Robert Gale Ongley

Author: Bo

  • THE POLITICIAN RETROSPECTIVE

    I recently finished the Netflix series The Politician. I was drawn to it because it held the promise of examining that breed of person who chooses a life of public service over private enterprise. Over the course of the last 55 years or so, I’ve been taught through experience to take a wary and even cynical view of the breed. I expected this TV show to feed into my opinion, but I also hoped to gain more insight into the makeup of politicians.

    Backstory

    Before I discuss The Politician as an entertainment vehicle, let’s take a look back to what brought me to my 21st century state of mind. The first President I remember is Dwight D. Eisenhower. I liked him for the following reasons, in the order of each’s revelation. He had a nice smile, making me feel like he was a good man. He was a war hero, a leader in the effort to rid the world of the evil Nazis. Life was peaceful under his administration. We share a birthday, making him a Libra and someone I can trust in matters of peace and a judicious approach to life. While President, he warned us of the danger of the military industrial complex. The worst I heard about him was my father’s complaint that he played too much golf.

    As a young student, I was educated to honor our Presidents, especially Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and the Roosevelts. I saw all of them as men of integrity whose first interest was that of the American people while they upheld the nation’s values under the principles of the Constitution. This all started to unravel for me in the mid-60s when the war in Vietnam escalated. I watched on our black and white screen when Lyndon Johnson announced “with a heavy heart” he was ordering intense bombing of the little country we were saving from the Communists. A sadness came over me. I didn’t really blame Johnson, but there was a loss of respect on some level I didn’t yet fully grasp.

    Then came Nixon. You remember him. He requires no first name. He was the first President I caught in a lie. I don’t even recall what it was just now. I saw a quote in a newspaper and noticed it was in contradiction with something he said or did earlier. I was taken aback and a little bit distraught. A President lying to the American people! The end of innocence for me, I guess. Later, virtually on the eve of the 1972 election, he announced PEACE IS AT HAND, and that declaration was pasted in a huge headline of our local paper. The story was that peace talks were going to begin with the Viet Cong. He won the election and the war dragged on until 1975.

    I remember meeting with my friend Connie on the Edinboro University of Pennsylvania campus days after the Nixon victory. We were beside ourselves. In her despair, she asked me, “What are we going to do?”

    “I don’t know,” I replied with no answer. “Four years…how are we going to get through it?”

    It was one of the last times we saw each other, but we were close in spirit on the day he resigned in disgrace with his upstretched arms raised in the victory sign.

    Let’s not forget about the Clinton years. His famous bald-faced lie that he never had sexual relations with “that woman”. His quote, “It depends on what the meaning of the word is is,” IS a classic.

    Now I know all Presidents lie, regardless of political affiliation, and it’s something I have to live with. Trump is by far the most prolific, taking the art to dizzying heights. In May of this year, the Fact Checker database had tabulated 19,127 false or misleading claims uttered by this man.

    Back to Our Program

    The Politician is the story of a boy who, at the age of eight (I think), decides he wants to be President. This becomes his primary, all-consuming goal in life. The story actually starts when Payton Hobart is a high school student in Santa Barbara, the adopted son of a rich couple, and he is running for President of the school’s student council. He is well-organized with a dedicated staff that is as cold and calculating as our main character.

    There are many twists and turns as the series progresses, but a recurring theme with Payton is his identity. He is an excellent student intent on going to Harvard, but he doesn’t know who he really is. He wonders about his motivation. Does he really care about the issues he campaigns on or does he just use them to pursue his personal glory? If he is doing the greater good, do the ends justify the means? Should he do the ruthless and heartless actions that would get him where he wants to be because the world would be better off with him as their leader?

    There’s one scene when he is running for State Senator of New York that stands out to me. A teenager is a volunteer at his campaign headquarters. She overhears some conversation between Payton and his staff that causes her to doubt him. When she gets a moment alone with him, she asks about his views. He pauses in his busy activity as the lofty candidate and takes time to address her personally. He admits that a position he takes on an issue can be both sincere and for political gain. He acknowledges his flaws and that he should be accountable for them, but points out that he genuinely does want to do some good in the world.

    I found The Politician to be unique and innovative, enormously entertaining. It’s not perfect. Critics have found some flaws that I can’t deny. It has been nominated for quite a few awards, though. I didn’t really get the thorough character analysis I would have liked on the subject of politicians, but I found the series well worth the time I invested.

  • CREATE YOUR WORLD

    In these times when it can seem the world and even your own life is beyond your control, it’s time to be reminded that you have more of an impact than you think.

    I’d like to examine how your thoughts, feelings and actions create an effect spanning from the metaphysical to the practical. We should not underestimate ourselves.

    Wisdom of the Ancients

    I’ve been re-reading part of an excellent book by Gregg Braden called The Divine Matrix. Part of it has to do with unlocking the meaning of early texts from religions going back thousands of years. ” In the teachings of Mahayana Buddhism”, for instance, “it’s believed that reality can exist only where our mind creates a focus.” Without that focus, reality would not take shape. It’s only a potential reality until we place our focus there, which I propose is made up of intention to perceive in a specific way. Thus, reality is created.

    The Dead Sea Scrolls, written by Essene Gnostics in the early days of Christianity, contain ancient prayers that were translated recently. Braden points to words of Jesus about proper prayer. The King James Version put it this way: “Whatsoever ye ask the Father in my name, he will give it to you. Hitherto have ye asked nothing in my name. Ask and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full.”

    The latest translation is a powerful clarification: “All things that you ask straightly, directly…from inside My name–you will be given. So far you haven’t done this…So ask without hidden motive and be surrounded by your answer–Be enveloped by what you desire, that your gladness be full.”

    The point Braden takes from this is that effective prayer involves fully feeling that which we focus on, feeling it as though it already happened.

