• Category Archives Politics

  • Nations. Divided.

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lughnasa and the Herme Moon

    Monday gratefuls: Murdoch. That funny guy. Leo, gone home. Luke. Tal. 48 degrees. Clear Sky. Great Sol brightening the Lodgepoles and Black Mountain. Great Sol’s angle already beginning to visibly decline. The harvest season underway. The Midwest. Its farms and farmers. Its humidity. The arid West. Its Mountains. Dogs. All Dogs. Of all time. Angels. Love incarnate. The Sacred. Revelation.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dogs

    One brief shining: A Dog lays her head in your lap, gazes up at you with adoration, follows you on a walk, waits for you at the door when you come home tired from work, tail wagging, eyes filled with you only you and you reach down, pat her, scratch behind her ears, then the world comes into focus.

     

    Realized only yesterday that my travels this year will take me to two divided nations, Israel and Korea. Very different in the origin of the divisions, yes, one xenophobic and the other bemoaned on both sides yet hardened and both societies with strong military presences, the threat of imminent conflict always in the air. I wonder what to look for, how to gauge the impact of the Arab/Israeli conflict on day-to-day life in both Israel and the West Bank. In Korea the division separates a nation into two parts, a  Southern and Northern, yet considered one country by all Koreans. How though does the continuing division affect the average Korean? Not my main reason for visiting either place yet a dominant reality in both.

    After my conversion in Jerusalem, I will have a strong personal stake in both countries. A Jew considering the life of Israel. And, a father-in-law with a Korean daughter-in-law, my son stationed in Korea for four years. Also, the Jang family, Seoah’s brother, two sisters, nieces and nephews, her mother and father. The deep wounds in both countries have increased significance for me.

    Makes me wonder about the soft division (compared to Israel and Korea) that has come to dominate American politics. About its impact on our body politic here. How does a nation fare when large numbers of its citizens disagree on the fundamentals of what it means to be a nation? What is, after all, a nation? Certainly it requires some minimal cohesion among its resident population.

    This Wikipedia entry, nation, has a nice precis of what the word has meant and might mean in the future. It’s important to remember that the nation state is a relatively recent invention, most scholars agreeing that the modern nation state arose in the 17th century. I found this quote from the Wiki helpful: “The consensus among scholars is that nations are socially constructed, historically contingent, and organizationally flexible.” My mental ears perked up at the first two terms: socially constructed and historically contingent.

    Yes. Israel came into being in 1947, a recent expression of an old homeland, one imposed on an existing territory already occupied by Jews and Arab. Socially constructed as a necessary antidote to the horrors of Hitler’s Germany, yet oh so historically contingent as an increasingly large swath of the diaspora, Palestinians, and progressive Israelis argue it must change its nature as a nation. It is refusing to be organizationally flexible.

    Korea though is an ethnic nation divided by modern politics. Both South Korea and North Korea socially constructed by the historical contingencies of big power politics, the Cold War, of the 1950’s. Because of those ties of ethnicity, most Koreans on both sides of the border yearn for unification.

    Yet here. Here. The standout phrase. Historically contingent. As in, will not necessarily always exist. The nature of our socially constructed reality? Contested. Is there an organizational structure that can contain both far right and liberal Americans? That is our big question.

     

     

     


    Judaism Korea Politics Travel US History World History

  • A Mushroom Cloud of lies and conspiracy theories

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lughnasa and the Herme Moon

    Sunday gratefuls: Memorizing The Trail to Cold Mountain. Seoah, my son, Murdoch. Korea. Brother Mark. Sister Mary. Gabe and Ruth. Kate, always Kate. Jon, a memory. A Foggy morning. 48 degrees. Magic the Gathering. Korean competition. Sky Castle. K-dramas. Writing. A new novel idea. Getting ready for the long journeys. Israel trip meeting today. Packing gifts for Korea.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Fog

    One brief shining: Fingers curve over the keyboard as I learned in high school typing almost 60 years ago a manual skill one of the few I learned well, how to fell a tree, limb it, and buck it another, suppose you have to add driving, and there you have it.

     

    I’m close on memorizing The Trail to Cold Mountain. A couple of more hours today and I’ll be even closer. On the 19th I’ll have all the poems as a prop, but not what I’ve written. My costume still lacks a cloak and hood, boots. Gotta get on those this week. Satisfying.

