Celebrating America

The feelings are bittersweet, with justice for all still so far away, yet we must allow ourselves to celebrate what we have in the USA.

Long before dark this Independence Day, we could hear the booming high in the East Bay Hills from the flatlands below. Fifteen of us were gathered for a backyard bar-b-cue when it began. Later, as night arrived, the crescendo grew and the sky was lit by the exploding colors of red, white and blue.

The sight was more spectacular than any official fireworks show and this one was decidedly unofficial.

When it comes to the urge to blow things up, this in my experience is mainly a male thing. In this, yours truly is no exception. When my sons and I would go backpacking in the past, we would carry matches, toy soldiers and firecrackers with us.

Once we reached our campsite, we'd build "boats" from branches and other detritus, man the craft with soldiers, and plant a firecracker smack in the boat's middle. Then we would light the boat afire and push it out onto the water upwind from our site.

It was supremely satisfying when the flames reached the firecracker and the whole ensemble exploded before our eyes. The joy of it all!

***

As I watched the massive celebration here last night, a few of the great things about our country came to mind.

Among the most wonderful aspects of this country is its remarkable diversity. Most countries are largely defined by demographic uniformity; not this one.

Things could be much better for minorities here in the U.S., but we do have many leaders who are people of color and whose families hail from all over the world.

This diversity creates strength. It also guarantees multiple opinions, perspectives and expectations for how our public life should be conducted. It implies respect for one another, regardless of our ethnicity, race, religioun, political or sexual orientation, gender, age, or socioeconomic status.

Our economic opportunities are unparalleled. Even relatively poor Americans are at least potentially richer than many of those elsewhere in the world. Collectively, we account for far greater consumption of resources than do other populations. But in this regard, we have much work to do, because too many live in poverty, and over-compensation is endangering the future of the planet.

Nevertheless, this wealth allows most of us to live in comfort; it also has fostered a philanthropic tradition that mitigates the inherent cruelty of the competitive capital system that -- unchecked -- guarantees more losers than victors.

We inhabit a beautiful continent, plus several islands, that produce enough food and natural resources for everyone here and many overseas as well.

We have sustained a governance based on life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. We have a First Amendment that guarantees freedom of speech, assembly, religion and press. Not to mention the right to petition for redress of our grievances.

Among the most beautiful things about this country are the protests, the demonstrations by citizens hoping to improve this imperfect union; by all of those marching for justice.

Culturally, our diversity produces music, humor, art of all types that inspire us to reach for greater heights and pursue our creative dreams.

Generation after generation, we produce individuals dedicated to the betterment of our fellow citizens. The scourges of poverty, disease, racism, inequality, oppression and unfairness persist, but a peaceful army of citizens strives to combat those ills and overcome the institutionalized class structure.

We all have access, albeit not equal access, to educations, and excellent teachers work at all levels of our schools and colleges.

Though our health system is flawed, we can each achieve the best health within our grasp if we are willing to prioritize being healthy early enough in life and minimize bad habits.

Our climate is largely temperate, and for at least the immediate future, it should be able to sustain human life. We need to preserve it and most of our fellow citizens recognize that.

These are just a few of the qualities and values I celebrate with you today. I will not minimize our faults or our failings. We have much work to do. And that is why our celebration has to be muted, cognizant that not all enjoy the freedoms this holiday embodies.

But, with that critical caveat, and in the spirit of celebrating what we do have as opposed to what we still need to achieve:

Happy Birthday America!

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America the Beautiful

The Show

Togetherness

Probably the most difficult aspect of sheltering-in-place is the inability of our youngest family members to get together with their friends and relatives. My older children have moved through that problem here, while observing as many precautions as possible, to allow the cousins (aged 1-13) to see each other once again.

They are all happier as a result. Yes there are risks. But the long-term risk of isolating children is also an extremely risky option, considering the mental health and social development aspects.

At a time when there seem to be no good choices, each family is on their own. Ours is choosing togetherness as much as it proves feasible.

***

The main reason I write daily essays is it is my way to connect with people beyond my immediate family. Writing can create connection -- my entire life embodies that quest. As I was telling my daughter yesterday, I was a lonely child, sickly from age ten on, and often without many friends.

