Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Saturday in Newark, NJ
On Saturday I was driving to work in Newark, NJ at about 12:30pm. The sidewalks were filled with people, as they usually are on pleasant weekend afternoons. While stopped at a traffic light I saw a group of elderly men gathered on a corner. In fact, there was a short line of down-and-out black men queued up in front of a 80 year old white man who had pulled over his dented 1970s American station wagon. The white man chatted happily with each of the black men in turn, then ostentatiously gave him two bills (I couldn't see whether they were singles or fives), at which point there was some shared laughter, and then the next man would take his place in line. Then my light changed, and I had to continue on to work.
Little Elephant
Little Elephant can't find anyone to tell him what Crocodile eats for breakfast (all they do is spank him for interrupting) until he asks Bird who says: "I don't know, why don't you go ask him?" So that's exactly what Little Elephant did, only when he asks, Crocodile reaches up and bites Little Elephant's nose! Croc can't eat him alive, but tries to pull him into the water and drown him.
Little Elephant, in his struggling to avoid being drowned, pulls back, elongating his nose into a long trunk! But he is losing the fight when along comes Snake. Snake remembers that Little Elephant had, some time earlier, treated him with kindness and respect, even though at the time there hadn't seemed any good reason to do so. Snake, seeing his friend in trouble, bites Crocodile and forces him to let go of Little Elephant, whose nose, even after he's calmed down and - of course - politely thanked Snake for saving his life, remains elongated.
When Little Elephant comes back to the village all the adult elephants want to know what has happened to his nose, but Little Elephant just spanks them all, thanks to his new, elongated nose. He then goes to Bird and thanks him for the idea of going and asking when you want to find something out.
Little Elephant, in his struggling to avoid being drowned, pulls back, elongating his nose into a long trunk! But he is losing the fight when along comes Snake. Snake remembers that Little Elephant had, some time earlier, treated him with kindness and respect, even though at the time there hadn't seemed any good reason to do so. Snake, seeing his friend in trouble, bites Crocodile and forces him to let go of Little Elephant, whose nose, even after he's calmed down and - of course - politely thanked Snake for saving his life, remains elongated.
When Little Elephant comes back to the village all the adult elephants want to know what has happened to his nose, but Little Elephant just spanks them all, thanks to his new, elongated nose. He then goes to Bird and thanks him for the idea of going and asking when you want to find something out.
A cold place on a hot night
I was driving home from work the other night at 11:45pm along a side street in Newark, NJ. I had the windows rolled down because it was 94 degrees but I'm afraid to use the A/C in my car. I stopped at a red light in a quiet part of town, and saw two women leaning against the trunk of a car on the opposite corner. I thought to myself, "Those two are out here to escape the heat - two friends." Then the light changed, and as I accelerated through the intersection one of the women looked up at me through my open car window, and stared into my eyes, asking. It dawned on me that they weren't escaping the heat, but they were in a place as cold as it gets.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
The Camden 28
Originally posted on facebook on March 23, 2010:
I just watched a documentary on Netflix called "The Camden 28." It tells the story of a group of anti-Vietnam War opponents - including four Roman Catholic priests and a Protestant minister - who broke into the Camden draft board offices in November 1971 in order to destroy draft records. In addition to the five clergymen were 23 other people, mainly but not exclusively drawn from the Catholic leftists that were active at that time in southern New Jersey.
The group was infiltrated by an FBI informant/provocateur who befriended and assisted them in planning and conducting the break-in. The FBI wished to make an example of the Camden group: they believed that the people organizing of the Camden action were also involved in a break-in at the FBI's Media, PA offices, that had exposed and thereby compromised the tactics being employed against anti-war protesters (and had personally embarrassed and pissed-off J. Edgar Hoover). Though the informant had been told by the FBI that the Bureau wanted to head-off the planned break-in, they secretly planned instead to allow it to go forward, ensuring that the protesters would be charged and tried on federal charges. Arrested in the midst of the break-in, each of the co-conspirators faced 47 years in jail.
