November 26, 2019--Schmoozing At Camp David

The consensus is that the reason all Republican members of Congress are so willing to follow Trump to the edge of the cliff and perhaps over it is because he continues to hold onto the support of his base (perhaps as much as 90 percent of it) in spite of the daily drumbeat of scandals, any one of which would in the case of a "normal" president bring about his impeachment in the House of Representatives and conviction in the Senate. 

And if they found the backbone to chide him he would remember their "disloyalty" and support one of their opponents when it comes to primary time. For these members of Congress, plain and simple, it's all about keeping their seats.

This does explain much of their craven behavior, but in many cases other, more profound forces are at work.

Unlike Barack Obama who hated this part of the job, Trump makes a conscious to invite congressmen to share the perks of his presidency.

He never fails to ask members to fly with him on Air Force One when he is going to a rally in their district. In Washington, he uses access to the Oval Office as an emolument (sorry) with (sorry) quid pro quo implications. He even invites them to the residential floors of the White House for meetings, one of the most private places of any presidency. He also never fails to invite a member or two to join him in (frequent) rounds of golf, including using Mar-a-Lago and one or more of the universe of Trump residences and golf courses as political catnip.

And it has recently been reported that he invites people he is courting for political favors (for example, their votes) to spend a weekend of schmoozing at Camp David, the holiest of holies of presidential hideaways.

Most members of Congress come from middle class lives and have never known anyone like Trump much less had so much access to the gilded presidential life style. 

One can almost see Lindsey Graham salivating as he hangs out with Trump on the second floor of the White House, catching glimpses of the Lincoln Bedroom, or flies around with the president after a round of golf at one of Trump's "international" courses. 

As is evident Graham has lost whatever independence he had during the McCain years and is now fully committed to responding to all of Trump whims no matter how outrageous or humiliating. 

More than anything else, Trump makes him and his colleagues feel important as a result of this political courtship.

For the sake of full discloser I need to confess my own experiences with the Clinton and, later, the Bush presidencies. There may be a few useful takeaways. 

During my Ford Foundation years I worked with senior members of the White House staff (including Clinton himself) on a joint venture designed to help low-income students graduate from high school and enter college. It eventually came to be known as the Gear Up Program.

As part of their efforts to get Ford behind what they were proposing, I was invited to a number of White House sponsored events, including some that were more social than professional. 

I need to admit that I felt more important than I in fact was when I participated in meetings in the Roosevelt Room, the East Room, and even the Cabinet Room. I ate in the White House Mess and was even allowed a peek at the Situation Room. 

More than anything else, I was thrilled to have had a few meetings in the Oval Office where I was encouraged to play with Buddy, Clinton's dog.

I never got to the Residence or Camp David but would have been thrilled to have been invited.

I share this not so much for gossip purposes but to suggest how powerful the presidency in all its aspects is. Not just because he is Commander in Chief but because of the aura, history, and accoutrements of the presidency itself and how easy it is to come under their sway.

As a parvenu, like me born and raised in the outer boroughs of New York City, not in Manhattan, Trump on a gut level understands how wielding this soft, cultural and psychological power can be and he is playing it with perverse brilliance.

October 8, 2019--John Allan: Any Sense At All

John Allan said, "You make me sound smarter than I am."

We were having breakfast together at the Bristol Diner.

"You mean in the blog I wrote last week about Trump's Australian connection?"

"That's the one. I was the one who posed the question that got us going but you put words in my mouth. Not that that upset me. I liked the words and thoughts you assigned to me."

"He does that all the time," Rona chimed in, "He claims it's the way he gets closer to the essence of a situation."

"I didn't make stuff up the other day. You said almost everything I attributed to you."

"'Almost everything?' I'm not sure I see that as journalistic."

"It isn't," I said, "I'm not a journalist. I see myself as an essayist."

"What pray tell is that?" playing with me, John said.

"I know this will sound pompous but I seek the truth in things. Which means I often have to extract it from ambiguous and incomplete information."

"I get that," he said, "So tell me how that worked the other day when we were talking about Australia because it still sounds as if you make stuff up."

"First of all, you're not the best witness as to what was said, what even you yourself said. No one is. I mean about what they say. No one is a human tape recorder, capturing  exactly what they said. And then there are the subtle inferences that are often best communicated via body language and gestures and nods and winks. You're really good at the latter. You're about the best winker and shrugger I know. It's like a private language of yours."

"That makes sense to me, "John said, "And I do like that, but still I'm a little uncomfortable with your methodology. Particularly when it comes to me." He sent me a broad wink.

"Let me tell you a story--"

"Not another story!" This time John didn't wink.

"I know. I can be tedious with some of my stories. But I think you'll like this one. It's about finding truth in discourse. Though putting it this way makes it sound more profound than it is."

"Actually," John said, "this story sounds promising."

"It was told to me by a colleague and friend, Sir Claus Moser, who I worked with in some of the Ford Foundation's work with expanding higher education opportunities for low-income students. He led that effort for Great Britain but before that was head of development for the British Museum and before that was the secretary to the British cabinet. In that role, among other things, he was responsible for preparing the minutes of cabinet meetings."

"Where is this headed?" John asked, "I've got to get to the office."

"I'm almost done," I said. This time Rona rolled her eyes.

"He told me there are three ways to prepare the minutes. 'Since recoding devices weren't allowed, first, you can do your best to capture as precisely as possible exactly what members said. Then, you can do that and add a little editing. For example, to clean up the grammar and syntax. Finally, you can do what I did--write what members would have said if they had any sense at all.'"

"I do like that," John said. "And I take your point. Now I have to get to work."

May 21, 2019--Abortion

Some years ago I had responsibility for the Ford Foundation's work with rural schools.

In the Black Belt communities of Alabama, for example, we funded efforts at the K-12 level to prepare young people who wanted to remain in their hometowns to not just find work locally but to develop the entrepreneurial skills needed to create work opportunities for themselves and their neighbors. 

In one town high school students began a local newspaper that over a couple of years was full of news and local ads. Enough so that five decent-paying jobs were created and those who filled them were able to support themselves and remain in place.

At the community college level, through a multi-state program we called the Rural Community College Initiative (RCCI) we helped colleges and their community partners align courses of study with the needs of local employers while at the same time strengthening the institutions' academic offerings so that those who aspired to earn associate degrees before transferring to four-year colleges had the preparation they needed to complete bachelors degrees in increasing numbers.

