Dick and Jane

     Reading is a superpower no matter how it is taught. I learned with Dick and Jane. Despite the easy criticism that it was stereotypical I made the connection very quickly in my reading group and have never looked back with a regret. The whole word method of Dick and Jane largely replaced the previous standard in the 1930s, the phonics-based McGuffey Readers. (Thanks to Wikipedia for background.)

     It's been pointed out to me that we are now largely an image-based society based on the widespread usage of technologies like Instagram. The reasoning continues with the idea that some people lack the time for reading. It's largely true that a picture is worth a thousand words, as the old saw goes, but give me a book, comfortable chair, and good light anytime over an image, icon, or symbol. Nothing wrong with these and the clarity of a Stop Sign is truly needed in our fast paced, automobile society.

     Books, Galileo argued, are our sole means of having superhuman powers while remaining resolutely human — the power of traversing the abysses of space, time, chance, and misunderstanding that gape between our own life, our own self, our own subjective experience, and another’s. (Thanks to Maria Popova)

     One of the best Twilight Zone episodes featured Burgess Meredith as a man who wanted nothing more than to spend his time reading.

     He made a most sympathetic character in my eyes. Isn't that what we strive for as writers, an interesting story with a character or two we can like? Or is it more like F. Scott Fitzgerald noted:

     “Mostly, we authors must repeat ourselves - that's the truth. We have two or three great and moving experiences in our lives - experiences so great and moving that it doesn't seem at the time anyone else has been so caught up and so pounded and dazzled and astonished and beaten and broken and rescued and illuminated and rewarded and humbled in just that way ever before.

     Then we learn our trade, well or less well, and we tell our two or three stories - each time in a new disguise - maybe ten times, maybe a hundred, as long as people will listen.”
     ― F. Scott Fitzgerald

Less Stuff

     Too much stuff is a common complaint. There were jokes which began in the 1980s about the person who dies with the most stuff wins. As if your stuff will make you a winner or loser.

     I liked competing at sports when I was younger. Baseball, Track, and a version of American Football without tackling. I won and I lost. Both sides of the outcomes had their lessons. Go on a winning streak and you think it will never end, then it does. The immediate thought is that you'll start another winning streak, then it never happens. Very common outcomes in life, just like acquiring too much stuff.

     Yes, I sometimes wish I had saved every scrap of paper from every year of my schooling. Then I think about all the moves I made and how heavy it would have been to take my entire past with me on each successive move. Yes, I could have put it in storage or left it with my parents, but what's the point of stuff if you have to make a special trip to see it or use it?

     "You hit a certain age, and suddenly a major source of happiness comes from having less stuff."--Hugh MacLeod

     So I joined the minimalists at a tender age and lost all chance of sitting by a fire in my golden years and rereading my 3rd grade science papers. Not a big loss you might readily admit, unless you are a hoarder.

     I will say that some of my college professors provided their classes with notes which would have stood the test of time, as well as a couple of high school teachers, Milo Okkema comes to mind.

     I had him for an elective class in Economics. His notes were typed on both sides of the mimeograph sheets he would hand out. He had so much to say he would even turn the sheets on their sides and type, no white space was wasted by this good Dutchman. I feel very fortunate to have been taught by him at his peak because it was clear to everyone in the class that he was giving this subject his all. He retired five years later in 1980 at the modest age of 55, thanks to a hard fought teachers union contract which was negotiated in the early 1970s. No doubt his thriftiness helped make his pension go further than for most.

The Measure of a Life Well Lived

     As thoughts turn to the coming new year it's hard not to reflect upon what has gone before. The question of whether you are living life well nags us all, though not everyone will admit it, even to themselves.

     If you do a search with my preferred search engine Duck, Duck, Go on the phrase "Life Well Lived" you come across plenty of inspirational quotes and pictures:

  “If you can fall in love again and again… if you can forgive as well as forget, if you can keep from growing sour, surly, bitter and cynical… you’ve got it half licked.”--Henry Miller

     Not sure if they are any solace, especially if upon further inspection you are none too happy with you life. But who IS happy all the time? Certainly not the rich people, as they are always afraid of losing their wealth and being forced to live a life of extreme want. Probably best to set you sights high but accept the inevitable fact you are going to have some blue days, as well as some terrible days. That's just how life works. Here's one description I'll do my level best to avoid:

   "Those who are truly decrepit, living corpses, so to speak, are the middle-aged, middle class men and women who are stuck in their comfortable grooves and imagine that the status quo will last forever or else are so frightened it won’t that they have retreated into their mental bomb shelters to wait it out." --Henry Miller

     #LovingKindness is the hashtag I saw on the Internet last year which reminds me of the frame of mind to keep whenever you feel like criticizing someone who hasn't had all your advantages. A pithy version of the opening lines to one of my favorite novels, The Great Gatsby:

     "In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since.

     Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone, he told me, just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had."

Going Away To College

     The title to the final blog post I might write here could easily read: "Going Away To College"

     Going away to school meant you were an adult, you had to figure things out for yourself. You even had to be prepared to do your own laundry! I thought it was quite the extravagence when I learned that the college would launder your sheets for a small fee every week if you carried them across campus and picked them up the following week.

     I arrived at Dickinson College with a dreamy image of what college life would be like. I was looking for transcendent performances, ones I could never forget, where a professor fully-formed comes out and offered us truths or just a single bit of truth that I'd always remember. Fortunately, I attended a four-year residential Liberal Arts college in the late 1970s and the professors who would mold the rest of my life were all in residence! Not only do I remember their words, mostly those completely unrelated to course work, but I can recall quite fondly seeing them doing the normal things of life like collecting their mail, walking to work, and have a laugh with a colleague or student in the academic quad. It was quite idyllic and certainly worth every penny, $5000 for my entire freshman year.

