The Weight

A few years ago, my three youngest children and I were returning from brunch in the Noe Valley neighborhood in San Francisco when a person holding a clipboard asked us to sign a petition in support of a ballot proposition.

I politely refused, my sons ignored the request and kept walking, but my daughter felt like she had to stop and listen to the activist’s pitch.

After she caught up with us, she said “I hate when that happens. I didn’t want to be impolite. What was it you said, Dad, to get out of it?”

“I just told him, ‘I’m a journalist, I don’t sign petitions,’” I explained.

Then I added, “But it’s a good thing you stopped to talk it over. Participating in the political process is a good thing.”

My daughter got a thoughtful expression but didn’t immediately respond.

The memory of that incident came to mind when I heard that a major line of attack by Republicans on Judge Juan Merchan’s role in the trial of Donald Trump for election interference was his small donation to Joe Biden’s campaign in 2020.

The critics say he should have recused himself from the case for reasons of political bias. I don’t agree with them but I wish he had not made that donation.

Of course, the judge was simply exercising his right as a citizen and I don’t know the circumstances under which he acted. Perhaps he was simply being polite to a person with a clipboard.

But I’m quite certain now that he regrets it.

Judges and journalists are two types of professionals who are routinely expected to rise above any biases we may have to do our work in an impartial manner. This is exceptionally difficult to do and we don’t always succeed.

In both professions, one of the checks on the real or appearance of prejudice is disclosure. As long as we tell you of our conflict or perceived conflict, you can take that into account when you evaluate our performance.

To be fair, Judge Merchan did that — it is he who disclosed his small donation to Biden in seeking guidance from a state ethics advisory committee as to whether he should recuse himself.

(Also at issue was the judge’s daughter’s political activity on behalf of Democratic candidates.)

As one who followed the Trump trial closely, I can say with confidence that Merchan handled the case ethically and without bias, often bending over backward to accommodate the defendant’s frequent outbursts and outrageous attacks on him, the prosecutor, the witnesses and the jury.

It was an utterly fair trial. But these are divisive times.

Even before but especially since the verdict, Trump has been waging an outright war not only on Merchan but on our entire system of justice. This is very dangerous and we will have to see over time what the consequences will be.

So while my point is that judges, journalists and certain others bear a special burden to avoid the perception of bias, our society depends on everyone trying to at least be truthful. Especially with a chronic liar like Trump whipping up partisan anger without any regard whatsoever for either ethics or the truth.

But back to my story about that day with the person and the clipboard and my daughter seeking a way out of her predicament.

“I’ve got it,”she said softly, “Next time I’ll just say that I’m a journalist.” 

An Inflated Sense of Self

I’m still absorbing the news that Donald J. Trump is now a convicted felon. The following essay is not necessarily about him, but in America, it is a precious truth that no one is above the law. Thanks to Trump’s predations, that truth is in serious peril. We are in a very dangerous time because Trump will not stop at anything to fight against what he considers to be an injustice but which rather is indeed justice under our system. The enduring truth is he has been found guilty and is guilty of interfering in the 2016 election.

***

To get situated, imagine you are sitting right here outside in the hills overlooking San Francisco Bay. We’re looking west, the sun is shining, and far below us the traffic is buzzing freely back and forth — north and south — along the I-80.

A passenger train is angling through that same area with its haunting whistle rising on the soft breeze from the flatlands.

Several birds come and go in the yard, visiting their favorite trees and shrubs before ascending to the electric wires strung overhead. One pair is hard at work building a nest in a bush down by the sidewalk when they have to angrily ward off two crows that keep trying to encroach. 

A hazy fog hovers over the coastal range in the distance.

Out back is the wooden planter box where I’ve seeded tomatoes, peppers, and a pea plant and set the seeds of carrots, onions and cucumbers in the fresh black dirt. Everything is moist as I’ve just criss-crossed the contraption with a small sprinkler can.

Next I need a strategy to ward off the deer who periodically strip everything edible from this yard.

But what I am discussing with myself today is what it means to be “retired” after many decades going to work every day, week after month after year, and on and on until a half-century has passed. To start with, it means no more paychecks, that’s for sure, which is not such a good thing.

But it also means that you don’t have to be in any particular place at any particular time doing some very specific thing and answering to somebody who — let’s just be honest here — is probably acting more or less like a jerk.

That goes with the territory.

Being retired also means you have time to think back over it all. People in general, I would say, don’t really make very good bosses. The way they get into that position is usually some mix of talent, privilege, competition, aggression, ambition and greed. 

All other things being equal, people who enjoy telling others what to do out of an inflated sense of their own rightness do not make very good bosses— or presidents. On the other hand, exercising some degree of decision-making power over well-deserving employees can be an opportunity to make others’ lives in that moment just a little bit better, happier and more rewarding. 

Those people are our true leaders.

Around here, we’re retired. We can focus on the nesting birds and hope they’ve chased off the marauding crows at least long enough to usher a few new lives into this world of survival of the slightly more fit.

Because this world is a dangerous place.

I first published this essay one year ago.