Again in Alabama, in Monroeville, at Alabama Southern Community College, with Ford help, the college and its local affiliates saw many more students than in the past receive up-to-date training as well as transfer to four-year colleges.

(One sidebar--Monroeville was the home of Harper Lee and it was a great pleasure for me to have the chance to meet her and spend some time sitting with her on her back porch. Also exciting, she generously gave me a signed copy of To Kill a Mockingbird.)

In addition, while in Alabama, driving from town to town, it was apparent that something else was going on--a battle over abortion rights. 

A battle that culminated last week when the state legislature and governor passed the most draconian antichoice bill in the nation. If implemented it would effectively end the possibility of abortion in the state. 

Back in my day, driving around the Deep South in even stormy weather, at every clinic that offered abortions and women's health services, there was a demonstration underway. All by antiabortion activists.

Women seeking reproductive assistance who were assumed to be arriving for abortions had to run the gauntlet of protesters who shrieked at them, accusing them of being "baby killers."

This went on relentlessly for decades.

One thing I also noticed--little sign of prochoice activists. 

Recalling this, as reproductive rights are under serious attack--perhaps potentially by the newly reconstituted Supreme Court--where are all the passionate defenders of Roe v. Wade? Clearly not engaged in anything comparable. On the ground, all the action is with the so-called pro-life advocates.

I confess to being cynical, but are work and entertainments more important to liberals who support abortion rights but are not involved with marshaling resources to fight back?

Minimally, where are the monthly prochoice mass demonstrations? Again, are we too distracted to organize any?

I know if Roe v. Wade is modified or overturned in the federal courts, abortion supporters self-righteously will express outrage and seek on MSNBC or from the New York Times what to think and how, after it's too late, to respond. 

Distressing to say I do not expect to see many progressives actively engaged beyond a gesture at abortion or Planned Parenthood clinics to help make it easier for women seeking reproductive services.

Too many on the left are better at complaining than getting off their sofas and marching in the rain.

February 8, 2019--Climate

The one thing I am incapable of reading and writing about is the planet's perilously changing climate.

I pride myself on my ability to identify and solve problems. I made a long career doing just that from the City University of New York to New York University to the Ford Foundation.

But about the climate I able to offer only a sense of hopeless despair. No solutions. Therefore, I run from the subject.

Not proud of myself, I have difficulty following or participating in global warming discussions. I confess this means I've given up hope that there are ways to bring about meaningful remediation. Though I know it is critical that we urgently do all we can to try.

What can one think, more, what can one do when greeted as readers were two days ago by a headline and story in the "New York Times" that the "'Climate Crisis' May Melt Most Himalayan Glaciers by 2100"?

I ignored my own practice of running from the subject and read how at least a third of these glaciers will melt by the end of the century, even "if the world's most ambitious climate change targets are met."

If these goals are not met (and most experts agree this seems likely) by 2100 the world's highest mountain range will lose two-thirds of its glaciers.

This would mean that the Himalayas could heat up by 8 degrees Fahrenheit by century's end, bringing "radical disruptions to the food and water supplies, and mass population displacement."

"Normal" Himalayan glacier melt, I read, provides water to about a quarter of the world's population.

And then yesterday, the "Times" in an above-the-fold front-page graph and story about rising global temperatures, reported that 2018 was the fourth hottest year since 1880.

Though I will be long gone, all I can think about is what kind of a world I am participating in bequeathing to my one-year-old niece. 

February 6, 2019--State of the Union: El Paso

During the 1990s, when with the Ford Foundation, I spent many days in El Paso working with the school district and the University of El Paso to fund their efforts to help more students than in the past enter and complete college.

I loved visiting. I enjoyed the diversity of the people and their energy. It felt as if the city had a sense of purpose and proudly was going about the business of improving the lives of all its citizens. Very much including those who crossed the border daily to work or go to school.

After my work day was over I wandered about the city looking for new places to visit and eat. Never once did I feel the sense of threat there that Trump talked about last night in the State of the Union address. And so this morning when I saw what the New York Times' fact-checkers said about El Paso I was not surprised. I quote what they wrote in its entirety--

Trump claimed--

“The border city of El Paso, Tex., used to have extremely high rates of violent crime — one of the highest in the entire country, and considered one of our nation’s most dangerous cities. Now, immediately upon its building, with a powerful barrier in place, El Paso is one of the safest cities in our country.” 

This is false--

El Paso was never one of the most dangerous cities in the United States, and crime has been declining in cities across the country — not just El Paso — for reasons that have nothing to do with border fencing. In 2008, before border barriers had been completed in El Paso, the city had the second-lowest violent crime rate among more than 20 similarly sized cities. In 2010, after the fencing went up, it held that place.

July 24, 2018--Pussyfoot

Recently I have been having dreams that take place at my last employer, the Ford Foundation.

Night after night I am being drawn back to the building on 43rd Street, mainly to meetings for which I am embarrassingly unprepared. Sometimes, to humiliate myself further, I show up for these meetings in my pajamas, or less.

In a dream from late last week, I was again at a meeting, this one I initiated and at it were the foundation's president and her most senior Vice President and my favorite colleague, Barry Gaberman. Unusually, this time I was fully dressed and I thought, for once, in command of the situation.

Knowing I was eager to share some insights about the foundation's function and was having difficulty gathering my thoughts and forming my words, to be helpful, calmly, Barry said--

"You're beating around the bush.
Get it off your chest.

Say what's on your mind.
No need to pussyfoot."

In spite of his help and, I never did manage to share my ideas coherently, but this time Barry did what he could to help me work my way through it. That alone offered some measure of consolation.

After waking, reviewing the dream material in an attempt yet again to understand why I continue to be obsessed with the Ford Foundation, I was struck by the series of idioms as the dream's scriptwriter I assigned to Barry. Wondering about their linguistic history I did a little research--

Beating around the bush seemed obvious--what porters and servants do with sticks to flush out from their hiding places animals hunters hope to shoot. Its first appearance is thought to have been from the Middle Ages.

Get it off your chest is not as vivid but from the 18th century on there have accrued a number of idioms that are derived from physiological sources. Having a lump in one's throat is an example. To get something (a weight) off one's chest first appeared in 1902. And then there is the all-too-familiar having something weighing on one's mind. Clearly, the source of many dreams. Which brings us close to the origin of getting something off one's chest. Again, something heavy. And why not consider to have half a mind to ___ and in the back of one's mind, to be of one mind, and the more recent, psychedelic, blow one's mind.

Most interesting by far of Barry Gaberman's stream of idioms is pussyfooting.

