December 11, 2019--Presidential Obituaries

It is claimed that if a president is impeached it will be mentioned in the first paragraph of his obituary.

Here's what Wiki has to say about Andrew Johnson, the first to be impeached--

"He came into conflict with the Republican-dominated Congress, culminating in impeachment by the House of Representatives. He was acquitted in the Senate by one vote."

And about Richard Nixon--

"A vigorous campaigner for Republican candidates while serving as the nation's 36th vice president from 1953 to 1961, and as a representative and senator from California, he became the only president to resign from the office due to his involvement in the Watergate scandal."

Then, Bill Clinton--

"In 1998, Clinton was impeached by the House of Representatives. The impeachment was based on accusations that Clinton committed perjury and obstruction of justice for the purpose of concealing his affair with Monica Lewinsky, a 22-year-old White House intern. He was acquitted by the Senate and completed his term in office."

This will be true for Donald Trump as his impeachment is all but inevitable.

Even for ahistorical Trump this must be on his mind. How he will be remembered by posterity. And also for senior members of his administration as they too will be remembered this way. Bill Barr, for example, who is his (and I underscore his) Attorney General and all-round lackey.

I have been wondering this week about Barr who is so much in the news. Is this how the erstwhile establish Republican seeks his place in history? Isn't it enough that he is the only American to be named Attorney General by two different presidents--George H.W. Bush and Trump?

Clearly not.

Could it be that he doesn't care because he knows how very few Americans know anything, anything about their country's history?

Clearly he doesn't. It is certain that Trump knows even less.

But still, he, they know something and what will be said about them after they are gone must rankle them.

At least that is my hope.

July 9, 2019--Trump's American History 101

In case you missed it, or perhaps decided to torture yourself by tuning into Trump's July 4th speech surrounded by tanks at the Lincoln Memorial, or perhaps you thought you were hallucinating when you heard him talking about our Revolutionary War airports, let me at least disabuse you of the latter--he did make mention of such airports and so you weren't having a delusional episode.

He in fact said: "Our [Revolutionary] army manned the air, it rammed the ramparts, it took over the airports, it did everything it had to do, and at Fort McHenry, under the rockets red glare, it had nothing but victory."

Oblivious, he mashed up the Revolutionary War, the War of 1812, and the Wright Brothers' first flight nearly a century later.

When Trump learned he had flunked History 101, as usual he blamed the mishap on something other than himself--it was raining and, he said, that knocked out the teleprompter.

To quote him, "I guess the rain knocked it out, but I knew the speech very well. So I was able to do it without a prompter."

About why you may have tuned in, you're on your own, as I confess I am.

But since you may have watched as I did, did you catch the performance of the "Marine Corps Hymn"?

In the background you could see Trump mouthing some of the words. Since I'm good at lipreading I can share with you what he was singing--

From the balls at Mar-a-Lago

To the shops at Tiffany's

I fight the New York Times

On the newsstand and TV

Who cares about rights and freedom

Or our democracy

As long as I don't have to serve

As a United States Marine

September 11, 2015--Friday at the Bristol Diner: Algebra

"Why did we have to spend three years studying the Revolution?" Rona seemed agitated by her own question.

John quipped, "Maybe because it took that long to win the war."

"Actually it took longer," I murmured, "But that still is a good question though I'm sure it didn't literally take three years. You didn't like history in high school and it probably felt like three years."

"They spent at least six months telling us about what kind of clothes people wore at that time. Mainly the women."

"Probably under political-correctness pressure they needed to find something to say about the roles women played. They were likely trying to get the girls in class interested. The boys probably got into the battles and weapons."

"I'm sure they did," Rona grumbled.

"But while we're at it," she continued, "why did they require so much history--American History, World History, Non-Western History?"

"Or for that matter," John joined in, "so much literature--American Lit, English Lit, and . . ."

"And," I added, "don't forget Non-Western Literature."

"Then there was all that science and a foreign language," Rona said, "And I went to a non-traditional high school."

"State requirements. I'm sure that's the answer."

"I'm sure you're right, John, and in addition," Rona said, "Once something gets into the curriculum as a requirement it's hard to dislodge it, assuming anyone wants to. There's a whole infrastructure and industry that surrounds all the academic fields. There are jobs at stake. If they stopped requiring foreign language, what would they do with all the French and Spanish teachers?"

"Make them teach gym," I said. "I mean it. In my high school, they had a surplus of social studies teachers and since they couldn't get rid of them turned them into gym teachers. I'm sure you can imagine how well that worked out."

John was nodding, "True for me as well."

"While we're on the subject, tell me why they require everyone to take at least a year of algebra? I mean, you John are an accountant and own a manufacturing company that makes precision steel products. Do you ever use any algebra in doing people's taxes or in your manufacturing work?"

"Never once," he said. "My memory is half shot but I can't remember one thing, not one thing I learned in algebra. Maybe that equations have to be balanced. But how to do that and why that's important I think escaped me then (if I could only remember) and now--forget about now."

"When I was at the Ford Foundation," I said, "I attended a board meeting of a big deal education foundation. In Cincinnati. The meeting was devoted to how to more effectively teach inner-city kids science and math. There were a lot of good ideas around that table from very high-powered people, including Dick Riley, who was Secretary of Education.

