but for me it’s one of my love stories. Because we aways need to remember the love.

One hot, humid night in India many years ago, a night nurse lifted the mosquito netting around my bed and stepped inside, letting the net fall back into place behind her. She whispered, “Are you awake?”

I said yes. Her dark brown face was inches from mine. At first, all I could see were the whites of her eyes and her sparkling teeth. I felt her breath falling softly against my skin, which was feverish and wet. She felt like a fresh breeze in the heavy tropical night.

As my eyes adjusted to the faint light in the room, I gradually became aware that she was patiently and systematically capturing the few mosquitos flying around inside my netting one by one. This was a laborious process; often she would miss the insect on her first try but would persist until she succeeded. Whenever she caught one, she would carefully lift the net and allow it to fly off free into the night.

I thought I might be dreaming or hallucinating — both of which were common during those nights in that place — but this was real. She kept at it until every last insect had been freed from threatening me, a pale six-foot-tall young man whose weight had plummeted down to 97 pounds as I was battling a combination of typhoid fever and salmonella. 

***
I don’t know why the memory of that time in India in 1971 suddenly came back to me yesterday as I was struggling to avoid sinking into despair over the prospect of a disastrous outcome in next Tuesday’s election.

Maybe my subconscious was surfacing other times in my past when the outlook looked grim, but then the threat passed and life went on.

As it turned out, remembering the gentle kindness of that nurse long ago, plus talking with a couple of the kind, gentle friends in my current life, combined to distract me just long enough for Kamala Harris to inch up in the polls from where she had been earlier in the day.

Especially significant are the influential Marist polls in the “blue wall” states, indicating Harris is now up in Michigan (+3), Wisconsin (+2) and Pennsylvania (+2). The biggest shift is in Pennsylvania, where the Vice-President’s lead appears to be fueled by her new-found advantage among independent voters — she is up by 15 points among independents, compared to a 4-point Trump lead a month earlier.

If Harris wins in those three states, she’s a virtual lock to win the election. But we are still three days away.

One thing to watch for in the polls now is any sudden, last-second movement like Marist uncovered, as the pool of undecided voters finally makes up their minds which way to vote.

As we hope for a good outcome, it’s worth remembering that the world is not all ugliness all of the time, as Trump would have us believe. Sometimes love prevails.

***

During the weeks of our nightly meetings under the mosquito netting, I grew to yearn for those moments of silent intimacy. I also was slowly recovering my strength until they said I could be released from the hospital. As I got to know the group of lovely young nurses who had brought me back from the near-dead, I discovered the heart-breaking reason why the night nurse never came like the rest did during the day. 

It turned out that she had suffered from a disfiguring case of smallpox as a child, resulting in such bad scarring of her face that she felt it might frighten the patients to see her in the light of day.

On my last night in that hospital, when she came to check on me, I felt her closeness one final time. Since I was no longer sweating my fluids away, her breath felt warm now. Other than the sound of her breathing it was silent all around, but I imagined I could hear our hearts beating as well. 

From reading my chart she knew that I would be checking out in the morning, a few hours after her shift ended. “You will be going,” she whispered. “Good-bye.”

“Good-bye, and thank you,” I whispered back.

Then I blurted out. “I’ll miss you. I think you are the most beautiful nurse of all.”

Earlier diary entries:

  1. Tuesday Diary -- “One Week Before 'What Happened' Happens” — the romantic intrigue of this moment of witnessing history together.

  2. Wednesday Diary -- “How Math Determines the Fate of Democracy” — the numerical basis behind mass fascism.

  3. Thursday Diary: “Who is that Man in the Garbage Truck?” — how not to go insane when a train crash is happening before our very eyes.

  4. Friday Diary: “Healthy Societies Embrace Choices” — focusing on uplifting activities rather than fretting that this may be our last good week for a long, long time.

HEADLINES:

LYRICS: “Hole in the World” (excerpt) 

Song by the Eagles

There's a hole in the world tonight
There's a cloud of fear and sorrow
There's a hole in the world tonight
Don't let there be a hole in the world tomorrow

They say that anger is just love disappointed
They say that love is just a state of mind
But all this fighting over who is anointed
Oh, how can people be so blind?

There's a hole in the world tonight
There's a cloud of fear and sorrow
There's a hole in the world toniight
Don't let there be a hole in the world tomorrow

Oh, they tell me there's a place over yonder
Cool water running through the burning sand
Until we learn to love one another
We will never reach the Promised Land

There's a hole in the world tonight
There's a cloud of fear and sorrow
There's a hole in the world tonight
Don't let there be a hole in the world tomorrow

There's a hole in the world tonight
They say that anger is just love disappointed
There's a cloud of fear and sorrow
They say that love is just a state of mind
There's a hole in the world tonight
But all this fighting over who will be anointed
Don't let there be a hole in the world tomorrow
Oh, how can people be so blind?

There's a hole in the world tonight
Hole in the world
There's a cloud of fear and sorrow
Fear and sorrow
There's a hole in the world tonight
Don't let there be a hole in the world tomorrow

(Songwriters: Glenn Lewis Frey / Donald Hugh Henley)

Friday, November 01, 2024

Friday Diary -- Healthy Societies Embrace Choices


One of those simple Beatles’ songs I can never get out of my head is “Eight Days a Week.” I’m not sure what they meant by that title, if anything, but it suits my purposes perfectly for explaining what’s behind this week’s strange series of “Diary” posts leading up to next Tuesday’s elections.

I’m trying to capture the rhythms of our lives during the last week before whatever happened happens. And it’s personal because the only way I know how to demonstrate I care is through this kind of story-telling.

First the math. We’re at the halfway point of a long week, one that according to my internal calendar has eight days.

