May 22, 2018--Advice From Eleanor Roosevelt

Obviously written in a hurry so that Jon Meacham, as a scholar, could weigh in indirectly and dispassionately about the threat to American democracy posed by the Trump presidency, the resulting book, The Soul of America: The Battle for Our Better Angels, is at best half satisfying. 

As if it were an extended term paper, where quality and grades are measured by how many quotes and footnotes can be crammed in (we all remember those kinds of assignments), by that standard the book is a success for the Pulitzer Prize winning historian--in 272 pages it includes at least 500 quotations and many hundreds of footnotes. The bibliography is longer than the index.

Weighed on an actual scale, Soul of America earns an A+.

It is about how if we think these times are dangerous, let history show (and Meacham does in a bumpy narrative of stitched-together chapters) that we suffered worse--the Civil War, the Depression, the McCarthy era, isolationism, and the reign of the Ku Klux Klan and Jim Crow among others--and because of our better angels we overcame. 

Message re Donald Trump delivered.

But in case the message is unclear, he ends with advice derived from history about how to resist and act.

For example, Meacham urges Americans not to despair but rather "enter the arena," "resist tribalism," "respect facts and deploy reason," and above all "keep history in mind."

In regard to resisting tribalism he quotes Eleanor Roosevelt, progressive conscience of her husband, Franklin Roosevelt--

Ever practical, Eleanor Roosevelt offered a prescription to guard against tribal self-certitude. "It is not only important but mentally invigorating to discuss political matters with people whose opinions differ radically from one's own. For the same reason, I believe it is a sound idea to attend not only the meetings of one's own party but of the opposition. Find out what people are saying, what they are thinking, what they believe. This is an invaluable check on one's own ideas . . . . If we are to cope intellectually with a changing world, we must be flexible and willing to relinquish opinions that no longer have any bearing on existing conditions."

Meacham adds--"If Mrs. Roosevelt were writing today, she might put it this way: Don't let any single cable network or Twitter feed tell you what to think. Wisdom generally comes from the free exchange of ideas, and there can be no exchange of ideas if everyone on your side already agrees with one another."

April 3, 2018--"How Democracies Die"

In a powerful book of that name, distinguished Harvard professors of government, Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt, worry that the election of Donald Trump is unleashing his and America's totalitarian impulses.

They set their analysis in a comparative context with considerable attention paid to the decline and at times death of democracies in, among other countries, Mussolini's Italy, Hitler's Germany, Peron's Argentina  Chavez's Venezuela,  Pinochet's Chile, Erdogan's Turkey, and Marcos's Philippines.

But the central focus is on the history of threats to democracy in the United States--the Civil War; the post-Reconstruction, Jim Crow era of institutionalized racism; the McCarthy threat; and now Trumpian times.

About America their analysis includes the gathering number of ways Trump is challenging the very notion of democracy itself and how he is systematically undermining it further by exploiting people's fears of the "other" and the internal and external dangers that they see around them, including a rigged electoral system, a corrupt judiciary, an unfettered press, a compromised legislative process, a debasement of our culture, and the political opposition treasonous. 

The book, though comfortably readable, includes a great deal of data to advance its arguments, including some that are unusual, even quirky but metaphorically illuminate the nature of the problem and its near total reach.

From the chapter, "The Unraveling," about our growing polarization--

Consider this extraordinary finding: In 1960, political scientists asked Americans how they would feel if their children married someone who identified with another political party. Four percent of Democrats and five percent of Republicans reported they would be "displeased."  

In 2010, by contrast, 33 percent of Democrats and 49 percent of Republicans reported feeling "somewhat or very unhappy" at the prospect of inter-party marriage. 

Being a Democrat or a Republican has become not just a partisan affiliation but an identity. 

(Iyengar, Sood, and Lelkes, "Affect, Not Ideology: A Social Identity Perspective on Polarization")

None of this will help one sleep at night, but we need to be warned and find ways to resist.

October 2, 2017--Hookers

Rona is getting involved with hooking rugs. A great fall and winter pastime  

On the way home from Bangor, Maine where there was a weekend workshop for hooking aficionados, we wondered about the etymological history of hooker as applied to prostitutes.

We thought maybe it was assigned to street walkers who would hook the arms of the men they were seeking to lure. We couldn't come up with anything else that made much sense and so, since we do not have a smart phone, we looked it up when we were back at the house.

It has quite an interesting and unexpected history.

According to the Urban Dictionary it first appeared during the Civil War when General Joseph Hooker of the Union Army tried to protect his men from venerial disease by recruiting uninfected women and pimping then to his corps of 20,000 men. They were thereafter referred to as "Hooker's girls."

Digging deeper, according to other sources this is not necessarily accurate. 

There is evidence that the term "hooker" was used as early as 1845, well before the War Between the States. It is thus more likely that it derives from the concentration of cheap rum and prostitutes around the shipyards and ferry terminal of the Corlear's Hook area of Manhattan's Lower Eastside in the early to mid 19th century.

Sounds right though I continue to prefer the Urban Dictionary's version.

Corlear's Hook

November 30, 2016--Bereft of Better Angels

From our town in Florida, a close friend called, saying he wanted to talk off the record.