    Scientific Confirmation

    The field of quantum physics has shown us that reality on the subatomic level depends on our observation of particles such as electrons. The rules of quantum physics state that the consciousness of the observer determines how energy will behave.

    Quantum physics research has suggested that there are many, if not infinite, potential realities. Every situation has lots of potential outcomes. We have the power to choose the realities we prefer. We can also, and more often do, allow outcomes we do not prefer. The reasons for this are many also, among them being ignorance and fear.

    Abstract Particles Physics Quantum Physics Wave

    What to Do

    Becoming a master at choosing all aspects of our reality, effectively deciding from moment to moment how we want our lives to go and thus making it all come true, is probably not going to happen overnight. I think it’s safe to say that for most people, living on this plane, it’s going to take a lot of study and work over the course of a long time. I suspect most people reading this have serious doubts we have this ability. And a good many of those folks are beginning to wonder if I have a stable grip on reality at all. Having said that, I do believe we all have the capacity to use this science. We can make firm decisions on taking our lives in a desirable direction and making things happen.

    On a practical level, we can influence outcomes on small and large scales. The smaller changes might include improving our grades or building a bookcase. The large scale changes are more likely to happen when we do them collectively, such as changing systemic racial injustice by taking part in a global movement. The Vietnam War would have dragged on much longer if it weren’t for the united voice of the throngs who protested against it. Sentient beings who visualized a new reality brought about change with their decisions followed by action.

    Here in the latter half of 2020, we are faced with unacceptable realities. We are in the midst of a pandemic that has changed our way of life. It has resulted in a blow to our economy. The death toll continues to rise. We are taking measures, mostly through science and medicine, to manage and eventually overcome it.

    Social upheaval due to a system that makes life harder than necessary for people of color is signalling that enough is enough. I sense that the collective consciousness of the beings who inhabit this world is bringing human energy to a level of critical mass, a tipping point where we end racial injustice as a standard societal basis.

    Finally, we have a President who is a documented serial liar who simply makes up a reality he would like us all to accept. He has reached a point where he is trying to pass it off as truth, saying a long-standing, dependable system of voting is susceptible to fraud when there is no evidence to support his self-serving claim. He would rather take down our postal service, established by order of the Second Continental Congress, than to let people vote by mail, a right that was established during the Civil War and in the late 1800s for civilians. It is proven and reliable, as is the United States Postal Service. The writing on the wall is clear. Voting by mail is dangerous to quasi-president Trump and he will corrupt the system before accepting a loss. Then, when he loses, he will claim the election was “rigged.” My belief is his true agenda is to dismantle the United States government. Many of his actions point to this goal.

    Vote!

    We can collectively change the dark course of our country and the world. First, decide. Be the change we want to see, paraphrasing Gandhi. To be practical about it, exercise your right to vote. The hearts and minds of our people can steer us away from this catastrophic end the sick, sad leader visualizes for us all.

    Want a nation of wholesale love and equality? Quoting Mr. Braden, “We must become in our lives the things that we choose to experience as our world.”

  • LOVE AS ART

    A case can be made that all art is an expression of love. The very act of creation may be a bursting forth of love. There it is on the canvas. There it is on the page. There it is in the music, on the dance floor, on the stage.

    I hope in this post to illustrate how art in its many forms is love manifest. It may not always strike an aesthetic chord and maybe it’s downright irritating to the observer experiencing it, but the source of the sprouting seed from which it germinates is the same life force that brings us our most cherished art.

    Some Blazing Examples

    Music is a treasure trove of cases in point. Vivaldi’s Four Seasons would qualify, in my opinion, along with many other classical pieces. Works of Mozart and Rachmaninoff come to mind right away. Rock, folk, jazz, blues and country music gave us contributions like Love Song by Elton John, All You Need is Love by the Beatles and Back Home Again by John Denver.

    Books such as Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse, The Magic Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett and The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran are a few of many tomes swelling with love from cover to cover.

    In the world of painting, what could speak love more eloquently than Michelangelo’s frescoes on the ceiling in the Sistene Chapel? In dance, nothing demonstrates the joy of romantic love better than Singin’ in the Rain. While there are many films that give us stirring romance, Titanic showed as well as any how deep love can go.

    It’s easy to recognize love in art through these magnificent works, but let’s challenge ourselves. Let’s open our minds a little to find it dressed in other not-so-pleasant garb.

    Burnin’ Down the House

    I’ll tell you what comes to mind when I go searching for loving art in disguise. It’s heavy metal music. Guttural voices, pounding rhythms and grating instruments that could set your teeth on edge. Keep in mind, though, that metal fans are rabidly loyal. They may be most excited about their bands when they’re teenagers, but they still love them when they’re bonafide grown-ups. I would contend also that those musicians playing this music are doing so because they love it. The lyrics can also be endorsing deep spiritual compassion, couched in language reminding us who we are. My son played the latest Tool album for me recently. It’s called Fear Inoculum. Check out part of their message from this song, Pneuma.

    We are spirit Bound to this flesh We go around one foot nailed down We’re bound to reach out and beyond this flesh  become Pneuma
    We are will and wonder Bound to recall, remember (We are born of) One breath, one word (We are all) One spark, sun becoming
    Child, wake up Child, release The light Wake up now, child, wake up Child, release The light Wake up now, child
    (Spirit) (Spirit) (Spirit) (Spirit)

    One of the most violent and disturbing television shows of all time, Breaking Bad, had as its basic premise the intention of a secretly dying high school Chemistry teacher to leave his family all the support financially they would need in his absence. His decision to raise a fortune by making and selling meth led to major complications and some pretty ugly actions arising from his need to survive long enough to realize his goal. Still, love for family was the initial driving force for this character.

    Hate and Love

    All well and good as far as those examples go, you may be thinking. Exceptions to the rule do not a rule make. It’s absurd that all art is an expression of love, right? I mean, where’s the redeeming quality in a song that speaks forcefully about killing cops? Or where’s the love in a manifesto that declares oppressive intentions toward a group of people?

