As I headed north on the train, I watched mist close over the Hudson River as I drifted off to a nap after an extraordinary brunch with my friends, Mary Clare and Jim Eros, at Café Du Soleil on the Upper West Side. We laughed and giggled and ate and had a good time.
They were off to watch a flotilla of pumpkins in Central Park while I headed down to the station to head north.
It is dark now and the flood lights illuminate the creek. The ticking of my old clock is about the only sound I can hear and I am contented after a good conference in New York. Tomorrow is my meeting with my eye surgeon before the cataract operation a week from this coming Wednesday; I am weary of my blurry vision and am grateful I live in an age when repairs can be done to things like this.
A century ago, I would have been doomed to live with it if I had been so lucky to live this long. My friend, the philosopher Howard Bloom, always points out that we have doubled our life expectancy in the last hundred, hundred fifty years. A great accomplishment.
Things that would have killed us quickly have been either vanquished or we have ways of coping better than ever with what would have been life ending diseases not so very long ago.
Things like that give me some hope.
This week there were articles about robot warriors who could learn to kill using artificial intelligence, making judgments that only humans could before. While that brings to mind images from “The Terminator,” robots are being also developed to help those who are helpless and to save human lives in other ways. The Japanese are in the forefront of this because of their aging population.
Mary Clare and Jim split their time between Shepherdstown, WV and New York City. They describe themselves as the new “young old.” Both are retired and both are full of energy and life and a passion to explore the world and are an inspiration to me.
The three of us have all, to one degree or another, been tuning out the din of this the last weeks of this election cycle. It was left to me to explain the newest twist in the Clinton email drama. Both of them had missed it. All of us are confused by it and are wondering why the FBI ignored the guidance of the Justice Department to not say anything so as not to appear to be influencing the election.
But it is what it is and is another twist in this most remarkable Presidential election.
Last night a truckload of manure was dumped in the parking lot of the Democratic headquarters in Ohio. I find myself somewhere between outrage and hysterical laughter at the silliness of what is going on. Manure? In 2016?
As I cruised through the news today, I found an interview with Jerry Brotton, an English author, who has just published a book about Elizabeth I’s alliances with the Islamic world. Shunned by Catholic Europe, Elizabeth I built alliances with the Shah of Persia, the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire and Morocco. Fascinating.
However, in this present time the US is telling the families of workers in the US Consulate in Istanbul to leave the country. This is combined with a warning to tourists to not travel there because of targeting by terror groups of Americans and other foreigners.
At the same time, the Turkish government has fired ten thousand civil servants and is crushing any media that disagrees with it.
I am saddened beyond words. Fifteen years ago I was in Turkey and fell in love with Istanbul and have wanted to return. Perhaps not or at least not now…
The old clock is ticking. I think of it as the heart of the house. I am content tonight and am living in the now. Mindfulness is what I think they call it.
The bright sun that launched the day has become hidden behind clouds as I progress south on the train into New York City. The fall colors still show themselves and we are definitely making a walk toward winter.
It snowed yesterday, three inches, quickly gone with the cold seeping deeply into my bones while I layered clothes for the weather.
Today and tomorrow, I am going to be attending “Produced By,” a conference held by the Producers Guild of America, of which I am a member. There are several sessions that should be helpful as I work on producing “First Guru,” a film about Vivekananda, who brought Yoga and Hinduism to the US in 1893. WTTW, the PBS station in Chicago, will be the presenting station. Near the Art Institute of Chicago, where Vivekananda gave his first speech, there is a Vivekananda Way.
There is much talk in the world today of “mindfulness,” pausing a moment to find yourself in the clutter of noise that surrounds us. As I was writing that sentence and attempting to be mindful of myself and the beauty around me, I received an email that put me out of mindfulness into gratitude.
Several weeks ago I was requested to submit a proposal to The University of Virginia’s Miller Center for Presidential Politics and Policies to do a consulting assignment for them and an email arrived while I was on the train that they had accepted my proposal and wanted to start moving.
Which generated a flurry of activity as I reached out to thank my references for graciously supporting me. Followed by other things and setting up a conference call with The Miller Center for Monday afternoon and before I knew it, the train was gliding into Penn Station.
