PLAYING WITH WORDS

  I should begin with a disclaimer or maybe ‘foreword’; playing with words today. I have suspicions. The word Suspicion means: A mental state, usually short of ‘Belief’ in which one entertains a notion that something is wrong. That notion can grow based on insufficient facts, intolerant and harsh or unfair judgment to become a fixed in Belief. That would make it a Bias, similar to Prejudice only not as extreme. Bias and prejudice (the words) are commonly used incorrectly if the extreme harsh judgment is well researched and fairly applied. Investigative reporters are tasked with that responsibility before they can expose an unscrupulous landlord or a ponzi scheme. But to dehumanize and deny others for cause that is not only false but malicious as well, that is Prejudice. What is extreme: how big does a horse have to be before we think it ‘Huge’? 
Me touching on human nature may seem like overkill. After all, how long did the early navigators keep insisting the world wasn’t flat ? I have addressed human nature frequently and in depth so I won’t spend much time here. But in a nutshell, emotions and impulse are generated in a region of the brain that is inaccessible to the conscious mind but they are powerful in controlling decisions and behavior. This is not a debatable issue, it just is. People tend to behave in ways that make them feel good (emotional comfort) in the moment with little or no thought to what could possibly go wrong. Human nature drives us to rely on emotions long before we consider logic and rationale. It explains ‘What was I thinking’ and ‘Should have known better.’ It also sanctified Slavery, Debtors’ Prison and beating children. But we (people) do it (what feels good), even high minded people with good intentions. 
I live with suspicions every day, about one thing or another. I can be an agent of change in some situations, I can observe and analyze my way to a better understanding even if there is no way for me to act on it. I know I have biases and I think of it as a weakness or a flaw. But I can work on it and I do. If the perception is corrupted by human nature and I have believed what I want to believe without shaking the tree then shame on me. I remember as a kid, my dad could only belittle and judge harshly Middle Eastern people and their culture. I don’t think he had any direct contact with Arabs or Turks or Palestinians but he seemed knowledgable; I was a kid and he was my role mode. The religious disconnect has never been an issue, only a variable. I am at serious odds with my own culture in that area. Pick a religion, Judaism, Christianity, Islam; one is as bad as another. Patriarchal, authoritarian, sexist with a history of violence within their own jurisdictions and beyond. During this Hamas/Israel war I have trouble taking sides. My dad would have said, “Leave them alone, let them kill each other. That’s all they’ve wanted to do for several thousand years.” Christians are more utilitarian, focus on pursuit of material wealth and less about taking revenge. But I am vulnerable to news and movies where Muslims are portrayed as evil and judged harshly in spite of unfair exploitation by the Western world. But when the Jihadi gets blown away on big screen and the Gringo walks away, I can feel that self righteous pulse stir inside me and I hate it. After a lifetime I have learned to mentally reject and suppress it but I can’t kill it. 
As much as I don’t like the way they treat their women, it’s their culture. Technology has shrunk the world so nobody is isolated anymore. Cultures and traditions overlap and spill over, a recipe for prejudice and violence. A Christian minister who was also a friend once told me; “You are stuck here in a world you didn’t break and cannot fix. Live the best life you can and do no harm.” That’s great but is there a singular, ‘Best Life’ and what constitutes “Harm’? So I play with words, press leaves between the pages and stack rocks as if they will stay stacked after I’m gone. I make believe my suspicions are harmless and if my judgment is unfair or harsh I hope it falls short of malicious bias and wicked prejudice. Maybe I just need to lighten up, maybe I would feel better. To my disappointment I’ve learned that feelings are unreliable. They can make you happy in the moment but they can also leave you with empty pockets and a bloody nose that won't stop bleeding. This little rant is a hell of a way to close the book on 2023 but it’s the best I can do for now.  

A GOOD REASON TO GO

I drink water, H2O, room temperature preferably. Sometimes I sip wine with food or a (not too cold) soft drink but it always requires an internal audit (Do I really want to do this?) where the come-back is often as not, No! When I was in Chile in 2005 I made friends with wine. I was attending language school (Español) and the young man assigned to after hours activities had majored in Agronomy at university with emphasis on vineyards and orchards, now a buyer for a major grocery chain. He was also the son of the school’s owners, helping out the family business. He made it his personal mission to educate and acclimate me to the culture, which leaned heavily on Vino. I sampled small sips of lots of different wines, rinse my mouth with water and try something else, blind tests to learn what I liked and what I didn’t. Every night for a week our little group soaked up culture while Marcelo kept track of what I did and didn't like, me not knowing what it was. Long story short: I really did not like Cabernet Sauvignon or its heavy tannin relatives. Didn't like Chardonnay either or other too-too dry wannabes. Funny, those two are the most common offerings at social get togethers. But I do like Carmenere in particular and Tempranillo from the red/black grapes and Riesling or Muscat from the whites. The sweet vs. dry range for Riesling depends on when they harvest. Early, before the sugar sets in the grape and it is more dry, picked later it is more sweet and they usually give you a clue on the label. Marcelo told me "Drink what you like and don't pay attention to the crowd." and I took him at his word.

