That "Inner Smile"

With our outer lives severely circumscribed, many of us are turning inward. When we travel in that direction, there are a great many songs, movies, paintings, and performances to accompany us on the journey.

This wave of self-exploration is a well-developed tradition in art, balanced against its counterpart, narcissism and self-pity; that the quest for personal growth can collapse into self-worship is axiomatic.

Meanwhile, the brutally unromantic retail industry has lost an unprecedented 25 percent of its sales in two months. Millions of people have lost their jobs. These developments interact to paint a cloudy vision of our economic future. Weather apps just aren't up to that challenge.

Politicians of a certain stripe wish to reopen their state and local economies and many are doing just that. But how soon will enough people feel it is safe to go out to bars, restaurants, malls and shopping districts to tip the scales back in balance?

The answer to that question lies in massive volumes of data yet to be generated -- is the virus, which has been declining in many states, down for the count or will it bounce back up to bite us in the ass?

Tune in this time next month for that assessment.

***

One of the major ways we are classified in this society is by how much money we spend and how we spend it. But that fails to measure our emotional capital -- how much we feel and whom we harbor deep feelings for.

Most of our emotional capacity depends on empathy. If we can't intuitively grasp each other's hopes, fears, dream and nightmares, we can't connect. What is intimacy if not sharing these otherwise private desires?

So the question is how will people fall in love and date and form couples in the age of social distancing? Will there be extended periods of sublimation, a return to courting as in olden times?

As baby boomers, my generation shattered previous patterns of dating and sex. All of a sudden, a large surging crowd of people broke convention after convention. There was heterosexual sex before marriage, homosexual relationships, women taking control of their own bodies, inter-racial dating, unconventional arrangements of every kind, including taking advantage of new technologies -- the pill, in-vitro fertilization, selection of fetuses by gender and other characteristics -- all this became the norm.

But one thing held firm: If there was going to be a family there pretty much had to be a couple, at least for a while. Otherwise the whole child-raising thing was going to get complicated.

And it did -- it got complicated, and press coverage the past few decades chronicled the emergence of blended families, so-called "deadbeat dads" (never met one myself), and a divorce rate that suggested rolling the dice every time a couple got hitched was as good a way of predicting who would stay together as any.

When it comes to novels and movies, I'm a sucker for romantic comedies. I've got dozens of favorites, some of which show up as references here, obliquely or directly. Today's lyrical choice is the soundtrack behind one of the great wide shots in a favorite movie of mine. But the musical notes outdistance the words by far. That's the way it goes sometimes, in movies as in love.

When I study the lives of the actors and actresses starring in these movies, they've all been in a number of relationships; most have several marriages and divorces, just like me.

Once you reach whatever age fits you, looking back is a wistful exercise; looking forward raises all sorts of doubt. usually, there's a big yellow road sign -- Caution -- guarding any new romantic road you consider going down.

In my case, about ten years ago, I just stopped. No more dating, I decided, it was time to concentrate  on being a good parent with three young children still in my care. I also renewed my focus on the work I was doing, determined to become a better writer and editor and team member.

That brings me to last year -- 2019 was a lost year.  Illness after illness, hospital after hospital. It seemed that I had entered an irrevocable state of decline.

But that turned out to not be the case. Instead, I recovered, got stronger, and then entered a new period: renewal.

So on with the show.

...You took my feelings from nothing
Came back at noon
Just meet me, I'm ready
To show myself to you...

...'Cause you make me feel
You make me feel wild
You touch my inner smile
You got me in the mood...

-- Texas

Couplings and Superpowers

It could be we're talking about mechanisms that behave in mysterious (to me) ways. Or, it could be we are talking about relationships that behave in mysterious ways..

In any event, one of the major costs of the Corona-V crisis is how many people are living without hugs. And there's no mystery about that.

I really do appreciate the public health experts, I do. But some of the things they are asking us to not do are exceptionally hard not to do. Like hug our friends.

Let's just hope the more optimistic scenarios suggesting this virus may subside for at least a while prove true. There's urgent business the human race needs to get back to, and it involves more than the economy.