After stopping at Tracks Restaurant in the belly of Penn Station for a bowl of their clam chowder, I am now at the apartment, finishing the letter before going off to the first session of the conference.
As I was driving to the station today, I noticed that there were many Trump/Pence signs and no Clinton/Kaine signs. Pondering that, I wonder if the liberals in Columbia and Greene Counties tend to be “closeted.” Political discord can run deep in the Hudson River Valley. I’ve been told the tale of a Greene County resident who years ago registered himself as a Republican because until he did his County services were, shall we say, spotty…
There is another FBI look into Clinton’s emails. The two big burly men seated next to me at Tracks as I chowdered were none too happy about that.
Anthony Weiner, who fell from Congress because of his sexting problems, apparently had some emails that somehow connected to the Clinton case on the computer the FBI seized after his most recent sexting troubles. His wife, a close confidante and aid to Hillary Clinton, left her husband after it was discovered he was sexting someone while their son slept next to him.
The “Produced By” Conference is being held at Time – Warner Center. Time Warner has just been purchased by AT&T.
The single most catastrophic merger in the history of corporations was the merger of AOL and Time Warner. Now, it is hoped that Time Warner and AT&T will do better. But as a friend of mine, Jeff Cole, Executive Director of USC’s Annenberg School of Communications Center for the Digital Future, has observed that it is a little hard to imagine a phone company meshing well with a Hollywood behemoth.
We will see, if the regulators allow it to happen.
And, in Jerusalem, researchers have opened, for the first time in centuries, what is believed to have been Jesus’ tomb. Since the days of Constantine, the first Christian Roman Emperor, there has been a building there to make the spot. Constantine sent his mother, Helena, to Jerusalem to find it. [Maybe a good way to get a pesky mother off your hands for a few years?]
Marble has encased the slab where is body is said to have rested. Careful archeological work will be done over the next months and years.
The day is diminishing; the sunset flickers through the turning leaves, a panorama of burnished gold in the west. Classical music plays in the background and a soft wind is blowing through this, the last great weather day we will probably have until spring unfolds over Claverack Creek. It was 86 degrees today with a cloudless sky and a fall wind in a warm day.
Once I recall a day like this when I was very young. It is the kind of day that holds intimations of immortality. Tonight’s sunset reminds me of the brilliant ones I witnessed on trips to Santorini, up at Franco’s Bar, poised over the caldera, thinking that in the sunset I understood the hold Greek myth has had over us for twenty-five centuries or more.
Once, at Franco’s, I wrote a poem on that and now have no idea where it is. But I remember the moment, sitting there, pen scratching in my notebook as the golden sun turned the waters in the caldera its ripe color.
We are in the cusp of fall and summer has reached out to hold us one day more in its warm embrace, harkening us to remember its feel so we will wait, patiently, for its return in another new year.
2017
Who would have thought? Certainly in my youth I never thought that year would see me inhabit it. Yet chances are I’ll be here when it comes marching in or crawling in or bursting upon us.
Soon there will be an election and someone new will move into the White House. If it is Hillary, she’ll have been there but in a very different role now than then. If it is Donald Trump, it will, perchance, signal a new and different age in our political history.
Time will tell. Tomorrow is the next debate and I will watch, though not waiting breathlessly for it. But I will watch. It is “must see” TV for me this season.
The tree tops are swaying in the wind; the burnished gold has become the color of smoky topaz. Twilight is descending.
Iraqi troops are marching toward Mosul, meeting, as expected, fierce resistance from IS. Some Iraqis, in a scene that reminded me of tales of our Civil War, went onto a mountain side to watch the battle unfold beneath them.
IS intends to hold Mosul at any cost and if it loses it, to make it a humanitarian disaster. The word that crosses my mind as I type is “barbarian.”
Iraqis remaining in the city have become bolder in their resistance of late to IS, supplying Iraq with vital information. IS is killing anyone found attempting to leave the city.
When I was with the Internet start-up, Sabela Media, Yahoo was the industry behemoth.
Its revenue declined again this quarter and Verizon is asking for a reduction in price to buy it because of the hacking scandal.
Because they were known as bullies in the early years, I have always found it hard to be empathic though it is sorry to see a once great company slowly self-immolate. And from people I know who are dealing with them currently, some within Yahoo just can’t accept what is happening now. Ostriches with their heads in the sand…
Dark has descended and I am sitting at the table on the deck, with candlelight for illumination, listening to the classical music but also listening to the sounds of woodland creatures making their noises.