In this Trumpian Stone Age I could only imagine its source but was relieved to learn that it has a benign though unexpected origin.

William Eugene "Pussyfoot" Johnson (1862-1945) was an American Prohibition advocate and law enforcement officer. In the Oklahoma Territory, in pursuit of his campaign to outlaw booze, he went undercover, posing as a habitué of saloons in order to collect information against their owners. And, likely, a shot or two. 

He gained the nickname "Pussyfoot" due to his cat-like stealth while tracking down suspects.

Isn't our language wonderful! At least I'm getting something from all these sleep-depriving dreams.

April 5, 2018--My Martin Luther King Story

Fifty yeas ago last night I was a junior faculty member at Queens College in New York City and one of my classes scheduled for that evening was an interdisciplinary seminar in literature and the arts for a carefully selected group of community leaders, mainly adults from the black ghetto of Jamaica, Queens. This meant that all 25 of the students in the class were African American.

We were well into a discussion about Jonathan Swift when a late-arriving student, Alan Jenkins, burst into the classroom.

Struggling to catch his breath, he finally gasped, "He's been shot," as if we knew who the "he" was. Sensing this, he added, "Martin. Martin Luther King. In Memphis."

"Is he . . . ?"

"I don't know. I was driving here and on the radio heard the report about the shooting. But not about his condition."

By then many of the students were quietly sobbing.  From their experience they knew the news would turn out to be devastating. It would not be that he was "just" shot. They had lived too long with violence in their lives to not immediately sense the truth.

A number of the students held hands and, kneeling, prayed. Others, clinging to each other, softly began to sing, including psalms and the civil rights anthem, "We Shall Overcome."

Grieving, supporting myself on the lectern, feeling estranged, denying what was occurring, I tried to convince myself that if I behaved "normally," got us back to Swift, reality itself would revert to where it had been only minutes before when we had talked together, dispassionately, about Gulliver.  

Then slowly it occurred to me I was the only white person in the room. I am not sure from where that feeling originated. It was not quite from feeling danger, but something close to that. Some primal recidivism close to tribalism, some self-protective reflex wired in my DNA. 

"Do you think you might drive me home?" Whispering was the most academically promising of my students, Nellie McKay.

By then Alan had come back from listening to the radio in his car. He trembled as he told us that it was over. King was dead. Shot down on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel in Memphis. The news, he said, was now turning to reports from inner cities across the country. Dozens were already in flames, stores and houses were set on fire by rampaging street gangs crazed with rage and fear.

"I'm afraid," Nellie said, "And about you . . . I don't think it's safe for you . . . to be driving home alone . . . the only . . . person in the area."

She meant white person. She asked me to drive her home not so much because of her fear but because she was concerned about me. White people out and about, well after dark, on the evening Martin Luther King was assassinated, would, she felt, not be safe. Being in the car with me would give me a margin of safety. She knew from inner-city uprisings during the previous few years that some white car and truck drivers had been ripped from their vehicles, beaten and even killed, as the riots spiraled out of control.

Opting to think less about myself I tried to concentrate on how I might provide safety for her--she commuted to the college by local buses. 

By then all the other students in ones and twos had departed. Nellie and I were the only ones remaining and we walked to the parking lot, clinging to each other.

In my car, a conspicuously yellow Opal, we headed south, needing to drive through segregated Jamaica, out toward where she lived in an integrated neighborhood near the bay.

Buildings were on fire all along the way. As I slowed to stop for a red light Nellie told me to ignore it, to keep moving, as it would be unsafe if we stopped.

To distract me from the news crackling on the radio she told me about her dreams--for her teenage son, it meat helping him get though his adolescence intact. By that she meant alive, out of the clutches and demands of violent street gangs. He was very bright, she said, but was already showing signs of succumbing to the allure of street life.

"I'm thinking of sending him to live with my mother, in Mississippi. Believe it or not, it's safer there. Even with Jim Crow."

"And what about you? You're a terrific student. Especially of literature. Are you thinking . . . ? We heard gunshots and saw a car a block ahead of us burst into flames and explode when the fire reached the gas tank.

"Turn that way," Nellie instructed me. "Quickly. Down there," she pointed to a one-way street where we would have to drive into oncoming traffic. "I know it's a one-way against us but it takes us to what I'm sure will be a safer route."

I followed her directions and at the end of one block we came to a cross street of abandoned houses and undeveloped lots where there were no signs of life or disorder. I began to breath more normally. 

"I am thinking about graduate school," Nellie said, resuming her story as if nothing unusual was happening, "Perhaps even working on a PhD. I know I'm a little old for that, but it's my dream. To be like you. A college professor." She smiled.

"We're getting close," she continued. "You are welcome to stay with me. But I know you live in Brooklyn and are married. Your wife will be worried about you."

I almost told her our marriage was on the rocks and that I would prefer to stay with her. But those emotions, if we survived, were perhaps for another day. 

At her house I got out to open her car door and, on the sidewalk, sobbing, we embraced for what felt like not enough time. As if we would not see each other again. That we were saying goodbye forever.

"We'll be all right," she said. "America will recover and be all right. You will be all right. And so will I."

With that she ran to the steps that led to her house and disappeared behind her aluminum front door.

I got home safely and the following week classes resumed. We all knew we were living in a changed America. Two months later Bobby Kennedy was assassinated. Swift and Jane Austen lost some of their importance.

Nellie's son did well, eventually becoming a social worker, and after Queens College, Nellie pursued her dream. She was admitted to graduate school at Harvard where she eventually earned her doctorate. After Harvard, Nellie began a distinguished career as a professor of English and Women's Studies at the University of Wisconsin.

I reencountered her when she approached the Ford Foundation, seeking a grant to support her work. I was happy to be able to assist. 

Nellie McKay, at only 76, died in 2006.

June 30, 3017--Lady of Forest Trace

Two days ago would have been my mother's 109th birthday. Tomorrow is the second anniversary of her death.

My emotions this week have been saturated with thoughts of her. And memories. Memories including  her days as an elementary school teacher. She was from that generation of great teachers, talented women for whom teaching was one of the few available professional paths. Those of us who were among their students were more than fortunate.

I know I am not objective, but she stood out even among her remarkable colleagues. Even today I am frequently asked by someone about my age who learns my unusual last name if I am, perhaps, related to Ray Zwerling. Ray Zwerling, who was their first grade teacher, they tell me, and who through her gifts and caring changed their lives.

Mine was affected as well. Daily. Even today.