    I once wrote an angry song about a woman who had the good sense to break off our relationship when she saw that we weren’t compatible. I penned a scathing assessment of her mental condition and sang it with vitriolic passion. I think it’s vital to look at the source of these feelings that produce such anger and hate that we sublimate into our art.

    As humans, we are basically animals. As spiritual beings, we are so much more. Most people identify more with their bodies than they do with their higher selves. We are pack animals on that most basic level. As such, we have a strong urge for affinity. My dictionary tells me affinity is a natural liking or attraction. It’s natural to like others and want to be close to them. We care about those in our pack and we would defend them against attack. This is love…uncomplicated when sane, pure when simple.

    Being rejected by the pack creates a sense of separation. There’s enforced distance, thus diminished affinity. It can lead to anger, hate and retaliation to being pushed away. The artist who experiences this is inclined to produce art that reacts to the unwanted condition of being thrust from the circle of love. They would much rather be wrapped in the loving embrace of their community. The love that naturally emanates from the source of life within the person meets with the rejection and cries out in pain as creatively as it can. Figuratively speaking, it screams or growls or moans in dark art that demands reciprocation. Love’s protest is registered on the canvas of humanity’s matrix, but always retains its identity as love.

    Don’t Be Fooled

    When you see the twisted and disturbing piece of sculpture or the violent movie or a grotesque portrait of a vicious man, don’t look upon it in disgust and certainly do not reject the creator of this art. Don’t judge this person to be cold or hard or mean. Look deeper and try to find the expression of love giving rise to what bubbled to the surface.

  • FLYING IN THE FACE OF LOGIC (PART TWO)

    Picking up where I left off in Part One, where I finally made it from Tucson to Philadelphia by a circuitous and somewhat improvised route during this perilous pandemic.

    I Came With Baggage

    Since I had missed my connecting flight to Philadelphia, my baggage preceded me. I went to the baggage office for Alaska and found it closed in the early afternoon. A sign on the door gave a toll-free number where I could follow up, but also said I could check at the ticket counter. I jotted down the number and headed for the ticket counter. All the airlines had representatives present except Alaska. I had them paged and no one responded. Their neighbors told me they had their last flights for the day and wouldn’t be back until the next day.

    No one answered at the toll-free number and no message was possible. I called again the following morning with the same result, but they initiated a call on their own which I missed. Their message was that they would deliver the baggage that day to the address our son had provided for them when he spoke to them himself previously. The delivery didn’t occur when promised and the following morning we needed to start our drive to the other end of the state for our family reunion. No answer and no message possible.

    Our first stop in my old stomping grounds was at the home of one of my best friends in this life. He passed a couple years ago, so his wife and daughter were going to include me in scattering some of his ashes in his hometown. When his wife heard my story about not having my suitcase, she gave me some of his unused clothing she was anxious to give away. What a godsend! Buying a few more items set me up for the remainder of my trip. My baggage hadn’t followed me across the state, but it was at our son’s place when we returned. I flew back to Arizona the next day.

    You Reap What You Sow

    We wonder sometimes if our actions that violate common sense and logic will come back to bite us in our hindsight. When the first flight brought me to those snow-capped peaks, I considered how this trip might go awry, but I realized I wouldn’t have seen this majestic sight had I not been assigned such a ridiculous route. I started taking notes on a paper pad I carry with me. I decided to truly see what this coast-to-coast journey ahead was going to show me. A rich feast was set on the table of the North American continent and I will share some morsels with you now.

    Crossing the Cascades revealed mountain villages nestled in the mountain range…northern plains with irrigated farmland…the Rockies with frozen lakes and mountain meadows…more plains across Nebraska, I think, where I start to see wind farms with their giant white blades generating power…our southeastward arc takes us over the Mississippi River…the scattered passengers are quiet as red-eye travelers…lots of windmills across several states…the sun sets and artificial lights begin to twinkle as twilight settles upon the land…big cities, maybe Pittsburgh and Baltimore, appear below before we finally touch down.

    Our son takes me around Philadelphia…the ghettos with masked poor folks on crowded streets…the tour of closed factories…down to Center City with scenic skyscrapers and the art museum where Rocky made his triumphant climb…peaceful protests with police hopefully guarding the peace…a Schuykill River walk…historic sights such as the Liberty Bell, Independence Hall and Congress Hall…a bucolic evening nature walk in Tacony Creek Park near our son’s row house in North Philly.

    The drive across beautiful Pennsylvania with Amish Lancaster County…no toll roads for us…Appalachians…a golden eagle soaring east of State College…Allegheny Mountains…thick with trees and leaves looking like drooping faces…my little town charming our son…dear friends and loving family, too close to wear masks…classic “shiny diners” with their food that takes us back to a simpler time.

    The Final Tally

    A whirlwind tour of the country in a week. Looking danger in the eye, I found humanity in its many forms. The virus hasn’t shown its face, lurking unseen who knows where. My trip was challenging and rewarding all in all. I’m back to hunkering down, shooting for two symptom-free weeks. And of course, wishing the same to the cautionary wise, the risk-takers, the country folks and the street people everywhere.

    Rupinaro Church members social-distancing

  • FLYING IN THE FACE OF LOGIC (PART ONE)

    So we’re in the middle of a pandemic, right? My family has been following CDC guidelines quite well and we’re staying virus-free. One of the last things I’ve been wanting to do is a flight across the country. This is a story of how I did just that.