It is very special tonight. The world is swinging in its orbit, momentous things are happening and as they are happening, there are the sounds of birds in the night, classical music and, because of them, a murmur of hope for the future.
My morning yesterday began with me flipping my laptop open and sitting down to write as a soft fog floated above the creek with sunlight glistening down through the leaves in the midst of changing color.
Just as I sat down to write, a mug of strong coffee at my side, the mother of a friend phoned and let me know her son was in the hospital and had been asking for me. So I came and sat in his dim room, spelling his mother while she went home to shower and change into fresh clothes.
At two I had a conference call and then I made dinner for Lionel and his family.
The day unrolled in an unexpected way but that is life, unexpected. It also made me think about how we have, in addition to our real families, families of choice.
My life, thankfully, is full of them. Blessedly. And for that I am grateful.
Since I have moved to Hudson, my friend’s family has been that way to me and I went to the hospital to perform the responsibilities of having made a choice. Choices do come with responsibilities.
Out in the wide world, the cold open for last week’s Saturday Night Live was a send-up of the Trump/Clinton debate with Alec Baldwin doing a magnificent satire of Donald Trump. It aired the night before the tax revelations. Pundits wondered which was worse for him, the tax revelations or Alec Baldwin. The video has gone viral. If you haven’t seen it, look for it at the end of the post.
Thursday night, Lionel and I went to Coyote Flaco for dinner. As usual, we sat at the bar. Seated to my left was Tim and, as happens sometimes, we got talking. After I had introduced myself, I introduced Lionel, joking he sounded funny because he was from Australia.
Tim, the man to my left, said, oh, I’ve never been there but am thinking of moving there if Hillary is elected. Lionel retorted he was thinking of returning if Trump was elected.
It didn’t get ugly. Tim said he couldn’t vote for her because she had done nothing but be in government service. Not exactly true but close enough.
Asking him if he knew who FDR was, he said no. So I said Franklin Delano Roosevelt and he said he didn’t know him because he was just little when he was in office. He asked me if I’d been alive when he was in office and I said he’d died before I was born.
The poor man didn’t really know. And, by the way, Tim is younger than I am.
After we left, I thought about it and realized most Presidents we have had have spent much of their lives in public service. Let’s see…
FDR did spend most of his life in public service, seeing us through the Great Depression and WWII. He was followed by Harry Truman who had worked in the private sector for a while but spent the majority of his career in public service, followed by Dwight Eisenhower who certainly spent his whole life in public service, followed by John Kennedy, who had done the same.
Lyndon B. Johnson owned some businesses but mostly was in public service his whole life, followed by Richard Nixon who, too, had spent most of his life in public service, followed by Gerald Ford, lots of public service there, followed by Jimmy Carter, who was a peanut farmer before his Presidency but he, too, gave a great deal of his life to public service. Then came Ronald Reagan, who had made his living as an actor before he went into public service.
He was followed by Bush 1, who had spent much of his life in public service, followed by Clinton, who had done the same. W had been in the private sector but then went on to be Governor and then President. Obama has spent much of his life in public service.
Being in public service has become pejorative in this election and I am not sure why.
Then, yesterday, all Billy Bob broke out over a 2005 video of Trump saying all kinds of things I can’t and won’t repeat. If you are interested, you can find them.
Paul Ryan, Speaker of the House, was “sickened” by them and disinvited Trump to a Republican gathering in his home state of Wisconsin.
A few Republican politicians have withdrawn their endorsements and it is rumored some Republican leaders are quietly gathering to see what is to be done about Trump.
It’s a little late; the ballots have been printed.
Twilight is beginning to settle on the Hudson Valley, outside a silvery light surrounds the trees outside my window. The trees remain mostly green, some falling, still green. Over the weekend I listened to a report on NPR informing us that the turning of the leaves has been delayed by two weeks due to the long, hot, dry summer. It’s fine with me; I am enjoying the illusion it is still more summery than it is.
Yesterday, I had a fire in my Franklin stove to take the edge off the chill in the cottage as I couldn’t bear the thought of turning on the heat.
Today has been a magical fall day, warm but not too warm, sunny and joyous.