"About a half hour into it, I said, 'I know this is going to sound crazy, but before we talk about how to teach, say, algebra more effectively, maybe we should ask ourselves why we require it of everyone in the first place.'

"All there stared at the table top. I thought, 'Boy, did I blow it. They probably think I am crazy.'"

"So what happened?" John asked.

"No one had a good answer. The dean of the school of ed there said it's partly for exposure. To see which kids gravitate toward math, maybe even have a talent for it."

"'Good point,' the school superintendent said, 'but you know, you really don't have to spend a year frustrating 99 percent of the kids to maybe find one turned on to math. In fact, anyone with math aptitude by the time he or she gets to high school would already know algebra and even calculus. Those kids teach themselves.'"

"So where did things wind up?" John asked.

"Not resolved. No surprise there. It was just too hot a topic, too potentially disruptive even though later that night, after everyone had had a few drinks, pretty much all the board members said we as a nation, as educators should probably talk openly about this because we're turning more kids off than on by requiring so much math and probably other stuff as well."

"Like three years about the Revolution," Rona said under her breath.

"What about civic education?" John added. "Since schooling is a required public enterprise, on which we spend many, many billions, isn't one big justification the preparation of well informed citizens who, because of Civics and American History, can participate more knowledgeably as voters and maybe even as public officials?'

"Excellent point," I said, "That is if it works."

"Works?" Rona exclaimed, "And where does it lead? To Donald TRUMP."

"I'm getting depressed," John said. "Did anyone see Stephen Colbert last night?"

August 21, 2014--Obama's Past Tense

Over lunch with Loraine and Doug, after lots of catch up about family and work and what they've been doing while in Maine, she asked what we've been thinking about Barack Obama. She made a bit of a face which tipped off what she is feeling.

A lifelong progressive and feminist, Loraine in 2008 initially was a fervent supporter of Hillary Clinton's, but during the primaries found Obama's ability to inspire and his position on issues she cared deeply about to be so persuasive that she switched her support and offered her organizational skills to him and his campaign.

"I remember the excitement I felt when he won the nomination," she said now with a sense of sadness. "I found myself screaming with excitement, just like a teenager, and unashamedly and uncontrollably crying with joy."

I confessed that I found myself doing the same at that time and then later when he managed to get elected. If it were possible, when he gained a majority of Electoral College votes, I felt even more elated.

"The promise he represented," I said.

"For me," Loraine said, "it was more than that. It felt unbelievable that someone from his background, his mixed race background, who had spent his childhood in an Islamic country, that Americans could put all that aside and vote for him, to elect him. To me it seemed miraculous."

"It was a miracle," Rona said, "It felt as if America had healed its racial wounds, that we were voting as if to say--no, literally to say--we are one people. That the worst of our past is receding. For the current generation, hopefully, maybe it is fully healed. Wouldn't that be the end of the worst chapter in American history?"

"I felt it was all that," Doug, who is African-American, said.

"I notice," I said, "that we're speaking in the past tense. Or am I wrong? Am I projecting my frustrations with how things have turned out?"

"No, you're right," Loraine sighed.

"So what are you thinking now?" I asked.

"It's still the same miracle," she said, "But . . ." She trailed off.

"You know," Rona said, "we were at a dinner party last month with three other couples, all liberals, all of whom were enthusiastic supporters of Obama's."

"There's that past these again," Loraine said, smiling.

"Well, to the eight of us it was all past tense. No one was still feeling good about him. We as one said . . ." She didn't complete the thought.

"I still feel good about him," Loraine said. "In the present tense."

"I thought you were suggesting disappointment," I said.

"I am disappointed."

"Then I'm confused."

"In historical terms I feel good about him. Actually, still inspired."

"Because?"

"Because of what he represents and what he achieved. Maybe not in the governing arena--where I have become quite disillusioned--but in his very being. That he was able to inspire much of the nation and figure out a way to get elected. Twice. Amazing. Remarkable. Inspiring. But . . ."

"To be fair," Doug interrupted, "They--and you know who I mean--they did everything to thwart him, from day one to bring him down."

"From even before day one," I suggested.

"Right. So how could he have been more effective with all that fierce, bigoted opposition? His honeymoon lasted, what, maybe 15 minutes."

"Less."

"But, to be fair," Loraine offered, "He never figured out how to work with Congress even during the first two years when the Democrats controlled both houses. And, maybe more significant, where he has a lot of independent power, in foreign affairs, what can we say about him that's positive?"

No one said anything. Or had anything to offer.

"But, and it's a big but," Loraine concluded, "we've had other presidents who turned out to be disappointments."

"Many," I said, "Maybe most."

"And so he will probably be ranked by historians among those who have been disappointments. But I want to stay in touch with how I felt. Not to forget that. To continue to feel some measure of joy and inspiration. Our son, who looks like Obama, if you know what I mean," she glanced toward Doug, "for him anything is possible. That wasn't true the day he was born but today, because of Obama's example, it is. That means a lot to him, to me, to you as well," she winked at us, "And, if I may be so bold, to everyone else in this country. Even to those who don't recognize that or hate him. About this, they haven't a clue."