That state was exacerbated when our family moved to a town far away from where I'd been born and spent my early years. Up there, I felt like an outsider for many years.

When I finally discovered that people liked my writing, at the University of Michigan, that was the breakthrough that defined my working life going forward.

Yesterday I read an essay by my former college newspaper colleague, Robin Wright, in The New Yorker. In it, she recounts the mostly forgotten history of the Statue of Liberty and its connection to the anti-slavery movement of its time.

Robin, who has spent the bulk of her brilliant career as an international correspondent, reports that the dominant feeling overseas toward our country now is not admiration but pity.

Our friends around the world pity us. We have elected a man who stokes the ugly diseases of racism and hate in order to advance his own prospects. For us to remain silent about this is to be complicit in his despicable behavior.

Last night, at Mount Rushmore, he delivered a divisive diatribe against an imaginary foe, a far-left fascist element that is a fiction of his tortured imagination. Today, he will preside over a massive fireworks show in Washington, D.C., that health officials warn is dangerously unwise.

Meanwhile, reports indicate that about 80 percent of the traditional fireworks events have been cancelled around the country, where more responsible officials are doing the right thing at a moment when the pandemic is exploding all around us.

I'll make a prediction: Donald Trump will be remembered by historians as the worst President in the history of the United States. Offered a golden opportunity to strike a blow against the ugly heritage  of racism and hate in this country he chooses instead to celebrate those awful traditions.

He might have been a leader for the ages. Instead he is the object of pity by enlightened people everywhere. As for those who continue to support him, they too will be consigned to the margins of history.

Americans suffer the illusion that their votes are private. But the way you vote is easily deduced from the election rolls, party registrations, primary ballots cast, voting tabulations of the neighborhoods where you live, your voting history and other data, including petitions you sign or photos of you at rallies.

So no, there are no secrets about your political activity. Your vote is visible to those who want to know, which include the massive propaganda arms of the two major political parties.

That's worth thinking about next time you cast a ballot. Te essential question of our time is which side of history are you on?



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Closed for Business

Here in California, we're about 75 percent closed for the holiday weekend. The Bay Area remains relatively open, but most of the populous Los Angeles Basin is supposed to stay locked down. Will people comply with Governor Gavin Newsom's directive?

It's become clear that bars, inside dining, large gatherings and similar events will help the virus spread rapidly through the part of the population that so far remains uninfected. We're sitting ducks if our fellow citizens decide to break the rules.

With the Covid-10 exploding not only here but in Texas, Florida and elsewhere, another thing that is now clear is that summer has brought us no relief. Rather, the pandemic rages almost unchecked, so God help us when cooler weather returns.

The economy has shown some signs of renewal, particularly in job growth, but that is mainly due to ill-advised re-openings around the country, which will not be sustainable if infection rates continue to explode. Young people are having a very hard time finding jobs, which is a very bad sign.

If it's me reading the signs, the economy is screwed for a long time to come.

Anyway, you know these are unusual times when a national correspondent appears on camera in her hotel room in front of her bed. At least the bed was made. We've gotten used to watching reporters whipped by the wind and rain as they brave the conditions to show us the front line of an advancing hurricane or the aftermath of a horrific bombing.

But in front of their bed?

And where is Trump? Mount Rushmore. The only way he will ever end up there is as a tourist, of course, but there is one characteristic he shares with the Presidential likenesses carved there. His heart is made of stone.

The problem for a people with a heartless president is we all get dragged down with him in the eyes of the world. Everyone's heard the expression "sink like a stone." That's what the U.S. is doing right now in terms of international esteem.

Unless voting patterns change, one group of voters will prove key to the outcome of November's election -- seniors. It is revealing that in Florida, where seniors account for a large percentage of the electorate, Biden is tied or even with Trump in the recent polls.

Elderly people have been around long enough to remember a lot of Presidents; my conscious memory of politics started with Eisenhower's re-election in 1956. So I remember him, Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon, Ford, Carter, Bush Sr., Clinton, Bush Jr., Obama, and Trump.

That is basically a quarter of all he men who have served in that office. I voted for some of them and against the others, and as a journalist, I got involved with the coverage of some of those electoral contests when they got elected or lost.