    Setting the Stage

    My mother’s side of our family, the Davenport’s in northwestern Pennsylvania, has been having reunions going back to about 1932. It’s a streak of 87 years that was in danger of being broken because of COVID-19. A few weeks ago they were given the green light by the powers that be to have their outside reunion. I also learned that one of my brothers, his daughter, a granddaughter of his and our son were going. My wife and I had planned a trip to Pennsylvania and Michigan this summer, but she needs to wait until her father’s nursing home allows visitors. It may not even happen this year, so we agreed I should go visit our son in Philadelphia and accompany him to the reunion. We hadn’t seen him for two years, so that played into our decision as well.

    I checked into flights and found a great deal to Philadelphia from Tucson. I wouldn’t need a rental car because I’d be riding with our son in a car he just bought. Everything was falling into place.

    Ignoring the Signs

    Case numbers have been spiking in Arizona and in other states. The airline would have me fly first to Seattle-Tacoma for a destination of Philadelphia. The state of Washington was one of the hardest hit in the nation in the early days. I didn’t check to see their current situation, but they had reached an unprecedented high for daily new cases just several days before my flight.

    I chose to fly Alaska Airlines because they had instituted a policy of blocking out the middle seats. The only problem was that when my return flight was booked, American was the airline I was given and they had no such policy. A two and a half-hour layover in Seattle and a nearly four hour layover in Phoenix on the return flight meant I would be spending about 12 hours on planes or in airports on the way and almost 11 hours on the way back. All that exposure to the public in closed quarters definitely caused me great concern, but I pressed on and consummated the reservation.

    The Long and Winding Maze

    I boarded the first plane at 6:45 AM and was pleased to find I was the only passenger in my row. We soon learned there was a mechanical issue with the cargo door and there would be a delay, presumably a short one. Numerous announcements followed and incrementally we reached a delay of approximately two hours, 15 minutes. Now it was obvious there would be a tight window for making my connecting flight.

    Despite my concern, I was easily distracted by the beauty of Washington’s Cascade Mountains in June as seen from above. Snow-capped peaks dotted the landscape, culminating in Mount Rainier with its massive glacier. Angle Lake also accented the area around the airport.

    I checked my gate number on my boarding pass before I deplaned, then hustled to that gate with almost 10 minutes to spare. There was no one at the gate! I checked with an American Airlines employee nearby and she accessed the system for me. The gate number had been changed, now leaving from another terminal. I had to take a train across the airport. On the way to that, I came across an Alaska customer service desk. They told me exactly how to get to the correct gate and said they would call ahead for me to let them know I was coming.

    I found my way to the train I needed. I had about five minutes to get to the gate. I ran when I reached the new terminal, weaving in and out of the travelers, panting into my mask. Breathless, I arrived at the gate only to be told the closed door to the plane could not be reopened. I headed back to the customer service counter and asked for the next flight out. “No more flights today,” the representative informed me. They offered to put me up in a hotel and get me on the next day’s flight, which would get me there almost 24 hours after my expected arrival. “I’ll miss a whole day with my son,” I complained. When a trip is planned for only seven days, every day is precious. “How about another airline?” I learned Alaska was my best option in this time of reduced flight schedules. I stood there in a sullen daze as the rep went about setting up a hotel and my flight reservation.

    Someone may have taken the reservation before she could get it booked. She called over a Supervisor and they worked for about 10 minutes before coming up with another option. I could fly to Baltimore and arrive that night. Our son might pick me up or I could take a train to Philadelphia. I took them up on that and reached Baltimore by about 11:00. Our son had worked out an arrangement with Alaska that they would pay for a hotel and rental car to get me to Philadelphia.

    Once in the Baltimore-Washington airport, I shuttled over to the off-site rental facility where I learned that all but one of the rental agencies would not rent on a one-way basis. The only one that would, Hertz, wanted to charge me $154 for less than 24 hours. I refused to pay such an exorbitant fee and rode back to the airport. Meanwhile, my phone was down to about 6% charge and I had forgotten my charge cable. This meant I couldn’t call hotels to send a shuttle to me. It was after midnight by that time and I was standing in the pickup area for hotel shuttles, not knowing if any would even be coming at that time of the night.

    Faith…you have to have faith. Suddenly, a shuttle from Doubletree arrived to pick up another man who had a reservation. I jumped aboard and was able to get a room on the spot. Momentum was on my side then. They provided a shuttle to the Amtrak station the next day. I had a nice train ride to Philadelphia, where our son picked me up.

    Philadelphia Railway Station on 30th Street

    (To be continued next time)

  • BROTHERS AND SISTERS

    GEORGE FLOYD

    This year of cataclysm, this year of pandemic, this year of change has moved into a new phase of social upheaval due to the murder of George Floyd. One of the most horrendous incidents ever caught on video has opened old wounds for black Americans, spurring outrage and protests around the world.

    The narrow view that the color of one’s skin makes them dangerous or worthy of contempt or anything but equal remains a hurdle that you would think is insurmountable. Such an opinion has no place in America, “the land of the free and the home of the brave.” True freedom has not been achieved and it takes much more courage from those who need to grant it to grant it without reservation.

    No matter our race, we are all children of God and brothers and sisters in the family of humanity. This is self-evident. We don’t have to look far to see it shining crystal-clear.

    Darren Lee, Jr.

    Taking part in one of the many protests since Floyd’s death, Lee is a daycare business owner in Louisville. It was the first time he had ever joined a protest. When it turned violent with shots being fired, he decided it was time for him to head home. On his way out, he noticed one policeman separated from his team.

    The white officer was walking along the street, trying to get to his squad car. A group of black protesters started closing in on him as they were shouting questions at him about why there is so much police brutality and harassment. Lee saw one man standing between the crowd and the policeman, so Lee joined him. They, along with a few other African-American men and one white man, joined arms and formed a wall to protect the policeman.

    The angry crowd demanded to know why they would protect him. Fortunately, the verbal rage didn’t escalate into physical violence and the officer was able to rejoin his team. He thanked Lee and the human chain.

    Lee told a television reporter, “I think he learned at that point that not all protesters or not all black people are bad people. We don’t all have hate for the police. We just want to see change. We just want to see justice.”

