GRAVITY STILL WORKS

  I have a sizable list of heroes who I look up to as role models. Some I know or have known personally while others stand out for their contributions to the greater good. E.O. Wilson (1929-2021) is positioned near the top of that list. A world class authority (Harvard Univ.) on insects and ants in particular, discovered pheromones, he conceptualized and developed the theory of Sociobiology which is no longer a theory but universally recognized. In short, many animals live together in community within a social construct where each individual has a role to fill and a programmed pattern of behavior to perform, much like mating, migrating, nurturing young, defending against predators, etc. 
He noticed how large numbers (thousands) of ants cooperate with highly specialized behaviors (collecting food, waging war, building tunnels, etc.) and switch as a group from one role to another with ease: Sociobiology. Most mammals live within a social construct but nothing like the organization and uniform attention to a single purpose as with ants, bees, etc. Wilson identified those coordinated, large numbers-single purpose species as, Supersocial. He discovered over a dozen Supersocial species, all insects or closely related, wannabe insects. To be Supersocial, individuals in the pod or hive or colony could not venture off and join another group or start a new one of their own. It’s not in their DNA, they will die if they get separated even if they have food, etc. Neither could they adapt to changing environment by modifying their behavior. But they were extraordinary when it came to working in sync with each other. The Supersocial colony survives or dies as a group, doing what they’ve always done, the same way that they’ve always done it.
This is turning into a biology lesson and I don’t want that. So I will cut straight to the chase. Humans are now the only non insect species to be considered Supersocial. We have large, complex brains and insects don’t. We can think about things and ideas but we don’t believe insects can think at all.  But we share the critical traits, we also cooperate in large numbers for common cause but we can adapt, change the rules, invent new behaviors, shift from one task to another with ease. We can improvise and teach a stranger the new way. Several species are creative problem solvers but don’t do well in large numbers (primates). Others work together in mass but can’t adapt their behavior to meet a changing set of circumstances (wildebeest). What makes humans special is that we are the only species that can do both. Chimps can make and use tools and teach others as long as they are in small groups. But if you get too many chimps together (let’s say 40 +) their intelligent behavior breaks down into chaos and most likely violence. 
Humans on the other hand cooperate with total strangers in large numbers, by the hundreds if not thousands. In combat, armies move in carefully planned, sequentially timed maneuvers with precision until someone notices a problem, then individuals may swap responsibilities or go left instead of right without asking first and it works, or the leader may change the strategy from ‘Attack’ to ‘Retreat’ and everybody gets it. 
People are uniquely skilled at adapting to changing conditions and circumstances. But two people cannot go off on their own and create a new community. A couple or even 3 cannot meet the diverse and extreme need for getting food & water, providing shelter, safety and protection. Human children require several years of constant nurture and food before they can contribute to the group At the same time the nutritional demand (calories) on the parents is compounded with the mother needing twice the normal nutritional requirement with much less time and ability to meet even her own need. There is a number, depending on the environment and risks involved and whatever that number is, it is more than a few. People need to live in community in order to survive, replicate, reproduce successfully and maintain a sustainable population. We are Supersocial. We need each other. It is my nature to ask “Why?” and “How does that work?” But like the blind leading the blind, no one is in charge, there’s nobody at the wheel. Gravity still works and the big dogs eat first.
I want to know better how things work, a better understanding of human behavior. Why; after so many thousands of years of hunter gatherer culture and roughly six or seven thousand years of civilization, why is our species stuck in the same repeating pattern of self defeating behaviors and unnecessary violence? In contrast, our toys and tools have moved right along, keep evolving into better, more effective instruments for meeting a need. How does that work? Pure, hard core naturalists would rationalize; we sacrifice the many in order for the most fit to prevail and replicate the next strong, fit generation. That’s how it works with plants, why not with people? I understand how that can work but humans want not only to prevail but also to be happy, make everybody happy, and the species has failed on that task. I have an idea but not a plan, and it may be all wrong but still, it leans on logic, it is defensible and I cannot just give it over to a religious mythology and play Let’s Pretend.