     For that princely sum there was one pay phone per dormitory building wing and one local phone per floor. It was an event when an outside call was forwarded to our floor and we scrambled to find the person the call was intended for.

 Denny Hall--first class: American History

Believe it or not this was the Gymnasium! Later reconfigured into an Arts Center.

First Year Spanish Class

      La clase de Espanol

     There are many people willing to bet that you could walk into a meeting with people over the age of 40, say "Esta Susana en casa" and at least ONE person will give you the next line. My in-laws were from Cuban and always had a good laugh whenever I would entertain them with this dialogue. So stilted yet so memorable.

     The junior high school issued us all a box of 45s, vinyl records with all the dialogues we were required to learn. In high school there was a language lab we were supposed to visit and listen to more dialogues. Not sure either was effective as being around Latins and simply practicing. Later in life when I was a restaurateur I used my Spanish to great advantage. My old maestros would have been proud.

     Now I am reviewing my past work in Spanish and German languages using the online website Duolingo. It truly takes me back to when I first began language study in the 7th grade. We all knew going in we had to take a language or else we couldn't go to college. So I chose the obvious one because even then it was clear Spanish would be of some use. Who knew I would marry a Cuban and become fully indoctrinated into their warm and inclusive culture.

A Charlie Brown Christmas

     According to Wikipedia:
     "A Charlie Brown Christmas is a 1965 animated television special, and is the first TV special based on the comic strip Peanuts, by Charles M. Schulz. Produced by Lee Mendelson and directed by Bill Melendez, the program made its debut on CBS on December 9, 1965.

     Did anyone instinctively know the first time they saw A Charlie Brown Christmas and heard the Vince Guaradi Trio that their album would become such a hit? I'd like to believe I did, but time has proven it true despite my imaginings. Such an irreverent and catchy tune like Linus and Lucy which Schroeder can't seem to stop himself from playing is anything but a Christmas or Hanukkah song, but is intimately associated with this time of year.

     I always liked that there never were any adults in the Peanuts comic strips, TV shows or movies. Only "Wa Wa Wa" is ever heard and that's ok. Kids don't always need adult supervision and around the holidays even more so. Adults need a holiday, too.

     I usually make an appointment with my TV to annually watch this special, instead of watching it as a stream as I do with most everything else. As I grow older the penultimate moment is no less inspiring. It occurs, of course, when Linus helps Charlie Brown out of his quandary about the true meaning of Christmas. I don't think anyone wouldn't like a friend like Linus. Maybe not all your life but certainly from ages 5 to 10. Funny thing is while the audience can readily see this true friend, it's never verbally recognized as far as I know by Charlie Brown himself. That's probably the reason Lucy used to call him a blockhead or maybe I just missed something.

Dogs

     If you never had a dog for a pet growing up I feel for you. Whether it was because you had alergies, or no time and interest, this is something you missed.
Admittedly, they are a lot of work, and not all pets turn out to be gems. Though it is worth taking that chance and I have learned plenty from these four-legged friends throughout my life.

     The only bad thing you can say about them is they don't live long enough. While they are alive they tend to not care what happened at school or work. Their top most concern is that you are home and with them. Couldn't be simpler, right? Unconditional love.

Favorite Beatle

     Who was your favorite Beatle is kind of like asking, "Who was your best friend growing up?"

     Truth be told, all the friends I knew growing up had a hand in making me the person I have become. Obviously, some more than others. Though to pick out one in particular does all the others a disservice. The further removed I grow from those halcyon days the less I can recall my friends and any of their particular so-called imperfections. This is a good thing! Total recall is overrated. I prefer that time dim my memory ever so casually and leave me with a few good ones. Like the Beatles song, In My Life:

There are places I remember

All my life though some have changed

Some forever not for better

Some have gone and some remain

All these places have their moments

With lovers and friends I still can recall

Some are dead and some are living

In my life I've loved them all

Home-Schooling

                   Willard School Graduates from 1971 in 2012

   
     When I was growing up, home-schooling occurred when you had the Chicken Pox, were kept out of school for a week or two, and the teacher sent home assignments for you to keep up with the class.

     Beginning in the 1970s this changed as a growing number of parents didn't feel their children were receiving a good enough education from their public school and decided that they could do it better themselves at home.

     The biggest complaint about home-schooling is that it inhibits the habits of socialization learned in public school. This far outstrips anything you learn in the classroom. By this I mean coming to understand the fine shading of different personalities you can't help but encounter in a public school system and how to get along with each of them. When I visited a prep school in Massachusetts there was hardly a lick of difference between the students or their backgrounds. Though my brother's roommate was black and his posters adorned the walls, it wasn't in any way antagonistic or threatening. His skin was a shade darker but he shared his classmates' manners and upbringing so he fit into the student body with hardly a notice.

     The socialization I'm referring to regarding public school is exemplified by the subtle things you learn in the schoolyard like jumping rope, playing tag, and choosing up sides for a sporting contest. If you are home schooled you are still allowed to participate, even though the rules vary from state to state. But how are you going to hear about the event if you are not in school?

     Ever heard of a home-schooled student developing a crush on a teacher? I don't think so. Those sort of things only happen from close contact with an adult who is kind to you. The wild imaginings are usually all in the child's head, not the teacher.