Since the economy has come up here, let's face it: It's f***ed.  None of the so-called stimulus packages are going to jump-start this old jalopy -- its coupler is broken.

***

Students have built a virtual U-C Berkeley campus at Mindcraft so they can experience a graduation weekend, sort of.

It feels like everything is make-believe now; nothing seems real. That, in turn, benefits people with overactive imaginations.

The Big Fantasy is that we will soon be going to restaurants, bars, parties and conventions again, like in the old days, which is another way of saying February.

What makes a leader? Certainly, old age has nothing to do with it. Sweden's Greta Thunberg is 17 and she is a global leader we can all recognize, regardless of party, religion, preference or orientation. . That Donald Trump, a 70-something, mocked her will prove to be to his eternal shame. He was reportedly jealous that Time named her "Person of the Year".

That's rather like me working myself into a strop upon learning that my grandchild has been chosen Student of the Month. "Why didn't they recognize me as Grandparent of the Month?" I might ask.

Pathetic is the word for that.

Sundberg speaks plainly, apparently party due to a condition that used to be called "mental illness" but in enlightened circles is now recognized as special. She refers to her Asperger's syndrome as her "Superpower."

I love her for that -- it's as much of a gift she is giving the world as her message about climate change. We need Superheroes at a time like this.

Understanding how global climate change is related to the Covid-19 outbreak may be one of the great scientific breakthroughs in the coming months, I believe. We'll need both our best scientists and superheroes for that effort.

***

Today in my time zone is a Friday. Back when the days were differentiated one from the other, I loved Fridays and not just because they were the precursor to the weekend. On Fridays, a small team of us cooperated to produce a weekly television news show, called "KQED Newsroom," or KNR for short.

To construct a show like that you need skilled people, equipment, and a time slot assigned by your station or network. You need a studio, cameras, lighting, a teleprompter, an oscilloscope, a control room with many screens, a makeup artist, headphones, earbuds, microphones, other random equipment, and a group of producers and engineers willing to work together for a common purpose.

The control room is dark, the studio is lit.

In journalism, it doesn't get much more fun than that. So on this particular Friday, I am missing my KNR colleagues, who I know are working hard even as I keystroke these notes on a quadrilateral with five vertical rows and 80 horizontal choices. It would be 84 but for the space bar, which takes up the four extra key spaces.

My moods vacillate much like sound waves on that oscilloscope. up and down to peaks and valleys. Maybe that combined with my obsession with numbers amounts to a "mental illness," or maybe that is my Superpower.

I know one thing: Wisdom is not distributed evenly and it does not necessarily accrue with age.

So, thank you, Greta Thunberg. I'm 4.29 times your age with barely 23 percent of your wisdom. But working independently together, maybe we can help a blind world see.

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The Five Stages of Belief

 "Well, we all gotta go sometime."  -- Homer Simpson

Rarely, maybe never, have so many of us been going through the process of letting go of what we thought we had and accepting what is left all together at the same time.

What has happened over a period of months (that feel like years) is remarkable. We've been forced to live within ourselves to a degree that is unprecedented on a mass level.

Meditation never had it so good..

In the process of emptying ourselves of all thoughts and letting insights rush in, there is the possibility that we may just, tentatively and perhaps reluctantly, be getting to know ourselves a little bit better.

What are we learning?

I'll go first. I've been learning how much I rely on my physical senses to navigate through life. Sight -- I'm seeing things with more clarity, even though my eyesight is compromised by large ctacaracts that are way overdue for surgical removal. Hearing -- the sound of music has always moved me but now I am listening more intently, hearing more of the nuances of lyrics and rhythms. Smell -- I lost this sense a ways back and I miss it. Taste -- it is compromised without a sense of smell but I still enjoy the diversity of tastes food provides. Touch -- I miss touching.

***

Rains cool the coast; heat scorches the valley. California eases into summer uncomfortably. Our economy, one of the world's largest, is in disarray.

