Armchair Travel
A Prayer to St Jude
This blog is not usually about me, but since I, a confirmed heretic and occasional blasphemer, am offering a prayer to heaven, I thought I would make an exception. And besides, it's actually not about me, it's about
my friend Daoud and his grandfather's farm.My prayer is to the patron saint of hopeless causes, St Jude. Together I hope that St. Jude and I (and certain other persons) can change the way the people of America view the people of Palestine.
For me, and for many other Americans, that would have to start with the 1972 Munich Olympics, where the Palestine Liberation Organization, thinking to advance their cause, shot eleven unarmed Israeli athletes.
My friend Daoud didn't shoot any athletes, but he and his family and friends have surely paid the price of that criminal atrocity, through no fault of their own.
America cannot resolve any important issues with the Islamic world until the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is resolved. But turn that around: if this one tiny sectional conflict were resolved, it would inestimably advance the cause of world peace.
And for you business majors out there, that would mean an enormous, almost incalculable, peace dividend compounded quarterly for generation after generation. This is the stuff of which great fortunes are made.
Daoud is the guy who can actually bring this about, because he is a man who refuses to hate. When his gun-toting neighbors, who claim that god has given them his family's land, tore up 250 olive trees, he still refused to hate.
That would have done it for me. I would have hated those SOBs, and the cause would have been lost.
Daoud wants to found an international peace center, the
Tent of Nations. He has a singularity of vision that reminds me of Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King.
I think this guy deserves a hearing by the American People,
don't you?
Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?
I was reading the New York Times Book Review, which, as you probably know, is not for blockheads (a little inside joke for my friend Philip Kunhardt) and I found a review of
Girls Like Us by Sheila Weller about Joni Mitchell, Carly Simon and Carole King.
I probably won't read the book, but I learned something interesting from the review about one of my favorite songs, "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?"
I always thought it was written by Carole King, and I was half right. She wrote the music. But the words were written by her then husband, Gerry Goffin, which is kind of surprising since guys, at least young guys, don't particularly care whether they will be loved in the morning, if you know what I mean.
Turns out King and Goffin were writing songs part time while he worked at a chemical company and she took care of their infant daughter. This is all according to the review by Stephanie Zacharek and presumably it comes from the book.
King wrote and recorded the music one afternoon and then went to play mah-jonng with friends, leaving Goffin a note that said, "Write." He did. And how!
"I thought: What would a girl sing to a guy if they made love that night?" he told Weller.
Zacharek writes,"And so this glorious song, as astonishing a summation of women's insecurities as has ever been written, and one that shocked listeners with its frankness, came to be. The melody, at once pleading and confident, had come first: it was so powerful that it inspired a man to slip into the skin, and the heart, of a woman."
According to Wikipedia, Shirley Owens of the Shirelles didn't want to record the song because she thought it was "too country." Then it skyrocketed to the top of the pop charts, although, as she recalls, some radio stations refused to play it because the lyrics were too sexually charged.
But nobody worries about that kind of thing anymore, and since then it has been recorded by hundreds and hundreds of artists. I love listening to it and playing it. It isn't smarmy (although I like a lot of smarmy songs) because it's so honest and there really is something transcendent about the melody.
The Poetry of Robert B. Hay
Here is a poem by the inestimable literary titan, Robert B. Hay. He recited it to me more than twenty years ago, yet I still know it by heart. There's a reference to bussing (court-ordered integration of schools) which might be puzzling to younger readers. As far as I can recollect, it doesn't have a title:
I have my General Motors, and occasional IBM,
But I'd be non-plussed if my kids were bussed
Along with the rest of them.
We worked like clocks to mortgage this box.
Our marriage is all made of leather.
My wife has her sharks, which glow in the dark.
Her bras and my shoes go together.
My name is Boo Hoo. I'm a liberal, too,
And you know the bourgeois is my game.
To see the flag fly brings a tear to my eye.
If you should ask why, you'll be lame.