I CAME IN FROM THE WILDERNESS

 'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form
Come in, she said
I'll give ya shelter from the storm.

Religion is not (say again) is not where I would look for meaning and purpose but Dylan (Bob) seems to with Shelter From The Storm. He famously carves out lyrics that speak to us between the lines as profoundly as within the text. Isaiah was an Old Testament prophet from roughly 720 BCE who warned the nation Israel that God was going to punish them for their wickedness. Israel wasn’t the only nation that was on God’s sh*t list but evidently he had higher expectations for them that he did the Babylonians, etc. Dylan’s (toil & blood, blackness a virtue) said as much to me and shelter from the storm would have been wishful thinking. I don’t known why but the song reminds me of Isaiah’s dismal prophesy but it does. In it he (Dylan) holds out a shred of hope for a safe place to take refuge. 
Last night I dreamt an awful dream. Figuratively, the wrath of God was coming back around and I felt ‘void of form’ much like Isaiah must have in his dark days when Israel was misbehaving. In the year 2024 CE the world is a wicked place again. Israel is misbehaving again and the rest of the world is full of self righteous, evil, greedy people who justify lust by calling it Liberty. I take some comfort in the otherwise foreboding grip of old age; at least I got a good, long ride before God pulls the plug on our wickedness. Maybe I’ll succumb literally and miss the fall altogether. Now that’s a pretty grim dream. But trying to fill in the blanks with Dylan is like herding cats, you talk ‘smack’ and whatever the cats do will pass for obedience. I don’t put much stock in dreams; the subconscious is free to make up stories and sometimes it plays the ‘Herding cats' game.

MAYBE, JUST MAYBE

I don’t know how to begin. For me to weigh in on controversial issues seems too little, too late and who really cares what I think anyway. True, I write for my own benefit but I’ve gnawed on those issues for long enough I don’t need my own Cliffs Notes study guide. But sometimes, and this is as much about being old, approaching decline and I think all old people have to react to the impulse; sometimes you think maybe, just maybe, when I’m not around to speak for myself someone will wonder, “I wonder what old So-&-So would have said or done or thought about (whatever it might be).

It is going on two weeks since the shooting at the Super Bowl celebration in Kansas City. The rest of the world has moved on but it’s still in the news here, fueling a new out cry over gun control measures, or the lack there of. For the record, I own both long guns and hand guns and I keep them locked in a vault designed specifically for that purpose. Once upon a time I was a hunter but I don’t hunt anymore. I still have my fire arms largely to keep them out of circulation, haven’t fired one in over 40 years. But I understand from experience how guns can find their way into the hands of irresponsible folks and others who would wage violence.  

I trust my judgement, that I understand and appreciate the lure and the appeal that fire arms provide their owners. In my youth (U.S.Army) I qualified on the range with both 30 cal. rifle and 45 cal. hand guns. Several times as conditions required, we went back to the range and refreshed the firearms skillset. I never had difficulty hitting the target but I’ve never pointed a  loaded weapon at anybody; the very thought is disturbing if not repulsive. It’s not like riding a bicycle. If you want to carry a weapon it is crucial that you practice often. The consequence of diminished skill or lax rules of engagement is literally the difference between someone’s life and death.

Of 23 victims at the Super Bowl celebration there was only one fatality and I suppose we should be thankful there weren’t more but that callous reaction (being thankful) is symptomatic of the sick culture we take for granted. Shortly after gun powder and fire arms were invented (@ 1000 years ago) their design and primary purpose were focused on killing animals & people. Civilization has moved on but the design and purpose of firearms has not. Sometimes people us cars as weapons agains people (road rage, suicide, etc.) Even though cars have never been designed to do violence, it happens. Still, to operate a motor vehicle in this country you need to pass a test, have a license and carry liability insurance. Carrying a gun is a right that shooters wear like a crown while driving a car is a privilege to begin with. I mean really; do you need someone to explain the absurdity there in?

