April 30, 2020--Who Was that Masked Man?

Masked Man?  Clearly not Mike Pence. 

He was maskless at the Mayo Clinic the other day when he and a delegation of Trump administration officials visited to thank doctors for their work on combating the virus.

The Mayo has a firm policy that anyone working there or visiting MUST wear a mask. When Pence showed up without one and declined to use one his hosts offered to provide, they pressed him and he continued to demure, asserting that the masks are to protect people from spreading the virus and since he is not infected (he claimed to be tested "regularly") he didn't need to wear one.  

And didn't. 

His hosts were gracious enough not to turn him away, as I would have.

What conceit, what arrogance. Or was it vanity--that he didn't want to mess up his $500 haircut?

Wondering about this, a panel of guests on Morning Joe Wednesday, searched for an explanation about why Pence insisted on going without a mask.

They came up with all sots of complicated speculation while a simple one was obvious.

It is not just because the person he is making a career out of sucking up to, Trump, also refuses to wear one. Though they both insist on never being seen with one.

Let me suggest a stretch of a comparison to how President Franklin Roosevelt, who was paralyzed from the waist down from polio, did all he could never to reveal the steel braces he needed to wear on his legs.

Doing so was political--FDR wanted to project strength and thus this "cover up."

The last thing Pence and Trump want is to appear fallible. And they do not want to remind voters that there are complicitous in the spread of the coronavirus. Their agenda is to deny its reality and obscure their series of policies that have it much worse, much deadlier.

Wearing a mask would underscore that the pandemic is still very much with us and until and before there are effective treatments, including vaccinations, they are desperate to vamp their way though the crisis by using theatrics, distortions, and lies to cover up their failures.

For them, business as usual.

As Jared Kushner just said, It's a "great success story." 

April 28, 2020--The Andrew Cuomo Show

New York governor Andrew Cuomo is having a moment.

New Yorkers I know who for years have not paid any attention whatsoever to the politics of the Empire State are setting kitchen timers to remind them to tune in to his seven-day-a-week Andrew Cuomo Show about the status of coronavirus and what he has encouraged and ordered us to do to reduce the chances that we will catch it and how to seek help if we do.

Unlike someone we know, he is not recommending Lysol enemas. 

That's some of the point--Cuomo is looking good in part because he is not Donald Trump. He is so outperforming the odious president that comparisons can be painful to watch.

Many have become so cynical that they are wondering if Cuomo is mainly interested in positioning himself to scoop up the Democratic presidential nomination this summer if 77-year-old Joe Biden falters. Or, they suspect, Cuomo may already be thinking about 2024 when he will be only 65. 

But even a glance at Cuomo's record reveals he is more than just the latest political heartthrob who gives good press conference. Though that in itself is welcome.

He record of accomplishment, especially when it comes to big and bold infrastructural projects, is more impressive than that of any recent governor as well as any president since Franklin Roosevelt. Yes, that FDR.

Let me list the top five or six--

In the news yesterday there was a report about the L-Line subway in NYC that runs from the hippest part of the new Brooklyn to Union Square Park in Manhattan. The L's tunnel under the East River was badly damaged by super storm Sandy. For seven years the city struggled to come up with the best way to restore it. The ultimate plan included suspending service for three years and was budgeted to cost upwards of a billion dollars.

Cuomo stepped in, claiming that was too long to wait and too much to spend. He offered an alternative plan that he claimed would take 12 months and cost less than a billion.

He was right. Though the governor was mocked by experts who insisted he was overreaching and didn't know what he was talking about, the L Train will be reopened this week, six months ahead of schedule and $100 million under budget.

And then, after languishing unfinished for many decades, the massive project to extend the Second Avenue Subway, Andrew Cuomo got it back on track (pun intended). Relentlessly pressed by him the work was completed, ahead of schedule and again below budget.

Also, there are two massive bridge projects that he pushed to completion--the replacement of the Tappan Zee Bridge across the Hudson River (now named for his father, former governor, Mario), and in Brooklyn, the replacement of the perpetually traffic-clogged Pulaski Bridge.