    Mamoudou Gassama

    In 2018, then 22 year-old Gassama pulled off a rescue that resulted in him being dubbed Spiderman. It happened in Paris when a small boy was seen dangling from a fourth floor balcony railing. Gassama heard the reactions of people below from a nearby restaurant. He immediately climbed from balcony to balcony up all four stories in less than a minute and nimbly pulled the child to safety. It was an act of heroism that no other person there probably even considered.

    Gassama was a migrant from Mali in West Africa. His act of selfless courage was caught on video and went viral. He was invited to meet French President Emmanuel Macron, was granted French citizenship and was given a job as a firefighter.

    “I did not really think, I started climbing directly,” he told Macron. “As I was climbing up, I felt more and more confident.” What an inspiration this gentleman is!

    Alicia Keys

    Ms. Keys’ musical accomplishments sing for themselves and they are remarkable. Not as well-known is her philanthropy. Her activism for various causes demonstrates her value to the world that transcends her art and her generosity.

    She helped create Keep a Child Alive, a non-profit that provides help for families with HIV and AIDS in Africa and India. She has worked to fight poverty, to further education and women’s rights. She has joined in the movement against systemic racism, participating in a video released in 2016 called, “23 Ways You Could Be Killed if You are a Black Man in America.”

    At the 2017 Women’s March on Washington, she said, “We want the best for all Americans. No hate, no bigotry, no Muslim registry. We value education, health care, equality.” She added that she cares about women’s equal pay, war, women’s rights, and environmental protection.

    Oprah Winfrey

    I apologize for the familiarity, but I just feel I have to refer to her as Oprah. We feel as though we know her. She is so accessible. One of the most caring people on the planet, she is one of the greatest philanthropists. Her love of the arts, her spirituality and her interest in helping people make her one of the most special people of her generation.

    Oprah has dedicated herself to improving education and helping women as well as children all around the world. She has founded the Oprah Winfrey Leadership Academy for Girls in South Africa. She has helped over 5,000 students get college scholarships and made millions of dollars of donations to a variety of charitable organizations.

    I Could Go On and On…

    I have to give honorable mention to several more people I can hardly stand leaving off the above list. There’s Muhammad Ali, whose wide-ranging actions for humanity are legendary. Martin Luther King would be on the Mt. Rushmore of men who have elevated this human race in the name of love and justice. Medgar Evers stood tall in Mississippi and cried out for equality. He declared, “As long as God gives me strength to work and try to make things real for my children, I’m going to work for it–even if it means making the ultimate sacrifice.” He was assassinated in Mississippi. Leah Chase was a chef who owned a restaurant called Dooky Chase in New Orleans. She was known for bringing people together, people of all races in a time and place when it was considered against the law. King, Thurgood Marshall and others gathered there. She was so highly regarded that the authorities never shut her down or raided her restaurant.

    These examples are just a few of the illustrious brothers and sisters in a galaxy of stars. Let’s dedicate ourselves now and forever to not just tolerate our brothers and sisters, not just co-exist with them, but to appreciate them and love them. We are part of a family of beings on earth and across the universe. May we celebrate all of us that make up this whole which is greater than any one individual or race.

    ONE BIG DIVERSE FAMILY

  • THE TRIVIALIZATION OF TRUTH

    I see that spirit in the people of the world in the face of pandemic. We’re taking ourselves out of social circulation, for the most part, in consideration of the greater good. We have been given real facts by relevant health organizations. At great inconvenience and disruption of our lives, we have altered our standard mode of living in a collective effort to mitigate the spread of a deadly virus. This is quite an accomplishment in itself.

    While I do accept that the fundamental basics of what we’re being told about COVID-19 are true, I can’t help thinking the information about the ongoing statistics and the prospects for the future are being obfuscated. This may be partially unintentional, as it’s difficult to report on numbers that are complex and constantly changing. Out of desperation, the future can be looked upon with false fear or false hope. It can also be misrepresented to secure political gain.

    The scope of this article goes much further than assessing the handling of truth in reaction to the effects of the coronavirus. It goes back many years. Just how long has truth been losing its grip on the conscience of humankind?

    When Truth Was Esteemed

    In today’s Information Age, it is sad indeed that truth is so often seen to be unimportant. A version of the so-called truth is passed off as “alternative facts” by some of the most cynical. Throughout the history of the human race, there have probably been many times when truth was tossed aside as an inconvenience for those who wanted money, power or better circumstances of any kind. But it wasn’t always that way. Although there were no doubt always dishonest people, there have been many more to whom truth was greatly valued.

    Ancient Persian children were instructed in morals as well as physical skills. They were to draw the bow and to speak the truth. In the time of the Old Testament, the Hebrews made it clear that being truthful was part of being a good person and a follower of God. Aristotle called truth “noble and praiseworthy.”

    Thomas Jefferson wrote repeatedly about truth and often in regard to being fearless when it came to having the truth known about him. My favorite quote of his on the general subject is, “Honesty is the first chapter in the book of wisdom.”

    Henry David Thoreau shed light on the potential for erosion of the truth when he wrote, “If we dealt only with the false and dishonest, we should at last forget how to speak truth.”

    In an article titled, The Virtue of Truth, Reverend Professor J. Radford Thomson stated, “Among the morally cultivated, truth is regarded, not only as obligatory and as contributive to the well-being of society, but also as beautiful and admirable, and even as a mark of good breeding. On the other hand, untruthfulness is regarded, not only as always a vice and sometimes a crime, and as a sin against God, but also as a deformity, a moral degradation, and as a fault peculiarly mean and base.”

    What Went Wrong

    I submit that our commitment to truth, integrity and doing unto others as you would have them do unto you began to unravel with the advent of the Industrial Revolution. Its origin is traced to England in 1760, but it wasn’t up to full speed until about 1840 when it spread to other parts of the world.