     I'm not sure whether I would home school my kids since I don't have any so the point is moot. I have never been asked by my friends nor have I ever commented about the veracity of the idea. Teaching is a lot of work and requires a unique dedication and commitment. If someone wants to do this for the right reasons, like an underfunded or lack luster public school system, I'm not going to talk them out of it.

     I guess if I were to choose I'd begin children in the local public school. Be an active participant in the PTA and get to know the principal. Your mileage may vary, especially depending upon how far away you live from the grade school.

Performance Versus Trust

     A video making the rounds of the Internet. A two minute explanation on the difference between people you would trust with your money and family and those you wouldn't.

Ridgewood Storytellers: Anything Can Happen

      In 2016, the Ridgewood Public Library was awarded a grant from the Bergen County Division of Cultural & Historic Affairs. The grant funded "Storytellers @RPL," an Oral History Project aimed to document, preserve and celebrate the rich history of the community of Ridgewood, New Jersey.

            https://www.ridgewoodlibrary.org/storytellers-rpl

     Just today I was lamenting the lack of historical records (that I was aware of) on the subject of Ridgewood. Then I recalled the Ridgewood Public Library, that great incubator of civic responsibility and new ideas. They have been busy collecting oral histories of village residents, some going back 60 years or more. I've provided a link above. I take great delight when they say they lived in Ridgewood when my family did because I have an old phonebook from 1976. I check to see where they live or lived and am drawn back ever so slightly to a simpler time.

      I hope one day to add my recollections but truly hope many others will add their own before I do. It's a fantastic program and short of a museum the best way the history can be recorded and considered by those who lived through the same times. Maybe they will one day add a response section for people who remember things differently. Until that day I'll take these oral histories with no complaint, especially since they provide written transcripts along with the recordings.

The Expected Never Comes To Pass!

     It's a common story in most of our childhoods: we are anxious more often about things that never happen, than we will ever admit. 


     The first century Roman Stoic Philosopher Seneca:
     "There are more things … likely to frighten us than there are to crush us; we suffer more often in imagination than in reality." 

     Why didn't they tell us this in school every day? Start the day out, immediately after the morning announcements from the Principal were broadcast over the PA system, with a few words of philosophy that have stood the test of time. We might have made a load of jokes about it but anybody looking back years later would be hard pressed to doubt the efficacy of what this daily pause for reflection in our lives might have contributed to a happier and less anxious childhood for many.

     Maybe the Pledge of Allegiance aimed for a philosophic contribution to our lives by imbuing us with a sense of duty to country. Though the effect of the same pledge every day probably reduced its facility to make us more civic minded. Very little was said about the pledge after we had memorized it in the first grade. It grew by repetition in many cases to merely signify whether or not a teacher possessed the ability to control her or his class with only a glare. If they could initiate the recitation of the pledge without any objections and complete it without any interruptions, then they possessed the minimum capacities required of an educator. Or so it seemed.

     

JFK

   

     Most people who are 60 cannot remember anything about the day John F. Kennedy was assassinated 56 years ago. I say this confident in the knowledge that most 4 year old children are not that cognizant of their surroundings. I included myself in that group until my Mom told me a few years ago, after a cocktail, that she had had a miscarriage the day JFK was shot.

     I piece this knowledge together with the faint memory of a strange afternoon my younger brother and I spent at our next door neighbor's house. We had been hustled over and told to simply sit on the stairs with our neighbor's children who were about the same age as ours. No real explanation was offered and nobody spoke for what seemed like a long time.

     I guess we were fortunate not to be told all the details of that day when we were so young. A little ignorance to assist in prolonging our childhoods. Not to worry, there were plenty of other haunting images coming through regularly on our TVs and in the newspapers. Though they were not explained very clearly either, by our parents, schools, or churches. Just goes to show how much courage it takes to create change in public opinion, societal customs, and our laws.

Autumn Harvest 2019

     Looking back on the vestiges of our small garden in Woodside I'm glad to say the season was a success. We had Lemon cucumbers and San Marino tomatoes as new crops and I would recommend them both if you have a trellis and sturdy stakes. They produced more than ample amounts and I am still ripening green tomatoes on my office window sill. Though first I put the green tomatoes in a paper bag with a banana for a few days. Not sure of the chemistry but something about a ripening banana helps a green tomato to turn red. Another lesson learned in 2019.

     We we moved to Ridgewood in 1961 our backyard bordered on Willard school. There was an overgrown lot between us belonging to the school which had apple trees whose apples we used to throw at each other, and wild berries we picked to make jam. All gone now in the name of children's sports and a "play safe" playground. By this I mean no slides, seesaws, or swing sets. These are all considered too dangerous and an insurance liability.

     "They're safe. Everything's safe in America, for fear someone will get offended."  -Bob Lefsetz

     To tell you the truth I never heard of any major accidents with the wilderness next to the schoolyard, or any catastrophic injuries from playing on seesaws, sliding down a metal slide, or swinging on the swing set. They were all just good fun. We were kids and when we fell down the bruises and cuts never lasted very long. I'm sure one can find examples of calamities all over the world, but does that mean we have to make our playgrounds so boring and dull that no kid wants to utilize them? I think not. The rise in childhood obesity in the US might even support my claim.

Patience and Sympathy

     Czech playwright turned dissident (turned, some years later, president) Václav Havel (October 5, 1936–December 18, 2011):

     "People who are used to seeing society only “from above” tend to be impatient. They want to see immediate results. Anything that does not produce immediate results seems foolish. They don’t have a lot of sympathy for acts which can only be evaluated years after they take place, which are motivated by moral factors, and which therefore run the risk of never accomplishing anything."