The ensuing trial was complicated for the before it started by he fact that the main government witness - the informant - had turned against the prosecution, claiming that the FBI had promised him that no one involved would face jail time. Though he personally opposed breaking the law, he felt betrayed by the FBI and submitted an affidavit saying that the prosecution of these people was vindictive and politically-motivated.
During the trial the defendants were permitted to mount a "nullification" defense of sorts, and in addition to the now-defense-oriented informant, one of the witnesses was historian Howard Zinn, who testified that the Pentagon Papers proved the immoral underpinnings of the war. Another witness was the mother of the defendant Robert Good. The judge allowed Mrs. Good, whose elder son had been killed in Vietnam six years earlier, to talk about how her older son's life had been wasted in an unholy cause, and that her younger son only wished to redeem his brother's sacrifice.
It is a remarkable story, made even more remarkable for me personally by the fact that I've lived in New Jersey for 43 years and spent many of those years as a devoted anti-war person, yet I'd never heard of this case before. It was inspiring, and I recommend it to all (I think it may also be available through PBS).
Danny
I just watched a documentary on Netflix called "The Camden 28." It tells the story of a group of anti-Vietnam War opponents - including four Roman Catholic priests and a Protestant minister - who broke into the Camden draft board offices in November 1971 in order to destroy draft records. In addition to the five clergymen were 23 other people, mainly but not exclusively drawn from the Catholic leftists that were active at that time in southern New Jersey.
The group was infiltrated by an FBI informant/provocateur who befriended and assisted them in planning and conducting the break-in. The FBI wished to make an example of the Camden group: they believed that the people organizing of the Camden action were also involved in a break-in at the FBI's Media, PA offices, that had exposed and thereby compromised the tactics being employed against anti-war protesters (and had personally embarrassed and pissed-off J. Edgar Hoover). Though the informant had been told by the FBI that the Bureau wanted to head-off the planned break-in, they secretly planned instead to allow it to go forward, ensuring that the protesters would be charged and tried on federal charges. Arrested in the midst of the break-in, each of the co-conspirators faced 47 years in jail.
The ensuing trial was complicated for the before it started by he fact that the main government witness - the informant - had turned against the prosecution, claiming that the FBI had promised him that no one involved would face jail time. Though he personally opposed breaking the law, he felt betrayed by the FBI and submitted an affidavit saying that the prosecution of these people was vindictive and politically-motivated.
During the trial the defendants were permitted to mount a "nullification" defense of sorts, and in addition to the now-defense-oriented informant, one of the witnesses was historian Howard Zinn, who testified that the Pentagon Papers proved the immoral underpinnings of the war. Another witness was the mother of the defendant Robert Good. The judge allowed Mrs. Good, whose elder son had been killed in Vietnam six years earlier, to talk about how her older son's life had been wasted in an unholy cause, and that her younger son only wished to redeem his brother's sacrifice.
It is a remarkable story, made even more remarkable for me personally by the fact that I've lived in New Jersey for 43 years and spent many of those years as a devoted anti-war person, yet I'd never heard of this case before. It was inspiring, and I recommend it to all (I think it may also be available through PBS).
Danny
Beware of New Constituional Experts Who've Uncovered Diabolical Subversions!
Originally posted on facebook on Tuesday, March 30, 2010
I've noticed a recent spate of newly-minted Constitutional scholars who purport to have uncovered some great subversion of the Constitution that NO ONE ever discovered before. I have a word of advice: you can't simply go to the copy of the US Constitution in the back of your kid's civics text book and become an instant authority on constitutional law. In nearly every case there's a body of legislative and/or case law that surrounds, supports, clarifies, and delimits the basic principles outlined in the text itself.
For example, a person on facebook recently cited Article I, Section 2, Clause 3 of the Constitution to criticize the US Census, saying, “the only information you are empowered to request is the total number of occupants at this address. My ‘name, sex, age, date of birth, race, ethnicity, telephone number, relationship and housing tenure’ have absolutely nothing to do with apportioning direct taxes or determining the number of representatives in the House of Representatives. Therefore, neither Congress nor the Census Bureau have the constitutional authority to make that information request a component of the enumeration outlined in Article I, Section 2, Clause 3.” This is simply not true, since in addition to directing that the Census be conducted every ten years, Article I, Section 2 Clause 3 adds that it be done, “in such Manner as they [Congress] shall by Law direct.” Congress has subsequently directed that the Census gather additional limited information, and as the power to do so is directly enumerated in the Constitution and given to Congress, it is well within the power of Congress to so direct.