It is Tuesday and therefore I taught my Public Communications class. One of the questions I asked was, of course, who watched the Debate yesterday as it is an example of public communication with the highest of all possible stakes. Of the twenty-one people in my class, five had watched the debate.
With the exception of one, they were millennials. All of them found both candidates unacceptable. And that surprised me. Both Clinton and Trump failed to resonate with these five. To them, Trump was a buffoon and Clinton was insincere. They did not indicate to me which way they will vote, if they vote at all.
Last semester my students were exhausted by the campaign and turned off by it by the length and acrimoniousness of it. And that was true today; my students, almost all of them of voting age, are bored to death with this election campaign, feeling no one is reaching out to them.
That is worrisome.
Personally, I really liked Hillary and thought she did a very decent job. Trump started strong and then seemed to slide into exhaustion, an individual worn down and beyond really, really caring.
He did not shoot himself in the foot in the way I hoped but something was definitely off in the last part of the debate. It seemed the helium had escaped from his balloon.
Howard Dean, once himself a potential Presidential candidate, tweeted about Trump’s sniffles during the debate, wondering if he might have used cocaine before going on. I don’t remember sniffles but it has been retweeted across the blogosphere. Trump said this morning there were no sniffles.
Chill Jazz plays in the background. The silver light seems suspended over the creek, caught in a magic moment that promises it will eternally be this way…
Of course it won’t be. Twilight will become dusk and dusk will become night.
Some weeks ago I wrote a letter that featured a photo of a little boy in Aleppo, in the back of an ambulance, traumatized, a face that haunts me tonight as the Syrian forces of Assad coupled with their Russian allies, are bombing the daylights out of Aleppo with bunker busting bombs.
All day, I have wondered if that little boy, who captured the world’s attention, is still alive? Has he survived this new level of brutality? The violence has become unimaginable and I feel broken for not knowing how to alleviate it.
This week I am dog sitting Marcel, the poodle of my friend Lionel, who owns the house across the street from me, my great friend I gained in the wondrous startup that was Sabela Media in the late 90’s.
He has been a magical friend to me and we have shared every Thanksgiving together since then, save two.
Marcel and I went on our afternoon walk together. He brings me to their house and cannot understand why he cannot go home.
He enjoys me and he wants to be at home. He is about to be sixteen and he soldiers on and I am impressed with his determination.
It is a time to be determined. There are those who feel the future of the American experiment is on the line. They may well be right.
What has happened in America in the last two and a half centuries has been amazing. We have been blessed to be part of one of the most glorious experiments democracy has ever had. We have been flawed and we have persevered.
Today I was reading all kinds of documents from Columbia Greene Community College about campus policy and I thought: we are just working to do it right.
That is the thread that has kept us going. We are just working to do it right. And I applaud American democracy, for it all its flaws, for trying to do it right.
It has been days since I have written a letter. Partially it is because I have been socially busy when I am usually not. Lionel and Pierre are here. Yesterday his sister and brother-in-law and their son Harry arrived from Australia. Tomorrow they are leaving for a cruise in the Caribbean. While they’re gone, I will be caretaker for Marcel for most of the time, a task I will both enjoy and of which I am afraid. In less than a month, Marcel will be 16 years old. He is a little old man who soldiers on with bravado.
Fall has officially arrived and leaves are beginning to flutter down upon the cottage. Every few minutes an acorn falls on the roof. While still warmish in the days, it cools significantly at night. A cold front is arriving, the weatherman says.
It has been a hectic day, starting early with documents to review, followed by a string of conference calls and then more documents to review. When I went online to post something for my class, I discovered that Blackboard is offline, as it is every Friday at this time, for maintenance. It will have to wait until morning.
Social busyness was the cover for my not wanting to write, to not think about the world. I read the New York Times Briefing every day and have found discouragement in its contents.
More people have been shot. A white female officer in Tulsa has been charged with manslaughter in the case there. In Charlotte, North Carolina, the town that prided itself as being the epitome of the “New South,” is still parsing the death of a black man there while protests have grown violent, leaving one more dead.
At times, frankly, it makes me want to crawl into bed with a chill bottle of vodka and a straw. More and more people are telling me they are tuning out the acrid political scene of this year. They have determined which way they are going to vote and have no need to be brutalized anymore.