     The act of writing a blog is one of those acts which can only be evaluated years after the fact to determine whether it has accomplished anything. To date, I'd say it has caused more than a few people to ponder times long gone. Maybe not with the same intensity which F. Scott Fitzgerald uses to describe Nick as he contemplates the historic geography of Long Island. There are few among us who can summon up the profundity of Fitzgerald. More to the point is that little about the time which I summarize in this blog compares with that "enchanted moment when men held their breath in the presence of this continent."

     Nothing we encountered was as raw or unrefined as what those Dutch sailors must have seen. In contrast, our world functioned with a well known and distinct set of characteristics which we knew unconsciously how deal with.

     As you might recall, The Great Gatsby concludes with a sad Nick contemplating the historic geography of Long Island:

     "Most of the big shore places were closed now and there were hardly any lights except the shadowy, moving glow of a ferryboat across the Sound. And as the moon rose higher the inessential houses began to melt away until gradually I became aware of the old island here that flowered once for Dutch sailors' eyes—a fresh, green breast of the new world. Its vanished trees, the trees that had made way for Gatsby's house, had once pandered in whispers to the last and greatest of all human dreams; for a transitory enchanted moment man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent, compelled into an aesthetic contemplation he neither understood nor desired, face to face for the last time in history with something commensurate to his capacity for wonder.

     And as I sat there brooding on the old, unknown world, I thought of Gatsby's wonder when he first picked out the green light at the end of Daisy's dock. He had come a long way to this blue lawn and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night.

     Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And one fine morning——

     So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." (9.151-154)

The Courage to Grow Up

     Autumn, even in my childhood, has always been my favorite season. No doubt the colors of the foliage on the trees, plus the remembrance of apple cider and doughnuts eaten after bike trips to VanRiper's and Tice farms in Woodcliff Lake. It's been over twenty years since I've tasted those autumn delights, and I drove my old Ford F-150 pickup instead of the ten-speed bike I once traveled by.

     "Van Riper’s was sold in 1994 to a supermarket developer. Three years later, Tice Farms also called it a day, making way for the upscale Tice’s Corner Marketplace, home to more than 20 stores including a William Sonoma, J. Crew, Victoria’s Secret, and Apple."

     Reminds me of what e.e. cummings once wrote:

     “It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.”

     I wouldn't be the person I am today without those carefree bike rides on roads less frequented than they are today. I couldn't imagine getting on a bicycle and pedaling around Bergen County today. The roads were narrow when I was young and no acts of civic inspiration have widened them. In fact, they are more dangerous than ever, but what did we know of danger as kids? Does anybody in their early teens give much consideration to mortality, probably not.

Camera Sales Going Down, Down, Down

     The camera has come a long way in my lifetime. It was once an expensive and time consuming endeavor. The film being something to purchase, then the development of the photos which took time to be completed.

     When they added the camera to our Smartphones I wondeered if they would be used at all. My bias said no but I have wrong before and probably never so wrong as in this assessment.

     I recall having a camera like this instamatic from Kodak. Anyone could buy one and shoot away until they reached the dreaded end of the film roll. The choice of using a flash or not was a question most often answered after the film had been developed.  Who knew? the technology was new and there was no detailed manual or Internet to consult. You either consulted an expert who would hint that you ought to use a better camera, or you lost interest in the entire process.

Optimism

OPTIMISM

by Jane Hirshfield

More and more I have come to admire resilience.

Not the simple resistance of a pillow, whose foam

returns over and over to the same shape, but the sinuous

tenacity of a tree: finding the light newly blocked on one side,

it turns in another. A blind intelligence, true.

But out of such persistence arose turtles, rivers,

mitochondria, figs — all this resinous, unretractable earth.

Harboring Seeds of Goodness

     I have alway enjoyed reading E.B White, stepfather to Roger Angell, and steward of "the little book" The Elements of Style by William Strunk Jr. He famously wrote Charlotte's Web and made us all believe that spiders could talk.

     He penned the following letter to a man who had written to him saying he had lost faith in  humanity. White was a firm believer that it is the duty of the writer to uplift people. The letter he composed answers an ominous feeling we all can identify with, and it's good to read a well thought out reply even on days when all is going well.

Dear Mr. Nadeau:

As long as there is one upright man, as long as there is one compassionate woman, the contagion may spread and the scene is not desolate. Hope is the thing that is left to us, in a bad time. I shall get up Sunday morning and wind the clock, as a contribution to order and steadfastness.

Sailors have an expression about the weather: they say, the weather is a great bluffer. I guess the same is true of our human society — things can look dark, then a break shows in the clouds, and all is changed, sometimes rather suddenly. It is quite obvious that the human race has made a queer mess of life on this planet. But as a people we probably harbor seeds of goodness that have lain for a long time waiting to sprout when the conditions are right. Man’s curiosity, his relentlessness, his inventiveness, his ingenuity have led him into deep trouble. We can only hope that these same traits will enable him to claw his way out.

Hang on to your hat. Hang on to your hope. And wind the clock, for tomorrow is another day.

Sincerely,

E. B. White

Entering 55th Grade

     Wonderful piece in "The Gray Lady" or The New York Times (Saturday & September 2019) if you prefer, by Mary Laura Philpott. She writes about adults losing the childhood prompt to reboot their lives that came so naturally when they entered each new grade from kindergarden through the end of high school.

     I'm currently entering the 55th grade and like the idea of reclaiming this long forsaken right of passage. Each year we could go back to school changed in someway that each one of us alone would truly understand. It might be a new hair style or nickname, or the lasting impression made by a book that had been read over the summer. No matter, we were different!