    I have long suspected that the Industrial Revolution was a turning point in degrading our societal evolution. My research for this article led me to an excellent article supporting my theory, at least addressing the basics of how the Industrial Revolution was the beginning of the erosion. The article is titled Some Ethical Consequences of the Industrial Revolution. Written by R. Austin Freeman, it was published in the International Journal of Ethics in 1923.

    Freeman discusses the industrial arts of ancient craftsmen and how their most important considerations were “1. Function of the thing produced, conceived in terms of the consumer’s needs. 2. Material, conceived in terms of function. 3. Technique, conceived in terms of material. 4. Appliances, conceived in terms of technique.” The result was a product of high quality and durability.

    With the Industrial Revolution, machines became the key to production. This quickly led to adaptation to the limitations of the machine, thus lower standards and less regard for the consumer. Freeman observed that the order of precedence in production was reversed, as such, “1. Appliance used. 2. Technique, conceived in terms of the capabilities of the appliance. 3. Material, conceived in terms of its suitability to the technique. 4. Function, conceived in terms of the consumer’s needs.”

    The broker of the deal and the salesman, not the artisan, make the connection with the consumer. There’s a lack of pride in the product and an increased chance of fraud in the chain of commerce. As the decades and centuries pass, honesty and truth have become more and more removed from the commitment to the welfare of one’s neighbor that was so important to the early craftsmen.

    Freeman sums it up. “And this ethical atrophy represents the subsidence to a lower level of essential civilization. For civilization, as we have agreed, is based upon the recognition by man of his duty toward his neighbor; of which none can be more obvious than that of honesty and fair dealing. Truly it is a steep descent from the Ora et Labora of the ancient craftsman whose very industry was worship, whose handiwork was a pious offering, to the industrial magnate, sitting in the seats of the mighty and murmuring to himself: ‘Put money in thy purse; honestly if thou canst, but–put money in thy purse.’ “

    Conclusion

    The disconnect between the corporate giant and the people it serves opens the way for lust for wealth and power. The love of truth and justice get lost in the process. Thus, truth is made trivial. And here we are.

  • THE COMFORTING EMBRACE OF YOUR MUSIC

    Our lives are in some ways like a long series of novels or television shows that revolve around a few enduring characters and a greater number of interchanging ones as we move from one stage of life to another.

    We glide or trudge or plow along through the various phases with music playing in the background. Whether we’re “struggling for the legal tender” as Jackson Browne sang or “singin’ and dancin’ in the rain” a la Gene Kelly or we’re “on the road again” with Willie Nelson, there’s often music there energizing us, uplifting us or giving us comfort when we really need it.

    Life is a Series

    One of my earlier romances, when I was 22, wasn’t earthshaking on the world stage, but it was in my world. I’m referencing it rather than the one that become The One because of its various elements that had a “recipe” (Jimmy Webb/MacArthur Park) for drama perhaps unlike any other I’ve known.

    At the time, I was a lumber handler at a sawmill while I moonlighted as a long-haired, hard-partying wannabe writer and musician. I was a young dreamer with a low responsibility level whose ambition was dulled by drugs and alcohol. I wanted a relationship badly, though, when I was introduced to Carey (as I will call her).

    In my oft-altered states, I was euphorically listening to the likes of Led Zeppelin, Cat Stevens, Moody Blues and, of course, The Beatles. The music and the messages fueled my vision of elevated states of spirituality, of expanded awareness to which I attached central importance.

    Carey was an attractive 24 year-old widow with two preschool children. Her husband had died in a horrendous car accident that almost took Carey’s life as well. She was the daughter of a wealthy real estate broker who had a thin veneer of jovial camaraderie that possibly hid mean-spirited humor. While Carey was intelligent and charming in a mildly cynical sort of way, she was probably influenced by her ambitious father for whom she worked as a realtor with high energy and dedication. Her hard work had earned her a lovely house in a woodsy setting outside town.

    There was an evening when one of my best friends had his first date with the love of his life. They came over to Carey’s house after a movie or something. He would always have me play my guitar and sing some of my songs when we partied. These became part of the soundtrack of our relationship, as I usually had my guitar with me. Not that she loved my music, but I think she thought it was okay.

    One night when we went out in her sharp new Chevy Malibu, we were wearing the aura of young love, talking a lot, sharing likes and dislikes. She had been hearing plenty of my favorite music, so naturally she pulled out a tape that was in her car. “Do you like Barbra Streisand?” She held up the Stoney End album.

    I was lukewarm on Barbra, but I probably said something like, “Not what I’ve been listening to, but let’s hear it.” We did and I found it surprisingly palatable. I think she played it for me a few more times when we were in her car because I became quite familiar with it. It remains as a pleasant memory of my time with her.

    After a couple months or so, she started talking marriage. I wasn’t enthusiastic about the idea, but I very much wanted to be with her and we put it in our future. There were problems, though. Her children were pretty rowdy and had no respect for me. Carey was mature, strong-willed and relatively materialistic. I was her laid back hippie boyfriend, too immature to build an empire with her. One symbol of our basic difference was that I drove an old, big boat of a Chrysler. She wanted me to buy a Datsun, a Japanese car of all things. Funny aside, though, by the end of the decade I bought a new Datsun.

    More importantly, Carey was on an emotional roller-coaster. She was going through very tough times, still recovering from the loss of her husband. She was a young, newly single mother raising and supporting two high-energy children. Hard for my even-keeled personality to grasp. She would sink into a dark place off and on. I probably wasn’t much help with my music and hippie views.

    We had a four-month run, rocky for much of the time. After one difficult day, Carey said, “I think we should separate for a while. I need to think about what we should do.”

    I went along with this and told her, “Fine. Let me know what you decide.”

    I thought I could be cool, but the next week or so was unbearable. Each day was worse than the last as I awaited a call.