The Half Insane Mumbling of a Fever Dream
"I more than suspect already that he is deeply conscious of being in the wrong -- that he feels the blood of this war, like the blood of Abel, is crying to Heaven against him.
"That originally having some strong motive -- what, I will not stop now to give my opinion concerning -- to involve the two countries in a war, and trusting to escape scrutiny by fixing the public gaze upon the exceeding brightness of military glory... he plunged into it and has swept on and on till, disappointed in his calculation of the ease with which Mexico might be subdued, he now finds himself he knows not where.
"How like the half insane mumbling of a fever-dream is the whole war part of his late message! His mind, taxed beyond its power, is running hither and thither, like some tortured creature on a burning surface, finding no position on which it can settle down and be at ease."
That's Abraham Lincoln's opinion of James Polk during the Mexican War.
The "strong motive" on which Lincoln did not give his opinion at the time, was the desire to create more slave states. Slavery had to expand to survive. That's why there was such a political battle about slavery in the territories.
More interesting stuff from Gary Wills book,
Lincoln at Gettysburg.
Practical Transcendentalism
Like everyone else, I read about transcendentalism in history class, but never elected to read the works of any transcendentalists. Too boring. A bunch of flakes. Is there anyone who reads Ralph Waldo Emerson by choice?
Turns out I was wrong -- not about Emerson; he was a flake -- but about the doctrine itself. It wasn't flaky. It was developed in Germany by a guy named Friedrich Schleiermacher, who explained it to an American named George Bancroft, who explained it to a guy named Edward Everett, who explained it to a guy named Theodore Parker.
That might have been that, except a young lawyer in Illinois named William Herndon picked up on Parker's works and showed them to his law partner, Abraham Lincoln.
This is all explained in Gary Wills' book
Lincoln at Gettysburg.
Parker, whose father fired the first shot of the American Revolution (from our side) was an abolitionist who expressed the transcendentalist ideals in ways that the average person could understand. Many transcendentalists had quit the Christian churches, but Parker kept his pulpit, because he embraced a transcendental form of Christianity:
"By Christianity, I mean that form of religion which consists of piety -- the love of God and morality -- the keeping of His laws. That is not the Christianity of the Christian church, nor of any sect. It is the ideal religion which the human race has been groping for."
Parker had a transcendental view of democracy, too: "By Democracy, I mean the government over all the people, by all the people, and for the sake of all." Sound familiar?
"This is not the democracy of the parties, but it is that ideal government, the reign of righteousness, the kingdom of justice, which all noble hearts long for, and labor to produce, the ideal whereunto mankind slowly draws near."
It was from Parker that Lincoln drew his deeply held attachment to the ideals in the Declaration of Independence as the founding document of our republic. The Constitution was merely a compromise that embodied the selfish interests of the parties involved, a vehicle through which the country could gradually attain the ideals of the Declaration.
"First comes the Sentiment," Parker wrote, "the feeling of liberty; next the idea -- the thought becomes a thing. Buds in March, blossoms in May, apples in September -- that is the law of historical succession."
Parker died in 1860, so he never got to see the apples, but his ideas will live forever as they are embodied in Lincoln's Gettyburg Address, which has inspired may generations and will, hopefully, inspire many more.
Jack Paar
One of my recent rummage sale finds was an autobiograhy of Jack Paar called I Kid You Not -- very interesting, if you're interested. He got his start as a comic during World War II in the Pacific. He was immensely popular with soldiers and sailors partly because he made jokes about officers.
Did you know he starred in a little-known movie with Marilyn Monroe?
Then, of course, he started the Tonight Show which became immensely popular and still is.
Naturally there are a lot of one-liners which are kind of funny, but not that funny. I enjoyed it mainly because it evokes a bygone era.
Then I went on You Tube to find some clips and found
this one with Bette Davis and Jonathan Winters. Bette and Jack both had feuds with Walter Winchell and she compliments Jack on standing up to Winchell, who was said to kind of a bully.