Similarly, a good friend recently posted a video made by a gentleman who claims that there is no legal basis for a federal income tax. This video maker asserts that the Sixteenth Amendment to the Constitution – which he erroneously maintains is the legal basis the government uses to justify the federal income tax – was never legally approved by three-fourths of the states. Of course, it WAS approved by nearly ALL the states, but EVEN if it hadn’t been, the Sixteenth Amendment has nothing to do with the federal income tax; it specifically involves the assessment of federal taxes on corporations.
Even the citation of the Sixteenth Amendment in this issue is historically inaccurate: the first federal individual income tax was assessed in 1862, and the Sixteenth Amendment was enacted FIFTY years later, in 1913.
In fact, however, the power to levy a federal income tax is based on the specific language of Article I, Section 8, [Powers of Congress] which states: “The Congress shall have power to lay and collect taxes, duties, imposts and excises, to pay the debts and provide for the common defence (sic) and general welfare of the United States…” Furthermore, Article I, section 8, clause 18 – known as the “Necessary and Proper Clause” – clearly states that, “The Congress shall have Power to make all Laws which shall be necessary and proper for carrying into Execution the foregoing Powers, and all other Powers vested by this Constitution in the Government of the United States, or in any Department or Officer thereof.” And, finally, several Supreme Court rulings have buttressed the power of Congress to levy taxes when and as it sees fit (United States v. Butler, 1936, is only one example).
So, regarding these new Constitutional experts, who are propelled – no doubt – by voices on the right who are willing and able to use any tactic and spread any untruth or misrepresentation to further their goals and ends: I’d counsel a very wary approach.
I've noticed a recent spate of newly-minted Constitutional scholars who purport to have uncovered some great subversion of the Constitution that NO ONE ever discovered before. I have a word of advice: you can't simply go to the copy of the US Constitution in the back of your kid's civics text book and become an instant authority on constitutional law. In nearly every case there's a body of legislative and/or case law that surrounds, supports, clarifies, and delimits the basic principles outlined in the text itself.
For example, a person on facebook recently cited Article I, Section 2, Clause 3 of the Constitution to criticize the US Census, saying, “the only information you are empowered to request is the total number of occupants at this address. My ‘name, sex, age, date of birth, race, ethnicity, telephone number, relationship and housing tenure’ have absolutely nothing to do with apportioning direct taxes or determining the number of representatives in the House of Representatives. Therefore, neither Congress nor the Census Bureau have the constitutional authority to make that information request a component of the enumeration outlined in Article I, Section 2, Clause 3.” This is simply not true, since in addition to directing that the Census be conducted every ten years, Article I, Section 2 Clause 3 adds that it be done, “in such Manner as they [Congress] shall by Law direct.” Congress has subsequently directed that the Census gather additional limited information, and as the power to do so is directly enumerated in the Constitution and given to Congress, it is well within the power of Congress to so direct.
Similarly, a good friend recently posted a video made by a gentleman who claims that there is no legal basis for a federal income tax. This video maker asserts that the Sixteenth Amendment to the Constitution – which he erroneously maintains is the legal basis the government uses to justify the federal income tax – was never legally approved by three-fourths of the states. Of course, it WAS approved by nearly ALL the states, but EVEN if it hadn’t been, the Sixteenth Amendment has nothing to do with the federal income tax; it specifically involves the assessment of federal taxes on corporations.
Even the citation of the Sixteenth Amendment in this issue is historically inaccurate: the first federal individual income tax was assessed in 1862, and the Sixteenth Amendment was enacted FIFTY years later, in 1913.
