5.2.2020 – need a solution

need a solution
to a problem, first admit
there is a problem

The United States of America is a big country.

For every 1000 residents, you will have 1000 opinions and points of view that have a right to be heard.

It is difficult to achieve a consensus let alone unanimity on any topic.

It takes a lot to change peoples minds.

Back in May of 1941, a nationwide poll showed that 80% of Americans were against getting involved in World War 2.

On December 8, 1941, the day after the attack on Pearl Harbor, FDR’s request for a declaration of war against JAPAN passed with one NO vote.

Note this was a war against the Empire of Japan.

The United States did NOT declare war on Germany.

Germany, so far, had not done anything to the United States.

The US got into the European war at that time only because Hitler declared war on the United States on December 8th.

I would have put this current emergency up there.

While I would not expect that everyone could agree on how to handle Covid, I would have thought there was agreement that we need to do something.

Silly me.

But then I would have bet my last dollar that it was against the law to carry an M16 into the State Capitol Building in Lansing, Michigan.

In my nuttiest, most US Constitution embracing moment, I never would have thought that the 1st Amendment right to assembly would have given me the right to stand face to face with the Michigan State Police while carrying a loaded assault rifle in the rotunda of the State Capitol.

I just can’t imagine it.

I want to stay away from that argument and focus on the mindset.

As Atticus Finch famously says in “To Kill a Mockingbird“, “You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view… until you climb in his skin and walk around in it.”

Let me try to get into the shoes of those protestors in Lansing.

I am thinking of one feller who was captured on the network news, standing face to face with a Michigan State Police Trooper, and screaming something.

There was no audio so I don’t know what he was screaming.

But this feller woke up that morning.

Got dressed in his camouflage so he wouldn’t stand out, I guess.

Got his coffee and his rifle and drove to Lansing to defend his rights.

Not exactly the Lexington Minute Men gathering on the village green to confront the redcoats but close enough in his mind.

Our feller parks his car and gets out and assembles with his fellow countrymen outside the Capitol Building.

At some command or order or maybe just a mass rush, the assembly moves into the building and our feller finds himself in the front row.

The next thing he knows, he is in the Rotunda of the Capitol, surrounded both by his buddies but also by glassed cabinets of flags that circle the Rotunda.

Flags of the volunteer regiments of the State of Michigan that decided Black Lives Matter and that the Union was worth preserving and marched off to the Civil War.

One of those flags is the flag of the 16th Michigan Volunteer Infantry.

A member of Company C of that Regiment was 18 year old, Edwin Barlow.

Private Barlow was my Great-Great Grand Father.

Back to our feller, who is now explaining to the State Trooper why he and his friends are there and what they want.

Feller seems to be quite agitated and explaining himself very loudly.

The Troopers don’t move or react.

The Troopers don’t arrest anyone.

Though, like I said, I would have bet my last dollar it was a crime to bring a loaded AK-47 into the State Capitol or engage a State Trooper while carrying a loaded AK-47 but that is beside the point.

After a bit our feller leaves with his buddies.

After exchanging farewells with the assembly our feller goes back to his car and drives home.

He gets home and hangs his rifle over the fireplace.

He goes to the fridge and gets a beer.

Does his wife greet him with a hug and a ‘Good Job Honey’ hug?

Does he sit in his rocker or his lazy-boy and review the day?

Does he feel satisfaction in delivering his message to the man.

Does he feel like he delivered his message that we are fed up and can’t take it anymore?

I am trying to follow Mr. Finch and understand a person by considering things from his point of view,

I am trying to climb into his skin and walk around in it.

I am trying to understand why I don’t want to wear a mask.

I am trying to understand why I don’t want to stay home.

I am trying to understand why I don’t want to protect myself, my family and other people by not risking the spread if this illness.

Or am I missing it?

Am I the problem here that I don’t feel threatened by my Government as they bass ackwards try to figure all this out.

Am I deluded by the bread and circuses.

Maybe.

But I just can’t get comfortable in that feller’s shoes up in Lansing.

I often refer to problems as Charlie Sheen problems.

The 1st problem Charlie Sheen needs to deal with is that Charlie has to admit he has a problem.

If he doesn’t see a life focused on drugs and alcohol as a problem, then there is nothing to be fixed.

What is the problem right now?