In this clip she shows Jack and Jonathan how to smoke and explains how the Academy Award statue came to be nicknamed Oscar. What a wonderful, witty, gracious lady she was. I had the privilege of meeting her at her son's house in Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts, when she was in her eighties.
My mother's cousin John Terry, who was her confidant, introduced us, and what a wonderful, kind, funny person he was...
Ben Franklin's Religion
I've seen a lot of scholars speculate about Ben Franklin's religious beliefs. He didn't say a lot about them, for a very good reason: he was never asked!
But at the age of 85 he responded to a letter from the president of Yale College, Ezra Stiles. Stiles asked him for a portrait of himself to hang opposite the portait of Eli Yale, and asked him some questions about his religious beliefs. I found the letter in American Heritage, December 1955.
Franklin replied that none of the portraits of himself that he had were "worthy of the place and Company you propose to place it in." But, he said, "You have an excellent Artist lately arrived. If he will undertake to make one for you, I shall cheerfully pay the Expence; but he must not delay setting about it, or I may slip thro' his fingers, for I am now in my eighty-fifth year, and very infirm."
"You desire to know something of my religion," Franklin went on. "It is the first time I have been questioned upon it. But I cannot take your Curiosity amiss, and shall endeavour in a few words to gratify it."
"Here is my Creed. I believe in one God, Creator of the Universe. That he governs it by his Providence. That he ought to be worshipped. That the most acceptable Service we render him is doing good to his other Children."
"That the soul of Man is immortal, and will be treated with Justice in another Life respecting his Conduct in this. These I take to be the fundamental Principles of all sound Religion, and I regard them as you do in whatever Sect I meet with them."
"As to Jesus of Nazareth, my Opinion of whom you particularly desire, I think the System of Morals and his Religion, as he left them to us, the best the World ever saw or is likely to see; but I apprehend it has received various corrupting Changes, and I have, with most of the Dissenters in England, some Doubts as to his Divinity; tho' it is a question I do not dogmatize upon, having never studied it, and think it needless to busy myself with it now, when I expect soon an Opportunity of knowing the Truth with less Trouble."
"I see no harm, however, in its being believed, if that Belief has the good Consequence, as probably it has, of making his Doctrines more respected and better observed; especially as I do not perceive that the Supreme takes it amiss by distinguishing the Unbelievers in his Government of the World with any peculiar Mark of his Displeasure."
"I shall only add, respecting myself, that, having experienced the Goodness of that Being in conducting me prosperously thro' a long life, I have no doubt of its Continuance in the next, though without the the smallest Conceit of meriting such goodness."
[signed] B. Franklin
And there's a post script:
"P.S. I confide, that you will not expose me to Criticism and censure by publishing any part of this Communication to you. I have ever let others enjoy their religious Sentiments, without reflecting on them for those that appeared to me unsupportable or even absurd."
"All Sects here, and we have a great Variety, have experienced my good will in assisting them with Subscriptions for building their new Places of Worship; and. as I have never opposed any of their Doctrines, I hope to go out of the World in Peace with them all."
Benjamin Franklin
He helped Adam Smith write
The Wealth of Nations. He discovered the Gulf Stream. He started the first public libraries, fire departments and canals in America. He invented bifocals and a heating system that more than quadrupled the energy efficiency of thousands of American homes.
He was a coauthor of the Declaration of Independence and he was responsible for bringing French assistance to the American revolutionaries, which was decisive in winning the war with Britain. And he helped draft the American Constitution that has lasted lo these many years.
Not only that, he invented a musical instrument, the glass armonica, for which Mozart wrote a piece of music.
Add to that his discovery of the conductivity of electricity and his invaluable maxims: "A penny saved is a penny earned," "Early to bed, early to rise, etc. etc." "A fool and his money are soon parted," and many others, and you have one of the most remarkable individuals who ever walked the Earth, Benjamin Franklin.
Thomas Jefferson wrote, "We hold these truths to be ordained by God..."
Franklin said, "You know, the Almighty is awfully busy. Let's not drag Him into this. Let's just say, 'We hold these truths to be self-evident...'"