In fact, however, the power to levy a federal income tax is based on the specific language of Article I, Section 8, [Powers of Congress] which states: “The Congress shall have power to lay and collect taxes, duties, imposts and excises, to pay the debts and provide for the common defence (sic) and general welfare of the United States…” Furthermore, Article I, section 8, clause 18 – known as the “Necessary and Proper Clause” – clearly states that, “The Congress shall have Power to make all Laws which shall be necessary and proper for carrying into Execution the foregoing Powers, and all other Powers vested by this Constitution in the Government of the United States, or in any Department or Officer thereof.” And, finally, several Supreme Court rulings have buttressed the power of Congress to levy taxes when and as it sees fit (United States v. Butler, 1936, is only one example).
So, regarding these new Constitutional experts, who are propelled – no doubt – by voices on the right who are willing and able to use any tactic and spread any untruth or misrepresentation to further their goals and ends: I’d counsel a very wary approach.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Subjectivity is underrated
Though we live in a corporeal world that begs us to measure it, it seems that so many of life's most important dimensions are not measurable, such as love, pain, happiness, and fear...just to name a few. We can never objectively quantify any of these things - they only have subjective substance. Should this truth not be central to how we live our lives?
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Medea
Last night I dreamed of you mother
There under the trees, loving another.
You couldn’t see me, but I saw
I woke and see you above me
I asked if you still loved me; but
You were as silent as moonlight
Will you still sing me songs of delight,
If I awaken from sleep sad and alone?
And make the light shine into my bed?
My father? Ah he’s your concern, not mine
He is like the sound of the weather
This is my time to be loved and misled
I forget the sorrow that rises from
The silence of stinging regret
And the deceptions of love unrequited.
Or unfulfilled.
There under the trees, loving another.
You couldn’t see me, but I saw
I woke and see you above me
I asked if you still loved me; but
You were as silent as moonlight
Will you still sing me songs of delight,
If I awaken from sleep sad and alone?
And make the light shine into my bed?
My father? Ah he’s your concern, not mine
He is like the sound of the weather
This is my time to be loved and misled
I forget the sorrow that rises from
The silence of stinging regret
And the deceptions of love unrequited.
Or unfulfilled.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Maman's Kiss
We take the shorter way
And see a scudding row
Of low, far off trees
Tonight dinner will be on time
We may take the royal way
More beautiful than light
But more dear, for
That night dinner will be late
The cost? A kiss, not much
But refused, as I gaze out
The azure aurora
Touches the fecund fields
The memory of your kiss
Calls across the lost years
I remember as
My childhood falls away
Princesses and barons lay ahead
I’ll know their nights
Oh – too well
Still, it’s your kiss I’ll recall.
And see a scudding row
Of low, far off trees
Tonight dinner will be on time
We may take the royal way
More beautiful than light
But more dear, for
That night dinner will be late
The cost? A kiss, not much
But refused, as I gaze out
The azure aurora
Touches the fecund fields
The memory of your kiss
Calls across the lost years
I remember as
My childhood falls away
Princesses and barons lay ahead
I’ll know their nights
Oh – too well
Still, it’s your kiss I’ll recall.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Aphrodite abandons Antony
Last night, at midnight
You left me
I heard the low sound
Of your voice
As you went
I opened the window
To call you back
I heard laughter
But saw no one
Only the night
Invisible magic, exquisite
Carnal and sweet
Departing at midnight
My life’s music
You dance away
You left me
I heard the low sound
Of your voice
As you went
I opened the window
To call you back
I heard laughter
But saw no one
Only the night
Invisible magic, exquisite
Carnal and sweet
Departing at midnight
My life’s music
You dance away
A prayer for a death
I pray you stay away
Don’t come to ruin
What I have, what we have built
Tear it down brick by goddamned
You’ll never know the damage
He will follow you, panting
Like a dog on a leash
Leaving behind all that he has
He’s blind, forgetful
A slave to his dreams and his lust
I pray that there will be an accident
Coming for a “visit,” you say
To him you are everything, I am nothing
He’s just blind and dumb enough
Not to see it the way I do.