Whatever I thought of them at the time or since, none of them are remotely as troubling in any way as this occupant of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

When I worked in Washington, D.C., I could see the White House lit up at night in my rear-view mirror as I drove out 16th Street to the Maryland suburbs and my family. It's a beautiful sight that inspires patriotic thoughts.

We hope that we've got it right in this nation, that representative democracy is the best system for running a society, and that our votes matter.

But big money has corrupted our politics and now distorts the wishes of people in favor of corporate interests and corrupt interests here and overseas.  The wishes of the rich, the powerful and the corrupt rise to the top and can even push an incompetent into the Whte House.

Meanwhile, what of our hopes and dreams?

They sink like a stone.

"I am the fatherless child you pass on your way to church and
I am a sinner in your eye
I am a mother showing strength when things are all but certain
But I'm a quitter in your eye

Ain't giving up my tears of hope
Got my two feet off the ground
No one should treat you like a joke
Don't you let them tear you down

We all leave this place on our own
Throw me in the river I sink like a stone"

-- Naomi Pilgrim


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Weir Memorial Tree

A dear friend reaching back to my childhood sent me this photo yesterday as the Fourth of July weekend is about to get under way. My parents' ashes are buried amidst the roots of the tree pictured here. It's at a special place in rural Michigan. Some of my father's ashes are also in a nearby lake, where he loved to fish.

To my way of thinking, it's better to end up in places that mattered a lot to you when you were alive than in a cemetery with a tombstone. No offense intended: That's just me.

The environmental impact is far less this way, and putting ourselves to use ecologically after death is a genuinely nice gesture.

My parents, sisters and I spent many Fourth of July weekends where that tree grows, camping on the hill and walking down to the lake to swim, fish, and sit in the sun. I believe the last time I was there was the summer after my mother passed away, 17 years ago, when we laid her ashes to rest.

***

Another friend of mine reminded me recently how important a sense of place seems to be to those of us who grew up in the Midwest. It's true, you can take the boy out of Michigan but you can't take Michigan out of the boy.

This time of year, summer, is especially nostalgic for me, because that is when our family got away from the repetitious routines of spring, fall and winter to fully enjoy the hills, trees, rivers and lakes of the Great Lakes region.

The smell of the trees is one thing that never leaves my memory; if suddenly I find myself back in that area or somewhere with similar flora and fauna, that scent seeks me out, filling my mind with sensations and feelings that otherwise remain as buried within me as my parents' ashes are under that tree.

But I'm not a tree, so the nourishment their memories offer me is only in the words that form as I recall my youth. The faces of people long gone come back, the specific look of the clouds in the sky, the sounds of birds as they scattered before an afternoon storm.

All of this returns in a moment, even though I am half a continent away in a very different land.

***

It may be ironic for those of us who left the Midwest for the coastal life that we find ourselves in states that vote Democratic reliably, while states like Michigan actually are those that will determine the outcome of Presidential election.

What that means, effectively, is that if I'd stayed back there, my vote would matter more. It is the people of Michigan, not California, who will dicide whether Trump should be re-elected a few months from now.

Along with that choice will come the next stage of our country's ability to deal with this pernicious pandemic. Many tens of thousands of people are falling ill every day, yet our Commander in Chief is completely MIA.

We are at war with a killer and no one has showed up to lead us to victory. This Fourth of July is like none that have preceded it. It would be utterly irresponsible to hold parades or gather for fireworks displays. Even backyard Bar-B-Cues are inadvisable. And we have no leader.

We're an independent lot, us Americans. We like our guns and we like our freedom. We don't like anyone to tell us what to do.

But we also, in our best moments, care about one another. So celebrate this time by wearing a mask, maintaining distance, and committing to a better future for all. It's still a few days early, but...

Happy Independence Day!

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Scooter

Daisy Julia

The DNA of Avocados

As I await the results of the DNA test that will supposedly reveal my ancestral origins, I've found myself nervously checking the results of those in a similar predicament. Other human's results are a little too close to home, so to speak, so I've turned instead to multiple other organisms for comfort.

Running roughly a year behind the news, I met up with the genetic modification of avocados. Mexican scientists, it appears, have been leading the way on this and why not? Mexico exports some two billion pounds of the fruits to the U.S. every year. I gather that for avocados it is now not so much about length of life but survival pure and simple.