Regulations for the possession and discharge of guns have gradually eroded away in the pretense of Liberty. Government needs to know there are armed citizens who can hold them accountable (fight back). So when the smoke clears and the courts close the books on gun control, anybody, and that means anybody who wants a hand gun or a military, semiautomatic assault rifle can have one. All it takes is some money and knowing someone who knows someone who will sell it to you no questions asked, out of their house or the trunk of their car. The real insult is that the legal system does not enforce existing laws intended to keep guns out of wrong hands until after the shooting. After the fact, the courts punish shooters. The sick culture I spoke of is set on punishing shooters and literally ignores prevention. Sadly, there is no viable process to affordably, effectively curing a sick culture.

I will not labor through all of the reason and logic that would explain and debunk the rhetoric used by radical gun proponents. We all understand the analogy that likens the gun to a man’s penis: with a gun in hand one’s penis doubles in size. Men generally reject the comparison but what would you expect? We all understand (except for the Supreme Court) that firearm’s niche in the now culture does not equate to George Washington bearing arms or the need for deadly force in self defense today. I’m not interested in taking guns away from legitimate gun owners but when a 17 year-old can carry an assault rifle openly, along side of police officers at a demonstration, fire on (killing) two demonstrators (Kyle Rittenhouse, May, 2021, Kenosha, Wisconsin) and walk away free and clear, then this nation has crossed the line and become a 3rd world clusterf##k: translated (disastrously mishandled situation). In this country, in 2023 over 40,000 people were killed by guns. I would think a culture that holds human life to be sacred would squirm with that in mind.

Missouri’s governor simply extended his thoughts and prayers to the victims of the Super Bowl shootings and affirmed the need to punish criminals, thugs who spoiled the day. Thoughts and prayers are no more than piss in the wind, an inert dismissal, change the subject and move on. Punishment is a lot cheaper and more easily measured out than addressing cause but that moral failure is nothing new. Whatever else they may be, firearms are instruments of death by design and function and means of protection by partisan whim. The perceived need for protection is caused by the unchecked availability of more guns. As Pogo famously observed, “We have met the enemy and he is us.” I thought of an analogy for the situation. It is a long stretch but the corollary is profound. It goes; trees and being cut down against the law so everyone tries to think of a way to save trees and they come up with the perfect solution - more chainsaws. I’m afraid we will keep on keeping on, getting what we’ve already got. My opinion is irrelevant, an old man’s take on people killing people. So someday, who knows when; when the last bullet kills another innocent bystander, Frank has already taken sides and been written off as an old fool. 

SO MUCH POTENTIAL

  In college in the 1960’s I had several role models (if not mentors). One of them was on a mission, selling liberal education. I gobbled it up like a baby bird feeding in its nest and I’ve never had cause to regret that. Education is a life long endeavor. It is both the accumulation of skills and understanding as well as the process of critical thinking and open ended possibility. Education can flourish in the formal mode (classrooms and instructors) and the school of life experience. Formal schooling tends, I believe, to expedite and organize the learning; certainly in my case. My journey was at the time, non traditional. After high school I spent eight years in the school of life experience before immersion in the formal discipline. But the result has been a rewarding life that is fueled by a need to know everything about everything. Naturally, that need has never been satisfied but I would’t want it any other way. 
In my first semester I had a professor (mentor) who planted a seed: What is the definition of the word, ‘Potential’? He made it a point to tell us as a group and individually, “You have so much potential.” In his classes from year to year you could count on that little treasure showing up on quizzes and tests with regularity. The only acceptable answer was; Potential, a list of all the things you haven’t accomplished yet. Liberal education was not liberal in the social context, rather in the scope and process of exploring content, correlating ideas and making meaning. We didn’t have to be told that preparation for a particular career and preparation for living a full life are not the same and we were committed to the latter. Socially the college was about as conservative as one could be. But I had the benefit of eight years in the school of life and had just experienced the Joy Of Discovery. All of that Baptist hyperbole and conservative propaganda were easily dismissed. 
Another word I toss around is ‘capacity’. It is associated with measurement in terms of volume or the ability to perform a function. I have serious doubts and suspicions with human intelligence. People who know me well are familiar with my reservations, some even understand the complexity and give me space to keep on digging in that hole. In short, I think intelligence is overrated. Much of our behavior and decision making are governed by a part of the brain that is inaccessible to the conscious intellect. But we presume the conscious, intelligent part of the brain controls every choice and all behavior exclusively, because it is the only part we can access; sort of like the (read only) functions of a computer. From that perspective I reason that our brain has the capacity (volume & skill) for reason and logic to prevail but that is where common sense would steer us down a dead end. Humans respond to their emotional core (they decide) long before they weigh objective logic and decide what is reasonable or logical. This is my perception but it is based on some pretty compelling research. When it comes to using creative intelligence to solve puzzles (problems) and invent the better mouse trap the conscious cortex is amazing. But emotions tend not to be so invested with (things) and the frontal cortex can make magic; smart phones, chemotherapy, internet, etc. We are great problem solvers when it deals with things. But when it comes to issues of human interactions, emotions are really fast, incredibly powerful and influence behavior (decisions) before you can actually think about it. People would rather fight, even kill in some cases over who has control over women’s uteruses or over where to draw tribal boundary lines. 