A nifty turn of phrase, you must admit, and Jefferson took it from there. Lincoln took it further still, and Martin Luther King brought it ever closer to realization.
The Murder of Romulus
I've been reading Livy, as I mentioned before, and he seems to think that Romulus, the eponymous founder and first king of Rome, was murdered.
And since Livy had access to sources no one else will ever see, there's a very good chance he's correct. And even if he's not, the aristocracy of Rome also believed it -- Livy's work was considered definitive -- and they all had a good laugh about it.
You may well ask, "Romulus is a semi-mythical figure with no more grounding in historical fact than, say, King Arthur. How can you say he was murdered?"
To answer fully would take more than a single blog entry, so if you want the full argument
email me, but here's the nub: Livy states that Romulus was popular with the people, because he won great victories, but not so popular with the Senate [the rich], because he stood up for the poor. He apparently had the misfortune of being honorable.
Livy, always and forever a partisan of the Senate, has already let us know what he thinks of Romulus (and Remus, the murdered brother) by saying that "some say" that instead of being suckled by a she-wolf, as the legend goes, the two brothers were actually born to a prostitute known as "The Wolf."
I should explain that in Livy, as in many ancient writers, there is always a subtext. It begins with Homer, whose works were the equivalent of the Bible in the ancient world. Here's how it works: there's a supernatural explanation for the gullible and an alternative explanation for the discerning reader/listener.
Two classic examples are: Telemachos, the son of Odysseus, is visited by Athena [Goddess of Wisdom] in the form of an old friend of his father's, or: when Odysseus was approaching the realm of Circe, who had turned his men into pigs, he was approached by Mercury [God of Commerce and lots of other stuff] in the form of a guy who had just come from there.
The simple people take the supernatural explanation, and the discerning reader/listeners take the one that is pretty obvious to them and us too.
At one point Homer even lets the simple people in on this systematic double-entendre: Paris, the Trojan who took off with Helen (and a lot of dough) and started the whole ten-year war, is fighting Menelaus, Helen's husband (also the previous owner of the dough), mano a mano on the field of battle, and although he dearly wants to fight it out to the end, he is swept up by his mother, Aphrodite [Goddess of Love] and ends up in his bedroom in the palace. Everybody has a good laught about that because the subtext is obvious.
Little known fact about Paris: he killed Achilles by shooting (from the safety of the fabled walls of Troy) the arrow that caught him in the heel. It didn't save his home town, which got sacked anyway; it's just a footnote.
So when Livy talks about the death of Romulus he describes the scene where Romulus and the senators are shrouded in mist and Romulus disappears, and the people think he was torn apart by the senators, and one of the senators has the "shrewd" idea to say that he saw Romulus ascending into heaven -- something that happened to a lot of guys in the ancient world.
I suggest that if the idea was "shrewd," the guy didn't actually see the supposed ascension. Isn't that pretty obvious? If he was just relating what he actually saw, that couldn't possibly be described as "shrewd."
So whether Romulus ever existed or not, Livy, at least, thought he was murdered; and Livy is in a better position to judge than anyone else will ever be.
And if Remus had killed Romulus instead of the other way around, would we be seeing "true remance" novels in the supermarket?
My Buddy Brown Bear on TV
This is a screen shot from when my buddy Brown Bear was on national television, when Sarah got voted off the island on America's Next Top Model. If you remember she lost weight so she wasn't a plus-size anymore, but not enough weight to be a minus-size.
As she closed the door, she said, "Goodbye, House," and I could picture her in her jammies reading Goodnight, Moon.
I blogged about it at the time, but I just figured out how to find the episodes on You Tube and take screen shots.
Way to go Brown Bear!
Sarah cried when they voted her off, and so did Heather and Jenna, and the other girls were teary too, I think. She's way over it now, and she gets together with the other girls sometimes. All in all it was a pretty cool experience for all of us.
When I go to the hardware store they still call me "America's top dad."