The first of the debates are upon us and I may steel myself to watch it. I just don’t know how long I will last.
Two of the most deeply disliked individuals in America are running for President. There is no joy in Mudville.
Palmer Luckey is one of the founders of Oculus, the VR hardware company scooped up by Facebook a bit ago. He is funding an anti-Clinton, pro-Trump group and a small group of developers are now dropping their support for Oculus because of his politics. It’s far from a boycott but is unusual and probably unprecedented in the gaming world.
Once nominated for President, candidates get Secret Service protection. The Secret Service reimburses campaigns for the agents’ travel. In Trump’s case, it goes to TAG Air, a company he owns. It has received $1.6 million so far. I get it… Sort of… Kind of…
Looking for things to distract me from drownings of refugees, our sordid political landscape, I turned tonight to Entertainment News, which is what feeds the American mind most of the time.
“Magnificent Seven” reigns at the box office, headlined by Denzel Washington.
The more than decade long spectacle that has been “Brangelina” is coming to an end as Angelina Jolie has filed for divorce, citing irreconcilable differences. It was a good show, classier than most, most of the time.
The Emmys have come and gone. All reports [I didn’t watch] was that it was a good show. Jimmy Kimmel was highly praised for his hosting but the back slapping industry love fest plummeted 22% from last year in ratings.
And Jim Parsons, of “Big Bang Theory” is now TV’s highest paid actor, with $25,000,000 coming in for the next, and possibly last, season of the show.
It is stunning today as I am riding south to the city. It is a perfect September day, low humidity, temperature in the 70’s, sunny with glints of silver reflecting off the water of the Hudson while low puffy clouds rest behind the Catskills.
Tonight I am on my way to the city [New York] to have dinner with my friend Ann Frisbee Namye, with whom I worked thirty years ago at A&E and who I have not seen for twenty years. She connected with me through LinkedIn and we set a dinner date while on a business trip to New York. I’m excited.
To be truthful, I haven’t let much noise in over the week. The days have been too special for that. I woke up happy this morning and didn’t disturb that happiness with a burst of news. Besides, I had a lot of organizing to do as I was teaching this morning and had lots of handouts for my students.
So I checked into the news once I boarded the train. Panic at the poll numbers is upon us. Trump is closing on Hillary and fright walks the land and one Democratic friend of mine may actually have another panic attack over this.
It is my choice not to panic and to read the article that tells me that the polls are meaningless at this moment.
Though the thought of Trump as President is scary. His Presidency would be one long fright night, I fear.
He released a letter from his doctor of thirty years after a physical on Friday, stating he was in good health. He was the same doctor who earlier wrote a letter in five minutes stating how healthy Trump was.
When I was in college, many friends made extra money by driving cabs. Now they’d be driving for Uber. And those opportunities may go away if Google and Uber and Lyft and the car companies get their way.
Uber has launched a pilot program in Pittsburgh with driverless cars. They have a back-up human for now but eventually the back-ups will go and then some day there will be no taxi or Uber or Lyft drivers for that matter. Gone the way of the Dodo…
In yet another gun tragedy, police in Columbus, Ohio shot to death a 13-year-old black robbery suspect. He apparently pulled from his belt a BB gun that looks almost exactly like standard issue weaponry for the Columbus police. What adult would allow a child to have such a weapon, such a thing?
Columbus Mayor Andrew Ginther said, “A 13-year-old is dead in the city of Columbus because of our obsession with guns.”
And in a stunning additional gun tragedy, a 77-year-old resident of a Senior Home shot two other residents and a staff member, fled the scene on a bicycle and then killed himself as officers approached. Apparently, he was upset about poker games.
Jackson Grubb, a nine-year-old from West Virginia, took his life on Saturday because he was being bullied. I feel like crying.
Today in class the subject of the exploding Samsung Note 7 came up and one of my students almost exploded out of her seat. It was the first she had heard of it. Another Note 7 blew up as owners are not listening to the recall requests.
If you have a Note 7, go to the phone store and get it replaced. Please. I saw what one did to a jeep the other day online and it was horrific. This was not a small explosion. It looked like the vehicle had been car bombed.
Filipino President Duterte, who apparently called President Obama a “son of a whore” is now being accused of ordering extrajudicial killings while he was Mayor of Davao City. The Senate of that country is investigating.