     

    Toobin’s book, Homegrown, details the lives of several feckless men and women folks whose lives never managed to crystallize. Failed marriages, bouts of unemployment dotted with rants, seeking a culprit and finding one in the Federal government.

    McVeigh spent much of his adult life going from one gun show to another, often driving thousands of miles in a week. Toobin illustrates how gun shows are a carrier of the far right pathogen. At the larger ones there were sessions on the Constitution, what really happened at Waco and Ruby Ridge, how to become a sovereign citizen, survivalist skills. Then there is the gunshow loophole which allows individuals to sell guns and ammunition with no checks of any kind. This still exists.

    While on the road McVeigh listened to Rush Limbaugh, often for hours at a time. At night he had a shortwave radio and listened to a similar podcast from Arizona. His friend Timothy Nichols added the plight of farmers in the 1980’s to Tim’s thinking. Nichols hated banks, floated around the Michigan militia movement. With his lone wolf, road warrior lifestyle McVeigh rarely came out from under the mushroom cloud of conspiracy theories, second amendment fanatics, and gun show radicals.

    Toobin shows, in a neat twist, how the early response to the Murrah Building bombing focused on Muslims, on foreigners who wanted to do harm to the Great Satan. But no. Instead this bomb made of fertilizer and racing fuel in 55 gallon drums all packed tight in a rental truck came from the same source as those who blamed the attack on outsiders.

    As my brother said in an e-mail, reconciling the Trumpists with the rest of our nation will be difficult. Make no mistake. Trump is only a highly visible manifestation of the same mushroom cloud of lies and hate that engulfed Timothy McVeigh over thirty years ago. And the bomb that made that cloud became real in a fantasy world already well inhabited by the heirs of the Ku Klux Klan, the John Birch Society, and the NRA.

     


    Acting Politics US History

  • Not anymore

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lughnasa and the Herme Moon

    Saturday gratefuls: Leo. Luke and Tal, off camping. Magic the Gathering. My son. Seoah. Murdoch. Jeffrey Toobin’s Homegrown. The Far Right. Freedom. Liberty. Regime Change by Patrick Deneen. Reading.  Celt and Sorsha. Scot and Morgana. Tira and Tully. Orion and Tor. Vega and Rigel. The Wolfhounds. Iris and Bucky. Bridget and Emma. Hilo and Kona. The Whippets. Gertie, the German Wirehair. Kep, the Akita. All of blessed memory. Kate, always Kate. Jon, a memory.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dogs

    One brief shining: Leo’s long tan body lies stretched out on my green rug his dad gone camping last night he barked, an alarm bark, three different times though he is a quiet dog jarring me awake fumbling for my tac flashlight with which I check for Bears or Mountain Lions before letting any dog outside on the Mountain.

     

    Luke called yesterday morning to ask if I could take Leo for the weekend. Tal invited him to go camping. Checked my calendar. Sure. I’ll bring him by this afternoon. OK.

    That’s why around 11 pm last night I put on my Acorns, got out of bed, and found the strong flashlight. Leo was at the basement door, alert, looking out with that eager, oh my god oh my god look dogs get when something fascinating has roused them from sleep. After sweeping the yard with my flashlight, I let him out. He went into the yard, sniffed, turned around and came back in. Gone, whatever it was. We both returned to sleep.

    Always good. Leo. Dogwatching.

     

    Got Jeffrey Toobin’s new book, Homegrown, a couple of days ago. Though I’m liking the History of the Two Koreas and about half through it, I’ve set it aside while I read this account of Timothy McVeigh’s life and terror and his influence on the current far right. This topic has me riveted. The more I learn about it the more I see it as a slow motion train wreck, one engine burning hate and fear and distorted notions of freedom and liberty, the other consuming ordinary dreams of an ordinary democracy in an extraordinary and deeply flawed nation. Guess which engine’s moving faster.