A squeal of tires
The BANG of the impact
I was in an accident once
Thank God I wasn’t hurt, but
But the sound…how loud it was
There will be carnage
Innocents hurt or maimed
I should be ashamed
But I pray for that accident
I’m sorry for the others, but not for you
He will forsake me for you
The promises he made
And I have taught him
About love and trust and need
He always forgets important things
With me he is reliable
With you he’ll be set free
With me he is dependable
With you he will soar – too close to the sun
Without me he is nothing
I hope you never come here
To ruin all my dreams
And take this good man from me
Who was a diamond in the rough?
He was yours, but now he’s mine
Don’t come to ruin
What I have, what we have built
Tear it down brick by goddamned
You’ll never know the damage
He will follow you, panting
Like a dog on a leash
Leaving behind all that he has
He’s blind, forgetful
A slave to his dreams and his lust
I pray that there will be an accident
Coming for a “visit,” you say
To him you are everything, I am nothing
He’s just blind and dumb enough
Not to see it the way I do.
A squeal of tires
The BANG of the impact
I was in an accident once
Thank God I wasn’t hurt, but
But the sound…how loud it was
There will be carnage
Innocents hurt or maimed
I should be ashamed
But I pray for that accident
I’m sorry for the others, but not for you
He will forsake me for you
The promises he made
And I have taught him
About love and trust and need
He always forgets important things
With me he is reliable
With you he’ll be set free
With me he is dependable
With you he will soar – too close to the sun
Without me he is nothing
I hope you never come here
To ruin all my dreams
And take this good man from me
Who was a diamond in the rough?
He was yours, but now he’s mine
31 Hickory Street
The street I lived on
Was broad and crowned.
But tree-lined, like an allee;
Frozen, unremembered
At the wanton end
Of a town called America.
Broad, maybe even grand
But truncated, almost stubby
Ragged at the blind end
Like a sentence cut short;
Or an arm partly lost
To a moment of carelessness.
With the shirt sleeve folded
Over the elbow and pinned,
There’s a story in that fold
To be sure; but who can tell
Who still knows it?
Who knows these things?
Was broad and crowned.
But tree-lined, like an allee;
Frozen, unremembered
At the wanton end
Of a town called America.
Broad, maybe even grand
But truncated, almost stubby
Ragged at the blind end
Like a sentence cut short;
Or an arm partly lost
To a moment of carelessness.
With the shirt sleeve folded
Over the elbow and pinned,
There’s a story in that fold
To be sure; but who can tell
Who still knows it?
Who knows these things?
Monday, January 4, 2010
Deleted iPod Playlists Named for Mary
I just deleted two iPod playlists that I'd named for her - more two years after the last time we talked - and I had an actual, full-blown anxiety attack after doing it.
New Years Hope
What I hope for in the coming year couldn't possibly be reduced to a few sharp words or a couple of cogent proposals. What I hope for is unimaginably unlikely, so wondrous and joyous, so carnal and all-encompassing as to be beyond words. Here's to the unhoped for - here's to the unexpected person who will truly belie...ve - who will honestly agree with me - that I am worthwhile.
When you told me . . . those little white lies
Soon after we moved in together she was showing me how to use the clothes dryer (it had been hers). I did know pretty well how to use a dryer, so I took the lint screen out and found it completely packed with lint. I asked - sort of without thinking, "Don't you clean the lint screen regularly?" She said "Oh, yes, of course I do!"
It was such a silly little thing, but a darkness touched my heart because I knew in that moment what she'd just said was a purposeful lie; in fact it was the first lie she had ever told me. It wouldn't be the last.
"But all of that is in the past," you might accurately say. True. But every time I do laundry, and slide out the lint screen, I am reminded of that tiny lie, four years ago, and then my skin heats up and my breath catches, because I know I will - without fail - remember all the gigantic things that have gone wrong since then.
Can the breakup of a relationship cause PTSD? Can a lint screen be a PTSD trigger?
It was such a silly little thing, but a darkness touched my heart because I knew in that moment what she'd just said was a purposeful lie; in fact it was the first lie she had ever told me. It wouldn't be the last.