Another project that was stalled for decades is the conversion of the 42nd Street post office to a new Penn Station, the nation's busiest railroad terminal. Pressed by the governor, work is finally underway.

Even more remarkable, also talked about for decades, is the replacement of LaGuardia Airport, which then Vice President Joe Biden, not inappropriately, compared to a "third world airport."

To quote Barack Obama, at a time when many wonder if America is any longer capable of doing "big things" in eight years, Andrew Cuomo has demonstrated that with the right leadership we can.

So, if he's running for president, more power to him.  

Mario Cuomo Bridge

April 27, 2020--I'll Have A Double Clorox

You probably know all about this but in case you don't, from the New York Times, here is how our very-stable-genius president is thinking about a cure for the Coronavirus--By having patients ingest bleach or injecting them with disinfectants such as Lysol or Clorox--

President Trump has long pinned his hopes on the powers of sunlight to defeat the Covid-19 virus. He returned to that theme at the White House briefing on Thursday, bringing in a science administrator to back up his assertions and eagerly theorizing about treatments involving the use of household disinfectant that would be dangerous if put inside the body, as well as the power of sunlight and ultraviolet light.

After William N. Bryan, the head of science at the Department of Homeland Security, told the briefing that the agency had tested how sunlight and disinfectants—including bleach and alcohol--can kill the coronavirus on surfaces in as little as 30 seconds, an excited Mr. Trump returned to the lectern.

“Supposing we hit the body with a tremendous--whether it’s ultraviolet or just very powerful light,” Mr. Trump said. “And I think you said that hasn’t been checked, but we’re going to test it?” he added, turning to Mr. Bryan, who had returned to his seat. “And then I said, supposing you brought the light inside the body, either through the skin or some other way.”

Apparently reassured that the tests he was proposing would take place, Mr. Trump then theorized about the possible medical benefits of disinfectants in the fight against the virus.  

“And then I see the disinfectant where it knocks it out in a minute--one minute--and is there a way we can do something like that by injection inside, or almost a cleaning?” he asked. “Because you see it gets in the lungs and it does a tremendous number on the lungs, so it would be interesting to check that.”

Tremendous? Interesting? What more is there to say?

Dr. Birx

April 22, 2020--Our Friend Ken Longe

We had been having coffee at the diner in Bristol, Maine with Ken Longe for the longest time before he began to show inordinate interest in our fireplace.

"You have a fireplace, don't you?" he said.

The first time he asked we didn't pay much attention. We were still sharing growing-up stories--his in Andover, Massachusetts ours in Brooklyn. Though we had been renting a place for the season in Pemaquid and had known Ken for three or four months and a friendship was emerging, there was a lot remaining to share.

"Is it a big one?" He spread his arms to indicate the fireplace's possible width. 

"That's about right," Rona said.

"And does it draw good?" Ken asked.

"Yes," I said, "We can make quite a fire."

We moved on to other subjects. Labor Day was approaching. 

"We're starting to get ready to leave," Rona said. "You know how much there is to do. Though we're just renters and since we've been here three or four months we really got settled in and now have to restore the house to the way we found it."

"It's been cold," Ken said. "Have you been comfortable?

"We have a couple of electric heaters and as I mentioned we get pretty good heat from the fireplace. It warms most of the living room. So we're OK."

"Why then don't you stay a little longer? Though you might not be able to make it all the way to Thanksgiving, it would get to be pretty cold, that would be nice. You could do fine the month of September and even October. It's my favorite time of year. The leaf-peppers show up but otherwise its real quiet. And it's interesting to watch the seasons change."

"Maybe if we come back next year," Rona said. "I wouldn't mind being here to observe that." The house was for sale and we were thinking seriously about trying to buy it.

We drifted on to other subjects. That morning might have been the one when we had our first tentative discussion about political things. It was well before there was Trump to talk about. It was more than ten years ago and Obama was president. From some earlier tentative probings we all knew we weren't on the same page about him and politics more generally. Without discussing it we knew to stay off the subject. At least for a time.