    Going at a problem at its roots. Radicals. That’s what we’ve tried to do. Those of us drawn to the extreme edge of political thought and action. For me: capitalism, oppression by dint of skin color and economic status, nationality, religious affiliation. For them: freedom defined by gun ownership, liberty defined by that yellow Gadsen flag, and the loss of unearned privilege seen as a Fisher King wound. We both looked back to the founding documents, to the willingness of early white settlers to take up arms against their government in the name of freedom and liberty. We both found that line in the Declaration of Independence: “That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends [the pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness], it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.” We both found energy in the revolutionary spirit of those times, its apparent idealism and the sacrifices made to break away from a perceived tyrant.

    Over the years since the heady days of the 1960’s I’ve had to polish off the rough edges of my thought, take it down a notch or two as negotiators like to say, not be so certain of my righteousness, or so correct in my solutions. It just occurred to me that could be a signal as to how this all may play out if we keep our heads, insist on the rule of law, don’t demonize the far right but let them see gradually the need to polish off the rough edges of their thought.

    We might end up with a society energized by those who insist on the individual as the atomic weight of our nation, 1, and others who insist on its atomic weight as equivalent to the whole of our population. The resonance between these two inflections could protect liberty and freedom for each of us while seeing to the welfare of us all.

    As an old radical, I still yearn for a socialist America where each contributes to his/her/their ability and each receives according to their need. For an America where individuals are not judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. (MLK) Where my religious freedom ends where yours begins. Where we follow that French gift and its famous poem declaring us willing, even eager to accept your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free as a key component of our national character. That’s still my dream. And I’m still willing to fight for it. But not at the expense of our nation. No, not anymore.


    Dogs Politics US History

  • Under the Mushroom Cloud

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lughnasa and the Herme Moon

    Thursday gratefuls: Oppenheimer, the movie. Gabe. The last revision of The Trail to Cold Mountain. Acting. Cool night. Closed caption contraption. In and Out. Euphemisms. Driving. In rush hour. On I-70. With the express lanes functioning. God is Here, the book. Metaphors. For the sacred. Mussar. Leading mussar today. Getting back into the Mountains after having been in the city.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Movies

    One brief shining: Trinity on the White Sands of New Mexico, a tower alone, an old fashioned motor and chain lifted a ball with electrical wires coming off of it, like a head connected to a neural mapping device, only this was no head, rather it was the first atomic bomb moving slowly link by link to its moment of explosive truth.

     

    Baby boomer? Yes. They’re talking about my generation. A massive number of births following a long and bloody war. Which, at its end, changed the world forever. The movie Oppenheimer gives us a glimpse into the work, the pragmatic scientific bloody-minded work, that made that change. It shows us, yes, the story of the Chief Executive Scientist behind the bomb’s completion, Robert Oppenheimer. A complex man filled with paradox and living a life always on the knife edge of tragedy. Yes, an American Prometheus chained ever after to the rock of fame and infamy, governmental vultures stopping by to pick at his liver, healing up and then starting over again.

    What it does not show is the mushroom cloud hovering over us baby boomers, the first generation to grow up with the knowledge that humanity held the awful power to eliminate itself. An anti-evolutionary device, the A-bomb. Too easy but I’ll say it anyway. Our sword of Damocles. Mutually Assured Destruction. MAD. ness. What else can it be?

    Under the mushroom cloud spies snuck here and there, covertly hunting for nuclear secrets. The US and the Soviet Union locked in a standoff made Velveteen Rabbit by the missile silos in Siberia and in the fields of Wyoming and South Dakota. That same mushroom cloud hovers still. Only now the so-called nuclear club has many members: China, Russia, India, Pakistan, Israel, the U.S, North Korea, France, the United Kingdom.

    Ironic that in the early winter of the baby boomer generation the great threat to the world is no longer that mushroom cloud but an early industrial age blanket made of carbon. Not to say the nuclear threat does not remain. It does. Yet so far the MAD notion of self-destruction in an instant has held fingers away from the buttons.

    All the while we drove our cars, buses, trucks and turned on our air-conditioners, joined the electric revolution.

    Apocalypse now is not a movie anymore.


    Politics Science Weather +Climate

  • Unforgivable

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lughnasa and the Herme Moon

    Wednesday gratefuls: Acting class. Abby. Joan. Rebecca. Tal. Deb. Voices. Haunting voices. Dreams. Hail. Rain. Thunder. Lightning. Acting. The Trail to Cold Mountain. Almost finished as a script. Cool mornings. Good sleeping. A drive back in a Rain soaked Night. Again.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Feelings

    One brief shining: Last night a cool breeze came off Berrigan Mountain making the synagogue’s social hall comfortable while I shuffled my pages of The Trail to Cold Mountain and raised the music stand a bit.

