It is a warm, humid day as I trundle north on the train, back to Hudson. The Hudson River is dotted with boats and the spray of jet skis. A soft haze lays across the river, so it seems that what I see is in soft focus.
It’s not a bad day for soft focus.
I went into the city yesterday afternoon to have drinks with my friends Nick and David at Le Monde, a French Bistro near Columbia and then drifted from there to Cafe du Soleil, where I joined a party for Bastille Day put together by friends David and Bill. We were festive and the mood was buoyant and I was home and asleep by the time news was coming out of France that a young Tunisian Frenchman had driven a lorry into a crowd celebrating Frances’ National Holiday, plowing on for 1.2 miles before he was killed and after he had killed at least 84 and wounded 202 others.
As I look out of the window of the train, sold out, standing room only, I see the verdant green hills which line the western bank of the river, the beginnings of the Catskills, bucolic, peaceful, welcoming.
The dead in Nice, a pleasant city in the south of France, to the east of Cannes, on the Rivera, home of the airport that serves that golden stretch of land, setting for glittery events and the place of lovely villas climbing the hills to look down on the Mediterranean, include ten children. Fifty others from last night hang between life and death, as medical professionals do their best.
One woman talked for a long time to her dead child. The living and unwounded began to swarm toward the beaches, away from the lorry, in case it was loaded with explosives.
On Wednesday, July 13, in Syria, 58 people died, mostly civilians of war related wounds. Since the beginning of 2016 about 8,000 have died, since the beginning of the war over 440,000. 11.5% of Syria’s population has been killed or wounded.
On the same day in Iraq, 22 died by gunfire, bombs, rockets.
Looking out at the beautiful Hudson River, the Catskills on the other side, with gracious, magical homes occasionally dotting the landscape, it is easy to focus on the green moment and not the black news but today I cannot slip away, into the beauty.
It is all so senseless and all leaders seem to talk about the senselessness of it and do they find the senselessness of it enough of a unifying theme that they commit to actions that will stop it?
One of the books I am reading is “The Good Years” by Walter Lord, describing the years between 1900 and 1914, when World War I began. I am near the end of it, the war is beginning. Devastation was released upon the European continent over the tragic death of an Archduke and his wife, which gave “permission” for the Austro Hungarian Empire and the German Empire to act to achieve political goals they had long wanted and ended up destroying themselves.
Men in power are always playing “the great game,” and as the game is played, the innocent die.
The train is arriving in Hudson and I am winding down. I will say my prayers tonight for all the people who died today because they are pawns in “the great game” and see if I can find a way to work effectively for change.
In the time since I’ve arrived home, run some errands and prepare to go into town for a comedy show, the Turkish military, apparently fed up with Erdogan, is attempting a coup. Bridges across the Bosporus are closed, military aircraft are flying low over Istanbul and Ankara and gunshots have been reported.
“The Great Game” goes on.
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
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