     In the upcoming term of the 55th grade I'll be reading more fiction by revisiting some long time favorites. I am lucky to have the superb Queens Library System and their online app for making sure my desired choices are delivered to my local branch. Without the ongoing tech backlash against the likes of FaceBook it's good to know the Internet can still benefit more than the tech titans in Silicon Valley. The Queens Library is "one of the largest library systems in the world by circulation, having loaned 13.5 million items in the 2015 fiscal year, and one of the largest in the country in terms of the size of its collection." They are also very good about taking suggestions for new books so if I hear about something good they sometimes will order it.

    What would a 55th grade be without Physical Education? Good old PE. I have discovered the health benefits of walking other people's dogs in my spare time. As long as the dog is less than a mile away I am good to go on a 30 to 60 minute walk courtesy of the dog walking app Rover. One walk a day usually gives me 4 miles of exercise. The dogs are always pleasant and are usually good conversation starters with strangers I meet on the street.

     They don't teach Civics anymore as far as I know, at least not by that name but I am including it in my 55th grade curriculum. "Civic education is the study of the theoretical, political and practical aspects of citizenship, as well as its rights and duties." I will be making a point of voting in the upcoming general elections and making my views known to my fellow citizens in person and online regarding topics near and dear to my heart like Ageism.

     Lastly, I will continue to stay ahead of the curve on the topic of Cybersecurity. We have to balance our desire for ease of use against our need for privacy and security. Never an easy balance but essential in a world filled with Facial Recogntion technology, hacking tools in abundance, and lots of people with too much time on their hands.

 

   

   

Homework

     Hated it. Kids don't need it. Make them go outside and play or allow them to figure out what play is themselves inside. Both are better than the second shift of work we sometimes saddle young children with when they ought to be learning to decide what is important for themselves. This is not an edict for them to do anything they want, only a suggestion that they read what interests them and play in ways they themselves have made up.

     I remember when my 6th grade math teacher, Mr. Ricci, assigned us the next two weeks of homework on a Friday afternoon and many of us mistakenly believed it was all due Monday. The look of surprise on his face on the following Monday when a dozen of us explained that we had done all the assignments: priceless!

    All I know is my parents were surprised by the rigor of Mr Ricci's assignment I showed them on that long ago Sunday afternoon. They knew Gene Ricci well and didn't question his judgement. Instead, they spent seven hours learning the concepts along with me. We were all worn out by the end of that day and Monday could not come soon enough.

     We all had a good laugh on that Monday evening when I told them the homework we had worked so hard to complete was not due for two more weeks.
You might have even made the argument to them at that moment that homework might best be done in some amounts.

Finding Meaning In The Mundane

     One of the longtime readers of this blog paid me the ultimate compliment in a recent email. He said I was able to find meaning in the mundane things that occurred in our childhood lives. If that doesn't hit the nail on the head I don't know what does.

     Those childhood lives were much more mundane than our current hyper-connected times. We experienced long periods, especially in August, which were hot and boring. During August there were few thoughts about the upcoming school firedrills or anything similar to the current day active shooter incidents, except for the Texas Tower Incident in 1966. Though it's hard to draw a parallel to the shooting at the University of Texas in Austin to all the school shootings we have seen in the last twenty years. We have almost grown numb to these horrific occurances. I'd gladly take those dull sweltering August days anytime, if I didn't ever have to hear about another person shooting up somebody's school yard.

   

   

George Friedman on Labor Day

© 2019 Geopolitical Futures® LLC. 
     A professor of mine at Dickinson College gets the last word on Labor Day. He currently has his own consulting practice: https://geopoliticalfutures.com/
Brilliant writer and very funny in person.

    "Labor Day became an American Federal Holiday in 1894.  Most other countries celebrate Labor on May 1st. That date had been a pagan celebration, but in the late 19th century, European socialists adopted May 1st as the annual holiday devoted to labor with marches and riots.

     Industrialization brought labor problems to the United States with some nasty consequences. American workers wanted more money, better working conditions, and recognition.  Money and better conditions were hard to give. So labor suggested a holiday, and management and Congress was enthused. A holiday not built around an armed uprising was just the thing. But May 1st was a reminder of everything they wanted the workers not to think about.

    So, the first Monday in September was chosen. Being the last weekend before children returned to school, this created a three-day, family oriented holiday. Rather than marching under the red flag, families headed to the beach or lake or wherever for a last summer outing. The vendors at these places thought it was a delightful idea. And so, Labor Day didn't become a day to plan revolutions, but a time to kick back and have a beer, and for the vacation industry to have one last summer blow-off.

     Think about it. The threat was a European style revolution. The solution was a holiday, one the kids wouldn't let the workers ignore - so no meetings. Those making money out of summer got a three-day weekend to peddle their wares. And the workers were recognized for being workers, and at least that beef was taken care of. And some of the Christian churches who were not happy with a pagan holiday being Labor Day, were also appeased.

     To get a sense of the difference between the US and Europe when facing political and economic chaos, the American solution was to turn a revolution into a marketable event, keep the churches quiet, and let the kids call off the union meeting."

     Happy Labor Day, and think about its pure genius.

     Sincerely,

     George Friedman

John Steinbeck On Labor Day

     A few words by John Steinbeck on Labor Day and an endorsement of his seminal novel The Grapes of Wrath seems appropriate:

    “All the goodness and the heroisms will rise up again, then be cut down again and rise up. It isn’t that the evil thing wins — it never will — but that it doesn’t die.” 