And now, with her no longer here, in reflection and advancing age, I am reminded about one of her stories. How in her day, if a women became pregnant, she was required to reveal that to her principal (all men) and immediately go on maternity leave.

I have been rereading this week Howard Zinn's People's History of the United States, a progressive alternative to the rosy history we all were taught in public school. In the 13th chapter, "The Socialist Challenge," he turns attention to the limited role of women as late as the early 20th century. To illustrate, he quotes from a year 1900 list of "Rules for Female Teachers" posted by a school district in Massachusetts. A list my mother likely still largely found to be enforced when she began to teach in Brooklyn in the early 1930s--

1. Do not get married. [She married shortly after she began to teach.]
2. Do not leave town without permission of the school board.
3. Do not keep company with men. [I know she ignored this one!]
4. Be home between the hours of 8 P.M. and 6 A.M. [Ditto.]
5. Do not loiter downtown in ice cream stores. [Another rule I am certain she ignored--ice cream was one of her passions.]
6. Do not smoke. [She smoked Chesterfields.]
7. Do not get into a carriage with any man except your father or brother.
8. Do not dress in bright clothes. [She loved bright clothes.]
9. Do not dye your hair. [She did so in the late 1940s when my brother asked, as her hair began to turn gray, if she was "going to die soon."]
10. Do not wear any dress more than two inches above the ankle.

The constitutional amendment that gave women the right to vote was ratified in 1920 when she was 12 years old.

When I left the Ford Foundation, in my farewell comments, I said the reason I became an educator was so I could help all children have my mother for a teacher. If only that could be.

Mom at 102

December 8, 2016--Voices From Rural America

When looking at the electoral map of the results from the recent election, with Republican counties in red and Democratic ones blue, pretty much all of America looks bloody.

One has to look hard to find what are in effect blue enclaves. Enclaves mainly along both coasts that represent cities such as New York and San Francisco, but in addition places here and there in the middle of the country such as Ann Arbor or Louisville that are also college towns.

This also encourages urban liberals to feel that it's mainly smart, well-educated people who are wisely Democrats. As for the others living in Red-State America, so much the worse for them. What do they know about cappuccinos?

From reporting in yesterday's New York Times, it appears that this rural-urban split is also common in many places in Europe.

From, "Like Trump, Europe's Populists Ride a Wave of Rural Discontent to Victory"--

"The elites in the city are detached from reality," said Joszef Grochowski, a lifelong village resident and mayor [of Kulesze Koscielne, Poland]. "They no longer understand the needs of ordinary people." 

Populist, anti-establishment parties are now on the move in Europe. If they are far from homogeneous, these parties share common ground in their core constituencies--rural voters. Just as Donald J. Trump rolled up a big rural vote in his unexpected presidential victory, Europe's populists are rising by tapping into discontent in the countryside and exploiting rural resentments against urban residents viewed as elites.

This not-understanding-the-needs-of-ordinary-people reminded me of how I was more than prone to that in my early years at the Ford Foundation. And, who knows, perhaps even to toady.

Ford had a program called the Rural Community College Initiative (RCCI) that focused on the educational and community development needs of 24 of America's "most distressed" counties. From some in the Black Belt in Alabama to various counties in Appalachia, to others along the Texas-Mexican border, to schools and colleges on Indian reservations. We made large grants to address these needs and arranged for frequent convenings of college and community leaders so that they could share experiences and learn from each other's efforts.

At one such convening in Uvalde, Texas, about two years into the RCCI, after we all had dinner and more than a few drinks, I made a presentation before the gathered minions about "distressed counties" and how Ford's good efforts were all devoted to helping their communities enhance their assets. Familiar Ford and RCCI stuff.

After about 20 minutes of my rattling on, slouching in the back row was Joe McDonald, founder and president of Salish Kootenai College in Pablo, Montana. Joe and I had known each other for years and worked together on this and other initiatives that were devoted to helping the establishment and development of tribally-controlled colleges. And so I recognized that slump and from it knew I was about to get the business. As indeed I did--

"You guys from Ford keep talking about 'distressed' this, 'distressed' that. And how our counties and reservations are 'impoverished.' Some of the fellas and I have been talkin' about that. And to tell you the truth, we don't like it. We're not distressed and not impoverished."

"But," I interjected, "If you look at the Commerce Department's county-by-county map of the country, the 24 of you represented here are from among the most impoverished. I wish it were otherwise, but unfortunately it's the truth."

Those words coming out of my mouth didn't feel all that good.

"We go back a long ways," Joe said, "And we've always been straight with each other." I nodded. "It's true we may be poor by economic measures but we're rich, very rich in other ways."

"I'm listening," I said.

"In some places in natural resources but in all cases in history and culture. My people, for example, have lived and survived in this area for quite a few thousand years. With all due respect many more years than your people. Even more years than your Ford partner there whose family I know came over on the Mayflower." He winked at her.

"It's true, they really did."

"So we like to think of ourselves in ways different than you guys and the Department of Commerce do. It's not that we don't want your help, including your money which we can really use, but to be honest with you both we don't want to hear too much more about being distressed and impoverished. We know about that but we want you to know about the other side of the picture. Our history, culture, traditions, and family and community strengths."

Silence filled the room. My Ford partner and I knew they were right. From our eastern-elite vantage point, we had not shown enough respect for the lives they were living or the things they had achieved. That it's not all about educational attainment and one's financial balance sheet.

"We've got big problems." Joe concluded, "and with your help we want to fix them best we can. But at the end of the day, we feel pretty good about ourselves and what we and our people have achieved against great odds."

That evening changed my life.

August 8, 2016--A Hillary Story

The Trump campaign, actually Trump himself is imploding.

He could get away during the GOP primary season with calling John McCain's heroism into question (it was written off by his people as refreshingly incorrect), but now in the general election he shot himself in both feet when he repeatedly made gratuitous and disparaging comments about the parents of Capt. Humayun Khan, an American Muslim who in Iraq saved his comrades when he took the full blast of an insurgent's suicide bomb, giving up his life in the process.

This unforgivable transgression plus the good vibes that ultimately emanated from the Democratic convention has propelled Hillary to a commanding seven to 10 point lead. Political savants from Joe Scarborough to David Plouffe have pronounced the election effectively over. To them and others, the only remaining question is how big Hillary Clinton's landslide will be and will it be overwhelming enough to enable sufficient Democrats to ride her coattails and thereby retake the Senate and maybe even the House.

