1.7.2023 – America is

America is
a disappointment only
because it is hope

In his best book, “American Politics: The Promise of Disharmony,” published in 1981, the political scientist Samuel Huntington distills the tension in his final lines:

“Critics say that America is a lie because its reality falls so short of its ideals.

They are wrong.

America is not a lie; it is a disappointment.

But it can be a disappointment only because it is also a hope.”

So writes Carlos Lozada in his New York Times Opinion Piece review, I Looked Behind the Curtain of American History, and This Is What I Found, of the book, Myth America, on January 7, 2022.

Cards and letters may be coming on this one and boy, howdy, do I wish I would stick to the my avowed purpose of this blog and stay away from political comment.

But how can I not?

Maybe a way to get the point of today’s haiku across is to quote Amerigo Bonasera when he said, “I believe in America. America has made my fortune.

Those are the opening lines of the defining American film, The Godfather.

For Amerigo Bonasera, because he had hope, America was a disappointment.

Sad to say that Mr. Bonasera also said, “Then I said to my wife, ‘for justice, we must go to Don Corleone.'”

Don Corleone succeeded when hope failed and disappointment took over.

Disappointment because there IS a hope.

And that hope, bless it’s heart, continues.

If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible,

who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time,

who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer.”

So said Barack Obama in Chicago’s Grant Park in 2008 on the night he won the presidency.

Not sure how that can be so long ago.

Hope sure has been kicked around a lot since that night.

I still have hope.

I still have hope that America is the city on the hill where all are welcome.

The problem is, I am not so sure that is what America wants anymore.

Maybe it was all just a hypocrisy.

But it was a useful hypocrisy one.

1.6.2023 – and here you may find

and here you may find
me on almost any lunchtime
walk along the shore

Every day the sea
blue gray green lavender
pulls away leaving the harbor’s
dark-cobbled undercoat

slick and rutted and worm-riddled, the gulls
walk there among old whalebones, the white
spines of fish blink from the strandy stew
as the hours tick over; and then

far out the faint, sheer
line turns, rustling over the slack,
the outer bars, over the green-furled flats, over
the clam beds, slippery logs,

barnacle-studded stones, dragging
the shining sheets forward, deepening,
pushing, wreathing together
wave and seaweed, their piled curvatures

spilling over themselves, lapping
blue gray green lavender, never
resting, not ever but fashioning shore,
continent, everything.

And here you may find me
on almost any morning
walking along the shore so
light-footed so casual.

Tides by Mary Oliver

If I leave my the building where I work and turn left and walk up the street, cross at the corner and walk up a path through a parking lot, it takes me about 2 minutes to get to this view.

Oddly enough this was not mentioned as a perk of the job when I interviewed here.

Favored by good fortune and smart enough to not question it but just enjoy it.

1.5.2023 – anybody can’t

anybody can’t
tell difference has got whole
lot bigger problem

From the Sheriff Ed Tom Bell Book of Life (Continued) –

I read in the papers here a while back some teachers come across a survey that was sent out back in the thirties to a number of schools around the country.

Had this questionnaire about what was the problems with teachin in the schools.

And they come across these forms, they’d been filled out and sent in from around the country answerin these questions.

And the biggest problems they could name was things like talkin in class and runnin in the hallways.

Chewin gum.

Copyin homework.

Things of that nature.

So they got one of them forms that was blank and printed up a bunch of em and sent em back out to the same schools.

Forty years later.

Well, here come the answers back.

Rape, arson, murder.

Drugs. Suicide.

So I think about that.

Because a lot of the time ever when I say anything about how the world is goin to hell in a handbasket people will just sort of smile and tell me I’m gettin old.

That it’s one of the symptoms.

But my feelin about that is that anybody that cant tell the difference between rapin and murderin people and chewin gum has got a whole lot bigger of a problem than what I’ve got.

Forty years is not a long time neither.

Maybe the next forty of it will bring some of em out from under the ether.

If it aint too late.

So says Sheriff Ed Tom Bell in the book, No Country for Old Men, by Cormac McCarthy.

Ed Tom’s thought are interspersed through out the book and set off in italics.

One of these days I am to copy out all those pages and create a book titled, Ed Tom Bell and the Meaning of Life.

I always meant to go back and re-read just those parts.

Maybe this would get me around to doing that.

1.4.2023 – takes very little

takes very little
to govern good people and
bad people can’t be

It’s a odd thing when you come to think about it.

The opportunities for abuse are just about everwhere.

There’s no requirements in the Texas State Constitution for bein a sheriff.

Not a one.

There is no such thing as a county law.

You think about a job where you have pretty much the same authority as God and there is no requirements put upon you and you are charged with preservin nonexistent laws and you tell me if that’s peculiar or not.

Because I say that it is.

Does it work?

Yes.

Ninety percent of the time.

It takes very little to govern good people.

Very little.

And bad people cant be governed at all.

Or if they could I never heard of it.

So says Sheriff Ed Tom Bell in the book, No Country for Old Men, by Cormac McCarthy.

Ed Tom’s thought are interspersed through out the book and set off in italics.

One of these days I am to copy out all those pages and create a book titled, Ed Tom Bell and the Meaning of Life.

I always meant to go back and re-read just those parts.

Maybe this would get me around to doing that.

BTW, the title, No Country for Old Men, is adapted from:

That is no country for old men. The young
In one another’s arms, birds in the trees
– Those dying generations – at their song,
The salmon‐falls, the mackerel‐crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.

from Sailing to Byzantium, by William Butler Yeats,

1.3.2023 – lunch time beach walking

lunch time beach walking
servers clicks webpages emails
somewhat disappear

Out the door of my office, down the street and cross at the corner.

Take the fenced in path through the parking lot.

Bang – Zoom, I am on the beach.

I am walking across the sand wearing khakis and a button down to be sure but still …

Jim Harrison once wrote along that lines that it would take a half a day but he could get on plane, land in northern upper lower Michigan, get in his car and be back at his home in Leelanau.

Really, he said, it was the only way he could handle being in Los Angeles.

Back at my desk, the servers, clicks, webpages and emails are waiting for me.

But I knew they would be when I left.

Whatever happened to those little naked elves?