"But all of that is in the past," you might accurately say. True. But every time I do laundry, and slide out the lint screen, I am reminded of that tiny lie, four years ago, and then my skin heats up and my breath catches, because I know I will - without fail - remember all the gigantic things that have gone wrong since then.
Can the breakup of a relationship cause PTSD? Can a lint screen be a PTSD trigger?
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
She is benediction
One winter evening, I was starting a fire in the living room fireplace. I'd put music on, soulful music, when Mary suddenly danced in from the next room. She glided smoothly, but it wasn't because of her stockinged feet nor the well-buffed wood... it was she - her arms and legs, her breasts and her hips - which danced across and around the room, back and forth, suspended in air, suspended in time - not heedless of me, but regardless of me - around and back and forth, like a satyr.
If I wasn't already in love by then, I fell in love with her in that moment, when she surprised me with her dancing - she was a 51 year old mother of 3 grown children who danced like a wood sprite, a nymph - who made me want to be a puddle of melted ice water rippling at her feet, who made me as happy as I will ever be, that evening...at least. After the day's chores and travels were done...she danced for me...she danced before me...like a garlanded queen of times long gone.
If I wasn't already in love by then, I fell in love with her in that moment, when she surprised me with her dancing - she was a 51 year old mother of 3 grown children who danced like a wood sprite, a nymph - who made me want to be a puddle of melted ice water rippling at her feet, who made me as happy as I will ever be, that evening...at least. After the day's chores and travels were done...she danced for me...she danced before me...like a garlanded queen of times long gone.
In ancient Mali the people told stories of the great deeds of the legendary (though once very real) King Sundiata. In these tales Sundiata faced seemingly overwhelming challenges, and through wisdom, bravery, cunning, and strength, he always won out, usually over tremendous odds.
Mostly of the time the telling of these tales was idle recreation, but in times of trouble or indecision, the griots (a role akin to bard or shaman or shanichee) would gather the people and ritually recite one particular tale or another, as it fit the situation. The ritual tales of the griots were mostly true, though they also contained "additional" and sometimes fantastical embellishments, and they evolved over the years (Sundiata lived, I believe, in the 14th centuryCE). These tellings were treated as virtually sacred, and often took several days, with competing versions of details being offered, and with considerable debate also.
Such part-real, part-embroidered tales would, in such times, help to inform the people about what the wise and great Sundiata might do in such troubled times, and how they might follow his example. In a non-literate society this process played a legal and/or political role; the tales were a sort of "constitution" to be guided by.... Read More
I think stories like those above play a similar role for us today - in that they give us an almost idealized - though true enough - role model to follow. If the times in the stories weren't tragic or troubled, they would have less to teach us.
Mostly of the time the telling of these tales was idle recreation, but in times of trouble or indecision, the griots (a role akin to bard or shaman or shanichee) would gather the people and ritually recite one particular tale or another, as it fit the situation. The ritual tales of the griots were mostly true, though they also contained "additional" and sometimes fantastical embellishments, and they evolved over the years (Sundiata lived, I believe, in the 14th centuryCE). These tellings were treated as virtually sacred, and often took several days, with competing versions of details being offered, and with considerable debate also.
Such part-real, part-embroidered tales would, in such times, help to inform the people about what the wise and great Sundiata might do in such troubled times, and how they might follow his example. In a non-literate society this process played a legal and/or political role; the tales were a sort of "constitution" to be guided by.... Read More
I think stories like those above play a similar role for us today - in that they give us an almost idealized - though true enough - role model to follow. If the times in the stories weren't tragic or troubled, they would have less to teach us.
late last night I watched a documentary on the immediate aftermath of the Kennedy assassination. Though no one's behavior was inexcusable, the men involved acted in sometimes animalistic ways...RFK, LBJ...all of them. The women, on the other hand, were all the paragons of class.
Though Kennedy's shattered body was in a casket in the rear of the same plane, with Jackie sitting nearby still wearing clothing stained with her murdered husband's blood and brains, Lyndon Johnson refused to allow Air Force One to leave Dallas until he had been sworn in as President. He also wanted Jackie standing next to him as the oath was being administered (he may have been cold and calculating, loose-limbed and shambling, but he was anything but stupid). Despite her sorrow, when an aide told her of Johnson's request, Jackie responded, "Of course, it's the least I can do."