A few mornings later, at about 5:30, with the sun in pastels rising over Johns Bay, with Rona still sleeping and me reading about Abraham Lincoln and the history of slavery in the  U.S., I was startled to hear what sounded like serious thumping on the roadside porch. I thought it must be some large animal. We had seen deer on the water side of the cottage. Could it be that one was wandering around probing to see if there was anything in the vicinity good to eat. 

Or, was it an intruder? We rarely locked any of our doors even when sleeping and so the big-city boy in me tensely began to make plans to scare away or perhaps confront whoever or whatever it was. 

I debated if I should wake Rona and get her to a secure place before dealing with what was going on out there. I made enough noise putting on my pants and shoes to wake her. In an instant she too was alert and on guard. This was not what we wanted to be happening a few days before leaving and while simultaneously negotiating a potential sale price with the owner. 

If we were in some sort of danger there is no way we would be comfortable being in the house, even with the doors locked. We had enough anxiety living in New York's City. We were thinking about the possibility that Maine could be an alternative to that. With someone perhaps about to break into what would be our hideaway house, that sense of refuge was evaporating.

Rona whispered that I should back off and let the situation resolve itself. But recklessly oblivious to the danger, I ignored her, thinking I could scare away the deer or whatever by just making enough noise from inside the house.

So I stomped down the hall to where a window looks out over the front porch. Perhaps I could catch a glimpse of what was going on and raise a protective clamor. 

In the car park area there was an unfamiliar pickup truck. At least it wasn't a bear, I thought, and continued to made enough of a ruckus to be heard outside. I thought, hopefully, that would scare away the intruder. 

Rona in the meantime was moving to dial 911.

With that I saw someone, a tall, slender man in a blue windbreaker, trudging up the front steps. It was still half light and I couldn't make out who it was or what he was carrying. Though it was clearly something quite large.

It was Ken I then realized with a bundle of firewood cradled in his arms.

Relieved, I raced to the front door.

"Ken," I half-shouted, all excited and breathing again, "What are you doing? Let me help you." I saw firewood in the bed of his truck.

He waved me off. "I'm almost done," he said.

"Done with what?" I said.

He had already stacked what looked like half  a cord on the deck and neatly added those he was carrying to the pile.

"The other morning at the diner," he said, "I was asking you about why you were going back to New York so soon."

"I remember that," I said.

"Well you told me you had a big fireplace and I thought if you had enough firewood to keep things cozy you might stay longer." He said this, avoiding eye contact.

"That is incredibly generous," I finally said, "You've been so--" I didn't finish the thought.

"You can help me with the rest of the load," he said. With the two us working side-by-side we were done in five minutes.

"Can I at least get you a you cup of coffee?" I said.

By then Rona had joined us and she gestured toward the house. "I'll have some brewed in a moment."

"Better yet," he said, "Meet me later at the diner and buy me a cup," he winked, "I want to talk about that Obama fellow." 

Some months later, after completing the purchase of the house, when a few of our New York friends asked what motivated us to do so I told them this story. 

Some got it. Others, didn't. It nonetheless is the truth.

Ken Longe

April 20, 2020--My Friend Frank Brecher

We met for the first time when we were both in our ninth decade. 

Not the best arrangement, many would claim, with so little time presumably remaining, to be thinking about making friends. 

For folks our age, likely settled in our ways and beliefs, there is usually not much psychic space left to make the adjustments required for a relationship that seeks to become a friendship. Much less provide the motivation to even consider it.

But Frank Brecher and I quickly discovered that though we in fact were set in many ways, enough of them were complementary and thus what was developing between us might turn out to be deep and substantial.

We grew up on the streets. He in the Bronx, me in Brooklyn. In many ways at the time there were few differences between someone who hung out on the Grand Concourse or on Eastern Parkway. A Jewish kid was a Jewish kid.

Our neighborhoods were middle-class ghettos, rife with street crime but with enough opportunity to make something of one's self. If we were lucky enough to survive. Survive physically, and do well enough in school to make being admitted to college a possibility, with a college education seen as a ticket out, which in both of our cases turned out to be what happened. 