Many of the people we know in Delray are among a dying breed--moderate Republicans. He, on the other hand, is a Democrat and a rather liberal one.

"What's with the off-the-record business?"

"I've been struggling with something that I'm a little embarrassed to talk about. To confess."

"I promise, without your permission, I will not tell anyone what's on your mind."

"Not write about it if I ask you not to?"

"That too. So shoot."

"I've been struggling to understand why this recent election has caused so much anger. How friends and families are being split apart, including any number of people I know who opted not to join their families for Thanksgiving. Something they've never done, including when there have been other divisive elections or during the war in Vietnam which caused great angst and polarization."

"I too know quite a few people who are no longer talking to each other. Including with me!"

"I'm stymied, though I think I'm beginning to figure out some of it."

"I'm listening."

"First, since I know you have been trying to understand the undercurrents that have been affecting so much of our recent politics, I'm curious to hear what you think. Why so many are furious about the results and not willing to talk dispassionately about them. Or, if not moderately, at least civilly."

"I think it's largely because of all the caustic things Trump has said. More than his position on the issues, though some of them are so extreme that many can't force themselves to take them seriously. More, it's because of the horrible, unforgivable things he said about women, Muslims, handicapped people, immigrants, and just yesterday how people who burn the American flag should be jailed for a year and perhaps lose their citizenship. Also . . . "

"These are the obvious reasons," my friend cut me off, "I'm sensing something deeper must be going on to produce so much rage, to propel so many to the point that they won't talk with people with whom they disagree. To end lifelong relationships. Are there examples from history where divisiveness of this kind has been generated?"

"Nothing quite like this," I said, "Though there was the election of Lincoln. Obviously, in the aftermath, the Civil War, things were much more than just divisive. But we're talking slavery. There's nothing thankfully equivalent today. Still, I agree, the level of residual animosity this time is almost unprecedented. So, once more, what do you think is going on that you're embarrassed to even talk privately about?"

"To illustrate, I'll use myself as an example. This, the very confidential part, was triggered by the attack Monday at Ohio State University." He lowered his voice, "How I immediately thought of it as an act of terrorism and suspected before knowing that a Muslim extremist was the perpetrator. And of course that turned out to be true."

"I suspect many, maybe most had similar thoughts. I'll confess that I did and thus wasn't . . ."

"This is just the first layer of what I felt."

"Go on."

"I also thought we should send them all back to where they came from."

"Them?"

"Muslims," he whispered. "I'm ashamed to admit that I felt this way. I like to think about myself as a tolerant person who relishes America's diversity and openness. Look, I myself am the son of immigrants. My parents are from Hungary. They came here as refugees when the Soviet Union had brutal control of their country."

"I know that but I think you're giving yourself too hard a time. In moments of crisis we, all of us, are prone to feel and say things we'd later like to take back."

"Now you're getting to the worst part. I don't want to take these feelings back." He paused to let that sink in, "The crisis such as it was is thankfully over but I still feel the same way. Send them all back."

"I can only imagine how hard it is for you to tell me this."

"What about you? You're OK with our open approach to welcoming refugees, even from countries where large parts of the population may wish us harm?"

It took me a few moments to reply. "If I'm honest in weak moments I have some of the same feelings. I won't call them thoughts. And . . ."

"And that might be among the reasons many are so frustrated and angry. I'm talking now not about the so-called Trump people but liberals like me. . .  and you."

"This feels as if it's heading in an intense direction."

"Well, it is," my friend said, "Because it could be that at least some progressiveness, maybe more than we feel comfortable acknowledging, in their heart-of-hearts agree with some of Trump's most corrosive rhetoric and some of the nasty positions he's staked out, pandering to his base and, worst of all, as I examine my soul, resonating with me and some other seemingly tolerant people as well."

"I haven't thought about this enough," I confessed, "Though some of this rings true. And if it is even only partly true it is very disturbing and something we had better get a handle on. How at least in part most of us share some of these bigoted and nativist feelings. Hum."

"Hum, indeed. And this may explain some of the fierce anger people are feeling about the election. Part of the reason so many are realizing that the differences are irreconcilable is because of how Trump has ripped the scab off of what so many, including some liberals, are feeling deep within themselves--dare I say both of us as well. That they're angry, we're angry in substantial part because of what is being exposed about ourselves to ourselves."

He paused again. "What does feeling this way say about us? Maybe that we're less tolerant than we pride ourselves in being. And this makes us as angry about ourselves as we are with Trump. We are being forced to face the stark reality that we are bereft of better angels."

"Which means," I said, "that many, too many of us have a little bit of Trump hiding inside ourselves." That literally made me nauseous. "If true, though I promised not to tell anyone about this, since I think it's important to grapple with, I want to think about it some more and then maybe write about it."

"Think away, type away," he said. "And be sure to keep your head down."

Ohio State University

January 6, 2015--Snowbriding: Domestic Goddess

"You won't find anything there."

I was looking at the blackboard where breakfast specials were listed. "Why's that?" I asked the fellow sitting at a communal table with half a dozen pals who were clearly regulars at the Lamplighter, reputedly the best place for breakfast in Florence, South Carolina.