     

    Most scripts are collaborative, Tal said. The playwright gives them to a director and a group of actors. Everybody has their say. I like that. I enjoyed writing this script. It felt natural to me. Might try a different idea. As well as a new novel.

    I know there is a certain amount of avoidance involved in starting a new novel while I have others at important stages of revision or with a few thousand words left to complete a first draft. Well, maybe more than a certain amount.

    However, it’s the act of writing (like I’m doing right now) that excites me, turns me on, and the rush of a new idea, or a new form? Wow. And since, for some reason, I don’t care about readers, or at least not enough to become skilled at marketing my work, why not go with the journey?

     

    Going to see Oppenheimer in about 45 minutes with Gabe. I found my copy of Oppenheimer: American Prometheus yesterday and brought it downstairs. I want to read it. Probably later in the fall. This is the book underlying the movie.

    Can you imagine having Nagasaki and Hiroshima on your heart? I can’t.

    Been reading in the Korean histories about the nuclear frisson there. How South Korea wanted the bomb but the U.S. walked them back from it. And, how an unfortunate series of preventable events led North Korea to pursue it. The whole rogue state thing was unnecessary. Could have been different.

     

    The big one has landed. Trump’s indictment in January 6th. Here’s a line from a fascinating Atlantic piece about it: “Enough of all this; we can love our friends and our family and our neighbors without accepting their terms of debate. To support Trump is to support sedition and violence, and we must be willing to speak this truth not only to power but to our fellow citizens.”  This is it.

    All else pales before a President who commits high crimes and misdemeanors. I agree. The rest is awful and unforgivable. Classified documents. Financial and sexual abuse of one sort and another. Yes, a despicable person. Sure. But for a President to act against the nation which elected him? A firing offense. Of course. But also a disqualifying one for future office.

    Of course. Innocent until proven guilty. Yet. We all know. Even, perhaps especially his followers and sycophants know. This man wanted to upend the peaceful transfer of power after a national election. That’s as far away from ok as a defrocked pedophilic priest saying the mass.


    Acting Politics US History Writing

  • Chesed and The Emotive Presidency

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lughnasa and the Herme Full Moon

    Tuesday gratefuls: Gabe coming up today. We’ll see Oppenheimer together tomorrow. (He said he was going to wear a suit.) Prolia. Bone density. Resistance work. 2 hour workout yesterday. Ann. Her good work on The Trail to Cold Mountain. Zoom. Skype. Pixels. Computer GPUs. CPUs. Screens. Keyboards. ChabotGPT4. AI. Skynet. The Internet. Laptop. Desktop. Tablet. Smartphones. Our world of small miracles. The James Webb. Starlink. The Book. The Chair. Vision.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Internet

    One brief shining: “Charlie,” the woman in the blue coat called through a cracked door so I got up and went to her; she had her left leg wrapped in blue with an orthopedic black boot up to the calf  and resting on one of those little scooters you see every once in a while now; her name was Carol it said on her blue coat, “Sit here,” I did and she placed a small tray with a syringe near me, had me turn to face the wall since the Prolia shot goes in the back of the arm, she stuck me, I said thank you, and left.

     

    I mention Carol because her demeanor was so calming and warm. An instant connection. This woman cares. I could feel it. Kindness came off her in waves. Due to my delicate condition I see lots of medical professionals over the weeks and months. Few of them are robotic or uncaring, but many, most of them are hurried. And I know why. The era of corporate medicine times “patient encounters” and the ability to upcode. A patient’s feelings or the end result of a visit are not part of the metrics. In spite of those cute little surveys sent out after each encounter. Be ye not fooled. They are not striving to improve their service though they may be trying to improve how you evaluated your visit. Not. The. Same. Thing.

     

    Fell back asleep this morning. Happens some times. Up at 8:30! Oh, my. I chuckled at myself. Today is Trail to Cold Mountain day. Editing the script, refreshing memory, going one page deeper into memorization. Acting class tonight.