Looking back at 600 words here, it’s not much but it may be too dense for others who don’t care for this kind of stuff. Most of what I’ve written in the past three weeks has been depressing and I cured it with the delete key. The world is full of bad news and getting worse. I don’t need to paint a picture to sense the gravity of cultural divide in the U.S.A. In the last decade racism, classism, sexism, unchecked nationalism and authoritarian leadership have gained a passionate following. I can’t get my head around the idea. In 1936 Germans wanted to make  Germany great again (MGGA). All they needed to do was (Ethnic Cleansing) eliminate the Jewish problem and conquer their neighbors who were obviously inferior to the Aryan (German) race. Intelligent Germans bought into it, saluted the kingpin and looked the other way when it got grizzly. The  pious residents of Auschwitz (the town) pled ignorance to what was going on at the prison camp and felt persecuted when they were required to help clean it up at war’s end. 
Russia has been pummeling Ukraine for two years for the sake of a self obsessed, authoritarian leader’s ego/ambition, and Israel is pummeling Gaza for much the same reason. The Jews are getting even. If they have to kill a million Palestinian bystanders trapped in the war zone to eliminate every Hamas fighter, then they should kill them all. I said it earlier, the news is bad and I get depressed. Americans are no better. We have a worn out leader whose time has passed but he still clings to the hope of reelection. His competition is another ( too old) authoritarian, demagogue leader who employs popular prejudices, false claims and exploits (emotional) fears to gain power. I thought my generation would move the world in a better direction but where we are now makes that expectation a cruel joke.
I am an old man who, like our current President, needs a nap after lunch and lots of fiber in my diet. I guess I am venting my feelings but I understand it is just my midbrain, the inaccessible part. It isn’t a decision, just a reminder; never in all of my memory has there been a time when human animals have showed so much potential. 