As our friendship developed we discovered that a love of history was a common denominator. Though a Foreign Service officer for decades, Frank was also the author of a half dozen books, including most recently, the highly-regarded Securing American Independence, that focuses on John Jay, a senior diplomat during the Revolutionary War and America's first Chief Justice. And I am a voracious reader of history, wanting to learn all I can from the past about what it means to be American.

But more profoundly, for the few years we shared before he died two days ago from the coronavirus, thinking in friendship terms may not be the best way to consider our relationship.

We became more than friends. Rather, members of an intentional family. We spoke the same meta-language, our instincts were aligned, and over time we became brothers.

April 18, 2020--Fake Virus

I just figured out why so many Trump crazies think the coronavirus is a manmade fake: It looks as if Bill Gets baked it from cookie dough.

April 16, 2020--On Wisconsin

Under the radar, while understandably all attention has been focused on the coronavirus, the presidential campaign is gearing up. 

Trump's rambling press briefings have dominated the news as the death totals soar and the evidence accumulates that he wasted as much as two months denying there was a danger lurking.   

What concerns him is not the pandemic. To Trump that's a distraction from his real agenda--his reelection. It is also a mirror into what's important to him as well as what he fears.

Three things, directly related, terrify him--

(1) He might lose his reelection bid;

Which means (2) he would be vulnerable to criminal prosecution and, if so, could wind up jail; 

Then (3), always on his mind is money. Defending himself would require many millions while the Trump Depression is costing him a fortune in lost income from his real estate and entertainment empire.

No better example of the political trouble he is facing are the results from the recent Wisconsin elections.

For him there were at least two scary outcomes-- 

At the national level, though Wisconsin Republican leaders did all they could to suppress the vote, tens of thousands turned out, many risking their lives while having to wait up to two hours in packed lines to cast their ballots. 

The virus did not deter them nor did the fact that Republican election officials opened just five of nearly 200 historically available statewide venues for in-person voting.

Biden won in a landslide--he received 62.9% of the vote while Sanders attracted just 31.8%. Turnout was high even though a Biden victory was all but certain. 

Between the two candidates nearly 1.0 million votes were cast, about the same number as four years ago when the race between Bernie and Hillary was hotly contested.

This signaled to Trump that Democrats are fired up and willing to assume bodily danger to vote him out.

But, creating much more agita for Trump were the results of the Wisconsin State Supreme Court election.

In spite of a huge infusion of out-of-state money to support his reelection, ultra-conservative judge Daniel Kelly was trounced by more than 10 points by Democrat Jill Karofsky.

Wisconsin may turn out to be 2020's Florida. Whoever carries the state is likely to become president. And with Biden well ahead of Trump in the polls, it is no wonder Trump is unraveling. 

April 14, 2020--AWOL

I've been lazy the last few days but expect to return tomorrow with (optimistic) thoughts about the election. 

April 9, 2020--Birds Behind the Barn

My friend John Allan, from up in Bristol Maine, sent me this after a long call Tuesday morning--

Glad to hear you're settled in and prepared for the duration. 

I've assembled a library of books "to read sometime" and so has Boodie. We're set for months. 

Not set so much on squaring our time with daily news. 

Mask? No mask? Schoolwork for grandchildren or not to worry? 

Hoping I don't forget to listen to the birds behind the barn when the sun rises.

And how about that full moon last night! It was so impressive I took a selfie of me with it over my shoulder in the back field. 

OK, so I'm stretching my desire for some normalcy but can 

you blame me? 

What do I tell these grandkids when they look at me with concern about this unsettling turn of events. I can see the fear in their faces. I wonder, despite offering comforting words of assurance, whether I have won any confidence with them at all. 

So, on a brighter note, the granddaughters and I went to Pemaquid Point Lighthouse after our phone call and collected flat, smooth rocks to paint in cheerful colors which we'll bring back there and hide hoping to surprise and delight someone. You just never know what might bring someone solace and comfort in these crazy times. 

Hope your friend has a successful recovery from surgery. 