They're going to require modification to survive climate change.

But there are other organisms that can easily outlive any assisted living facility or maybe even global warming. Some sponges and giant tortoises can live a long time -- 10,000 years and 250 years respectively.

And here in California we have giant sequoia trees that are about 3,200 years old. Plus there is Methuselah, a pine tree in the White Mountains that is believed to be 4,851 years old. It's the champ.

Who knows why my knowledge quest turned into a long life contest, since whenever my results turn up, they will be a measure of my past, not my future. Maybe it's just another fruitless attempt to deny mortality.

***

Well, this Covid-19 pandemic ain't going away any time soon. Dr. Fauci says the way we are going, we should get ready for as many as 100,000 new cases in the U.S. a day by this fall. That's a million new sick people every ten days or around 36.5 million per year.

Among the things we don't know are the long-term effects of the virus. After all, many of what are called pre-existing conditions are weaknesses we carry around from past medical events. For example, if you had a bad case of pneumonia last year (I did), you probably have some lung damage, I've been told.

Covid-19 is, of course, a respiratory infection.

The Battle of the Mask has become one of the main political charades of the year, and speaking of the year, did you notice that it is now half-over? 2020 feels like it's been plodding along like it's Methuselah, who according to the old Bible lived for 969 of these suckers.

There I go again, seeking eternal life. That isn't going to happen, so my words will have to suffice.

***

Sports are trying to make a comeback. We watched a soccer game last night, two European teams playing to a draw infant of...crowd noise. No people, just the sort of canned laughter that used to be a staple of radio dramas and TV soap operas.

I guess that stuff is making a comeback.

Speaking of Europe, the E.U. has banned American visitors this summer, until further notice. We knew they hated us, loved us, made fun of us, looked up to us, in no particular order, but banning us altogether?

What is Europe in summer without American tourists?

Next they won't let busloads of Japanese tourists visit Golden Gate Park.

But this all started with masks. Trump won't wear a mask. Peace will, reluctantly. The Democrats can't take their masks off. They're stuck there. My question is how do you wear a mask to the dentist's?

Do you know what a schmask is? Check it out on Tok-Tok. No it is not a schmozzle, but good try. you probably were thinking of a schmuzzle (my word).  Okay we're all schmiels here.

Maybe I better knock this off and leave you with some inspirational words Paul Simon wrote out just-like-that. Fast. Normally he wrote slowly, over time, but this one just popped out, he says:

"When you're down and out
When you're on the street
When evening falls so hard
I will comfort you
I'll take your part, oh, when darkness comes
And pain is all around
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down" -- Paul Simon

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Scraps

One of the most common dilemmas parents face when raising young children is how messy they can be as they learn to eat food or play with materials like paints.

At a very early age, one or so, they may enjoy messing up their highchair tray and the floor below with the foods you serve them. It then falls to the parent, usually Mom, to clean it up.

That can be a bummer, especially when you are feeling overwhelmed by other challenges in the home and at work. But from the research I've seen, something of longer term significance is what may be at stake here.

That food play may be an early impulse toward creativity; experimenting with food in a way that might be viewed as an early impulse toward art.

So if you let them go on with it, you may be supporting their creative growth. Alternatively, if you stifle this impulse ("Now, now, let's not be messy"), you may be suppressing that native drive.

On the other hand, if you don't establish boundaries, you may be helping to create a self-indulgent individual who is always expecting others to clean up his/her messes in life.

Somewhere in all of this is a balance, where the child feels empowered to play instinctively but becomes aware of the consequences of doing so.

All of this occurred to me anew recently when I discovered the aftermath of my six and nine year old granddaughters playtime on the couch. We get a lot of deliveries around here and they love to play with the packing materials that arrive at the front door.

As you may be able to see from the photograph above, they used three sets of scissors and a sheet of styrofoam to create a piece that resembles a happy face. Nothing too original there save for the methodology.

And the mess they left behind.

Their parents didn't seem to mind at all.

Guess who cleaned up, sort of? That's right, their old, silver-haired Grandpa. At least mostly; he left a few random pieces of styrofoam behind for good measure.

***

One of my assumptions is that every person is inherently creative. Some let it out more than others; some get rewarded for it, some don't.