The conflict over whether to be good, stay inside, and maintain social distance, or to rebel, go outside, and do what we want to do will wage furiously here in the coming weeks. Nobody moved to California for the joy of staying inside.

I don't envy Gavin Newsom as he balances these competing impulses against the backdrop of a shuttered economy screaming to reopen. There aren't going to be any easy choices from here on out.

Those of us who are retired can watch this develop as if it were a reality TV show. Many of us are on fixed incomes, with assets dependent on how the markets are performing, so we are not exactly passive observers.

I'm intrigued by the news every day -- that is what it's like to be a professional news junkie. "Professional" because I'm still working on a couple of projects every week. The (a) reporters and (b) activists I work with are continuing to (a) expose abuses of power and (b) stimulate the entrepreneurial initiatives that may ultimately help save humanity.

These are impressive activities in the present circumstance. My colleagues are working from home, isolated from colleagues, and dependent on the Internet to get the information they need and distribute their messages.

Some of the other news, I see, includes that pet adoptions are spiking; one report notes you can get a dog that requires a lot of exercise, which is good if you like to get out yourself; or a dog that is content to sit around and watch movies with you.

I'm no expert on dogs but I wonder if there are any who like to obsess over numerical patterns.

Another story suggested that the herd of 200 wild goats that broke loose near San Jose apparently had grown tired of sheltering in place.

***

Not being one who responds to the "stages" of emotion as peddled by "experts" on such matters does not mean I can't appreciate the humor of it all. It doesn't offend me at all (I like numbers); rather it amuses me.

Especially the riffs on the dark side.

[Doctor Hibbert: "Now a little death anxiety is normal. You can expect to go through five stages. The first is denial..." 

Homer: "No way, because I'm not dying." 

Doctor Hibbert: "...second is anger." 

Homer: (enraged) "Why you little!" 

Doctor Hibbert: "After that comes fear." 

Homer: (worried) "What's after fear? What's after fear?" 

Doctor Hibbert:" Bargaining." 

Homer: "Doc, you gotta get me outta this. I'll make it worth your while." 

Doctor Hibbert: "Finally acceptance." 

Homer: "Well, we all gotta go sometime." 

Doctor Hibbert: "Mr. Simpson your progress astounds me." ]

-- Matt Groening

-30-

From Time On

Confusing Times

We might all be forgiven for identifying with Bob Dylan's plaintive verse:

"Well, I'm too old to lose

Babe I'm too young to win

And I feel like a stranger

In the world I'm living in"

Dylan wrote that long before the weird, confusing time we are trying to navigate, tolerate and survive through now. Some days it seems like we are all strangers on a journey to nowhere. 

There are serious barriers facing any person who sincerely wishes to develo an honest perspective on the Covid-19 crisis.

Start with the science: Only so much is known. Our best scientists are beginning to comprehend the nature of this illness, how it spreads, and why it attacks different populations differently. They are working feverishly to find answers, but that effort is hampered by hucksters and conspiracy theorists.

The distractions are continuous. All I can suggest is to recognize them for what they are and to try and ignore them. We have plenty of real problems to consider, rather than wasting time fighting phantom political conflicts.

There are documentable facts: The U.S. government had enough warnings that this crisis was coming but was slow to act for a critical period when people died who could have been saved. 

Now the government seems to be doing much better. But the contagion is too deeply rooted to avoid an ever-increasing toll, especially among our elder citizens.

The people who work in nursing homes and assisted living facilities are for the most part poorly paid. Many fo them are not highly educated. But their compassion and commitment is helping elderly people make it through the pandemic; they are heroes.

Our first responders continue to answer those 9-1-1 calls and help the people most in need. They are poorly paid, working long hours and they are heroes.

It's ironic and distasteful to hear rich and powerful people trade insults over who is to blame for what. Few of us care for their pointless games; we want leadership, empathy, and real solutions to the real problems facing us.

***

It rained yesterday out here for the first time in a while. it's unusual to get rains this late in the year, so nobody complained. The lawns and fields have already browned except where someone is watering them, so this welcome visitor added a bit of natural green to the mix.