And now I am caught up with the dreck that is happening out there beyond my world and have inoculated you with it – not in the sense of giving you a vaccine but in planting thoughts.
Today in class I was talking about persuasive speaking and one of the points I made was that a persuasive speaker inoculated their audience by planting ideas that would lead to change.
Perhaps some of these facts will inoculate you to work for change. Fewer guns, a way to end bullying, more sensible politics…
And I woke up happy and I plan to go to bed happy.
It is a pleasant night in Claverack, after a pleasant day in general. The weather was gorgeous, hot for just a moment, but mostly it hovered in the 70’s. I spent the latter part of the afternoon on the deck, a good book in hand, while also doing a bit of work, making a few phone calls.
This evening I went to the little Mexican restaurant down the road, Coyote Flaco, with my friend Patrick O’Connor, who bumped into some people he had not seen for a long time. We shared a shrimp appetizer and chicken fajitas and left happy.
The lights are on the creek as it flows softly toward the south. The first serious leaves have begun to fall; my drive is strewn with them and it is fine. I do not need to cling to the summer that has passed. It has been lived fully and well. As I hope will be the fall that is unfolding.
As I do most days, I spoke with my brother and he asked me if I had a take on the day’s news regarding Hillary and I had to say no. I had looked in the morning but not since. In the morning, her campaign announced she thought her pneumonia “no big deal” and so held back saying anything about it.
I was infuriated with her. How many times has she felt something was “no big deal,” only to have it turn around and bite her in the ass? How many times does this woman need to have a lesson learned?
Aye, Chihuahua!
Trump is fending off assaults on his Foundation which may – or may not – have given money to various charities. Some who said they didn’t get gifts found that they did and some just didn’t get them.
And then there is the gift of $25,000 to Pam Bondi, Attorney General for Florida, which might have swayed her to not investigate Trump University. Six months after she dropped her investigation, he hosted a $3,000 a plate fundraiser for her at Mar-a-Lago, his great Florida estate, country club.
Aye, Chihuahua!
To my amazement, Barak Obama’s approval rating is the highest it has been for years. It has always been my thought he will be remembered by history with more kindness than by his contemporaries. In my lifetime, I have known no President who has elicited such visceral hatred from so many people. Maybe I missed something along the way but what this man has endured is remarkable. And I give him high marks for trying, very hard, to be the best President he can be.
Matt Bevin, Governor of Kentucky, used violent metaphors to describe a Clinton Presidency, evoking images of blood on the ground.
My fear is that we are returning to the politics of the 19th Century when Andrew Jackson created the “Trails of Tears” as scores of thousands of Native Americans died by his direction. We, as a nation, do not have a good track record of dealing with those who are not “us” as “us” is defined at any exact moment.
I was raised Catholic in Minnesota. My 8th grade teacher, Sister Anne, told us that we would be persecuted because we were Catholics. At that moment in my life, it seemed nonsensical. No one was persecuting me because I was Catholic. I mean, really…
When I was in college, helping my friend Bill paint his garage, he told me that when he was growing up in Arkansas he would not have been allowed to know me because I was Catholic. Looking at him with incredulity from my ladder next to his, I realized there were places in my life that I did not know where my Catholicism was a liability.
Now I understand more as I see Christians slaughtered on the beaches of Libya and Christians in Iraq slaughtered. We live in world of intolerance that I did not expect or accept as a child. When I was in 8th grade and heard Sister Anne, I thought the world had moved beyond that.
The day painted itself grey this morning, from the moment light crept into my bedroom, it was grey, the kind of day that promises rain and provides none, save a few drops when I was running an errand on Warren Street.
Fresh from what I thought was a successful first day in the classroom, I stopped at the Post Office and picked up my mail and sat on my deck, opening it, and just staring out at the day. The air was lightly water touched by not too much. But for the grey, it was a perfect sort of day.
At the college, I talked with one of my colleagues for whom there is terminal election fatigue. She knows for whom she is voting, nothing in the shouting is going to change her position and so she feels no need to participate more. It simply makes her crazy.
As it has for many people in this oddest of election seasons. A few months ago, a commentator I was listening to said something like: Who knows? It’s 2016.