So I come home from Patagonia knowing very little about wine but a lot about what I like and don’t like. The people I associate with now, by choice or by chance, they bring wine to every social function. But if I have questions, all they know is whether it is red or white. If I think I will be sipping wine I take something I know and like. Then I push it back out of sight lest it fall prey to someone who doesn’t look past the color. I am not a wine snob but then again, maybe I am. 

I have friends who are scaling down from a typical 3BR home in a comfortable neighborhood to an upscale apartment in a retirement community. They hosted an open house last night. We belong to the same Unitarian Church which is another story all together (not a Christian denomination) and our Christmas open house tradition salutes the pagan roots of the Solstice season. Since they were at a new address they personalized invitations and I felt obligated to go. There is another Unitarian congregation near their new place and I met several of their members. One woman was a retired pharmacist who had been a Catholic nun for eleven years. That drew the predictable observation about recovering Catholics; like many other addictions you can’t simply say no. It takes time and effort to overcome withdrawal symptoms. 

Another woman sat down and inserted herself in our conversation. I thought I had met her before but wasn’t sure. Then I recognized her husband from other Unitarian functions and remembered. She was dreadful then and had not improved. If there is a designation, ’conversation bully’ then that would be her; take charge, change the subject, pursue controversial issues with conspiracy theories and change the subject when it suited her. She got tangled up in God theory and switched over to Hillary Clinton’s satanic rituals and child pornography. When I tried to ask a question she stood up and kept talking. It was not a conversation but whatever it was, I didn’t belong there, got up and walked. 

I had been drinking (nonalcoholic) sparkling wine but one glass was enough. I went over to the serving counter and there were three tall, long neck wine bottles with hard to read labels. One turned out to be Chardonnay but the next was Riesling early harvest with just enough to fill my plastic glass. I decided to keep my distance from the dreadful woman. She was still going strong. I didn’t need the drink but it gave me cause to get up and move my feet. I thought of the anonymous axiom: Fool me once shame on you; fool me twice shame on me. I will go dry before I drink Cabernet Sauvignon again and I will not be bullied by the dreadful woman again either. Good chance we will never encounter each other but you don’t try to argue with such. I don’t think it occurs to them that they are the one out of sync.  

Today is the day after Christmas. I have no plans and it has turned cold. Either way, warm rain or clear sky and hard freeze; it’s just the next day. This time next week it will be a new year and I’ll get used to signing receipts and forms to a different number, but I can do that. There is another open house on the 31st but I doubt seriously the man with the dreadful woman would show up there. It will be a younger, more progressive, spontaneous crowd and they would laugh her out of the room, out of the house. A few days after that I will be on my way to the West Coast. I have no complaints here but a road trip with friends and family at the other end is good reason to go. 

SOLSTICE

I have written often and in detail about the human experience and our evolution out of the paleolithic (Stone Age) past. I did not hatch the idea but who could disagree, StoryTellers and their Stories have been instruments and vehicles for knowledge and understanding. Language is still the best if not only way people pass meaning on from one generation to the next; we listen and learn vicariously. Storytelling (what happened & what it means) has evolved along with technology. Watching Neil Armstrong again and again, first step on the moon without story (language) it makes no sense. For StoryTellers everywhere, I say thank you; all 8 billion of you. 
I did not hatch this idea either but I am a devoted disciple. Maybe the best StoryTellers of all time are songwriters. Some of them, the really good ones, they can take a complex story of human emotions and behavior that would take Toni Morrison or Mark Twain 300 pages to relate and reduce it to 2 verses, a bridge and a chorus. Then they put it to music and tell it in 3 minutes. They leave a few holes in the lyrics so the listener can participate, fill in the blank space, merging the writer’s intention into their own experience. I listen and feel a common link with the writer as if they had read my mind and are telling my story. One that just hangs on and on is Kristofferson’s; “Never knowing if believing is a blessing or a curse or if the goin’ up was worth the coming down.” 
Christmas stories put to music range from Jesus to the Grinch and most of us listen without really listening. They can lift you up or let you down, depending on how you feel to begin with. I’ve never celebrated Silent Night in a one horse open sleigh but I have been towed on the end of a rope behind a car through the snow, in the same spirit. I learned the chords to Silver Bells, played guitar and sang it with my grandkids a few years back but I am probably the only one who remembers.  