    Gabe’s visit will include Oppenheimer tomorrow. Looking forward to having him here. I need to see these kids more often. Not sure how to do that. Their lives are busy now and I can no longer hop in the car to go see them without losing a day after to recovery from the drive. A conundrum.

     

    Let the silly season be seen as well underway. A NYT article reports Trump and Biden tied in a hypothetical rematch. Not sure I can stomach much more of this. Already. And we’re a year plus away from the voting. How he wrote wonderingly can this be? A man with indictments already in two investigations and other indictments likely in two others against a man whose performance in office has not been flashy, but has been much, much better than I anticipated. And in the midst of genuine crisis after crisis. Covid. The Ukraine. Inflation. The economy post Covid. We are well and truly divided.

    Read this George Will column for a cogent explanation as to why this upcoming election may be so painful. Here’s a quote from it: “In a National Affairs essay with that title [The Emotive Presidency], Mikael Good, a Georgetown University political theory student, and Philip Wallach, a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute, argue that “Trump’s masterstroke” was to realize that, for his core supporters, his governing is of secondary importance.”

     

     

     


    Acting Feelings Judaism Politics Writing

  • Religious Life

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Summer and the Herme Moon

    Saturday gratefuls: Erica, Yolanda, Nancy, Sophia. Helen. Stacy. Jamie. Alan. Ann. Gracie. The Bread Lounge. Evergreen Market. Sugar Jones. CBE. Evergreen. The Muller Retaining Wall company. Gettin’ the job done at Evergreen Lake. The detour. All detours. Hunting for the sacred. Finding the holy. Walking with the divine. Racial justice. Economic justice. The Ancient Brothers. My convergence. That Bull Elk. Still imprinted and present. Korea. Israel, a land of revelation.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Revelation

    One brief shining: CBE filled up with members of For His Glory church last night a project of Rabbi Jamie’s to advance racial justice by partnering with a black church, sharing services, gospel music, and friendship first through that most religious of human activities, a potluck, then a kabbalah shabbat service with traditional music.

     

    I went for the potluck. Met Erica, Yolanda, Nancy, and Sophia. We had a long conversation. In a difficult setting for me. The Sun shone in my face and the babble of others filled my one hearing aid. Talked with them about my conversion. About their lives. Erica manages corporate relocations internationally. About Kate. They wanted to know if I could remarry. Yes, I said, but it would have to be a very special woman and I haven’t met her. At least not yet. Tithing and the synagogue’s dues structure. Tzedakah. Yolanda wanted to know what questions the rabbinic court (beit din) might ask. Hmm. I said. That’s a good question. I’ll have to ask Rabbi Jamie.

    My sense of politics wants to move faster, engage quicker. Do something. Always. But this approach may work over a longer time. Building friendships. Shared experiences. Then let the political grow organically. Grow out of a common life nurtured over potlucks and joint services.

     

    News of my conversion has begun to leak out. Not that it was in hiding. More and more people know. And the warmth I’m experiencing makes me feel good. Mindy came up last night and said I hear you’re going to have a very special moment in Israel. Yes, I am. She offered to help me with my Hebrew or anything else. Her husband David said later as I was leaving, one thing I love about Judaism. We’re not evangelical, but if you decide you want to join we’ll find a way to include you. Over lunch on Thursday Rebecca, on hearing my news, said, Welcome. Alan wanted to know about my bar mitzvah.

     

    Revelation has begun to loom much larger in my thinking since the Bull Elk and the conversations stimulated by God is Here. Here’s a wiki definition: “In religion and theology, revelation is the revealing or disclosing of some form of truth or knowledge through communication with a deity or other supernatural entity or entities.” As I’ve begun to think about it more, I realized that revelation is at the base of most if not all religious truth claims. In other words revelation can be seen as the core religious experience, the one from which all others grow. Think of Joseph Smith and his golden tablets. Moses on Mt. Sinai. Mohammed and his angel. Jesus in the desert.

    The problem comes when we ossify and/or reify the revelations of others. When we stop hunting for or opening ourselves to revelation. More to come on this. Much more.