And that remains true. It’s the wild and wooly 2016, an election season they will be talking about as long as politics is discussed, which is a very long time. We are still discussing the politics of the Athenian democracy 2500 years later. Countless tomes have been written about the Romans, their Republic and their Empire. A thousand years from now some crepe skinned academic will be dissecting one small sliver of this campaign in a form of media we probably can’t conceive of but it will be happening.
Me? I generally wake up happy and go to bed happy and know there is only so much I can do to shape events but what I can do, I do.
Tonight, I am writing earlier than I did last night and the verdant green in its grey frame fills my window.
Directly in front of me are two Adirondack chairs made for me by John McCormick, father of my oldest friend, Sarah. He had made some for his daughter, Mary Clare, for her home in West Virginia. When I bought the cottage, he asked me if he could make anything for it. Adirondack chairs I said and there they are, in front of me, a wonderful bonding to a man now gone and a testament to all he and his family mean to me.
In this calm and quiet, I feel celebratory to have made it alive through the first day of class. As I was preparing to head over to the college, I played music that pleased me, from the Great American Songbook. Tonight there is no music. The only sound is the ticking of an old clock that has been in my family for more than 125 years. I think of it as the heart of the house. But it drives some people crazy. It just makes me smile.
The EpiPen conversation goes on. Some say it actually costs only $30.00; some say it’s only about a dollar that goes into the actual medicine.
Isabelle Dinoire, the world’s first face transplant recipient has died, aged 49. She was transplanted when her face was mauled by a dog. RIP.
Obama cancelled a visit with the Philippines President after he called Obama “the son of a whore.” Later President Duarte regretted his comment.
There was an incident when Obama arrived in China. No one seemed to have agreed upon the protocol. Everyone looked bad.
Kim Jung Un, the little paunchy, pudgy dictator of North Korea, celebrated Labor Day by sending off ballistic missiles that landed within 300 kilometers of Japan. No one is happy except for the pudgy dictator who is now facing a new set of sanctions which he doesn’t care about. He will let millions die because of them as long as he keeps his power, his toys and the instability he creates.
One can only imagine what this man’s childhood was like…
Tom Hiddleston and Taylor Swift have broken up after three months. This is HUGE news. OMG!
Fox has settled with Gretchen Carlson in her lawsuit with them and Roger Ailes. Twenty million dollars. At the same time Greta Van Susteren has left the network under cloudy circumstances but then what is not cloudy in the world of Fox News these days?
And now it is dark. I will turn on my floodlights and enjoy the creek at night.
It is a good day. I survived the first day of a new class and felt good about it.
Today I woke up happy and I go to bed tonight happy. May all of you who read me do the same.
When I was a young boy, I was a voracious reader. I devoured Greek myths and stories of ancient Egypt. When night came, I would hide under my covers and read Tom Swift books by flashlight. Finding that ineffective, I convinced my parents I was terrified of the dark so they let me keep a light on. It made reading so much easier.
I discovered Robert Heinlein and Isaac Asimov. The first time I read the Foundation Trilogy by Asimov I loved it but didn’t quite understand it all. The third time I reveled in his artistry in creating a universe. I still, once and again, read Heinlein’s “Citizen of the Galaxy.”
In later years, friends and I would gather and watch “Star Trek,” at an age when we would enhance the experience with cannabis. I have looked toward the stars. When the Challenger exploded, I was driving down Wilshire Boulevard in Los Angeles and nearly rear ended the car in front of me in my shock.
Yesterday Elon Musk’s Space X rocket, during a test, exploded, destroying not just itself but also a satellite Facebook’s Mark Zuckerberg had invested in to bring internet to Africa.
It is unlikely I will meet Elon Musk or Mark Zuckerberg. And I credit them for using their wealth and technology to work to expand our efforts toward space. It’s always been my belief that we, as a race, need to long beyond now to something more.
We have conquered this planet. Maybe to its detriment, but there is little left undiscovered here and so much undiscovered beyond the gravitational fields of this planet.
Okay, I am a great supporter of space exploration. I think we need it as a species. We’re, as humans, driven to look for more. Always been that way and hope it will always be that way.
When I was young, I was in a theater troupe and we all stopped that night in 1969 to watch the landing on the moon.