SOMEONE TUGGING

  Part of my Christmas celebration includes watching two movies, the George C. Scott version of Dickens’ Christmas Carol and sometime later, Polar Express. Last night it was Bah Humbug time in old-time London-town with Ebenezer Scrooge and Tiny Tim. Every time, I am surprised again by what a great actor G. C. Scott was. Dickens wrote a great story but when other actors fill that role it turns out just another great story. Every time, I get a lump in my throat at the same scenes, same lines, same body language; I know them almost by heart and still have to take deep breaths to vent away those emotions. The message hasn’t changed since Jacob Marley’s ghost dragged his chains into Scrooge’s bed chamber; don’t squander love for the sake of money. It’s like a booster shot for clear conscience and I need it every year this time; and God bless us every one. 
    A few days later I recover from the tough love Scrooge had to face. Then the movie, Polar Express lets me lose myself again, not in an old man’s folly but in childlike innocence. At the beginning of the train ride I am just another spectator, watching the story unravel from a place removed. How that magic works, I don’t know; but by the time the unpunched ticket has flown out the window on a gust of snow and wind, I have become invested and involved. That gives me agency and that makes me part of the story. The message of Polar Express is to listen to the child within. This will be my 84th Christmas. I grew up in spite of myself but the magic spell has kept him (the inner child) on the cusp. He believes the fairytale; he knows better but he trusts the feeling and that’s the real magic. When I feel him tugging at my sleeve I could resist but I know better. If I stop listening, stop following his lead then he will find a new accomplice and leave me on a shelf to collect dust. I have to go now; someone tugging at my sleeve. 

TOO MUCH TO BEAR

I’m having a case of writer’s block. I want to take on something that will be either enlightening or entertaining but at best all I do is think about dismal people doing dreadful stuff. It’s like all those years in Chicago waiting for the Cubs to win a World Series. After 108 years they won the big one, a World Series Championship in 2016 but the wait was almost too much to bear. I won’t make it another hundred years for human cultures to get the news. People are still pissing in the wind and blaming each other. Not a lot good going on here just now. 

Jonathan Haidt is a social psychologist-anthropologist (researcher & author) and has, for a decade plus, been a profound influence on not only what I believe but even more so on how I try to process information. If one truly wants to get to the truth then they must be willing to be proven wrong and change. It requires an open mind and that is an incredibly difficult challenge. Without exploring that adventure any farther I would get to the point. 

Evolution (human) has equipped us with intellect, imagination, language and creative genius that is unmatched in the rest of the animal kingdom. Still, for a human culture to function successfully there needs to be some rules. Over time one’s culture will collectively determine some beliefs and behaviors to be Right or Wrong; not so much correct or incorrect. Right & Wrong have moral caveats as to what is acceptable and what is not; and humanity as a whole requires that set of rules (Moral Code) or else that culture breaks down (looses its way). 

Haidt researched every known culture (current & ancient) to identify and group categories that require Moral rules; he found five. Morality in every known culture includes issues about Caring {compassion vs indifference}, Fairness {ideas of justice & rights}, Loyalty {belonging vs betrayal}, Authority {Social order & Obedience} & last, Purity {physical & spiritual}. Taking each one separately, think of expressing that moral rule like reading a speedometer where 100 would be the extreme approval (for something) and 0 the extreme opposite. Not surprising, the five moral categories identify areas of conflict between modern day world views. Not surprising, liberal thinkers score high in Compassion, Fair play & Individual loyalty. On the other hand, conservative thinkers score high on Loyalty to nation & political party, with Authority by vertical hierarchy & obedience and the 5th is Purity, both physical (racism-gender bias) and spiritual (Israel-Hamas). The back story on physical purity is really interesting going back to prehistory; has to do with body fluids and spoiled food. It's kind of gross but makes for good reading. In any case, as a species we favor what is pure, as we understand it. 

    Simply, it seems the mind comes without any Right or Wrong programming, only a blank template with empty spaces. As we accumulate experience the blank spaces get filled in according to what our culture dictates. Most cultures frown on physical intimacy between siblings; why doesn't seem to be important, it just is what it is. Moral issues are generally fueled by feelings that resonate as either Right or Wrong and those feelings run deep. Haidt gives us a view and a perspective that is profoundly insightful and thoroughly prepared but it doesn’t always leave you in a safe place. We are amazing animals but so are salamanders and dragonflies. God was a good idea when nobody could read or write and his shamans were all conservatives. Haidt’s work leaves me feeling a lot better informed but not any better about my own kind.