I'm sure there is much more to who ends up writing, drawing, painting, singing, dancing, and story-telling than the pedestrian psychological explanation offered above. There are no doubt pivotal moments when someone says something, or a specific experience triggers a response.

Take this with a giant grain of sea salt. I most definitely am not a shrink -- though I have been shrunk a lot -- so my theory could be way off course.

But I believe we can never have too many stories, too many songs or too many pictures. Or too much inspiration.

"You're always on my mind
You're in my heart
In my soul

You're the meaning in my life
You're the inspiration
You bring feeling to my life" -- Chicago

***

The social media crackdown on Trump/s messages of racism, hate and inciting violence continues. Twitter and Facebook label his messages when they cross the line; Twitch and Reddit have now suspended accounts related to Trump's toxic messaging.

It may be too late, many will argue, as the damage has been done, but it is still an encouraging  sign that there are limits to what will be tolerated.

We so badly need a return to a more civil discourse, where we can disagree without demeaning one another. To accomplish this we will need a leader who has compassion for those who are on the other side from him/her politically.

I don't see that kind of leadership right now. The Democrats seem intent on exploiting Trump's communication deficiencies for political gain.

***

Scroll down beneath this essay to see my sister Carole's beautiful, sad commentary on drug and alcohol addiction. Here is a scourge that, like Covid-19, cuts across political parties and all other human boundaries. Especially now, with so many isolating themselves, addicts are at increased risk of retreating from the outside world.

Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance
For a break that would make it okay

There's always some reason
To feel not good enough
And it's hard at the end of the day

I need some distraction
Oh, beautiful release
Memories seep from my veins

Let me be empty
Oh, and weightless, and maybe
I'll find some peace tonight

In the arms of the angel
Fly away from here
From this dark, cold, hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here

-- Sarah McLachlan

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Like a River

One of my current writing projects is a screenplay. To me, movies are like rivers. They flow in one direction, and for the most part, a movie can be thought of as a visit to one stretch of a river. During that visit, you probably are not going to start at the source and you probably are not going to reach the finish, where the waters empty into the sea or a large inland lake.

While you are navigating this particular stretch of the river you'll notice eddies along the way. At these spots the river slows down, carves a rest stop, twirls around on itself slowly. Into the eddy, a fish might pause before resuming its trip to the sea.

While resting in the shallow water, that fish is vulnerable to predators that normally might not be a threat in the deeper waters. From overhead, birds are poised to dive and pierce the fish with their sharp beaks. Land-based mammals like bears and raccoons may approach the eddy, hoping to scoop up the fish as their next meal.

Snakes and turtles lie concealed nearby, fading into their environments ike stationary elements until they suddenly strike a deadly blow.

If the fish eludes all of these enemies, it can proceed back to deeper waters and rejoin the current sweeping to points south. Of course, there are bigger fish swimming in the deeper parts and they pose a threat to our main character as well.

In the end, there is no safe spot for our fish in the river.  And of course, some rivers never make it to an above ground destination at all, but just disappear into the earth below.

See what I mean? Movies are like rivers.

***

He didn't put it in the nicest of terms, but Veep Mike Pence said this weekend: “It’s a good time to steer clear of senior citizens and to practice the kind of measures that will keep our most vulnerable safe,” 

Steer clear? that's not exactly what I argued for yesterday, which was to get your loved ones out of nursing homes and into *your* home, where they may have a much better chance of surviving this pandemic.

Pence's phrase reminded me of the great fear I have about this crisis period -- that we will all begin isolating from each other even more than has become necessary. It's one of the key reasons I started writing these essays -- to battle against isolation, mine and yours.

We need the social contact we are missing. We need hugs. We need to be able to gather and celebrate holidays. We need to gather to mourn the loss of friends.

Now it has become clear the pandemic is nowhere close to being over, we need leadership and we need a strategy.

Pence is the top administration official on the coronavirus task force, which has been mostly MIA for too long now. At least he has started wearing a mask, and advocating that everyone do so.

He's having to compensate for his boss's lack of leadership based on Trump's denial that there is any problem to begin with.