Green is the color of money in the U.S., though modern bills achieve more like a hint of green when it comes to color. Or when it comes to value.

It would have to rain a lot of currency to relieve the stress many households are under.The government may be trying, but the need is too vast.

Dr. Anthony Fauci was clear today in testimony before the Senate: Reopening the country prematurely will lead to preventable "suffering and death." 

Meanwhile, not reopening our economy will prolong the financial crisis many families are enduring.

There's nothing proverbial here: We *are* between the rock and the hard place.

***

Every writer knows what I am saying when I say there are good days and bad days for me as a writer. There also are days that are just plain hard. Nothing original emerges as my fingers hunt and peck over the keyboard.

It is not a good feeling when the words you are forming sound like somebody else's words. It is as if your own words were stolen away by an invisible force. It's not plagiarism; nobody is copying anyone else's writing and claiming it is their own.

That has happened to me in the past. On one occasion, when I was early in my career, a writer for the Asian edition of the Far Eastern Economic Review lifted one of my articles and reprinted it word for word under his byline.

I contacted the organization and received an apology.

No, this isn't like that. It's more like the thoughts and feelings I want to convey are being sucked out of me today by a giant invisible vacuum cleaner.

And I am left virtually wordless.

-30-

Formative Fictions

By the age of ten or eleven, most people have achieved distinct identities, with a global outlook, depending on the specifics of their environmental circumstances. Many kids this age have strong opinions, likes and dislikes and points of view.

Child development experts posit that personality formation occurs at ages far younger, and I'm in no position to challenge them, but the social emergence I'm talking about becomes more apparent to adults when kids start expressing their opinions more confidently.

At some point in my own development, I became fascinated by the stories writers told about themselves -- about learning to write. I read everything I could on the topic, hoping to figure something out that perhaps was better left inscrutable.

Most of my quest to understand writing and writers concerned fiction. That in turn led me in many directions, intellectually and socially. I'm not sure how many lectures I attended on the topic but it was a lot. The reading rooms in local bookstores hold no mystery to me, nor do the coffee houses and bars nearby, where I met afterwards with more than several of the featured writers.

By contrast, the origin of journalism and what made a person become a journalist, were questions that held little appeal for me. After all, I *was* a journalist and it was clear to me that we see and hear things on the edges of what is known, that we harbor suspicions, that we start sensing a pattern, that we pursue the topic at hand, and that we become obsessed until we corner our prey (let's generously call it "truth") and that finally we execute it (write).

We're killers. Story hunted, story found, story told.

The aftermath of this, however messy, was usually left to someone else.

***

There is only one story now. and it is too big for journalists: We are confronting mortality on a mass scale.

In general, our perception of the prospect of going extinct varies according to age. Recently at dinner, we were discussing an incident that occurred a few years back when an urgent message popped up on everyone's cell phone in Hawaii that there was an incoming missile and that "This is not a test."

In fact, it was a test but by the time that was announced plenty of people had had plenty of time to consider their options.

Upon hearing about this incident, my 11-tear-old grandson said he would have grabbed a boat and gotten out of Hawaii. His 40-something parents discussed the possibility of getting into a crawlspace under the house.

I thought to myself, "What would I do?" The answer was to shelter in place. I'd probably also turn on the TV. And maybe eat some vegetables.

***

With so many people now in quarantine from their jobs in the White House, and with the President and Vice-President stubbornly refusing to wear masks or maintain social distance, many of us are waiting for another shoe to drop.

As we wait (and it *will* drop), it's worth thinking about the scale of this particular formative experience on our societies going forward.

Not every consequence will be negative. Children may gain a greater say over their own lives, educations, family roles. Maybe our first responders will start getting the compensation they deserve for putting their lives on the line on our behalf. Maybe we will think deeply for once and not elect politicians who pander to our worst fears. but to our better selves. Maybe we will use our time better, seeking loftier goals individually. Maybe we can slice just a bit more off of that profit-seeking side of our economy and establish self-sustaining lifestyles instead.