I suppose there is one other remaining question--whether or not WikiLeaks has more compromising Clinton emails and phone logs to dump into the news feed that are so damaging as to derail her candidacy.

Even if they do, we may be at a point not unlike where we were seven months ago when Trump boasted that he could shoot someone on Fifth Avenue and his people would still vote for him. Now, even if Hillary is conclusively shown to have knowingly passed along top-secret information, her people will still vote for her. As much as anything else to vote against Trump.

I am trying hard to get with the program--I will of course vote for her but still not with any enthusiasm. To me she is corrupt in significant ways and a cut-from-the mold establishment politician beholden to big-money special interests. This would make it hard for me to support her if she were running against . . .

But there's my problem--I can't come up with a plausible alternative. So Hillary for me it is.

In an effort to feel better about her, and to convince a wavering very conservative friend to vote for her, the other morning over coffee I told him "my" Hillary story. As much to push him along as to convince myself she is better than I think she is.

The story goes back to 2005, when she was New York Senator Clinton and I was senior director for Education, Media, Arts and Culture at the Ford Foundation.

The foundation was funding a school-reform project in Roosevelt, Long Island, the state's lowest-performing school district. It is small with one high school and a feeder system of about a dozen elementary and middle schools. Academic performance was unacceptably low and thus progress from one level to another was such that only a few students graduated from high school and of them just four or five athletes each year entered college.

Our project was to work with all the schools and teachers in the district to bring about improved, coordinated instructional methods especially in reading, language skills, math, and science. We made an upfront commitment to parents and their children when they entered first grade that if they progressed satisfactorily from grade-to-grade and graduated from high school on time, four years of college scholarships would be waiting for each of them.

Senator Clinton learned about Project GRAD and contacted Ford, indicating that she believed in the effort and wanted to consider becoming involved. I suggested that she might want to visit Roosevelt's schools, to get a "before picture."

And so for the first time, the senator visited Roosevelt, a de facto segregated town that for decades had been where Long Island's wealthy townships, not wanting them in their midst, provided low cost housing for welfare recipients. Some said "dumped" them there. It was a godforsaken place with a  small, boarded-up downtown where it felt dangerous to wander.

On her first visit, Clinton, without entourage or press, spent nearly two hours in Roosevelt's schools. At the high school, the principal and I walked her about. She was mobbed in the hallways when classes changed and was eager to talk to and hug students who were drawn to her. She wanted to know what life was like in Roosevelt ("scary," I remember one sophomore girl saying) and in the high school ("going nowhere," one seemingly depressed one junior reported).

On the second floor, the corridors were quiet. It looked as if half the classrooms were not in use. "Why is that?" Clinton asked, "Classrooms on the first floor seem completely full."

The principal said that that was because the science labs were on the second floor.

"Don't the children take lab science?" the senator asked.

"Well, they do, but the labs here are not functional. They have no power, no running water, no gas for bunsen burners."

"But doesn't the state require that to earn an academic diploma students are required to take three years of lab science? Meaning that the lab component is required?"

"Yes, that's true but we have a way to deal with that," the principal, smiling said. "Once a week we bus our science students to one of the Great Neck high schools where they observe Great Neck students doing lab experiments. We certify this as fulfilling the lab requirement."

I could see that learning about this did not please the senator, but she remained silent.

Later that day, still thinking about how humiliating it must be for Roosevelt students to have to satisfy their lab requirements by observing white, affluent kids in Great Neck, she pulled me aside and with a heavy heart, said--"I want to be involved. I want to see if you can get Ford to expand its involvement. I'll help raise money for the college scholarships, but the next time I'm back here--and I will be back--I want to see those labs up and running. I want you, Steve, to get the money for that from the foundation."

"This is perfect," I said. "As the result of your involvement we will expand our commitment; but, I need to tell you, the foundation does not make grants to fund facilities. So Ford wouldn't be able to pay to fix the labs. Maybe we could . . ."

"I know the president of the foundation, and I'm willing to call him to see if in this case an exception might be made."

I stammered, "Whatever you say. You're the senator."

She gave me one of her signature laughs and said, "Don't worry. I won't get you in trouble with Frank."

As a result of her call, more money from Ford was forthcoming and I was able to add $100,000 to the grant to make the labs functional.

About six months later I received a call directly from Senator Clinton, "Steve. It's time for me to pay another visit to Roosevelt. Can you meet me there next Thursday? On the second floor," she paused for emphasis, "To check out the labs."

"Well, I . . ."

"At 2:00," she said and hung up.

The work on the laboratory renovations was behind schedule, as almost everything was in Roosevelt, so I called the mayor and district superintendent and told them the senator was coming in ten days and by then everything needed to be completed.

I held my breath but come a week from Thursday when we met at the high school, on the second floor, all was in working condition, including the bunsen burners. Senator Clinton told the beaming principal that when she comes back in the fall she expected to see all three labs in use.

They were.

And then eight months later, Hillary Clinton, again accompanied by just one aide and a Secret Service agent, returned to the high school to participate in the graduation ceremonies. After just a year and a half of Project GRAD the graduation rate had about doubled and nearly a third of the graduates were on their way to college with the scholarships that'd been set aside for them.

I told this story the other morning to a very conservative friend, who, though rapidly becoming disenchanted with Donald Trump, was far from willing to even consider voting for Clinton.

But Rona asked him, "So what do you think?"

"This morning I learned a lot of new things about her." He was reluctant to speak Clinton's name. "I have a lot to think about."

July 5, 2016--Alison Bernstein

Alison Bernstein, my prodigious colleague and friend died last week. Below is a note I sent to her daughters--

Dear Emma & Julia

Here's a story about your mother from nearly 50 years ago.

It was 1969 or so and I was working at Staten Island Community College in the backwaters of higher education. The backwaters because in, traditional higher education terms, in status terms, it was doubly-challenged: it was a community college and located on very conservative Staten Island. In effect--nowhere and nothing special.

But, the president of SICC (SICK, students dubbed it), William Birenbaum, was an inspired and inspiring educator totally devoted to the purported mission of urban community colleges--for the disenfranchised to make access to a quality education welcoming and effective. 

On Staten Island, the local leadership saw the college as a version of a trade school where the male students should take business courses and the women study to be either nurses or secretaries--the college's two most popular programs.