TRANSMOGRIFY

  How long has it been since Anita Hill (an attorney with the U.s. Dept. of Education) accused her boss Clarence Thomas (then U.S. Supreme Court nominee) of sexual harassment? I really doesn’t matter how long it’s been but it was about the time Rodney King (an intoxicated, unarmed black man who had been taken into custody after a high speed car chase) was brutally beaten in the street by Los Angeles police officers. The point is that police departments across the country have become not only aware but extremely sensitive to the possibility of having their unauthorized brutality filmed, of it turning up in internal investigations and on the evening news. But on the other end, at the Supreme Court, Clarence Thomas is still measuring out polarizing opinions that punish poor people of color and rewarding the (1% which is as rich & powerful as it is white). The King beating was on every news channel that night. I would never, not ever try to imagine what goes through Clarence Thomas' head or how he was transmogrified into such a champion for White Privilege. 
My reason for writing this piece began with words; I am drawn to words that get used infrequently but create a memorable sound bite when they do fall on a discerning ear. One of those words is ‘Transmogrify’. Garrison Keller (Prairie Home Companion) was a wordsmith who showed off his unparalleled vocabulary with neither shame nor pretense. He presumed his audience was equal to his verbiage. Occasionally, one of my word choices will carry a worthy pedigree but nothing like the literary plethora of a Garrison Keller phrase. It was an election year and Keller was ranting about Republicans apparent disregard for human dignity when he dropped the ‘Transmogrify’ bomb. It was in regard to sweet, well intended children growing up only to become self worshiping ogres. The word itself would more than suggest a change or transformation that was generally unexpected, unsavory and certainly mysterious if not magical. So the change Keller spoke of was both unwelcome and mysteriously magical. He went on to beg; how can one trust anything you hear from anyone who is so sure of everything, and I gave it a thumbs up at the time.
That was before 2016 or ’17 when a woman writer accused the man from Lake Wobegon (Keller) of inappropriate contact (touching). Within a few days of internal sleuthing, National Public Radio cut their ties with Garrison Keller. He still has a career but not in the mainstream. A year or so later another one of Minnesota’s  favorite sons was forced to resign from the U.S. Senate for sexual impropriety. Al Franken had a long career as a humorist, writer and actor before winning a seat in the senate. For so long; the good old boy’s club had enjoyed a hand grasping, back slapping code of membership. Then they had trouble adapting to the KY2 influx of women into the public service domain. Too many men needed something for women that paralleled the hands shake, back slap. So what do you do with women, you hug them; and if the hug is a real or perceived attempt at copping an unauthorized feel, you suffer the consequence. If a woman lets it go that is about how she deals with condescending gropers. If she calls the culprit out for his indiscretion; Go home Al, console Garrison Keeler. There is no transmogrification in that bad choice just grown-old gropers with teen age arrested development.
Rodney King died before his time some twenty years later at age 47. The change for King was not transmogrifying, nothing magical. His tormentors wanted him dead at the time but Rodney wasn’t ready to go yet but the beating certainly did nothing to promote his health. I don’t know how to qualify Clarence Thomas’ longevity. Speaking only for myself, it seems just another ripple, like graffiti on a passing railroad car, that if there really was a God he would have swapped King like the NFL does with players for Thomas who would have been beaten too a pulp by an angry husband. Rodney would probably have lost his driver’s license but would still be drinking. 

GET AWAY EARLY

  This is my last night in San Francisco. After nearly three weeks on the road I am running out of reasons to keep on with the nomad thing. My house back in the midwest has been suffering through subzero temperatures high winds and heavy snow and I feel some responsibility to be there; bad things happen when temperature looses its way, either way. I have a good crew checking for leaks but the urge to go on the road has been satisfied and I need to get real again. Day before yesterday the sky turned clear and sunny here so we drove up on top of Twin Peaks; The only Twin Peaks I ever heard of was a TV series from the last century but this one the view is breathtaking. San Francisco is spread out below like butter on bread and you can see the entire bay from the Golden Gate to San Jose, Oakland across the way, Alcatraz and all the ships coming and going. 
It rained later, I got all wet and came down with some kind of a bug, sinus, dry cough and suffered all day yesterday. The Covid test came out negative along with all the flu bugs and I woke up today sounding like a bull frog but feeling pretty good: better by the hour. When you are literally living in the moment it comes as a surprise when the hour comes for you to move on. That hour will be tomorrow morning and I will head south. My host in Cupertino is a long held, treasured friend and I hadn’t seen my cousin out in the valley for a dozen years and I thought at my age I should touch those bases; you never know. So I’ll pack before I go to bed and get away early.  

