Wednesday, November 26, 2025

Who Is Stephanie?

The other day, while perusing the latest update from Ancestry.com, one name and number caught my eye. In case you haven’t gotten your own DNA report yet, I should explain that it evolves over time as more and more people’s data comes online.

Like any information network, this DNA registry becomes more powerful as it expands, yielding new insights that never before were possible, let alone accessible. Today the Ancestry network claims it has data on 25 million people.

Among those are hundreds of people I share some percentage of DNA with, and the names at the top of the list were all familiar. It’s a simple matter of math: My children share 50 percent of my DNA, my grandchildren share ~25 percent of my DNA, my first cousins share ~12.5 percent of my DNA and so forth down the line.

The range for first cousins is actually 7.31–13.8 percent; my late cousin Dan Anderson, for example, shared 13 percent of my DNA.

Well, downlist the number that caught by eye was 8 percent, but the name attached, Stephanie Weir, represents a complete mystery to me. Was she a first cousin? I don’t see how that could be possible.

A first cousin, once removed? This does seem within the realm of the possible, as following the deaths of my parents, my sisters and I have lost track of a few cousins on my father’s side — the Weirs.

(I first published this one a year ago.)

A first cousin, once removed, would share between 2-11.5 percent DNA with the average being 6.6 percent. Since she shares 8 percent with me, Stephanie, wherever she may be, is almost definitely a first cousin, once removed.

I contacted my sisters, none of whom knew of any Stephanie in the family either. But we have all lost contact with my Dad’s brother Bill’s four sons, one of whom likely was responsible for Stephanie, one must assume.

For now, the mystery lies there, unsolved. Further digging clearly will be necessary to connect up the dots. Should I one day get around to that, there are apparently a few other potential first cousins, once removed, and second cousins out there, sharing 2-5 percent of their DNA with me.

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Tuesday, November 25, 2025

Missing the Story

(This one is from 2021. It still holds true.)

One of the things I like about the news is that most of it doesn’t stick around. It comes and goes rather quickly; then it becomes a lot like fish — best when fresh; later on no.

But even though the news itself may come and go, the people who bring it to you remain.

Nieman Reports is out with an opinion piece by HuffPost editor-in-chief Danielle Benton that points out that “The press can’t afford to fall into disarray and depression while reporting on the collapsing world around us.”

This has always been true of journalists but the present context is notable because our own profession — journalism — is stuck in a prolonged state of depression from which some may reasonably conclude it will never recover.

The problem is not just that there are very few jobs for reporters and editors; it is also that the world is flooded with disinformation, lies, conspiracy thinking and outright attempts to undermine those who do seek to tell the truth about important matters.

In public life, virtually no one has enough credibility to be respected as an authority on anything any longer. There really are no “experts” left with a few exceptions here and there. 

In addition, the very companies that employ journalists who seek to get to the root of these issues often seem to not have a clue about just how much the world around them has changed, especially the digital world. Or if they do, they don’t know what to do about it.

Thus, these “legacy” media organizations are seen by many people of all political persuasions as part of the problem rather than a solution. When I curate the news, I rely on what are considered the leading journalism organizations I can locate to pass on each day’s headlines.

But at the same time, I am constantly struck by how little any of those organizations are doing about the Big Story themselves. 


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Monday, November 24, 2025

The Day Before Tomorrow

Everybody understands that holidays can be emotional times, for better or worse. They can be especially loaded for those who have suffered a loss recently or are feeling lonely without a solution at hand.

They also can be times of joy. 

American folklore makes a big deal of the importance of family at holidays, but we all know that family can be a mixed bag. Family histories at holidays include stressful conversations, anxiety swings and fierce political disagreements.

This last fear — of political fights — is so deep that these days there is a constant stream of nervous jokes and advice columns in the media surrounding family holiday get-togethers on ways to try and minimize rifts.

Why do we fear disagreeing so much? Maybe what we fear the most is losing each other, whatever our flaws and differences, forever.

Meanwhile, as other, wiser people before me have noted, we are all part of the larger human family, cousins if you will.

And yesterday is gone. Tomorrow is unknowable. So all there really is, is today, and if you are able make today matter in some small way that brings a larger meaning and a glimmer of hopefulness either for you or for someone else, be sure to do it.

One other thing. We never really lose one another, not completely, even after death.

Because we still appear in each other’s dreams.