Bill rounded up a crew of progressive educators to help him, as he put it, break some windows to enable new, more egalitarian ideas flourish. As you might imagine he was not a favorite of the Staten Island Italian Club who effectively ran the island. But Bill, if nothing else, was ambitious and persistent. So he hired "Flash" (a former dock worker and union organizer), a bunch of Vietnam veterans, one or two scholar-activists (Stanley Aronowitz and Colin Greer), diversity activists Joe Harris and Ernesto Loperena, me, and the very young Alison, a newly-minted Vassar graduate.

How did Bill find his unlikely way to Alison? How did she make her unlikely way to him and godforsaken Staten Island?

While at Vassar, Alison was involved in pressing the administration to place students on the board of trustees. She and her coconspirators wanted it to be 50-50, with 50 percent student members, but they settled for one seat, which Alsion of course occupied.

Alison being Alison, she immediately took the lead to establish a national organization for student trustees. In that era of social protest many colleges were adding students to their boards.

And with such an organization in place, again Alison being Alison, she organized a national conference of student trustees. To the second or third annual conference--during Alison's senior year--she invited Bill Birenbaum to be the keynote speaker.

He accepted in less than a heartbeat and showed up in Chicago, or wherever, roaring drunk. (We later learned we would find him in that condition by 4:30 every afternoon.)

Even when high, perhaps especially when inebriated, Bill was brilliant. In his speech, as he would put it, he did his thing. And after he was done--I wasn't there but heard he was at top of his game--he invited Alison and the rest of the organization's executive leadership to go out for drinks.

He carried on for hours over many glasses of Dewar's, his favorite. 

He was especially attracted to Alison (I feel certain in more ways than one.) Well past midnight, when all but Bill and Alison remained standing. Literally. To her he said something like the following--

"You say you want to participate in making a revolution. I respect that. In fact, I endorse it. But you can't do it at Vassar. That place is for rich kids. For the over-privileged, like you, who want to play at bringing about radical change. If you want to make a revolution in education there's no better place to do so than at two-year colleges. At mine. That's where the action in. So, if you're serious, it's time for you to shit or get off the pot."

"I want to, I want to," Alison said with her heart pounding in her chest.

"In that case, with you graduating soon, if you really are serious, which I doubt, I will hire you to be a secial presidential assistant and from that position you will be able to find things to do to help bring about social change."

"I'll be there," Alison said.

Bill said, "I will hold an office for you only until July 1st."

And the rest is history.

Not mentioned thus far in any of the many notes and testimonies or the president of the Ford Foundation's otherwise fine tribute, is Alsion's work with community colleges. 

After her time at SICC, when at the Fund For the Improvement of Post-Secondary Education (also insufficiently mentioned), Alison began a nearly 30-year deep involvement with community colleges. First from her position at FIPSE in the Department of Education and later during her two assignments at the Ford Foundation. 

With the support and encouragement of Susan Berresford, The Urban Community College Transfer Opportunity Program, which Alison conceptualized and ran, was mold breaking. Thousands of students who didn't have a friend in philanthropy, benefitted mightily by the work that Alison pioneered, advocated, and protected. It wasn't sexy like a lot of other philanthropic work, but it made a measurable difference in the lives of many.

Back in 1969, she showed up at SICC before July 1st and got off that metaphorical pot. From then on, for decades she lived and thrived and inspired.

That was a magical time of great accomplishment.

I loved her very much.
In more ways than one.

Steven

December 10, 2015--Islamic Eschatology: "The Blessed Invasion"

About 15 years ago, at a Ford Foundation meeting where I was serving as a senior director, because our new president wanted to shift some of the foundation's emphasis to cultural grantmaking that would include funding organizations devoted to religious tolerance and interfaith projects, senior staff gathered to discuss what that meant and how we should proceed.

For me it turned out to be a life-altering experience.

One staff member who attended was a Pakistani-born and raised colleague who, after hearing the rest of us flounder for half a day, struggling with how to think about our new president's challenge, out of exasperation with us, she said--

"The problem is that all of you are liberals and liberals look back to the Enlightenment for guidance on how to think about the world and its problems. You all believe that there are rational solutions to every problem. In fact, you abjure anything that isn't rational or evidence-based. Thus you are uncomfortable with much that has to do with the power of culture, especially belief systems, religions, that are not strictly speaking rational.

"In fact, they are decidedly not rational nor fact-based. None of them are. They are about belief. Derived from that. And thus you do not know how to respond to our new CEO's mandate--that we pay more attention to the power of culture as it shapes peoples' lives, again, especially how religious beliefs affect behavior. Even, perhaps especially behavior that doesn't make sense if viewed through only an Enlightenment lens."

The room grew hushed. None of us, very much including me, knew what to think, how to respond, most important what to do.

And over the next few years of funding cultural institutions and organizations devoted to religious diversity, very little that we supported had much impact.

Retrospectively, we funded groups that were pushing against the mainstream, against orthodoxies mainly in the Middle East, orthodoxies that limited diversity of thought and practice. We supported, for example, groups that were fighting for more gender equality within powerful religious institutions. But to them, not unlike how our government's interventions in the Muslim world are meeting with such fierce resistance, the organizations we funded may have done more unintended harm than good.

From an Enlightenment perspective, which still guided the foundation's work, we thought that all we needed to do was raise social justice issues and religious leaders would quickly see the light (pun intended) and embark upon campaigns of reform.

In fact, history is showing that various forms of Western intervention--from the cultural to governmental to military--most often contribute to the problem.

Out of arrogance, ignoring history, we may have caused harm with the best of intentions.

Thus, from that, for me, fateful meeting and our largely failed grantmaking, I have become convinced that national and ethnic and tribal culture derived from religious beliefs (from the arts to language to gender relations to governance structures) are more powerful than any other social force. Economics very much included.

In fact, people in the Islamic world (and for that matter, the rest of us) are not just longing to have access to Western consumer goods, Hollywood movies, rock and roll or, as too many of us back in the day metaphorically and literally thought, MTV.

Many, perhaps most reject the blandishments of the West--things that objectively-speaking would "improve" their lives--because belief systems and cultural practices teach them otherwise.

Thus, the power of culture and religion. Something my colleagues and I never fully came to understand.

Since that time I have attempted to learn more about belief systems, especially those that are so powerful and influential that they cause people frequently to act in ways that seemingly contribute to their own disadvantage.

Looking at the world and peoples' behavior that way, What's the Matter with Kansas can be extrapolated to most of the rest of the world.

I have been particularly interested in religious orthodoxies, especially those that are guided by an apocalyptic view of the world. That believe the End is near and that it is not too soon to be prepared to welcome it.