After the plane departed Lady Bird Johnson walked past all of the angry and suspicious Kennedy staffers gathered in the plane's rear and sat with Jackie, comforting her in a way no other person present - perhaps no other person in the world - could have at that moment.
When Johnson called Rose Kennedy - from Air Force One flying from Dallas to Washington - to offer his condolences, Mrs. Kennedy answered the call by saying "Hello, Mr. President..." Though he'd been surrounded by hundreds of people in the past few hours, she was the first person to call him that. Though she must've been inconsolable, at that moment she remembered who he was now - and, more importantly, who SHE was.
When JFK lay in state at the White House, a military honor guard was stationed around his catafalque. When Jackie saw the men arranged with their backs to their dead commander (thereby symbolizing their place as his guardians in death, though they could not protect him when he was alive), she asked them to turn around and face the casket, so her dead husband wouldn't be so lonely. Though it represented a unique and immense contradiction of protocol, of course they did as she asked.
These things symbolize why, if forced to choose, I'd prefer the company of women to that of men at almost any time. They are simply more humane.
Though Kennedy's shattered body was in a casket in the rear of the same plane, with Jackie sitting nearby still wearing clothing stained with her murdered husband's blood and brains, Lyndon Johnson refused to allow Air Force One to leave Dallas until he had been sworn in as President. He also wanted Jackie standing next to him as the oath was being administered (he may have been cold and calculating, loose-limbed and shambling, but he was anything but stupid). Despite her sorrow, when an aide told her of Johnson's request, Jackie responded, "Of course, it's the least I can do."
After the plane departed Lady Bird Johnson walked past all of the angry and suspicious Kennedy staffers gathered in the plane's rear and sat with Jackie, comforting her in a way no other person present - perhaps no other person in the world - could have at that moment.
When Johnson called Rose Kennedy - from Air Force One flying from Dallas to Washington - to offer his condolences, Mrs. Kennedy answered the call by saying "Hello, Mr. President..." Though he'd been surrounded by hundreds of people in the past few hours, she was the first person to call him that. Though she must've been inconsolable, at that moment she remembered who he was now - and, more importantly, who SHE was.
When JFK lay in state at the White House, a military honor guard was stationed around his catafalque. When Jackie saw the men arranged with their backs to their dead commander (thereby symbolizing their place as his guardians in death, though they could not protect him when he was alive), she asked them to turn around and face the casket, so her dead husband wouldn't be so lonely. Though it represented a unique and immense contradiction of protocol, of course they did as she asked.
These things symbolize why, if forced to choose, I'd prefer the company of women to that of men at almost any time. They are simply more humane.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Is Same the Opposite of Opposite?
It’s an axiom among many thoughtful people in our culture that our world is a collection of opposites. We’ve all heard it said that for every action there’s a reaction; for there to be up there must be down. In implies out; day, of course, has night; on has off. Black is paired with white; bad with good. Yin is entwined with yang. It seems intuitive.
But a question occurred to me this morning: what's the opposite of a mountain? The first, reflexive answer is, of course: a valley, but that’s plainly untrue. Valleys and mountains aren’t created by opposite (or even similar) geological forces. Some valleys cut through flat plains; in many cases mountains are crisscrossed by brooks and creeks that carve valleys from the mountainside, but that’s hardly what we’d consider an “opposite” relationship.
Is earth the opposite of sky? If so, when we look into the night sky we can see millions of miles into the sky, but we can’t see a foot into the earth (if we dig a hole we can see some small distance, but the deepest holes we've ever made only go maybe a couple of miles - the earth is 25,000 miles wide). And even if we could see through the earth, at some point we’d start seeing sky again on the other side. That hardly seems like an opposite to me.
Do we consider our friends opposites of our enemies? Not really. What’s the opposite of old? Young? How can that be? Doesn’t the concept of opposites imply that it works in both directions? Young is a step on the path to old, but the opposite isn’t true. The opposite of broken isn't fixed, is it?