Sorry we missed speaking with Rona.

Stay safe.

John

April 8, 2020--Sven Again

George Lindberg sent me this note--

I read to Sven what you posted.   

He listened intently and then took on a rather sullen look.   

He said he was saddened by the thought of living just another eleven years.   

I explained the life of a fruit fly to him and he came back to his old self.   

Now he too has been published.  It’s all relative.

April 7, 2020--A Dog's Life

This came from good friend George Lindberg after I asked how his Labradoodle, Sven, is faring.

Quite well, it appears--

Like you and I Sven is well cared for and all decisions are made for him.   

He owns nothing and thinks “the king has no clothes “ is about him.   

He doesn’t know who Donnie J is and could care less.   

He lives a fairly simple life and pays no taxes.   

Except for a $6 a year license.   

He uses no TP just ambles off into the woods.  Scratches when he itches and licks where he chooses.   

A dog’s life is one to be envious of.   

The down side is if all goes well it may end in fifteen people years.   

I used to be stationed with this old salt from Louisville, KY.  He would too often say-- 

“What you make on the popcorn you lose on the peanuts."   

Stay well and enjoy your extend stress-filled people years.   

You could have been a dog.  

April 3, 2020--Where the Boys Are

As reported in yesterday's New York Times, determined spring breakers are carrying on as usual. 

One quoted had a defiant attitude--

At a time when millions of Americans were hunkered down at home and staying away from school, work and relatives, [that attitude] was embodied by Brady Sluder, a young man on spring break in Miami who declared from a packed beach: “If I get corona, I get corona. At the end of the day, I’m not going to let it stop me from partying.” 

As my friend Al Trescot says--"A lot of people are just plain stupid."

Ft. Lauderdale

April 2, 2020--Cuomo Time

Anyone paying attention knows what Donald Trump did and didn't do to make the COVID-19 pandemic much worse than it would have been if a more competent and compassionate president had been leading the fight to contain it.

We know he sacked most government workers who had expertise about pandemics, claiming they weren't necessary because, grandiosely, he knew all that was needed to take on global epidemics.  

We know that when he could no longer ignore the signs that a pandemic was heading our way he tried to get away with happy talking Americans to distraction, telling then he was on top of things and very soon it would miraculously disappear.

All the while a number of governors, New York's Andrew Cuomo most prominently, were begging for help with supplies, medical equipment, and protective masks and gowns.

To many, Trump was the villain and the governors were adulated, especially Cuomo who has been so visibly on the case that a number of leading Democrats are hoping that a way can be found to nominate him to run against Trump.

I wish that Trump would disappear from the scene later this afternoon. Actually, in half an hour. 

But is it accurate to blame the failed response to the coronavirus to only Trump and his administration?

My view is it's worse than that--there is much more blame to spread around that it even includes governors such as Andrew Cuomo. 

The entire health care system is to blame: presidents, governors, mayors, and especially hospital and health care administrators. Administrators, not the galant staffs.

The federal government, even a competent one, is not exclusively responsible for assuring that hospitals are adequately equipped to take on medical emergencies. 

Do we expect the federal government to be in charge of hospitals' supply of scrubs, face masks, and sterile gloves? Should we expect the central government to make and store enough ventilators to handle everything heath care workers and institutions require to confront an emergency?

There are of course things that the government is best able to do. For example, deploy hospital ships and field hospitals. And perhaps top off emergency supplies when state resources are overwhelmed as they now are.

Isn't it reasonable to expect individual hospitals and state systems to stock at least 50 percent of the supplies and equipment needed to handle a crisis?

Listening to governor Cuomo and his colleagues it sounds as if they see this to be a federal responsibility. That perhaps FEMA should be in charge of it.

This is not the way our health care system is organized. Perhaps it should be. It is not centrally organized and controlled. I suspect Bernie Sanders would make the case that it should be, but to me, when faced with a pandemic, the buck stops a number of places.

April 1, 2020--Fools Day

I'll be back tomorrow with thoughts about NY governor, Andrew Cuomo.

In the meantime, watch out for whoopee cushions.