We find strong themes of this kind in all three Religions of the Book and those of you who have been following Behind know that this has for years been an ongoing topic for me, even to the point of obsession that runs the likely risk of boring you.

But during these dangerous times, I cannot resist applauding the New York Times, which two days ago, on the front page, ran a story about prophetic Islam and how an awareness of its wide-reaching power is guiding some of out best strategic behavior as we struggle to figure out culturally careful ways to limit and hopefully defeat ISIS.

Specifically, ISIS wants the United Staes to be drawn into a ground war in northern Syria.

ISIS leader Abu Mussab al-Zarqawi called our 2003 intervention in Iraq "the Blessed Invasion." A view based on Muslim prophetic texts that state that Islam will be victorious against the West after an apocalyptic battle that will be ignited once Western armies enter the region.

Jean-Pierre Filin, author of Apocalypse in Islam, says, "This is a very powerful and emotional narrative. It gives . . . [Islamic] fighters the feeling that they are not only part of the elite, they are part of the final battle."

These texts prophesize an apocalyptic battle in the small Syrian towns of Dabiq and al-Amaq. Last year Islamic State militants beheaded American hostage Peter Kassig in Dabiq. The executioner said, "Here we are burying the first American crusader in Dabiq, eagerly awaiting the remainder of your armies to arrive."

April 27, 2015--Testing One, Two, Three

All over America school kids are being tested. Some are taking tests that derive from what their states require while others are being tested to see how well they have absorbed the material associated with the controversial Common Core curriculum which 44 states have adopted.

And then there are the hundreds of thousands of children not taking any tests at all. This, for many, to protest the importance assigned to tests that supposedly call for rote learning or have high-stakes consequences. Consequences for the kids, their schools and districts, and for their teachers.

Let me be clear that in virtually all instances it is the parents lodging these protests by keeping their children home, not the kids themselves making these decisions. Sort of like the anti-vacine parents.

There are many layers that require unpacking in order to understand what is going on. It is not as simple as it may seem.

First, whose fault is it that we have all these tests? Some say it's former president George W. Bush's since he allegedly wanted to break teachers' unions by holding them accountable for the results. And Teddy Kennedy's, who wanted to show he could work in a bipartisan way and made a deal with Number 43 when he signed off on Bush's signature school reform program, No Child Left Behind that required universal testing and meet certain standards in order for states to leverage federal funds. And, of course, like everything else people do not like, it's Barack Obama's fault since he has a radical agenda for the federal government to snatch authority from the states and take over the education of our children, very much including indoctrinating and testing them. Some feel, through the imposition of Common Core.

If you live in New York and watch TV, you are being flooded with ads paid for by the state's teachers' unions that claims it's governor Andrew Cuomo's fault. He's doing a Scott Walker, they say, by showing how tough he can be on teachers, using testing as a way to fire teachers he doesn't like. All this presumably to get ready to run for president if Hillary Clinton continues to falter.

And then there are those (me included) who feel requiring some forms of achievement testing is one way, one way, to see if kids are learning and to use what the tests show as part of the mix, part of the mix, of evaluative tools available to hold everyone involved accountable for how well students are faring--individual teachers, school principals, school districts, states, and the children themselves.

Then there is the matter of using test results to distinguish between the achievement of individual students. This is very complicated business in a society that conservatives sees as guided by meritocratic values--that there is a natural hierarchy based on talent, hard work, and success--while at that same time to others, progressives, there is the belief in human equality and thus call for polices to assure not just equality of opportunity but equality of results.

This in a society that often overpraises children, awarding trophies to all, including to those who come in last. Awards for showing up and trying. Or maybe just for showing up.

Often the anti-testing people are the very ones seeking advantages for their own children at all levels of schooling, especially those that can afford to supplement what is available even in private schools to assure their own children's ultimate advantages.

Some years ago when the arguments about testing first roiled discourse about schooling and its outcomes, I had a colleague at the very progressive Ford Foundation, actually the vice president to whom I reported, who was a fierce critic of traditional forms of testing and a strong advocate of what was thought to be "authentic assessment." Approaches that called for more nuanced and three-dimensional methods to measure student achievement. Including non-traditional forms of assessment where student outcomes would be evaluated by things such as portfolios of their work. It was felt that this was a fairer approach than the usual testing and would thus contribute to narrowing the achievement gap.

She at the time had high-school-age twins who attended a selective private secondary school. At that school, as you might imagine, they emphasized authentic assessment. One Saturday mornings we ran into my colleague on lower Broadway. We stopped to chat. It turned out that she was there, far from where she lived, to take her daughters to an SAT-prep workshop.

I not-so-innocently asked her how come, if she rejected the validity and fairness of tests such as the SAT, she was paying for her daughters to prep for it.

"Because I want them to do as well as possible," she said, "So they can get into good colleges."

I asked, "Then in your Ford Foundation role how come you resist funding programs that would help low-income students have the same test prepping opportunities?"

She stammered something I couldn't quite hear and ran off to an appointment.

I am still waiting for her answer.

February 27, 2015--Ligatures

One of my very favorite people loves ligatures.

When she first revealed this to me I was worried since I associate ligatures with violence, actually strangulation where a ligature is put around a victim's throat and by tightening it it slowing causes death by strangulation. I know, I watch too much TV.

But, of course, the ligatures she so loves are not of that type. Hers are typographic where two or more graphemes are fused together or joined into a single glyph. With a grapheme being the smallest unit in a writing system--alphabetic letters, numerical digits, punctuation marks, and in graphemic written languages such as Chinese or ancient Egyptian characters or hieroglyphs. And a glyph is a symbol that conveys information nonverbally.

It would be good to give a few examples, including her favorite, the ampersand.

Here is an assortment of the ones I like--

I worked at the Ford Foundation for some years and thus the ff ligature stands out for me; and I studied Old English in graduate school so OE is another that I enjoy. And ae also is a good one. Typographically. And of course the ligature version of fs.

In spite of what one might intuitively think--that in the name of efficiency they are examples of modern streamlining or shorthand--ligatures are found in some of our earliest manuscripts and even quite often in the world's earliest known script--Sumerian cuneiform where there are many examples of character combinations. But, over time, most of these ligatures devolved into graphemes or independent characters in their own right. So those that remain have ancient, untransformed origins and deep echoes of the past from when written language was being invented. Which, I suspect, is why my imaginative friend likes them so much, again, especially the ampersand.

The ampersand's history is an interesting one. When reciting the Latin alphabet the last letter was the ampersand but it was preceded by per se (by itself), meaning that it was pronounceable as a full word, not unlike I which is both a letter and a word.