And what’s the opposite of dog? If we lived in the world of 1940s and 50s cartoon movies, the opposite of dog would be cat. But we live in a different, less sensible world, where dog and cat can’t be considered opposites any more than birds and humans can. One could ask: is a white dog the opposite of a black dog? But then, what would a border collie’s opposite be? Or a zebra’s? Or a greyhound’s? By the way: what is the opposite of bird? Fish?
And here's a big one...what is the opposite of me? You?
But a question occurred to me this morning: what's the opposite of a mountain? The first, reflexive answer is, of course: a valley, but that’s plainly untrue. Valleys and mountains aren’t created by opposite (or even similar) geological forces. Some valleys cut through flat plains; in many cases mountains are crisscrossed by brooks and creeks that carve valleys from the mountainside, but that’s hardly what we’d consider an “opposite” relationship.
Is earth the opposite of sky? If so, when we look into the night sky we can see millions of miles into the sky, but we can’t see a foot into the earth (if we dig a hole we can see some small distance, but the deepest holes we've ever made only go maybe a couple of miles - the earth is 25,000 miles wide). And even if we could see through the earth, at some point we’d start seeing sky again on the other side. That hardly seems like an opposite to me.
Do we consider our friends opposites of our enemies? Not really. What’s the opposite of old? Young? How can that be? Doesn’t the concept of opposites imply that it works in both directions? Young is a step on the path to old, but the opposite isn’t true. The opposite of broken isn't fixed, is it?
And what’s the opposite of dog? If we lived in the world of 1940s and 50s cartoon movies, the opposite of dog would be cat. But we live in a different, less sensible world, where dog and cat can’t be considered opposites any more than birds and humans can. One could ask: is a white dog the opposite of a black dog? But then, what would a border collie’s opposite be? Or a zebra’s? Or a greyhound’s? By the way: what is the opposite of bird? Fish?
And here's a big one...what is the opposite of me? You?
Two Seasons by Galway Kinnell
I
The stars were wild that summer evening
As on the low lake shore stood you and I
And every time I caught your flashing eye
Or heard your voice discourse on anything
It seemed a star went burning down the sky.
I looked into your heart that dying summer
And found your silent woman's heart grown wild
Whereupon you turned to me and smiled
Saying you felt afraid but that you were
Weary of being mute and undefiled
II
I spoke to you that last winter morning
Watching the wind smoke snow across the ice
Told of how the beauty of your spirit, flesh,
And smile had made day break at night and spring
Burst beauty in the wasting winter's place.
You did not answer when I spoke, but stood
As if that wistful part of you, your sorrow,
Were blown about in fitful winds below;
Your eyes replied your worn heart wished it could
Again be white and silent as the snow.
Galway Kinnell
The stars were wild that summer evening
As on the low lake shore stood you and I
And every time I caught your flashing eye
Or heard your voice discourse on anything
It seemed a star went burning down the sky.
I looked into your heart that dying summer
And found your silent woman's heart grown wild
Whereupon you turned to me and smiled
Saying you felt afraid but that you were
Weary of being mute and undefiled
II
I spoke to you that last winter morning
Watching the wind smoke snow across the ice
Told of how the beauty of your spirit, flesh,
And smile had made day break at night and spring
Burst beauty in the wasting winter's place.
You did not answer when I spoke, but stood
As if that wistful part of you, your sorrow,
Were blown about in fitful winds below;
Your eyes replied your worn heart wished it could
Again be white and silent as the snow.
Galway Kinnell
Spicy
Shovel chew dip shovel chew chew pause oh I thought this was the medium salsa oh that’s where’s the water has the waiter brought the water yet oh thanks gulp gulp oh that’s better no it only went away for a while gulp gulp could you ask him for more water I wish they were clearer about which is spicy my mouth is on fire can I drink your water until gulp glug (I’m gonna have trouble tomorrow morning) you’re right eating some chips might help I’m not usually such a baby but I usually like it milder gulp glug.
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