     

     


    Commentary on Religion Feelings Fourth Phase Judaism Politics

  • Korea and Reading

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Summer and the Summer Moon Above

    Sunday gratefuls: Leo. Lying here beside me. Luke out having fun. Books. Oh, did I mention books? Korean history. Seoah. Murdoch. My son. Working hard. Korean schools. American schools. Having a dog in the house. Korea. The Korean civil war. The armistice. Kim Il Sung. Kim Jong Il. Kim Jong Un. Presidents in South Korea. Chaebol. Zaibatsu. Samsung. LCD. Hyundai. Different ways of organizing economies. And nations. Trump’s legal trouble. The House G.O.P. The Extremes. Showing us a path to nowhere.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Knowledge

    One brief shining: Leo lies here on the green rug with Cypress Trees, I write this blog letting my fingertips move over my split keyboard, all while a bright blue Colorado Sky backdrops Black Mountain its Lodgepoles and Aspens, there is no sound except the slight click of the keys.

     

    More reading in Cuming’s history of Korea. Two chapters on the Korean civil war. He believes we should have let them fight it out, burned out the divisions and reordered their culture. As we had to. As Vietnam had to. Instead we put in amber the tensions and conflicts present after the Japanese Occupation ended. If I read Cuming’s account correctly, the North would have won the civil war, probably easily without us. Even with our involvement they came close. Then Koreans themselves would have had to sort out a new political order. Instead we have my son and his colleagues still in country, maintaining a very fragile and often fraught peace.

    It was a time of big power conflicts, especially the USSR and the US. The architects of the idea of containment Dean Rusk, George Kennan, and Paul Nitze influenced the U.S. role in the war. Containing the Soviets, not China.

    Korea is more than you know. Much more than I knew.

     

    Realizing I privilege reading over most other activities. If I’m on a topic, an enthusiasm, I’ll sometimes read for hours at a whack. For days on end. Cup of coffee at hand. Now with my reading glasses perched on my nose. When I get tired, as I did yesterday, I watched a TV program, a K-drama just to stay in the the mind-world and went back to Cuming’s afterward. I’m neither a fast nor slow reader, I adjust my pace to the material. If it’s difficult, I’m slower. In the middle, as history usually is, I go a bit faster. With fiction I gallop.

    Right now, as you can tell, I’m on Korea. When I finish Cumings, I’ll start another, the Two Koreas. Though. I might go back and reread the earlier chapters in Cumings. His long synopsis of Korean history before the late 19th century fascinated me since it contained so much that was new. For me.

    Also, I’m building a conversion library. I already have a lot of books on Judaism, but I’m going to organize the ones I need for my study and put them up here in the home office. Had to order others. Looking forward to that reading, too.

     


    Asia Dogs Fourth Phase Judaism Korea Literature Politics US History World History

  • Happy Birthday to the good ole U.S.A.

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Summer and the Summer Moon Above

    Tuesday gratefuls: Acting class tonight. First half of Israel trip paid for. Herme introduction rewritten. Parchment paper ordered. No Fireworks up here. Good for Dogs. Fire. Air. Thin air, melting into thin air. My feet and toes. Holding me up since 1947. My ankles and calves and thighs. Mobility. My pelvis, butt, penis and testicles. Sitting, twisting, elimination. No joy at this point in my life. My thorax. Holding important stuff in. My arms and fingers. Dexterity for all my needs. My shoulders and neck. Supporting my head. My head, mouth, nose, ears, and eyes. Eating, hearing (sort of), seeing, smelling, taking in oxygen, a case for my brain. All these years forgot to be grateful for that which is closest.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: My body

    One brief shining: Can you imagine the evolution of the eye or the slow changes necessary to create a thumb perhaps you are the one who can follow the path from our One-Celled ancestors to a beating heart maybe you grasp the folding and intricate interlacing of brain matter neurons synapses the marvel of language as it first sat on the first tongue to express a thought through sound oh this everyday miracle our body ourselves our home for life.

     

    I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy, a real live nephew of my Uncle Sam, born on the Fourth of July. Today is Seoah’s Yankee Doodle birthday. What a great birthday for a naturalized U.S. citizen. Seoah and my son. Ruth and Gabe. My immediate family. Mark in Saudi Arabia. Mary to return to Malaysia and South East Asia. They are my hope for this country. Them specifically and what they represent.