I remember the Viet Nam era when Conservative was a dirty word. Now it’s the other way around, so liberals are now Progressive. Morals can and do change over time but the moral categories seem constant. So I lean to the left under a blue banner. My loyalties bend toward others who have moved on from medieval beliefs and behaviors. I don’t know how I turned out this way but if I believed in omniscient, omnipotent dudes my prayers would be full of gratitude for landing where I did. But I would still have a long list of edits and upgrades for his system. How come God’s preference is conservative punishment but Jesus’ behavior is compassionately progressive?

     

BAD BLOOD

  One of the nice things about Saturday morning is listening to the National Public Radio. Scott Simon is the Saturday host and I like him a lot. He touches on the news but cuts away to special interest stories that nobody has time for during the week. But for the last few weeks those stories all seem to have roots in the war between Israel and Hamas. I am not an expert on that squabble but it has been brewing since long before Islam was hatched. Then, that chunk of the Mediterranean coastline was peopled by both Hebrews and by Gentiles (everybody else, not a Jew). They all ushered from the same gene pool. Abraham was the prototype Jew, who all Jews (I would think) consider their patriarch. We need a timeline here. Hebrews (Jews) trace back thousands of years to Abraham. At the time, if you compare him to modern day leaders he was likely a prototype tyrant too, like Saddam Hussein. From his loins (Abraham’s) rose the Hebrew nation, Israel. 
Jesus came along after that in the 1st century CE and Christianity was adopted as the official Roman religion roughly 400 years later. Some 200 years after Rome went Christian, Mohammed, a well healed, widely traveled camel jockey paid particular attention to how Jews and Christians went about their business and determined, there has to be a better way. He came up with the Quran to clarify, correct and update both the Jewish Torah and Christian Bible and voila! Islam!
Understand, Abraham’s wife (Sarah) was the mother of Jewish backstory long before either Christianity or Islam existed. She and Abraham’s offspring were the seeds for modern day Israel. But she had an Egyptian (Gentile) slave girl named Hagar who couldn’t very well tell Abraham (Not tonight!) when he crawled into bed with her. She bore him a son, Ishmael who was generally dismissed as an unauthorized dead end. It sets up the dichotomy of two competing heirs for the one blessing. Half brothers, Isaac and Ishmael; think Arnold Schwarzenegger and his unauthorized progeny with their Latina house keeper. All of this while Arnold was married to and had authorized children with Maria Shriver (a royal princess of the Kennedy dynasty). Arnold took responsibility and protected his half Latino hatchling but that child will never, ever eat at the same table with a Kennedy. Within Abraham’s gene pool the fact that Ishmael existed at all provoked bad blood, animosity and violence. Before Mohammed ever climbed up on a camel's back, Jews and their neighbors were in conflict. Today’s Israel - Hamas killing spree is the current round of a protracted hostility that began with Isaac’s people at odds with Ishmael’s descendants. Like Saddam Hussein, I don’t think Abraham really cared about anything but himself. 
I’m sure a legitimate scholar would knit pick my argument to pieces but I think it meets my intention. It adequately sets the scene. Who is the rightful heir to that arid strip of Mediterranean coastline? As a young man my dad dismissed their rivalry. “It’s in their blood.” He said. “ They’ve been killing each over a contested birth right since before the wheel was invented and they can’t help themselves.” The rise of Islam created a platform from which the sons of Ishmael would organize and strike back.” That’s what my dad said in the 1940’s and so far he’s been spot on the money. 
Israel (Jews) across the board were already scattered around the world without a homeland when they were suffered the holocaust. Hitler and his 3rd Reich disposed of nearly 7 million Jews killed outright or disappeared without a trace under Adolph’s reign. It wasn’t bad enough they had been banished, a race of people robbed of their lands and displaced to foreign soil where they were generally resented and persecuted. Hitler wanted them dead, all of them. Hitler is gone but now other Muslim nations support Palestinians who were likewise disenfranchised when the United Nations propped restored Israel. Palestinians were to keep some of the adjacent lands but the restored Jewish nation has been unabashedly reclaiming and resettling areas that were not in the agreement. Palestinians have been squeezed into smaller and smaller plots of less and less desirable land on the premiss that not only is it it God’s will but also it is payback time.
Hamas is the military arm of a people who, as I see it, are allowed to live there with no rights and no credible representation, subordinated to powerful muslim warlords who defend as well as exploit a captive population. It is reminiscent of the ghettos and slums Jews occupied during the holocaust. Hamas proudly asserts their purpose is to destroy Israel. Israel calls Hamas a terrorist organization and calls on free nations to help them destroy Hamas. Someone, lots of someones with guns and rockets believe that revenge is a righteous cause and an eye for an eye is the only solution. 
There are many, many, millions more good people caught up in that greedy boil of ego and deceit; and I trust, if they (the good people) had authority this evil vendetta would be resolved in a just, peaceful solution. But they don’t. MLK Jr. told us; “Injustice anywhere threatens justice everywhere.” How can I presume to weight in on Jewish hegemony or Palestinian resistance? American bigots murdered Dr. King and are still killing people of color because white authorities can’t tell telephones from handguns or when blacks run when told to stop. We have our own slums and ghettos where poverty and crime feed on a smug, pious, condescending culture. But it sounds like I am starting to preach and I never want to do that. My dad would say, “It’s in their blood.” I remember writing recently; There are no good guys, there are no bad guys, only ambitious, blood thirsty, sanctimonious bedfellows. I hate it when I do this but venting helps get it out of my system.