    I composed a couple songs during my exile. One called You’re Not Here bemoaned how we lost our way. The other, Separation Blues, brought out the ache I felt in my heart. Here’s one verse and a chorus.

    The minutes are becomin’ hours. It’s gettin’ harder all the time. I’ve gotta see you soon, I’ll tell ya, or I’ll lose my mind. O why don’t you come to me and one we’ll be and we’ll be free. O why don’t you let me know, if only because I love you so.

    I finally caved and called her. She wasn’t ready and my pressure pushed her into saying we should just end it.

    My heart was broken. I cried hard for a while, then took a drive out on a small country road. I was normally a slow driver, but this particular day I drove in a rage at 80 or 90 MPH while rock music blared on the radio.

    One of the best things to come from our relationship was an introduction through Carey to a couple that became treasured friends of mine for many years. I was best man at their wedding. The man of the pair was an excellent guitarist and he helped me record the first collection of my best original songs. Music was a large part of our friendship. They eventually split, but the woman remains a dear friend to this day and is one of my favorite people.

    Music is Magic

    Whatever we’re going through, good times or bad, music is always there for us to affirm our joy and ease our pain or provide whatever it is we need at the time. I’ll leave you with the words of Guy Gabriel, singer/songwriter and leader of Kindred Spirits, a group I’m proud to play with on a regular basis. These are some of the words of his song, Music is Magic.

    It can heal you It can soothe you It can rock you It can move you And change the way you feel With a single note It can teach you It can guide you It can reach you It can remind you And let you know things you’ve never, ever known

    Change your life in the blink of an eye Music is magic Take you higher and higher Make you feel so inspired

    It can shake you It can release you It can wake you It can free you And get you out of yourself For a magical time It can hold you It can change you It can mold you It can rearrange you And suspend all time and space for a little while

    Music is magic Change your life in a wave of the hand Saves us from what’s tragic It’s there at your command Bring you to the promised land

    Your Music

    From hip hop to opera, you should embrace the music that sings to you. It will then embrace you.

  • THE ARTS IN THE WAKE OF PESTILENCE

    As we deal with the effects of COVID-19 on our lives and society in general, our thoughts are increasingly focused on the future. The chances are that changes we’ve seen in our social behaviors, in our personal hygiene and in our economy will have a lasting impact. The normal of the past will remain there and not be replicated in the future.

    One aspect of life that could change is the arts. Across the fields of painting, music, film, writing and more, our experience as a result of the pandemic will be reflected widely and often. History supports this prediction in fascinating ways. Take a trip with me back through a few of the darker periods of human affairs. Some interesting patterns develop.

    The Black Death

    We all know about the Bubonic Plague. The king of the pandemics came in waves, enduring off and on for approximately 400 years. It took at least 75 million lives and possibly as many as 200 million. The worst years were in the 14th century, in the Dark Ages.

    The darkness spread to the scenes depicted in artists’ creations, which had previously illustrated Biblical references to life followed by progression to a heavenly plane. Now it reflected a fear of death occasionally seen as the wage of sin. A pessimistic realism began to dominate artistic expression. Whereas deathbed scenes in earlier paintings would usually show the dying person surrounded by loved ones carrying out a type of social ceremony, the plague inspired scenarios where the afflicted was left alone with only Death overseeing the transition to the next world. Death might be shown as an angel or a decomposing skeleton.

    On a brighter note, one of the most influential books in history was written just after the worst of the pandemic, published in about 1353. Titled The Decameron, it was written by Giovanni Boccaccio. It is framed as a tale about seven women and three men who leave the highly infested Florence and shelter in a secluded villa. Each evening, they would sit around and each would tell a story. They did this for 10 nights and thus related 100 tales in all. They make up the bulk of the book, as the story of their sheltering is mainly a backdrop.

    The Decameron stories vary in tone, but there’s plenty of humor to offset the tragic content. Some of the writers whose work was influenced by this classic include Shakespeare, Chaucer, Swift, Keats and Longfellow. Even modern film and television have used tales from The Decameron.

    Spanish Flu

    World War I was in its fourth year when at the beginning of 1918 the Spanish Flu hit. It hit hard for two years, ending the lives of as many as 100 million people.

    There was a direct product of the epidemic in the area of artistic design. Because the virus could remain infectious longer on fabric furniture than harder surfaces, new furniture was created by Marcel Breuer of wood and tubular steel that was more practical for the times and fresh as well as innovative.

    In the realm of oil painting, a unique style was mastered by an artist from France named of Chaim Soutine. He produced many landscape works that featured intense use of his brushes and bordered on the abstract. The themes were dark, but were sometimes comforting as well.

    The Dada Movement, known for its satire and irrational qualities, covered painting, dance and poetry. It peaked during the epidemic and helped advance avant-garde subculture that probably helped pave the way for the changes of the Roaring Twenties.

    The Global HIV/AIDS Pandemic

    It’s just my opinion, but I think the HIV/AIDS pandemic has been the most underrated and under-acknowledged viral catastrophe in history. Being that the virus compromises the victim’s immunity to diseases, the person with HIV can die from resulting diseases such as tuberculosis, pneumonia and even cancer. Thus, HIV has been the root cause of more than 32 million deaths on the planet. Although the infections peaked in 1997, there were still approximately 1.7 million new cases in 2018.

    This disease is terrifying, but it didn’t cause nearly the uproar that COVID-19 is currently. Without getting into a discussion of prejudicial views and the injustice attached to those views, I’ll just say it appears that once the majority population learned they could avoid it by practicing avoidable safe behaviors, they felt insulated and mostly put it out of their minds.

    As to this pandemic’s effect on the arts, I am not aware of any related art that broke new ground when it comes to style or form. I may be missing pieces that did so along the way. Of great importance, however, is the content in the arts that shone a light on the humanity of those who contracted the disease and the suffering they endured.