What is the biggest problem?

That’s my problem.

4.29.2020 – reality so

reality so
subtle that it is more real
than reality

I used to have a rule.

I refused to work somewhere unless there was one other person in the building who knew who Alfred Stieglitz was.

This changed from a rule to a hope.

Then it changed to a wish.

I will ask co-workers from time to time if they had ever heard of Alfred Stieglitz.

I try to stay away from mentioning his wife, Georgia O’Keefe.

I do this for two reasons.

One is that I want the person to really be acquainted with Stieglitz for himself and not for his wife.

The other is that I am afraid that I would be doubly disappointed if the person had not heard of Georgia O’Keeffe.

But there it is.

I was thinking of Mr. Steiglitz today.

It was raining here is Georgia and the streets and rain slicked and wet.

When I see rain slicked, wet streets I think of the photograph, A Wet Day on the Boulevard, Paris – 1894 taken by Mr. Steiglitz.

The rain and the wet in the photograph are more real than real.

A subtle reality more real than reality.

It was Mr. Steiglitz who said, “In photography there is a reality so subtle that it becomes more real than reality.”

Beyond photograph, in this covid impacted life, reality itself has become so distant, so subtle that I begin to doubt reality.

How did this happen.

Maybe it’s more real in black and white.

Wikipedia says, “Reality is the sum or aggregate of all that is real or existent within a system, as opposed to that which is only imaginary.”

Well, what if I can only imagine reality.

Does that make it less real?

Look at the photograph again.

Then look at again,

Truly, in this photograph, there is a reality so subtle that it becomes more real than reality.

4.28.2020 – there are decades when

there are decades when
nothing happens, there are weeks
when decades happen

I am quoting Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov or as he was better known, Vladimir Lenin.

So what?

Later on I will also be quoting Marx.

ANYWAY . . .

I have aged 10 years in the couple of months.

I say that as the last couple of months have lasted 10 years.

Or is it that the last couple of months seem like one long day.

If it has been one long day, a month of these days would be years long.

Thirty days hath September,
April, June, and November,
all the rest have thirty-one
Except for April which has 8000

Groucho Marx once said, “My favorite poem is the one that starts ‘Thirty Days Hath September…’ because it actually means something“

I have no idea what he would say about any of this but I am sure it would be funny.

Most likely he would have said, “It’s quitting time in New York.”

Mr. Groucho did say “I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today. I can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn’t arrived yet. I have just one day, today, and I’m going to be happy in it.“

That would suit me fine right now.

If I listen to Mr. Marx and Mr. Lenin, and if I have just that one day, today.

Then I am going to be happy in it.

That that day is lasting forever is not such a bad thing.

4.25.2020 – defense of thinking

defense of thinking
extremely stupid deep thoughts
allowed to do so

In this morning’s Guardian, Hadley Freeman writes, “For this reason, I would argue very strongly in defence of thinking, talking and writing about extremely stupid stuff that has nothing to do with the current hellishness.“

She was writing about all the things people are doing during this stay-at-home period.

She commented on coronactivities.

I love that word and I am going to embrace it.

Ms. Hadley was referring to learning to bake bread or reading (or attempting to read) Finnegan’s Wake.

Which calls to mind an anecdote that I cannot place right now but someone (maybe William Shirer?) who said he could never get through Finnegan’s Wake but by chance he was somewhere where James Joyce was doing a reading of the book.

The man wrote that the text came alive when read in a Irish accent and phrasing.

But I digress.

I also have never opened a copy of Finnegan’s Wake.

STILL!

In defence or defense (depending on which side of the Atlantic Ocean you are on – I love how my spell check throws out defence) of thinking extremely stupid deep thoughts, let me say this.

JUST DO IT.

I am allowed to do so.

Browse pages of cowboy boots I will never order and wouldn’t wear if I did.

But I can imagine it.

Reread old books for the fun of it.

I looked up Double Trouble for Rupert and Triple Trouble for Rupert on archive.org.

Books I haven’t thought about in 50 years.

They are still worth the time.

I log on to the website for the Desoto Beach Hotel on Tybee just to watch the live beach cam.

I plan to be there on my 60th birthday this summer.

I plan to get up and watch the sunrise out of the Atlantic Ocean.

What has that to do with social distancing?

Will that help locate toilet paper?