AND THERE'S NO GOLD

  An ‘Earworm’ is a line or verse from a song that sticks in your mind, repeating over and over. A good one can keep coming around, uninvited for hours or even days at a time. I get them and they are usually wonderful, always welcome, combinations of great poetry and memories or feelings they stir up from my own story. I think of one in particular that kept coming back, sometimes a dozen times a day, sometimes every other day and it kept spilling over for at least a month. Kate Wolf was an absolutely wonderful singer-songwriter who passed away, way too soon. In the early 1980’s she gave us, Here In California, a ballad that reflects on her mother’s advice, not to fall in love too soon. The hook was set in the middle of the first verse. It went, “She held me ‘round the shoulders, In a voice so soft and kind, She said love can make you happy, Love can rob you blind.”  Then, like a boxer’s one-two punch she leans straight into the chorus: “Here in California, Fruit hangs heavy on the vines, And there’s no gold, I thought I’d warn you, And the hills turn brown in the summertime.” O.M.G. She (Kate Wolf) passed in 1986 (leukemia) she would have been 81 now; and the hills turn brown in the summertime. 
Songwriters are uniquely special, they frame powerful stories that can move you to tears or laugh-out-loud and they do it in a few verses, a bridge and a chorus. Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen were exceptions, their songs went on and on for what seemed like forever but no one complained. Kate Wolf will be ringing in my mind now for who knows how long and that’s alright. 
Most recently, the worm that gets my attention is from a Gordon Lightfoot song (1971) If You Could Read My Mind. The song was inspired by his breakup (divorce) and that sense of melancholy always seemed to be introspective rather than judgmental and I liked that. The worm; “And I’ve got to say that I just don’t get it, I don’t know where we went wrong, But the feeling’s gone, And I just can’t get it back.” He was an awesome storyteller, four verses and a chorus. 
Then there is Willie. If you get into that collection the earworms don’t end with a line or a verse, you take the whole song where every line builds on the one before. When it reboots to start over you have mouthed all the words from the introduction to the fade. I can lapse into any one of several Willie Nelson songs but the one that comes most often when I’m on the road or someplace else is, Nothing I Can Do About It Now. There is no chorus; the title is the hook line that also serves as a turnaround. I can hear it now: “And I could cry for the time I’ve wasted, But that’s a waste of time and tears, And I know just what I’d change If I went back in time somehow, But there’s nothing I can do about it now. I’m forgiving everything that forgiveness will allow, And there’s nothing I can do about it now.”  
So I’m blessed with earworms; they may be contagious without getting old, never get in the way. I’ve written a few songs, stories with four verses and a hook but to touch multitudes of others with a timeless message, that has been the fate of Kate Wolf and Willie Nelson. I am a well meaning wannabe but fate did not steer me onto that path. I like the idea of fate but not the absolute, beyond one’s control, predetermined path to an unavoidable destiny. I don’t think fate lies out in the future. It is about how you came to be who and what you are in fact, here and now and there are no do-overs. Fate would be determined by causal forces but they are not predetermined. That flys in the face of traditional thinking, defaulting to the perception of a predetermined destiny. I don’t embrace a fate that exists outside my reach. But taking comfort with nostalgic, insightful, endearing earworms is a fate I can live with.