Maybe I should have posted the short beginning when I put it aside for the night. By now three days plus have gone by and I can’t tell if I am leading the way or being dragged along behind. The saying, ‘Just when things can’t get worse, they get worse.’ maybe it should be (PIA) pain in ass distractions more so than things getting worse. I left an expensive, necessary computer device & cable in San-Fran - went to a Best Buy store in Palmdale, CA, bought its generic equal. At motel discover the Best Buy thing didn’t work. Motel fiasco needs a full page to deconstruct so I’ll come back to that train wreck another day. On way out of town next morning I return the Best Buy dud and still need the thing to charge my computer. Slept in car at truck stop in Quartzite, AZ; saved a motel bill so I can pay for the cable & charger at Apple Store in Phoenix next day and up the road to Flagstaff, AZ, make a right turn. Had a bucket list event: stood on corner in Winslow, AZ, such a find sight to see but no girl in flatbed Ford checkin’ me out and I didn’t let the sound of my own wheels drive me crazy (Winslow is a railroad town, lots of trains). Drove late (dark) and I don’t like that but long road, no place to land. Then: Red Roof Inn (Gallup, NM) and the world slowed down. I slept good and am in the waiting room at a Dodge dealer in Albuquerque while my transportation (Fargo) gets new oil and filter. I have no plan, no destination, just a direction, east. My head is breathing clear, both nostrils drawing air but still hack a little dry cough once in a while. Covid tested negative before leaving SanFran. My computer is running on free wifi at the customer waiting area and fully charged with new Apple charger.
An extremely dissatisfied customer just stood in the front lobby and delivered a civil but loud (screaming) disclaimer. a fusillade of insults against the dealership and employees. She was really, really loud and it echoed with effects I would think only professional sound system gurus can produce. It went on and on, again and again for over a minute, maybe 90 sec. That’s a long time in public, in the place of business. Shortly after she left, employees began cruising, looking for the source but I don’t think they actually wanted to find her, only satisfy the company security policy. I always wanted to stand and scream insults in a place of business, without profanity, just really, really loud, well framed and purpose pointed against the people who lie to us and charge too much after not fixing their broken product. Seems my family just went through that and my son took care of the service manager in person. I wanted to tag along but he wouldn’t let me go inside with him. The dealership did the fix for no charge.
This oil change is taking a long time. Not enough for me to yell and raise a ruckus but time is money I’m told; and if you don’t have the one it’s good if you have the other. 

IT HAPPENED ONE NIGHT

  Having friends scattered across the map who are happy to see me and let me shelter under their roof is both a privilege and cost effective. But after a few days I begin to feel like I’ve overstayed that privilege. In every case so far they have assured me otherwise but the disclaimer doesn’t resolve the feeling. Today we are going up to Muir Woods, a patch of old growth redwoods just north of the Golden Gate. I’ve been there twice before but in a secular way, it’s a sacred place. After that it will be, find a winery or a beach, depends on the weather.
I feel compelled to start looking ahead to the next pitstop. I will go to my travel club’s directory. There are lots of travel club members spread out from SF to San Diego and odds are in my favor. Don’t know anyone in LA well enough to drop in; makes me feel like Clark Gable in the movie, It Happened One Night when he and Claudette Colbert were hitch hiking. Every passing car whizzed by him with his thumb out but when she took his place and raised her skirt up to her knee the next car slid to a stop and took them up the road. When I email another travel club member it’s like hanging my thumb out for a bed. I should be moving on soon if just to ease my conscience. 
By now my sense of purpose has pooled into a single puddle, best described by a line from ‘Everybody’s Talking’ a Susan Tedeschi song about sunshine and sailing ships, “Goin’ where the weather suits my clothes.” Not that I dread snow and cold so much but I do feel the need to be in motion and I haven’t been out of town since summer. Something about waking up not remembering where we put our head down that feels good (Oh yeah, California. . . Cupertino.)
We went to Chinatown the other night. Parking space anywhere in the Bay area is impossible. But we found a parking garage on a side street that looked like an improvised hole in the wall and steep ramp down into a basement. A tall guy guided us into a slot that would be blocked by the next car (have to move before we could leave). My host asked how much and the guy ask how long. We got two or three prices but my friend wanted a firm price. He gave us a lot of arm waving with a frustrating Chin-glish dialect, a toothy grin and, “You pay now.” We payed more than we were supposed to but when you don’t release the fish it should have thought again before it took the bait. Our car was in his basement and we paid. The restaurant was surreal, the food was awesome and expensive; the T-shirt I got next door was awesome too at $6 after all, it’s Chinatown.