In my life, I’ve met the famous and the once famous and have never asked for an autograph. Except when I met Buzz Aldrin, 2nd man on the moon. It’s framed, in my study.
Okay, I have now exposed myself as a space geek.
And I admire, no matter what we think of them, Jeff Bezos of Amazon, Richard Branson of Virgin everything, and Elon Musk of Tesla and Space X, for wanting to take us out there.
Since we retired the Space Shuttles we have no way of bringing personnel to the International Space Station so we use the Russians. But Elon Musk’s company has brought supplies there for a fraction of the cost of other means.
It is my belief that we need to be looking outward because looking outward gives us, the human race, a sense of hope in the future and it is the hope of a future that has propelled us from the caves to here.
Letter from the Vineyard 
Letter From Claverack 10 30 2016 The old clock is ticking…
October 31, 2016As I headed north on the train, I watched mist close over the Hudson River as I drifted off to a nap after an extraordinary brunch with my friends, Mary Clare and Jim Eros, at Café Du Soleil on the Upper West Side. We laughed and giggled and ate and had a good time.
They were off to watch a flotilla of pumpkins in Central Park while I headed down to the station to head north.
It is dark now and the flood lights illuminate the creek. The ticking of my old clock is about the only sound I can hear and I am contented after a good conference in New York. Tomorrow is my meeting with my eye surgeon before the cataract operation a week from this coming Wednesday; I am weary of my blurry vision and am grateful I live in an age when repairs can be done to things like this.
A century ago, I would have been doomed to live with it if I had been so lucky to live this long. My friend, the philosopher Howard Bloom, always points out that we have doubled our life expectancy in the last hundred, hundred fifty years. A great accomplishment.
Things that would have killed us quickly have been either vanquished or we have ways of coping better than ever with what would have been life ending diseases not so very long ago.
Things like that give me some hope.
This week there were articles about robot warriors who could learn to kill using artificial intelligence, making judgments that only humans could before. While that brings to mind images from “The Terminator,” robots are being also developed to help those who are helpless and to save human lives in other ways. The Japanese are in the forefront of this because of their aging population.
Mary Clare and Jim split their time between Shepherdstown, WV and New York City. They describe themselves as the new “young old.” Both are retired and both are full of energy and life and a passion to explore the world and are an inspiration to me.
The three of us have all, to one degree or another, been tuning out the din of this the last weeks of this election cycle. It was left to me to explain the newest twist in the Clinton email drama. Both of them had missed it. All of us are confused by it and are wondering why the FBI ignored the guidance of the Justice Department to not say anything so as not to appear to be influencing the election.
But it is what it is and is another twist in this most remarkable Presidential election.
Last night a truckload of manure was dumped in the parking lot of the Democratic headquarters in Ohio. I find myself somewhere between outrage and hysterical laughter at the silliness of what is going on. Manure? In 2016?
As I cruised through the news today, I found an interview with Jerry Brotton, an English author, who has just published a book about Elizabeth I’s alliances with the Islamic world. Shunned by Catholic Europe, Elizabeth I built alliances with the Shah of Persia, the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire and Morocco. Fascinating.
However, in this present time the US is telling the families of workers in the US Consulate in Istanbul to leave the country. This is combined with a warning to tourists to not travel there because of targeting by terror groups of Americans and other foreigners.
At the same time, the Turkish government has fired ten thousand civil servants and is crushing any media that disagrees with it.
I am saddened beyond words. Fifteen years ago I was in Turkey and fell in love with Istanbul and have wanted to return. Perhaps not or at least not now…
The old clock is ticking. I think of it as the heart of the house. I am content tonight and am living in the now. Mindfulness is what I think they call it.
Tags:Cafe du Soleil, Cataracts, Elizabeth I, Elizabeth I & Islam, Erdogan, Howard Bloom, Istanbul, Jim Eros, Manure in Ohio, Mary Clare Eros, Mat Tombers, Mathew Tombers, Robots, The Terminator, Turkey
Posted in 2016 Election, Claverack, Columbia County, Earthquakes, European Refugee Crisis, Hillary Clinton, Hollywood, Howard Bloom, Hudson New York, IS, Life, Literature, Mat Tombers, Mathew Tombers, Media, Mideast, Political, Political Commentary, Politics, Social Commentary, Syria, Television, Trump, Uncategorized | 2 Comments »