So, the alphabet, morphed over time into English, would conclude . . . X, Y, Z, per se et (et meaning and) which over time saw the e and the t fuse, becoming the modern day ampersand--

Also amusing is the etymology of the word ampersand itself--it is an English phonetic mashup of "and+per+se+and.

Voila--ampersand!

October 3, 2104--Gloria Steinem's Legacy

Gloria Steinem turned 80 recently (everyone says still looks no more than 65). Partly in acknowledgment of that and also because she was and continues to be a major figure in the history of the Women's Liberation Movement, Rutgers University's Institute for Women's Leadership raised money from a variety of sources to endow a chair, a professorship in her name. It will be in the fields of media, culture, and feminist studies.

Everyone in attendance when the chair was announced (this did not include Ms. Steinem) felt it was not only well deserved but important.

As the director of the Institute, Alison Bernstein said, as Steinem turned 80, "what struck me profoundly was that there needed to be a legacy. When you do a chair you basically are saying this is a curriculum that needs permanence, it isn't going to go away." (My italics)

I worked for and with Dr. Bernstein during her and my days at the Ford Foundation. From her I inherited the women's studies portfolio of grants and an initiative that sought to see mainstream into the undergraduate curriculum some of what scholarship had learned during the preceding few decades about women's history and their many contributions to culture and the larger society.

Mainstreaming suggested that some of the earlier battles to support women's studies research had been won--women's studies programs and courses were by the 1990s widespread in academia and it was time, Ford and leaders in the field felt, to move from separate-and-more-or-less equal status to a permanent place in the undergraduate program.

In other words, in contradiction to what Alison Bernstein said last week at Rutgers, there isn't a pressing need now to endow a chair in women's studies as an expression of legacy or to assure permanence. Permanence's goal should be just what that old Ford initiative was about--to become part of the core curriculum, to move in from the margins. Not to continue to construct separate-but-equal realities.

Honor Gloria Steinem for certain--fund scholarships in her name for women and men, offer her honorary degrees, name classrooms for her, feature her work in special programs that chart the history of late 20th century feminism, but resist the temptation to make permanent separate streams of academic research and instruction.

The work still remaining to be completed to foster women's equality is to press the fight for equal pay, challenge corporations to continue to promote more women to the executive suite, and elect more women to Congress and, perhaps soon, to the White House.

But little of this agenda is appropriate for the university. It is up to women and men in all facets of life to join in actions designed to breach these final barriers.

April 9, 2013--Mariam Chamberlain

An accomplished colleague, mentor, friend, Mariam Chamberlain, at 94, died last week.

Our first meeting is still fresh in my mind.

I came to the Ford Foundation as its third program officer responsible for women's studies grant-making. She was the first. Between us, Alison Bernstein served brilliantly.

When I was appointed, I though of it as either a cosmic mistake or at least ironic--a man is to be responsible for women's studies grant-making? Must be a mistake, I thought. The foundation leadership will straighten it out within a week or two. In the meantime, it seemed wise to lay low. This was back in 1991 and things such as women's and ethnic studies were appropriately fraught with identity striving and politics. The striving I could identify and deal with, but the politics? About that I was not so sure.

So when Dr. Chamberlain showed up unannounced at my office during my first few days of lying low, I was wary but happy to see her. She was a living legend. If she wasn't there to excoriate me for my arrogant acceptance of the women's studies assignment, maybe she would tell me that she was an emissary from the Ford senior leadership to tell me it had all been an error and was asked to help extract me from a complicated situation. She would assure me, I hoped, that everything would be all right and I would soon be able to focus my work on community colleges and the reform of public education. Things I knew about and was prepared to work hard at to make a difference. That was why I came to Ford in the first place, giving up a secure position at NYU to do so.

But, no, she was there to offer an historical overview of the field of women's studies and Ford's remarkable role in funding many aspects of its early manifestations. How, before her time at Ford, the field existed largely underground and under-regarded. It existed, was tolerated on a few campuses as a marginal part of universities' offerings, with staff and faculty offices literally and metaphorically in the basement.

Research itself about women's roles in history and culture was almost nonexistent, but now--and here is where she saw me coming into the picture--it was time for the powerful research of the previous decades, all that had to that point been incorporated in individual women's studies courses, this needed to be--she used this word--"mainstreamed." Hard-wired right into the regular curriculum.

So the basic course in the history of the Civil War should be expanded to incorporate what the research about women's roles she and Alison and Ford had supported over the decades had discovered. Courses in American literature should not just include a book or two by women writers, but rather a "gender perspective" should be applied to everything studied--from Hawthorne to Bellow.

And, she briefed me, it was time to invite men into the process. For example, the organization she had co-founded, the National  Council for Research On Women (NCROW) from its beginning had only female members and its board had been and was exclusively female. It was time, she felt, that men should be welcomed as members and invited to serve on its board.

"So," I asked, "why didn't you, why didn't Alison, why don't either or both of you make this case? Wouldn't that be more effective than having me go over there and . . .?"

"I understand,"Mariam reached out toward me. "I know it won't be easy for you.  But I hope you agree that this is the right thing to attempt to achieve." I nodded. I always have been an integrationist. "And, I am sure, you would also agree that this would be a difficult thing for us to do. If you need to, you can say that since the Ford Foundation believes in equity in all situations, it is time for a version of gender equity now when it comes to women's studies. And that the field, thanks to hundreds of women and some men, and of course the Ford Foundation, is strong enough to be more inclusive. First, as feminists as well as scholars, we needed to do a better job of including women of color--in the early days the field was almost exclusively made up of white women--and we needed to get comfortable with gay and ethnic studies.  We are doing better at this. Much better. But it is time to take the next step."

"I suppose that's right," I said with some nervousness since I knew where this was headed.

"And I'll do what I can to help."

I believed her. She did, though my time working at this was complicated, very complicated. But NCROW and equivalent organizations and institutions took steps to integrate.

While this was proceeding, I saw Mariam along the way at various meetings and events. She didn't need to ask how things were going. From her network, which included everyone, she knew and she knew how I was doing.

After about two years of this, one morning she was again at my office door. She said that she knew I was busy but had one word for me. Literally one word--"You're a mensch."

If that in any way was true, it was because of her. She is, was unique. A great force in a deceptively frail body. All of us, especially those who are her hundreds of lifelong colleagues, will never forget her and will always be eager to acknowledge that she changed our lives.