     The Grapes of Wrath ought to be required reading by the time you are an adult but not before your thirty. Read the book first then see the John Ford epic. The plight of the "Oakies" whether you know them as migrant workers, guest workers, or even illegal aliens will become all too obvious. They deserve to be heard and treated with all the kindness we can afford. We are all in this thing called "Life" together. Lighten up on the criticism and dogma, instead figure out ways to make their labor a bit less hellish.

Labor Day 2019

     Labor Day used to mean going back to school and the end of the tedium which is August. Now we have school opening in August and this divide in people's minds, between Summer and Autumn, has been shattered.

     Work is different these days, too. Less working together at a location like the top of a skyscraper, and more working solo at odd hours around the clock. The old work was more back breaking and tedious but the new work is using all our time and depriving us all of the advantages the previous generation worked so tirelessly to provide us. Ironic? Yes!

     Labor Day was created as a result of unrest and rioting by workers who were clearly being given a raw deal by the Robber Barons of the Gilded Age. Replace the words "robber barons" with the words "tech titans" if you desire historical context. History tends to go in circles, if not repeat itself. 

     The current age is a new Gilded Age with extreme income inequality and outrageous displays of wealth. Flying private is the new horse drawn carriage with a team of eight horses. The McMansions are symbols of the architecture which once signified taste and style. They don't do justice to the 19th century examples except as a means to wall people off from the dirty realities of life which are common just outside their walls.

     The Trust Busters of the previous age, who helped level the playing field and provide room for Trade Unions to organize, already have the tech giants like Google, Amazon, Microsoft, and Apple in their sights. Hopefully, we'll be spared the violence and prolonged strikes but you never know what people's breaking points will be or what miscarriage of justice will provoke them. Possibly, some reflection upon those days when the year had more visible  inflection points will soothe some of the anger. Maybe the image of our steady, societal progress which we all used to hold close will do the trick. I'll make no predictions, only offer my consolations to those working hard this Labor Day, with no time to reflect upon the day's origins or the new treadmill our technologies have tied us to. 

      

     

Lessons From The Little Prince

“Old friends cannot be created out of hand. Nothing can match the treasure of common memories, of trials endured together, of quarrels and reconciliations and generous emotions.” Little Prince” Author Antoine de Saint-Exupéry on Losing a Friend

     The Little Prince — "a book very much about reconciling the great unbidden gift of loving a friend with the inevitability of losing that friend."

     We enter into friendships more easily when we are young and have fewer options and distractions. With the passage of time we gain more freedoms and thus more opportunities to forsake the friendships created in youth. It's an absolute inevitability of life--that we will all lose a friend to death, argument, or distance. 

     It we knew when we were younger how hard this would be and how devastated it would leave us, would we still take the chance? We are by nature a trusting bunch so I would answer in the affirmative. I would also add that I try to keep adding friends as I age and try to acquire them via proximity as we did as children. It's not the distance is an automatic disqualifier but it does make it difficult to sustain friendships, no matter how advanced how technology becomes. If you can feel the touch of their hand or the smell of their skin then you bond on levels impossible to replicate and which take you back to your first tries at friendship, that either ended well or badly.

Ridgewood Rifle Club

     Much to my surprise the Ridgewood Rifle Range (RRC) at 209 Chestnut Street survives to this day as a private club, despite rising real estate prices in Ridgewood.

     The lessons taught about the proper use and storage of guns are sorely missed these days as it appears the RRC is not trying to be anything more than a small club for air rifle enthusiasts.

     There is a police/club range in Fair Lawn but a long waiting list and a local residenecy requirement keep the impact of its course of instruction to a minimum. RRC used to host students who enrolled through the Bergen Continuing Education program to "learn how to shoot safely" and earn their NRA qualification.

     The RRC name is currently attached to an Internet website which sources the sale of gun store parts and accessories.

A Wise Thought for Every Day

     I wish I had a wise thought for every day of the year, for every day of the rest of my life. Leo Tolstoy completed his attempt at this noteworthy idea in 1902, with the working title of "A Wise Thought For Every Day."

     He set out to compile "from the greatest philosophers of all times and all people, whose wisdom gives one great inner force, calmness, and happiness — thinkers and spiritual leaders who have shed light on what is most important in living a rewarding and meaningful life." 

     Jack Kerouac, author of On The Road,  had a couple of wise thoughts which made me think about the blogging process:

"Write in recollection and amazement for yourself."

     I do write for myself and attempt, again in Kerouac's words, to try:

     "Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog."

     I'm not sure I always get at the truth. The truth takes time to consider and I don't always make that time in my quest to fill the whitespace of a blog. Though I'm always aiming for honesty even if that simply shows my lack of awareness or ignorance of a subject. 

     I also try not to write negatively about people from my past. They are all in the past and as my opening quote on this blog from John Irving will suffice as a reason: "When enough time passes, what's it matter what they did to you?"

"Ex-post Facto Tech Wokeness"

     https://anildash.com/2019/07/23/20-years-of-blogging-what-ive-learned/

     Having grown up with rotary phones, black and white television sets, and cars which didn't come with standard air-conditioning, you might think I was a Luddite if I went on a rant about technology. You would more than likely be wrong.

     I happily came of age before most of the worst by-products we now commonly associate with our over-dependence upon technology: obesity in our young children and suicide in people over the age of 65. Those in the middle are riddled with angst, anxiety, and a feeling of a lack of connectedness to our society at large.

     I am not anti-technology but I am pragmatic and can see for myself how we need to spend more time talking to each other and less time allowing technology  like email, text messaging, and social media to act as surrogates in the management of our lives.