With disaster looming, small steps in the right direction are okay. They are fine. Let's say you have some Brussel sprouts, hopefully organic and locally grown. You can walk over to the kitchen, get out the bag of vegetables, fill a pan with water and light the stove. Get out a cutting board and a knife and a frying pan plus a plate and a fork. As the sprouts soften in the hot water, lift them out gently and halve them with the knife.

Here you can get a bit creative. Coat the exposed half with an herb of your choice. Then place them in a pan, exposed side down, and sauté them in butter or olive oil until they brown just a bit. They should remain firm. Try to not let the outer leaves fall off.

Drain them on a paper towel, place them on the plate and eat them slowly. (Oh, and compost the paper towel.)

In my view, this exercise is something we all ought to be able to do to fight Covid-19 and feel good about ourselves. It's healthy, it's responsible and it reduces the stress that we all feel. Plus it tastes pretty damn good.

***

You know, the truth is  I *did* finally figure out the existential puzzle that is fiction. It's simple: Lots of people like to make up stuff. That includes writers.

And the great writers make up stories that are true.

-30-

"One of These Days"

Maintaining social distance is the appropriate thing to do but for some of us social contact is essential. So we adapt, using virtual means like Facebook to "see" each other.

These channels have their limits, of course. We can't reach out and hug each other, and the privacy of our exchanges has to be suspect, given the fine print that exists in the privacy policies of all of these web-based sites and services.

Intimacy for most of us means trust. It means keeping each other's secrets. It means sharing thoughts and feelings.

As one who has chosen to post his daily essays here on Facebook, I suppose I am willing to trust that company enough to make it a publishing venue. It's free, which in fact means that Facebook owns the metadata generated by our activities and that it will use that data for its own benefit, not necessarily ours.

So what I am doing here could be called trusting *enough* -- that is an interesting concept in these troubled times. We are going to have to trust our elected leaders *enough* to go out again once they say it is safe to do so.

We're going to have to trust the growing levels of government surveillance, which authorities say they need to trace our contacts and minimize the spread of Covid-19 as it leaps person-to-person around the planet.

We have to trust that the information our government has on our movements is not used for other purposes -- to suppress dissent for example.

When you meet somebody new, or deepen the relationship with someone you already know to take it to the next level, should you find yourself falling in love, which happens at any age, you're going to have to replace social distance with social contact. How can we know which person we can trust enough to do that?

***

Yesterday it became public that three members of the President's Coronavirus Task Force, including Dr. Anthony Fauci, are self-isolating due to exposure to the disease. At least two members of the White House staff have tested positive for the virus. My hunch is that much bigger news is forthcoming, perhaps as soon as later this week.

With a country's leadership semi-paralyzed by disease, how will we proceed? Will the states continue to reopen their economies under such conditions?

On the other hand, millions of people are out of work. They are getting no paychecks, yet they were living paycheck to paycheck. What now? Rack up food expenses on credit cards?

Steal a loaf of bread for your sister's sick child?

Try out hunting and gathering as a lifestyle?

***

I write a lot about the fine line between dreaming things and experiencing them. That line is easier to maintain when the normal routines of daily life are in place. Now, with space and time in suspension, we may be forgiven for getting confused.

Did I really doze off when someone ws driving me on the freeway, wake up on an exit and urge the driver to slow down? Or was that only a daydream?

Did I mention a friend to my grandson, only to have him answer, "I thought X was your friend." Certainly that was a daydream. He never even met X.

Where does this leave all of us? More disoriented than ever.

***

This is Mother's Day, here and in many parts of the world. My heart today goes out to the many mothers who are separated from their children and who cannot see them in person. 

I'm sure your kids will call you, send flowers, and make sure you know they value your connection, but it is still difficult spending this day alone.

So I honor you as well.

Happy Mother's Day! From me.

***

Everyone is feeling rebellious at least a little bit. We hate being confined; being told what *not* to do.  But just because you are not out there causing trouble doesn't mean you're not a trouble-maker. Just ask Emmy Lou:

"I can be bad or I can be good
I can be any way that I feel
One of these days" 

-- Emmy Lou Harris (Earl Montgomery)

-30-