    Seoah, a Korean by birth and a citizen of Korea until two years ago. She married my son, a Bengali by birth. Both now naturalized citizens of the U.S.A. My son serving this country in the military. Both abroad, in Korea, protecting not only the U.S.A. but much of Asia as well. This is, in these two people, the most fundamental promise of America. That you can come here from wherever you were born, no matter the circumstances, and become a citizen, a full-fledged participant in the colorful tapestry of American life.

    Or consider Ruth and Gabe. On their mother’s side Jewish, their grandfather a Romanian Jew from Bucharest and their grandmother of an immigrant Jewish family as well. Third generation. On their father’s side Norwegian ancestry four generations removed from Bergen. They are also both Gen Z, the most politically aware generation since the Boomers. They will need to be with the crushing weight of adaptation to climate change they will have to carry.

    Mary and Mark. The expat life. Being American on foreign soil. Contributing to the lives and welfare of Saudis, Thais, Malaysians, Japanese, and Singaporeans. Representing the American ideal of a world known for its inclusion rather than its chauvinism. Representing our country to other cultures. Being the good American rather than the ugly American.

    How can I not be hopeful when I can see in my own family the very America I hold so close and dear. Especially on this day.

     


    Asia Family Feelings Fourth Phase Holidays Judaism Korea Politics Travel US History

  • Who can leap the world’s net?

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Summer and the Super Full Summer Moon Above

    Sunday gratefuls: Sundays. Ancient Brothers. The Fire This Time. Jude. Jessica. Neighbors. Derek. Mark in Camel Land. Mary in Friday Night Fish Fry Land. Me in the Land of Mountains and Dogs. Mountain Wild Flowers. The spike Mule Deer Buck eating dandelions. The Doe who came again. A day of small chores, reading, Han Shan poetry. Releasing.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Letting go of the to do list

    One brief shining: The Mountain Streams have calmed down only running now as they might after a wet Spring that ended in early June temperatures though remain cool a couple of hot days as a reminder but we hope for the Monsoon rains to start to tamp down the remaining fire risk and give us a low Smokey sign for an entire year which would be a first for me.

     

    Sat down in my upstairs chair yesterday. Finished memorizing my fifth Cold Mountain Poem:

     

    I’m on the trail to Cold Mountain

    The trail to Cold Mountain never ends

    Long clefts filled with rock and stones

    Wide streams buried in dense grass

    Slippery moss, but there’s been no rain

    Pine trees sigh, but there’s been no wind

    Who can leap the world’s net

    And sit here in the white clouds with me?

     

    After this I realized I’d paid all my bills, had food in the fridge, no urgent chores. I was caught up. A twinge of anxiety. Searching for something that needed my attention right now. Nothing. Well now. How about that? I could leap the world’s net and sit in the white clouds with Han Shan.

    So I did.

     

    In case you need some slivers of hope in this benighted decade here are a few I’ve found of late.

     

    Miss Texas Averie Bishop. Read this Washington Post article about an Asian Miss Texas who is shaking up the majority-minority state that is current day Texas. We don’t know yet how the demographic changes that have slowly edged their way closer to reality will affect us politically but if Miss Bishop is any indicator watch out Far Right and moderate Right.

     

    Déjà News by Rachel Maddow. Alan suggested this podcast by the MSNBC news personality. Here’s the podcast’s description from its website: ” In each episode, Rachel and co-host Isaac-Davy Aronson seek a deeper understanding of a story in today’s headlines by asking: Has anything like this ever happened before? Would knowing that help us grapple with what’s happening now… and what might happen next?”

     

    Consider this very strange NYT story. A ‘Cage Match’ between Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg? Yes. There is a current discussion on the details of a cage match between these two titans of American commerce. Need I say more?

     

    My own reading over the last six months or so has made me aware of the sine wave nature of extreme right wing politics dominating either states or the Federal Government or both, then being pushed back by an onrushing tide of progressivism. I admit it looks bleak in many ways right now, but consider the end days of the KKK in Indiana as evidenced by Fever Dream in the Heartland. Or, consider the Reconstructionist pushback against a wave of nativist sentiments before and just after the Civil War. Consider the demise of the Joe McCarthy era and the liberal era of civil rights and anti-establishment politics that followed.

    We’re overdue for a liberal backlash and I hope women, minorities of all kinds, and those who would move up our socio-economic ladder link hands and throw the capitalist, white supremacist, homophobic, misogynistic minority back on the trash heap of history where they belong.

     


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