As for Trump himself, he wouldn't be caught dead in a mask. Rather, he has politicized this whole disaster, as if wearing a mask means you are a Democrat! If it wasn't so tragic for his supporters, it would almost be funny. Every day, reports come in from all over of people citing Trump and refusing to wear masks.

Meanwhile, the best data indicate that you will not only protect others but also yourself from Covid-19 if you are masked in public.

Like their hero, Trump's supporters wouldn't be caught dead in a mask.

Therefore, unfortunately, there is a much higher chance they will be caught dead.

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Growing Younger

Here's some bad news that is rapidly growing worse: For the fifth straight day Saturday the U.S. reported a record new number of Covid-19 cases.

The worst place to be for getting this disease is in a nursing home. As the Times reports this morning, "At least 54,000 residents and workers have died from the coronavirus at nursing homes and other long-term care facilities for older adults in the United States, according to a New York Times database. As of (Friday), the virus has infected more than 282,000 people at some 12,000 facilities."

That translates into 11 percent of the U.S. pandemic cases have occurred in long-term care facilities, and 43 percent of the fatalities.

So you are four times more likely to die from the coronavirus if you stay in one of those places than anywhere else.

So what is the solution?

Get out if you can. Get your loved ones out if you can.

Once you reach your 60s, 70s, 80s, going downhill is not necessarily inevitable. But if you live only among elderly people, there is a deadly culture that will engulf you.

Partly it is the kindness of care-givers.

"Can't stand up? We'll help you. Trouble walking? Here, you use this cane, this walker, or just sit in this wheelchair."

If you have trouble feeding yourself, they'll help. If doing your laundry seems too great a chose, they'll do it for you. As for more personal bodily functions, there are always adult diapers.

What all this care accomplishes, although offered with the best of intentions, is a fast-track to your grave.

If you stop taking care of yourself, your body will start shutting down until you *cannot* take care of yourself.

An alternative is to turn it all around and take a different path, the one offered by physical therapists. Day by day, you can rebuild all of your abilities until you can be self-sufficient once again.

I'm living proof this is true. A year ago, I was living the nightmare, moving facility to facility, where wonderful people took care of me. The occasional nurse would point out to me that it didn't need to be that way; that if I were willing to work at it, mine could be a different fate.

This isn't to say getting better after a stroke, pneumonia, hepatitis, and a presumed diagnosis of Parkinson's is easy; it isn't. But a philosophy of improving one task day by day, little by little, can yield results over time.

It's exactly like writing. Over the years, my many writing students often complained they couldn't get started. I'd advise them to start anywhere that came to mind, just create a lead sentence, and see what happens.

One of the best writers I know started a piece one time 40 years ago with this, "Imagine a line..."

With those three words, he created a context, set up expectations, and guaranteed you would move on to his next line.

That's what writing is all about. I've been posting these essays to Facebook in earnest since the early days of Corona-V. Many mornings I have no idea what I am going to say on that particular day.

But I start, trusting the process that I've used for decades.

This is not to say I'm a great writer; I'm not. In fact, I am far better at conversation in person than writing remotely. But as we're locked down and can't meet up for coffee or a beer, I'm willing to do my share of the work in the meantime.

If you are one of the lucky ones who can arrange for an elderly relative to join your household, some benefits may accrue. Most old people have a well-hones sense of humor, perhaps fatalistic, that can lighten the burden of living in place, social distancing, and the like.

Old people, generally speaking, don't eat as much or sleep as much as younger people. On the negative side, they may nap at a moment's notice, get up at 3 a.m. for no known reason, and wander around the property aimlessly.

Old people may ramble a bit when they tell stories, even after they've told you that particular story numerous times before. Most oldsters become adept at covering up some of this mental decline; they'll say "as old what's-his-name used to say...", knowing the name will come to them in an hour or so, or maybe a day or two.

Physical faculties like seeing and hearing may weaken but there are solutions for those things, usually.

All of this aside, I found while living among old people that they generally are the keepers of some pretty good stories.

As I was hanging out with some of my grandchildren in the mountains recently, it was easy to see they were bored. No cellphones, tablets, video games, TVs -- what were they to do?

So I started conversing with them.

"Imagine a line stretching from here to that mountain over there. What if you walked that line, what might happen? Who walked that same line 100 years ago and what was here then?"

It's never to late to start a new story, no matter what age you are.

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