     Take a moment now and turn off your phone, laptop, gaming console, and TV. Go outside and listen to the sounds on your street. Take notice of the weather and the people in the area. This is how people have  lived for thousands of years, without ear buds, smart phones tethered to their wrists, and the feeling of missing out if they weren't connected somehow via the Internet. I bet it feels pretty good, and reminds you just a little that we are all in this thing called "Life" together.

   

Men On The Moon 50 Years Later

     Fifty years ago two men, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, were on the moon. We all watched on TVs which were tiny by today's standards and were by in large black and white models. Color would truly captivate the consumer market beginning in the 1970s, with sizes which were still tiny in comparison to the big screens which took over the market in the 21st century.

     If one didn't have a color TV to view the moon walk and the pictures they brought back, you have only hazy grey recollections like mine. Even now I remember the hours we spent in front of the TV following the feats of these astronauts without color. Later when the pictures appeared in the color magazines of the day, like Life, could  I truly appreciate the enormity of what had been accomplished. Thousands of women and men had collaborated to send men to the Moon and return them safely to Earth. Just saying it now still seems amazing to me.

Ridgewood Barons

     I believe it was the summer of 1973 when Jim Bouton, author of Ball Four, and former big league baseball player with the NY Yankees pitched on the diamond at Veteran's Field in Ridgewood. He died yesterday at the age of 80.

     In those days, before the proliferation of travel teams for eight-year olds in every conceivable sport, there were summer baseball games played by adults. These ball players fit into one of three categories: those who either aspired to play in college, the professional minor leagues, or just for the love of the game. They literally payed a nominal sum to play in these leagues. Most towns had teams and as a promotional stunt they invited Ridgewood resident Jim Bouton to pitch for them. He drew a small crowd and I was lucky to find a spot in the bleachers to watch his iconic windup and pitch which always included his hat falling off his head.

     He ends his book with these words which I find to be spot on:

“You spend a good piece of your life gripping a baseball,” he wrote, “and in the end it turns out that it was the other way around all the time.”

Women's Soccer

     Soccer only started coming into its own in these United States when I was in grade school, and this was only for boys. Glad to see some long overdue parity has entered our lives with the US Women's team taking the latest World Cup in London. They did it with excellent play and a dash of style. The team's tea drinking mime after scoring a goal and Megan Rapinoe's iconic salute to the crowd showed that these ladies were performers as well as athletes. Now they deserve the same pay as men, as they have the ratings and all the flair anyone could ask for or any group of men could provide.

July 4th 1939

Most people have seen the Gary Cooper film, Pride Of The Yankees. It was completed shortly after Lou Gehrig passed away in 1941 from Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), also known as motor neurone disease (MND) and now mostly referred to as Lou Gehrig's disease. This photo from 1939 captures the moment better than any film and can't help but make you pause to wonder. The original recording of his speak is mostly lost due to the technology available at the time. What remains are the opener — “For the past two weeks, you’ve been reading about a bad break” — leads into the “luckiest man” declaration. How on earth he could call himself lucky has always baffled people who did not know him. They look at the facts that he had no pension, not much money and massive health care costs. This was long before people sold their souls for a little cash. I can only surmise that he called himself "lucky" because he had a wife who loved him, friends who supported him, and a treasure trove of memories which no disease could take from him. That ought to be enough when you know you are going to die soon, right?

41 Seaver Way

Today the ballpark in Queens which I will always think of and call Shea Stadium is going to receive a new streeet address. These are so common in NYC that it's not big news. Though for a disfunctional NYC entity like the NY Mets it is at least something for them to crow about. The team is currently unwatchable, just like another team owned by a trust fund baby called the NY Knicks.

The ballpark’s street address will now be 41 Seaver Way, a tip of the hat to Seaver’s jersey number, Council Member Francisco Moya said. It's all part of the "Miracle Mets" 50th anniversary celebration. You might recall this team was not considered a threat to accomplish anything more than winning as many games as it lost. Instead, they surprised everyone and beat a hugely favored team from Baltimore in the World Series. All the games were played during the afternoon so we had to ask our teachers if we could listen on our transister radios.

1970s Air Travel

     This was economy class seating on a Pan Am 747 in 1970. It resembles a TV or movie set to me as I have never seen anything like it. I can easily recognize this era in transportation, one where people chose "dressing up" as their mode travel by air. Fifty years later people wear flip-flops on the plane to make the required removal of shoes by airport security more bearable. 

     What's ironic about this comparison is that planes today travel faster but the lines to board them are longer than ever and growing longer due to TSA regulations and an increased number of flights and people flying.

Laura Fleming

     My classmate Laura is well known for many things, among them honesty, compassion, and selflessness. We worked together planning our 35th RHS reunion and share a common interest in history. She discovered my blog on her own, which ought not be a surprise as she is an Advanced Placement history teacher at RHS. She suggested to one of her students to interview me for the high school newspaper and I gladly told the paper how things have changed over the years. It showed Laura at her best as a teacher, always looking to help her students improve their capacity to understand the general relations of particulars. In this case, an original contribution to the school newspaper regarding high school life now and when she and I were growing up together in Ridgewood. I was humbled to be asked for an interview and remain grateful to her for allowing me to be a source for her students' education.

     During my weekly visit to Facebook I read the following news about her recent health diagnosis:


     "For over 35 years, Laura Fleming (RHS Class of 1977) has dedicated her working life to the students at Ridgewood High School. Whether it’s through imparting her knowledge in U.S. History, World History or European AP classes or as advisor to the History Bowl and Political Discussion Clubs, Laura has made a difference in the lives of thousands of students and in some cases, their children!  She’s also lent her time to supporting veterans by organizing events for Memorial Day and Veterans Day.  Her colleagues have also benefited from her willingness to share both her time and expertise.