"If you look closely, you'll see they're only available Monday through Saturday. I know you haven't had your coffee yet, but today's Sunday." He said this more to his friends than to me and they slapped their considerable thighs in pleasure.

I muttered, "I know that." And then directly to him, trying to be friendly, "So what do you recommend? From what I read about this place I understand they make great biscuits."

"Read about it?' he said, mocking me. "I don't know anyone who'd do that or anyone here who could read what got written." His friends rocked back and forth as he toyed with me. "But to answer you--southern hospitality, you know--anything with country ham. And don't forget the grits. It'll cost you a little more--with the specials they give you a break on the price--but you won't get hurt too bad." He winked at me and grinned.

I rejoined Rona at our booth and told her the country ham was recommended. Looking at the menu she noticed that they served it and an egg on a biscuit. "I think I'll have that. And," she whispered, "It's only $1.90."

"We're not in New York anymore. And look, two eggs, country ham, grits, two biscuits, and coffee or tea, not on the special board, is $5.95."

"Including the coffee?"

I looked at the menu again, "That's right."

Both orders came in a flash and were delicious, Rona, who is an authority on grits declared the Lamplighter's the best she ever had.

Feeling pressure to get on the road--we had quite a distance to cover if we were to get to Ocala, Florida before dark--we asked for the ticket (how they refer to the bill or check in the South) and when it arrived Rona scrutinized it as if there was a problem. "It looks correct, but," she leaned toward me and whispered, "it's less than ten dollars. In fact less than nine. How do they make a living charging so little?"

The place was crowded. "Maybe," I offered, "they make it up in the volume. In nay case I think we pay at the cash register over by the communal table."

We gave it a wide berth and kept my eyes averted, but we weren't able to slip by unnoticed. "You folks live here?" the original fellow asked, obviously knowing from my accent that we were from up North.

"Nice of you to put it that way," Rona said. "That makes us feel welcomed about being here. But, no, we stopped here overnight on our way to Florida and heard this was the best breakfast place in town."

"And?"

"And you were right," I said, "about the country ham and--"

"And grits," Rona said, "About the best I ever had."

The boys at the table exchanged glances and head nods. "Where you from then?"

"From New York," I said.

"The city part of New York?"

"That part."

"Isn't Al Sharpton from there?" he asked, sounding ominous.

I muttered something, feeling eager to pay and get out of town.

"Didn't hear that," he said, twisting his finger in his ear. "Don't hear so good these days. You know, that little fella they put on TV all the time? Sharpton?"

"I think he is," Rona said. I glared at her. "You have a problem with that?"

Before he could answer, thankfully one of his buddies said, "I know someone from up there. He's in the honey business. Sells his honey at, whatcha call it, the green market."

"There's a big one right near where we live," Rona said, "At Union Square."

"That's the place," he said.

"Did you say Union Square?" the first fellow asked, again with a mocking tone. "For the soldiers who came down here during the War of Northern Aggression?"

"The very one," I said, feeling somehow bold. Why not, I thought. What could happen? It was 2015, not 1965, and we weren't in Selma.

"We're your people from?" he asked, sounding less threatening.

"From New York."

"I mean originally."

"Oh, my mother's from Poland and my father's family--"

"From a cabin in a forrest in Poland," Rona added. "But when they got to Ellis Island they changed the family name to Mooney. So she passed for being Irish. Which helped her when she began teaching. The school system at the time was all Irish." I had no idea where all this was coming from. Maybe the caffeine. But though things seemed calmed down still I wanted to pay and leave.

"The Irish, they're the ones built America," he said, again nodding toward his companions. "Then the slaves came and they did nothing."

"Slaves?" I gasped. "Did nothing? I think you got that all backwards and wrong. I mean the Irish--"

"I'm just playin' with you, that's all," he said with the beginnings of a smile.

Taking no chances, I said, "Gotta hit the road. Nice talking to you guys. Really. And thanks again for--"

"Everyone from New York has a beard and wears something black."

"Well I--"

"And has a beautiful women with him," the fellow in a Vietnam Vet cap sitting in a wheelchair at the end of table said with a nod of appreciation.

"Thank you kindly," Rona said, with an emerging South Carolina accent. "We've been married 30 years."

"Thirty-one," I corrected her.

"Thirty, thirty-one," he said, sounding all flirty, Why she don't even look thirty-one."

"That's right nice of you," Rona said.

"A domestic goddess," he gushed, "A regular domestic goddess. You sure are lucky, boy." He meant me.

"S'pose I am," I said. "S'pose I am."

We paid and drove west to get back onto I-95.

"I like that," Rona said after a while. I knew what she was referring to.

April 14, 2013--Beaufort, SC

Today we hope to drive 479 miles to Beaufort, SC, a unique deep-South town that Union troops occupied and held during the entire course of the Civil War. In this they were helped significantly by Harriet Tubman.

When the war began, born onto slavery, she worked for the Union Army, first as a cook and nurse, and later as an armed scout and spy. The first woman to lead an armed expedition in the war, she guided the Combahee River Raid, which liberated more than 700 slaves from plantations near Beaufort.