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MUSIC:

Deana Carter - Strawberry Wine (Official Music Video)

Sunday, November 23, 2025

The Purple House

When I wrote for Rolling Stone in the 1970s, I was living in a large Victorian house in the Haight-Ashbury section of San Francisco. It was painted purple and we were a collective of six adults and one child, my niece Elizabeth.

Behind us on the next street over was a far more famous house occupied by British songwriter Graham Nash of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young.

The Purple House, as we called it, was the nicest place any of us had ever lived in or would live in for many years to come.

But none of us could have afforded the rent on our own, let alone even think about buying it. We were all freelancers of one stripe or another, trying to make it in the city of the Summer of Love.

What got us by month-to-month was pooling our scarce resources to collectively come up with the rent, utilities and groceries.

The Purple House came up in my memory as I pondered what that idealistic young socialist, Zohran Mamdani, can possibly do about the affordability crisis as mayor of New York City.

I know he has proposed building thousands of affordable, rent-controlled units but that will only get him so far. Incentivizing collective living arrangements might be one of those socialist ideas that could be worth a try.

The thing is that groups of people living together encounter all sorts of problems as they try to navigate the practical details of daily life. People fight over those details, and couples break up.

To persist in such arrangements, people have to learn to compromise and adapt. Back at the Purple House, we did that for a while until we no longer were able to. We all moved out and moved on.

So if that kind of experimental living arrangement is to have any chance at a revival, we as Americans are going to have to become much better at the very thing — politically at least — we seem to be worst at.

Compromising and getting along.

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Saturday, November 22, 2025

Pure Practical Politics


While most of the headlines focused on the Trump-Mamdani meeting as a spectacle, the key thing the two men seemed to rally around was the word “affordability” and how it goes with another word, “crisis.”

My guess is that Trump the builder was curious how Mamdani won the NYC mayor’s race and the younger man told him — their compatibility (for now) may rest on a conversation as simple as that.

For all the talk of inflation in grocery prices and health insurance costs, the core of the affordability crisis is the high cost of housing, both for renters and homebuyers. This has been true in urban areas like NYC for years now.. 

And it is increasingly true in rural areas as well — a political reality Trump is well aware of.

The average age of a first-time homebuyer in the U.S. is now around 40, which until recently was considered the onset of middle age. No longer — in this economy, you’re still a kid at 40.

Take Zohran Mamdani as a case in point. He’s 34 and lives in a rent-stabilized one-bedroom apartment in Queens. He doesn’t own a home yet but he does, however, own a 4-acre plot of land in Uganda.

Mamdani has ideas to address the housing crisis in New York and at least some of those ideas no doubt appealed to Trump, the builder-politician.

And BTW, none of this has anything to do with labels like left or right, Democrat or Republican, socialist or fascist.

It’s pure practical politics right down the middle of main street in today’s America.

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Friday, November 21, 2025

The Light at the End of the Tunnel

It finally came to me, what I am trying to provide here on Substack. Based on 60 years of journalism, these are the stories that come to me night after night, either in weirdly vivid dreams fueled by Parkinson’s/medication, or in sudden moments of clarity.

They are stories of madness, often in my coverage of the evil spirit who’s trying to become our king. And they are stories of hope based in my belief that collectively, we can resist and ultimately prevent that evil spirit from succeeding.

There’s also a bunch of other stuff, randomly.

I’m not going to rename my newsletter just yet but if you’re a new or not-so-new reader of these essays on a regular basis and find yourself asking “What the hell is this?,” here is the answer.

And it’s an idiom.

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Thursday, November 20, 2025

The Left Hand Cringe


In one of the cringiest moments of Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman’s meeting in the Oval Office this week, Trump reached over and grabbed MBS’s left hand, blurting out “I don’t give a hell where that hand has been.”

Watching this, I gasped.

From my time living in Afghanistan, I know that among Moslems, the left hand has traditionally been considered unclean because it is used for personal hygiene, like cleaning oneself after using the toilet. 

So was this what Trump was referring to when he said he didn’t care where that hand had been? It’s hard for me to believe that a buffoon like Trump would know about sensitive Islamic traditions, though I suppose he could have been briefed.

On the other hand (so to speak), considering that MBS is the guy the CIA believes ordered the murder of Washington Post journalist Jamal Khashoggi, it doesn’t really matter which hand Trump clasped because both of them are covered with blood.

And in either case, Trump was saying he just doesn’t care.

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