     Now, it’s time for the community to help make a difference in the life of LauraFleming.
Why?  Laura was recently diagnosed with Metastatic Uterine Leiomyosarcoma, Stage 4.
Having been through a roller coaster of emotions--as well as appointments, tests and procedures--over the past few months.  Laura has now begun treatment at Memorial Sloan Kettering to fight this rare cancer.  She knows the battle won’t be easy, but she is ready for the fight."

A photo from our 35th Reunion. Lenni Maguire and Laura Fleming.

 https://www.mightycause.com/story/Bgz7ig

D-Day 75th Anniversary

D-Day warriors entering the boats to liberate Europe, 75 years ago:

Memorial Day 2019

A repost of a former professor of mine at Dickinson College, George Friedman.
https://geopoliticalfutures.com

I’m writing this on Memorial Day, a day dedicated to remembering those who died fighting for the United States and to enjoying the first outdoor gatherings of the summer. For some, marking the day by enjoying the pleasures of a barbecue seems a betrayal of the dead. For me, it is a celebration of life. The dead put themselves in harm’s way, some out of choice and some out of obligation. The deaths of the latter are no less noble for that. The deaths of the former no less tragic. Having a party and giving the meaning of the occasion little thought is not, in my view, a betrayal of the dead but the acceptance of their gift.

War is not far from my family. My son was in the Air Force, and our daughter and her husband were in the Army. The latter both served multiple tours in Iraq, and my son helped design the tools of war. The service of all three caused us anxiety, but we were especially uneasy about our daughter. I had encouraged her to choose the route that ultimately led her to serve with the First Cavalry in Iraq. Men have gone off to war for millennia, but seeing your daughter place her body in harm’s way is particularly agonizing. I understand that it is impolite to imply that women are different from men, but it is undeniable that fathers view their daughters differently than they view their sons. We are enormously proud of her, yet we are challenging the history of human practice in sending women to war. My generation brought forth this change, and it is the generation the least at peace with what we wrought.

War has changed in another way. When people of my generation went to war, they had no contact with home, save for a handful of hastily written letters. During our daughter’s deployments, my wife and I would be lying in bed when our phones came alive with texts, emails and pictures, particularly of Persian rugs being sold by itinerant Turks at enormous discounts. My wife supported the war effort by buying rugs that our daughter shipped home in between missions. (Our home is still immersed in them.) The contact between those who went to war and those who stayed behind was an indication to me that the face of war was changing. War was no longer reserved to a land far from home; it was merely a text away. My generation could not text home, nor do much more than imagine the home whose desolation we were told we were protecting. But having more contact did not make things easier for anyone. It created a dynamic between mother and child that Homer never imagined – and he imagined a lot.

All three returned from their duty, with scars on their souls. They were the kind of scars that come from linking your life to the dead and wounded. For the rest of us, today is meant to be a day of remembrance. But it is hard for those who have not gone to war or whose family members did not serve to be sobered by it. Inevitably, it has become one of America’s cherished three-day holiday weekends.

Some would say that the parties and barbecues are a betrayal of the obligation to remember. I don’t agree with that. Every warrior’s purpose is to protect the homeland from the harsh truths of war. Having done so, it should not surprise that people celebrate Memorial Day with parties and barbecues. The Republic was founded on a deep tension. It was dedicated to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, but it also emerged from a revolution that was the bloodiest war in American history, resulting in the deaths of about 5 percent of all white males.

Some argue that the happiness that they fought for does not refer to our shallow hedonism but rather to a well-ordered life. That may be true, but in believing in liberty, they left it to all of us to determine what a well-ordered life is. Even Benjamin Franklin and George Washington had different interpretations of a well-ordered life. Franklin apparently partied heartily in Paris when he represented the American rebels there and did not deny himself pleasure during the winter of Valley Forge. War and happiness compete, but they also complement each other. We will have a barbecue today, and I will make a toast to those who didn’t make it. Our forgetfulness may seem to be ingratitude, but it’s actually a celebration of what could not have been without war. My parents would not have survived had World War II lasted another six months. I would not have been born without the Allies’ victory at Normandy – a victory whose 75th anniversary is one week away. But our memories are limited; how many of us mourn the dead at Gettysburg? We pay tribute to them not by recalling memories of war but by living the fruits of victory.

The tension and connection between war and happiness is complex. Putting your life at risk and being far from everything that is yours is not a happy time. It may inspire some nostalgia, but there is little in war beyond drudgery and fear. Still, mortal enemies become friends, as nations and as people, and life goes on. This is not a defense of war. War needs no defense. But opposing war is like opposing bad weather. It is not amenable to our wishes. So, we live with it, and we live after it.
This weekend, our daughter and her husband are having a Memorial Day party. It will consist of multiple televisions playing old war movies and friends and neighbors coming and going. At first, I thought this idea was demented. I later realized it was perfect. They were combining fun with remembrance. On the surface, there will be drunken frivolity. Underneath, there will be the endless recollection of those who died, and the soldier’s constant regret of not having saved them.

For the warriors and their families, Memorial Day is a day of reflection. For the rest, it is a day of forgetting what happened and giving thanks unwittingly by living happily. This is not a betrayal. This is the way all countries that experience war, which includes every country in the world, survive. The true weight of the memory of the dead would be too much for us to bear.
If you are asking what this has to do with geopolitics, it has everything to do with it. Geopolitics is about the relationship between nations, and war is a common currency in those relations. Memorial Day is about the relationship between the warrior and his or her nation and family, and the relationship between the past and the future, mediated through war and its remembrance. It is the essence of geopolitics.