Will it help pay or provide for all the out of work barbers?

Will it hurry along my stimulous check?

Not much, nope, nope and nope.

But I get to spend my time planning.

I am reminded of the scene in the movie Amadeus where it is suggest to Mozart that his choice of source material is not what it should be.

“Surely you can choose more elevated themes,” says the Baron Von Swieten.

“Elevated? What does that mean? Elevated! Come on now, be honest. Wouldn’t you all rather listen to your hairdressers than Hercules? Or Horatius? Or Orpheus? All those old bores.” replies a flustered Mozart.

I am spending my stay at home thinking extremely stupid deep thoughts.

Nothing against the corornactivies.

I think it is great folks are cooking and eating and reading.

Going back to Ms. Hadley, “This isn’t just about giving yourself a break from thinking about the coronavirus, although God knows we could all do with one. You cannot read dystopian headlines all day without collapsing in on yourself like a dying star. Instead, it’s about giving yourself permission to still be a human being.”

Permission to still be a human being.

Why?

As Mr. Joyce writes in Finnegans Wake, to “Make me feel good in the moontime.“

4.19.2020 – flavors and textures

flavors and textures
spicy hot, tangy sweet, crunch
banh mi on my mind

John Thorne was a foodies before there were foodies.

I guess there always were foodies but there were gastronomes,

As the online dictionary says, one with a serious interest in gastronomy or more simply, a lover of good food.

Mr. Thorne was writing a food blog before there were blogs.

His NEWSLETTER, Simple Cooking, was available by subscription and MAILED out quarterly.

I first heard about Mr. Thorne from reading Jim Harrison.

Harrison wrote in his essay, Consciousness Dining (Smart Magazine, 1989), “But for day-in day-out innovative brilliance and lucid prose, Thorne is my favorite.”

That is good enough for me.

I also appreciate, as Mr. Harrison did, when he wrote about Mr. Thorne, “On a long warm flight from New Orleans, He [Thorne] imagined that the two pounds of Boudin in his suitcase were spoiling, so ate all on his arrival.”

Mr. Harrison calls that ‘timeless wisdom.”

Prompted by Mr. Harrison’s recommendation, I searched out Mr. Thorne’s cookbooks but I never subscribed to his newsletter.

The Thorne Cookbooks, Outlaw Chef, Serious Pig and Pot on the Fire are part of my permanent library, the books that will always move with me no matter how much I downsize and may be on my burn list.

In Pot the Fire, (North Point Press, 2000), I first read about the Vietnamese sandwich, the Banh Mi.

Thorne wrote, “I had no idea what they were. I also had no hesitation in giving on a try. The truth is that I have always had a weakness for anything that comes packaged in a French roll. I bought one, took it out to the car, ate it and went straight back in and bought another. One bite and I knew I was into a good thing.”

(Lucky for you this essay is reproduced in the preview of the Pot on the Fire from Google Books and you can read it by clicking here.)

Just from reading the essay, a craving burrowed in the soul of my appetite and stayed there.

Nagging at me from time to time.

A gustatory longing.

I could feel the crunch of the crust of the French roll.

I could taste the flavors.

I could feel the spicyness.

Just from reading,

But as I was living in Grand Rapids, Michigan at the time, it was a longing that looked doomed to be unfilled.

But the thought of Banh Mi stuck in my mind and if I ever had the chance I was going to try them.

Then through a chain of events I ended up living in Gwinnett County, Georgia.

Take everything you think about when you think about the south and stop thinking it.

Moonlight and magnolia are no longer a part of this part of Georgia.

From 1996 (The Atlanta Olympics) to now, the population of Gwinnett County, (named for Button Gwinnett – one of Georgia’s three signers of the Declaration of Independence) has grown from around 200,000 to just under 1,000,000.

9 out of 10 people in Gwinnett are not from Georgia.

1 out of 4 people in Gwinnett are foreign born.

There is been a lot of impact due to this and nothing is more evident then in the restaurants.

You can get anything and I mean anything you might want to eat.

And I can get Banh Mi.

There are at least 5 Vietnamese restaurants within 5 miles of where I live.

I feel the crunch of the crust of the French roll.

I taste the flavors.

I experience the spiciness.

I can tell you that Mr. Thorne was right.

Banh Mi.

He was on to something good.