The week started out on a very nice note as I was having coffee with a friend at a pleasant spot outside a cafe near the eastern shore of San Francisco Bay. Up until that moment, I’d been dreading the prospect of a very long, slow-moving, anxiety-filled week of fearing that the worst is to come.

But suddenly I completely forgot about that as I was focused instead on my friend and our conversation. She said something that made me laugh. A cool breeze showed up, she shivered, and we retreated together inside the cafe.

This led to a miniature epiphany that the best way to get through this big bad week might be to try and ignore the political noise and concentrate on the things that give me pleasure, like gardening, listening to music, and meeting up with friends. 

So on Tuesday I tended to my cherry tomato and carrot plants and fed some of the immature carrot greens to our rabbits out back, Covey and Glacier. As they munched happily, I noticed how affectionate they are with each other, two male friends who really do love taking their meals together. Later on, I watched a lot of old music videos about the fantasy world of sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll, which took me back to my wilder days as a writer for Rolling Stone.

On Wednesday I took a long walk to the park, where I watched some dog-walkers, tennis players, and nannies with babies in strollers. Impulsively, I also did some early online Christmas shopping. But this proved to be too much alone-time and my mood started to veer back into worrying about the election.

On Thursday I attended my ten-year-old granddaughter’s annual Halloween Parade at her school. The children in their costumes mirror adult society, with its angels, witches, heroes, devils, dreamers and aspirants to a myriad array of options. 

But by now I was backsliding into election angst, even as the kids circled happily in front of me. “Choices are what a healthy society provides its citizens,” I thought to myself. “How dare anyone take away my granddaughter’s right to do with her own body!”

Fortunately, I was roused out of this stupor by the site of her happy face, waving through the crowd in her light blue dress and white bunny ears. Later, I extended my enjoyment at our weekly happy hour with a group of friendly neighbors.

So, you see, I’m spending these autumn days trying to focus on uplifting activities rather than fretting that this may be our last good week together before we lose our grasp on what matters for a long, long time.

And since it’s an eight-day week, it’s only halfway gone.

Earlier diary entries:

  1. Tuesday Diary -- “One Week Before 'What Happened' Happens” — the romantic intrigue of this moment of witnessing history together.

  2. Wednesday Diary -- “How Math Determines the Fate of Democracy” — the numerical basis behind mass fascism.

  3. Thursday Diary: “Who is that Man in the Garbage Truck?” — how not to go insane when a train crash is happening before our very eyes.

HEADLINES:

LYRICS: “Forever Young” by Bob Dylan

May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung
May you stay forever young
May you stay forever young

May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the light surrounding you
May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be strong
May you stay forever young
May you stay forever young

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
And may you stay forever young

May you stay forever young 

Thursday, October 31, 2024

Thursday Diary: Who is that Man in the Garbage Truck?


So it’s come down to this. When I turned on the TV, it was to see Donald Trump sitting in the passenger seat of a garbage truck. He was answering reporters’ questions as if that was how it’s always done, but then the wind came up and he said he had better get on his way — because a storm might be coming.

For a moment I thought it was a remake of the “Wizard of Oz.” Or maybe a video for a Bob Dylan song. In any event, the previous time I’d seen Trump on TV, he was trying to learn how to flip French fries at a McDonald’s. Maybe next time he’ll be working at a car wash.

I’m guessing this all means something to somebody, that there is a sort of uber-message here, but whatever that is has eluded me.

***

One of the disconcerting aspects of aging is the growing sensation that you are ever so gradually losing control of your body. You may begin to shake and simple tasks become noticeably less simple. 

So what is to be done about this? Observing the basics by eating a nutritious diet, exercising daily, trying to get enough sleep, hydrating, working on your balance and your gait all can be helpful, but still there is that little voice deep inside that insists, “Buddy, this here is a losing battle.”

Of course, it doesn’t help when your doctors confirm that prognosis, but then again, that’s the way it goes.

All of this on an individual basis is one thing. But most of us at any age and in any condition presumably wish for our country oh ‘tis of thee, our homeland, our fruited plain to remain healthy and strong.

Well, these days, the warning signs are all flashing red for our good old republic. Let me first do the math: I’m 31 percent as old as America, which means that it is just a little over three times older than I am, so it sort of like my great, great, great grandfather.

And these days the old guy is showing his age every bit as much as I am. What should be an easy task for him — looking forward rather than back — is up for grabs. So is whether he will embrace a healthy attitude of hope and joy or turn to a self-destructive urge toward fear, hate and revenge.

We know mental health is a core part of physical health, but our nation seems poised on the verge of a mental breakdown, uncertain whether to choose imbalance over balance, extremism over moderation, profanity over civility, loathing over love.

I, for one, am having none of it. I may be not yet as old as G-G-G Grandpa but I know right from wrong, good from evil, love from hate. I’m choosing the brighter path, and hoping that that makes a difference, for me and my country.

Meanwhile, if you go out for a morning walk, better keep an eye out for a white garbage truck with a large flag waving out back and a fat guy wearing a bright red-and-yellow-striped vest up front in the passenger seat. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know where he is going.

HEADLINES:

Lyrics: “I Shall Be Released” by Bob Dylan & The Band

They say everything can be replaced
They say every distance is not near
So I remember every face
Of every man who put me here

I see my light come shinin'
From the west down to the east
Any day now, any day now
I shall be released

They say every man needs protection
They say that every man must fall
Yet I swear I see my reflection
Somewhere so high above this wall

I see my light come shinin'
From the west down to the east
Any day now, any day now
I shall be released

Now, yonder stands a man in this lonely crowd
A man who swears he's not to blame
All day long I hear him shouting so loud
Just crying out that he's been framed

I see my light come shinin'
From the west down to the east
Any day now, any day now

I shall be released