HEADLINES:

• Donald Trump found guilty on all counts in N.Y. hush money trial (WP)

• Trump Is Guilty, but Voters Will Be the Final Judge (New Yorker)

• Roberts rejects Senate Democrats’ request to discuss Supreme Court ethics and Alito flag controversy (AP)

• Jamie Raskin: How to Force Justices Alito and Thomas to Recuse Themselves in the Jan. 6 Cases (NYT)

• Supreme Court rules for NRA in New York government coercion battle (NBC)

• The right-wing technocratic dream of stopping nonexistent voter fraud (WP)

• With Payments to College Athletes, Another Fight Looms for Women (NYT)

• Google confirms the leaked Search documents are real (Verge)

• Americans Are Thinking About Immigration All Wrong (Atlantic)

• U.S. concerned about Ukraine strikes on Russian nuclear radar stations (WP)

• The US-built pier in Gaza has broken apart (AP)

• Gaza Offensive to Last at Least to Year’s End, Israeli Official Says (NYT)

• The African National Congress appeared on course to lose the parliamentary majority it has held for 30 years, partial results from South Africa's national election showed. (Reuters)

• OpenAI board members respond to a warning by former members (Economist)

• The ugly truth behind ChatGPT: AI is guzzling resources at planet-eating rates (Guardian)

• Anthropic’s AI now lets you create bots to work for you (Verge)

• Trump Executed (The Onion)

 

In the Arms of Love

As you have seen, I am a writer who came of a sheltered life. A sheltered life can be a daring life as well. For all serious daring comes from within. — Eudora Welty

***

When I taught memoir writing, the students often found that old family photos were at least as important as letters, journals and other written documents. Recently, I stumbled upon this one of my mother holding me on my first birthday back in 1948.

I love the car in the background and the long row of houses there in the post-war suburb outside of Detroit. It helps locate me in time and place and literally screams “far away and long ago.”

This photo is one of many in an old black photo album with crumbling pages. The tape holding the photos to the paper has worn off in many cases, leaving the images in free-fall.

Other photos in the album show my father, sisters, friends, relatives and a classic of my Scottish grandparents in front of their camping trailer.

I could try as a writer to describe that era, which I do not remember, but it would be difficult to capture much of it with more than a smidgeon of the richness these simple images convey.

This was the essence of what I was trying to express in my recent essay, “Seeing.” These many years later, it is as if I am the one holding a camera that can see backward through time and space to the emptiness before memory. Back to just after my story began but before memories formed.

Back to my origin in the arms of love.

Thanks to my friend Kenneth Schmidt for the Welty quote and other insights.

HEADLINES:

• Jury in Trump’s hush money case will begin deliberations after hearing instructions from the judge (AP)

• How will the Trump verdict shape the 2024 election? (WP)

• Israel says Gaza war likely to last another seven months as tanks probe Rafah (Reuters)

• The Alitos, the Neighborhood Clash and the Upside-Down Flag (NYT)

• Extinct ‘mountain jewel’ plant returned to wild - in secret location (BBC)

• Harvard Says It Will No Longer Take Positions on Matters Outside of the University (NYT)

• Major League Baseball plans to officially incorporate stats from the Negro Leagues, in operation from 1920 to 1948 when baseball was segregated, into its record book. (WP)

• Amazing discovery shows Ancient Egyptians were trying to cure cancer 4,000 years ago (Independent)

• In Pompeii, archaeologists find children's sketches of gladiators (Reuters)

• The Child-Nutrition Myth That Just Won’t Die (Atlantic)

• Elon Musk Is Fighting With Meta’s Chief AI Scientist (Gizmodo)

• Former OpenAI board member explains why they fired Sam Altman (Verge)

• How Maven’s AI-run ‘serendipity network’ can make social media interesting again (TechCrunch)

• Google’s weird AI answers hint at a fundamental problem (WP)

• The Prompt: Google’s AI Suggested Adding Glue To Pizza (Forbes)

• It Begins: AI Beats Financial Analysts' Performance (Inc.)

• OpenAI Says It Has Begun Training a New Flagship A.I. Model (NYT)

• Biden, Trump Die 2 Minutes Apart Holding Hands (The Onion)

 

12 People

As Trump’s interminable election interference (AKA “hush money”) case finally wraps up and goes to the jury this morning, I never thought I would say this, but I’m not sure the verdict will really matter.

Trump’s supporters will never accept a conviction as valid. Trump’s detractors are not likely to accept an acquittal as valid. A mixed verdict would be like a tie in sports, and a hung jury would satisfy no one.

While the legal issue revolves around the falsification of business records to conceal hush money payments to a porn star to prevent that from affecting the 2016 election — which almost certainly happened — the jury will have to sort through a mind-numbing amount of detail to make its determination.

Either way, given what a polarizing figure Trump is, they’re damned if they do convict, damned if they don’t.

As with everything Trump, this legal controversy is just one more way that his actions are wrecking our country and undermining our criminal justice system.