    Several examples of profound art that did rouse the attention of the detached who felt little compassion for the afflicted: 1) The film Philadelphia, which connected us with characters we cared about, making us hurt as we saw them wasting away into oblivion; 2) Large display art from the 1980s and on helped raise awareness of AIDS when the government and medical industry were largely ignoring it. Such slogans as “Silence=Death” and “I HAVE AIDS…Please hug me…I can’t make you sick” were strong reminders that some of our fellow humans were in need of help; 3) The AIDS Quilt Songbook is a musical effort aimed at bringing up awareness of the plague. It presented 18 songs that communicated directly, even bluntly, about the horror AIDS patients were going through. There have been subsequent editions of the songbook, keeping the message going.

    What to Expect

    There will be new songs out there about life-altering changes due to the COVID-19 pandemic. I’ve written one myself, a satirical look at how certain people at the top of the political food chain have reacted to the disaster and how they weigh the importance of the economy versus actual lives. I expect to see films and TV shows dramatizing the already intensely dramatic lives of our medical staff and essential workers whose contribution during these times has been nothing short of remarkable.

    The effect the coronavirus has on our arts will likely be determined by just how rough the road ahead is, so from that perspective I hope the change will be minor. I do believe when this is over, our civilization will have a resurgence that may transcend the pre-virus version. After the Black Death, Europe entered into a Renaissance. After the Spanish Flu, big changes came with the Roaring Twenties. While we might not really assess properly the effect of HIV/AIDS, especially since it’s still not under full control, perhaps we can realize one positive aspect arising from it. Sexual orientation has gained wide acceptance, reducing discrimination tremendously in our society. While many saw the disease as a way of removing a segment of sinners from the earth, it may have been a way for the judges to see the judged as fellow humans who should be accepted as they are–whole.

    Adversity presents an opportunity for growth. History has shown us how. May better times be ahead when this difficult time is behind us.

  • STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS UNDER QUARANTINE

    I don’t have to be anywhere. Being somewhere is dangerous, though being randomly somewhere still means the odds are in my favor. I’m reminded I’m hungry. Should I go out, take out, eat in, all in one fell swoop? Perhaps I should eat my safe food, prepared by my safe washed hands. I look in the freezer, where I find three courses deposited there in 2019. That’s the ticket, I think smugly.

    Consuming Food and Television

    With my plate of lentils and Jaipur vegetables and extra clean hands, I click on cable news to continue my preoccupation with the silently yet screamingly fast spreading virus. I hear we’re testing more than anyone else while I read on the scrolling text that we rank 41st among nations for amount of tests done per million citizens.

    I get off the news and on a talk show with a studio audience that was live a year ago. Hopefully, they’re alive to watch it today. My mind is filled with ignorant bliss. The glee of the celebrity-luminated crowd strikes me as sad. They’re like passengers on a train to nowhere. Well, on a train on a collision course with another train. Their collective future is filled with anxious uncertainty and they don’t know it.

    Life on the Internet

    My coronavirus-addled mind finds little relief in the cascade of related posts reflecting the shock, bewilderment and irony of these bizarre times. There are the political posts, the religious posts and the new weird reality posts. I take comfort in those that offer peace and love. I enjoy the occasional comic relief. Reminders of our formerly normal lives are a refreshing change until I reflect upon the loss of any normal for the time being.

    My daily foray into the ESPN website takes me down a rabbit hole into a whole other version of outlandish. I routinely feed on scores, standings and unfolding seasons across the sports landscape. No playoffs…no Opening Day…one big horse race in Florida with no one in attendance.

    I’m getting no stats from the games, so I go for the pandemic results. How are we doing locally? More cases and the rate of cases is increasing daily now. How are we looking statewide? Deaths are mounting. The national case numbers are now charging in on 200,000 and deaths are over 4000. The graphs are shooting skyward. It’s a good thing anxiety isn’t one of the symptoms or we’d all have to be tested now.

    Meditation

    I need to clear my mind, slow down the thought parade, get present and find a little peace in my heart. I sit, start my breathing technique, still unfocused. Thoughts pass through, such as…it’s chilly in here…my legs feel good…the dogs want out, wife’s got it…still anxious…what are my latest odds of dying from the virus…yeah, but I’m very resistant to viruses my whole life…dogs barking, wanting in…wife let the dogs in, but I didn’t hear the door shut…song in my head, I Scare Myself…“I scare myself, and I don’t mean lightly…I scare myself, and it can get frightening”…concentrate…breathing…breathing…feeling peace…bliss…and so it is.

    Hope

    I need to work on my to-do list. I pull it up on my screen. I hadn’t noticed in the last year how long that list is getting. Nearing two full pages, single-spaced for the most part. It’s loosely organized into sections, starting with the oldest tasks and working toward the newest. There are auto repairs, home repairs, book marketing ideas, self-improvement techniques. The last section is the only one I’ve worked recently. There are repeats because I forget I listed them years ago. Hey, I find one that’s done. I’m down to 75 things left to do! I see I’m making progress on some other things.

    So many people I communicate with show genuine concern for the basic health of others…there’s a palpable feeling among us all that we’re in this fix together…I see it in their eyes, hear it in their voices…I notice I haven’t heard any complaining from those brave people in the essential businesses who are serving the rest of us…I find hope in our humanity, which always rises to the top in times of crisis.

    Most importantly, we need to reach out while we’re sheltering. Phone calls, emails, texts and postings are all good. Even better would be helping those organizations that have a solid history of helping others in need. They will be out there doing what needs to be done. One of those is Project Hope, a 60-year old non-profit that works on the front lines of health challenges around the world. It has earned the Better Business Bureau Wise Giving Alliance’s highest ranking. Supporting them and others as we can generates hope in a very real physical sense.

    We’ll get through this. Excellent health to you all!