July 20, 2018--Jack: When No Is Yes

I have been so agitated about Trump's pathetic behavior at the Helsinki summit and then with his attempts to walk back a number of the more outrageous things he said, that I found myself calling Jack to get a few things off my chest.

"I want you to just listen," I said, not even beginning with "Hello."

"You have 15 minutes before my next appointment. So shoot. There I go again with the shooting business." He chuckled at that. I ignored him as I didn't want to get sidetracked into an argument about the Second Amendment.

"Just listen," I said, racing on, "There have been numerous examples of politicians, including presidents, who said stupid things that they or their people subsequently attempted to clean up, to explain away.

"Let me begin with John Kerry when he was running for president in 2004. He was accused, not entirely unfairly by George W. Bush, of being a flip-flopper. The most enduring example was when he tried to have it both ways when it came time to vote for or against a supplemental defense bill that authorized $87 billion for the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq.

"He said, 'I actually did vote for the $87 billion before I voted against it.' Typical John Kerry and so he lost the election.

"Next there's what President Bill Clinton, under oath, said to the grand jury about his affair with Monica Lewinsky. I wrote it down so I can quote him--

"'It depends on what the meaning of the word 'is' is. If the--if he--if 'is' means is and never has been, that is not--that is one thing. If it means there is none, that was a completely true statement. . . Now, if someone had asked me on that day, are you having any kind of sexual relations with Ms. Lewinsky, that is, asked me a question in the present tense, I would have said no. And it would have been completely true."

"I'm running out to time," Jack said, "But thus far I like what you're saying--taking it to those two phonies--Kerry and Clinton."

Again I didn't take the bait and continued--"Now let's turn to your boy. Trump."

"Shoot." I could hear him laughing.


"Trying to wiggle out of what he said about Russian meddling in the 2016 campaign, on his return to Washington from Helsinki, Trump 'clarified' his position on Russian meddling in the election. Again I wrote it down--

Trump now claims he was 'very strong' with Putin on election meddling

Read more

“'I thought it would be obvious, but I would like to clarify just in case it wasn’t. In a key sentence in my remarks, I said the word ‘would’ instead of ‘wouldn’t.’ The sentence should have been: ‘I don’t see any reason why I wouldn’t, or why it wouldn’t be Russia,’ sort of a double negative. So you can put that in, and I think that probably clarifies things pretty good by itself.'

Among other things do you really believe he knows anything about double negatives?" 

Jack didn't say a word. "So here's another one for you. Also about the aftermath of the summit with Putin. This time about the meaning of 'no' and 'yes.'"

"When asked during a Cabinet meeting on Wednesday if he believes Russia is still seeking to meddle in U.S. political affairs, Trump initially answered, 'no,' a remark that led to criticism even from some Republican lawmakers.

After Trump's remarks, White House press secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders again tried to, quote, 'clarify' what Trump was saying 'no' to--she said he meant that he wasn't answering any questions at all, that he wasn't responding to the reporter's question itself."

I took a breath--"This is right out of Orwell's 1984. It's doublethink. And before you say that Trump was only doing the same thing as Kerry and Clinton, let me set you straight about that. Kerry was engaging in political spin and no matter how reprehensible it was for Clinton to have sex with Lewinsky and lie about it, what Trump did was of a higher order of magnitude, or a lower order--he violated his oath of office--he wasn't defending and protecting the Constitution conservatives so cherish. That alone justifies considering impeachment."

"Are you done?" Jack asked, "Because if you are I have one thing to say back to you--an Axios poll just came out out about how voters feel about the Helsinki meeting. The poll focused on the joint press conference that you and your people are all bent out of shape about. Well, 79 percent of Republicans said they approved of Trump's performance. What do you say to that?"

"Two things--they're still drinking the Kool-Aid, and 79 percent, as pathetic as that is, is not the usual 90 approval rating Trump gets from people like you. And further, I'll bet that at least half of these people are OK with the Russians meddling in our elections as long as they were helping Trump get elected."

With that, feeling a bit better, I hung up.

August 15, 2017--Inner Ear: An Audiological Tale (Part 1 of 2)

Dr. Gary Schwartzberg had my hearing aids hooked up to his computer. By doing so he could see if the adjustments he made during my last visit were still functioning properly.

"Looking good," I think he said. Without them in place I resumed lip reading.

"I'm happy to hear that," I said.

"And I can see that since you were here you used them on average 13 hours and six minutes a day." He said that loud enough so that I could hear the details.

"Really?" I said, "That's calculated by and stored in my devices?" I used "devices" since I know that's his preferred way to refer to my hearing aids.

"That's just the beginning of what I can see."

Feeling a little like my devices were a form of Big Brother, concerned about my privacy, I asked, "OK, I can handle it. What other kinds of surveillance is going on?"

"I can see from this that 76 percent of the time you were in quiet environments. Probably reading, writing, hanging out with Rona." Rona smiled at him. "And it looks as if you averaged less than an hour a day watching TV."

"The Trump news all day is driving me crazy."

"I understand that," he said, "I can tell how little you're watching by how often you activated the gizmo I gave you that blue-tooths the TV sound right to your devices. It doesn't look as if you listened to much music either by the looks of this," he was squinting at the screen, "I can also see you were out walking every day. Which I know is a good thing for you." He smiled at me.

"How does the machine know that?"

"You told me you live by the water and I programmed these to reduce the over-amplified sound of the wind and surf. Pretty impressive, right?"  He tipped back in his chair, rocking back and forth, quite proud of himself.

"One more thing," he was grinning, "It looks as if your breakfasts on average lasted almost 90 minutes a day. Probably because you were spending so much time arguing with Jack." He winked.

"You can see that?" I was incredulous, "You know what this sounds like?"

"1984?"