HEADLINES:

• Judge Cannon rejects request for gag order against Donald Trump in classified docs case (CNN)

• Key witness lied on stand, Trump lawyer tells jurors during closing arguments in hush money trial (AP)

• Prosecutors in hush money trial allege ‘subversion of democracy’ (WP)

• Israeli tanks hit evacuation zone west of Rafah (Reuters)

• Eyewitnesses describe horrific scenes after Israeli strike on Rafah camp (WP)

• Facing Global Outrage, Netanyahu Calls Civilian Deaths in Rafah Strike ‘Tragic Accident’ (NYT)

• US pier constructed off Gaza has broken apart (CNN)

• From the baby boom to the baby bust (Financial Times)

• Pat McAfee and the Threat to Sports Journalism (Atlantic)

• Bill Walton, brilliant on the court, became basketball’s bard (WP)

• How film stars faded - and pop stars took over (BBC)

• Papua New Guinea Landslide Has Buried 2,000 People, Officials Say (NYT)

• Behind the Curtain: AI's ominous scarcity crisis (Axios)

• Electricity grids creak as AI demands soar (BBC)

• AI will transform sports betting. It will also increase the risks. (WP)

• FDA Recalls 50 Million Pounds Of Ground Meat Just To See What That Much Ground Meat Would Look Like In One Room (The Onion)

Bill Walton R.I.P.

Early in 1975, when he was a star basketball player for the Portland Trailblazers, I met Bill Walton. He had come to San Francisco to appear at a press conference to support his friends Jack and Micki Scott, who were accused of harboring SLA fugitives Bill and Emily Harris and Patricia Hearst.

The Harrises and Hearst were underground at the time and the subject of a massive FBI hunt.

I was a freelance writer working on a story about the case for Rolling Stone.

At 6’11” with red hair and infectious grin, Walton stood out in any crowd. Not only was he a fantastic athlete, he was also an outspoken social activist opposed to the Vietnam War and advocating for civil rights.

I spent time with him in cafes and while he played a pickup game with kids on a playground. He was gracious, funny and articulate.

He invited me to visit him at his home in Portland to continue our conversations. While there, I met a constant stream of visitors, including Cesar Chavez. When it became apparent that the Scotts were not going to be pleased when my story came out, Walton nevertheless stood by me.

“I think you’re going to write this no matter what,” he told me. “that’s what journalists do.”

Howard Kohn and I published “The Inside Story” not long after this conversation.

Over the course of my career, I met many famous people, including many prominent athletes. If you’d ask me, I would have expressed mixed emotions about some of them.

But not Bill Walton. I would never have anything but good words to say about this man. He was a man of principle, on and off the court.

Bill died Sunday at the age of 71, surrounded by his family. May he Rest In Peace. 

Deer

 

Moon Shadows

(NOTE: The first version of this story dates from 2006.)

There was a full moon over San Francisco last night. Maybe that's why I couldn't sleep. Walking home after parking my car a block away at 9:15 p.m., I could see my moon shadow. It was of a tall man in a big coat, carrying a computer case. 

Actually, there were two men, two moon shadows.

At first, I thought someone else might be following me, but a quick glance around confirmed that I was alone -- and besides the two shadows were identical in proportion, angle, and pace, so they had to both be me.

This caused me to wonder whether my shadows knew something I didn't. There was my leading shadow and my following shadow. My forward one and my backward one. My public life, my private life. My optimistic side, my pessimistic side.

The one who has been turning to his friends lately a lot when he is in need of comfort. And another one.

In recent weeks, it seems like many of the people I turned to last winter and spring for support as I dealt with a series of painful losses have been going through their own ordeals. The causes are varied. A parent has died. Their marriage is in trouble. Their job is in jeopardy.

In response, I find myself trying to offer support to those who a few short months ago were supporting me. In an odd way, my twin moon shadows were perfectly reflecting back the dialectic Hegel and Marx described. Perhaps this synthesis is always the best way we can to bring our disconnected selves back together.

As for the full moon, it will soon pass and again my two shadows will merge back into one. But I hope I’ll keep thinking of “us” as opposed to “me” when it comes to who’s being comforted and who’s doing the comforting.

That was the gift of one full moon. 

Early on the Mountain

From a cool misty morning through a warm sunny afternoon here on the mountain, I took a break from the news cycle. Instead, I helped co-author a book with my youngest granddaughter, who is five.

This story contained the usual main character (her), and was to be formatted on tiny one-inch square pages.

There was not a lot of room for the written word part, which is my specialty.

There was room, however, for many stickers of marshmallows, cakes and hearts. The name of the village was going to be Marshmallow Village but in a change of heart it became Food Village, when she realized she had a lot of different kinds of food in her sticker collection.

There also were flip pages, i.e. a sticker trimmed to fit on a small paper square taped on one side into our book, so that it could be lifted up. In this way, a picture of say a marshmallow could be lifted up to reveal a heart.

As I said, there wasn’t much room for words, let alone sentences so I eventually suggested maybe it could be an audio book as well, with her supplying the audio. This way, the story could grow over time until it becomes a tall tale.

In my experience most stories grow into tall tales, anyway, regardless of whether they were true or not to begin with. Anyway, my granddaughter will determine all that.

When we were finished she placed it in her”book drawer” in her desk.

So far it’s the only book in there. Then again, she’s five,