"Since you mentioned it, yes, 1984. To tell you the truth, this is not my favorite thing. I'm not a privacy junkie--in fact, since computing and big-data, I've basically given up on privacy. What we used to think of it no longer exists. I'm living with that. Not that I have an alternative unless I decide to live off the grid."

"Too late for that," Rona said, "Might as well try to make the best of it."

"So, are you telling me," I swiveled my chair so I could look directly at Gary," that these aids or devices, whatever, are like smart phones and computers--everything is stored forever in versions of hard drives?"

"They're not all the same. I think, yes, computers keep your emails forever even if you delete them. Ask Hillary Clinton about that. But for these," he tapped my hearing aids which he was about to reinsert in my ears, "the kind of information they capture and I told you about, is by comparison quite benign. I don't know what to tell you. If you're so uncomfortable about this diagnostic use of the chip capacity in your very high-tech hearing aids, we can move back to something simpler and . . ."

"I can complete the thought for you--'simpler but much less effective.'"

He was happy to hear that I wanted to keep the ones I've grown accustomed to and which have literally changed my life.

"One thing I can assure you is that the specifics of what you're hearing are not captured and retained. I mean . . ." He began to mumble. I could hear that quite well with the devices back in my ears. "I mean, maybe. If only . . . I don't know."

"Don't know what?" I was concerned about him sounding so confused.

He looked away and then uncharacteristically got up from his chair. "I'll be right back," he said, vanishing.

"I wonder what's going on," Rona said, looking concerned. "I mean, he never . . . I mean, he seemed confused. That's not like him."

"I agree," I said. "I wonder if anything I said upset him." We looked at each other and shrugged.

With that he was back.

He sat down, wheeled closer to us, and, lowering his voice, said, "There was this incident."

"Incident?" Rona and I said simultaneously as if in chorus.

"A couple of years ago. With this woman. A client of mine. A wonderful, much older lady. And she was a lady. Very elegant. Very self-confident. I really enjoyed working with her." He paused and again broke off eye contact.

"And?" I said.

"She had the same kind of devices you have. An earlier iteration of them. This was about three, four years ago. So much with technology changes over that amount of time. But they were pretty much like yours--Starkey Muses."

"That's it? That's what has you behaving so weird?" I was confused.

"There's more. Much more. Though she's no longer around." Gary sounded ominous.

"She's no longer around?"

"Like I told you she's quite old. I mean, she was . . ."

"She's dead?"

"Passed."

"And? That's it? I suspect that with your clientele being on the older side--like me," I tired to lighten things up--"this is not an infrequent occurrence. It's happening to me all the time. It feels like half the people I know are . . .  You know. One of these days Rona's going to need to call you to cancel my adjustment appointment. I mean, all my appointments, if you get my drift."

"I get it," he said, "But you'll be around for a long time. How old was you mother when she . . . ?" He trailed off.

"107."

"A good number," he said, sounding distracted, "As I was saying, my client . . . " Again he looked away. At the ceiling this time.

"She passed? She died? However you prefer to put it."

"I know I'm stammering," Gary said, "But what happened was so strange. Even weird."

"Just tell us what happened," Rona said empathetically.

He took a deep breath. "OK. You asked for it. Here goes."

"It's about time," I said, "If you don't get to it soon my hearing aid batteries will die. Sorry. I didn't mean to put it that way.

He smiled. I was glad to see some of the tension had abated.

Gary's story--

Let's call her Mrs. Caldwell. When she first came to see me, and subsequently, she was alone. Almost the first words out of her mouth were to tell me that though she was 87 she didn't think she needed hearing aids. As you know, this is not unusual. She told me she was here because her niece, who was her closest surviving family member, wanted her to be tested.

From the way she carried herself, walked, spoke, and dressed she felt much younger than 87. She was full of energy, as vital a person as I've ever encountered. I knew from just a brief time with her, when she came in for her diagnostic hearing test, that if she chose to become a client, I would enjoy working with her.

The test showed her hearing loses to be modest but were likely, over the next year or so, to worsen; and so my recommendation was for her to get ahead of the curve and not wait until they were absolutely necessary. I was happy that she, without hesitation, said she wanted to proceed and quickly decided on the Starkey Muse type. Like yours.

As you know it takes a few weeks for the devices to arrive and then over two to three months there are the required monthly adjustments. As I had anticipated, she was not only a pleasure to work with but also, getting to know about her life, among the most interesting people I have been fortunate to encounter.

I learned that she was born in England and her father, who was a surgeon and served in the First World War, was also a member of Parliament. Her parents sent her abroad, to America, where there were more educational opportunities for women. After secondary school, which she attended in Boston, she was admitted to and attended Mount Holyoke College, where she was a premed.

She next went to medical school, back in Boston, and though she aspired to be a surgeon in the family tradition--her brother was a neurosurgeon who was killed in the Korean War--it was difficult for woman at that time to be accepted for a surgical residency. So she became a psychiatrist instead and built a successful practice in Cambridge where her husband-to-be at Harvard was a professor of romance languages. By then Mrs. Caldwell considered herself to be an American and in the 1950s became a citizen.

They opted not to have children and, she felt, were a loving and successful couple. They had numerous friends and a rich social life. They were fortunate never to have economic worries and traveled to all seven continents, all the while managed to avoid most of the stress that is normal in major careers and in most relationships. She described them as having a life, as she put it,"Almost too good to be true."

Her husband died suddenly two years before I began working with her. She said he lived to his mid-80s and never spent a day in a hospital. That was true for her as well, she revealed, almost feeling guilty about her good fortune.

I interrupted--"So far nothing sounds weird. She is clearly amazing and blessed, but when does the weirdness begin?"

Gary continued--

Be patient. It is about to be revealed.

Final part tomorrow . . .

Harvard 1950