Armchair Travel
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
  A Passage to India
I joined a new site for recommending great reads, but they kind of discombobulated my thinking by asking me what is my favorite book.

Is that the book that you most enjoy? Is it the one that changes your way of thinking and makes you a better person?

Depends on your state of mind, I guess. For the last two weeks I've been reading Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe mysteries for the third or forth time. Certain times you're just not open to new ideas and you need some R&R.

But all-time favorite, well The Brothers Karamzov would have to be included, and Gogol's overcoat, and, without question, The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas.

Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiewicz clearly qualifies.

Fup Duck by Jim Dodge is up there, too. Snatch that up if you ever see it.

If you ask me instead for the best book ever written, leaving aside the works mentioned above, which are part of who I am, and leaving aside Homer, who didn't write books, I have to nominate A Pasage to India by E.M. Forster.

The characters are so well drawn that they take on a life of their own. Moslem, Christian and Hindu sensibilities are all portrayed with acuity and understanding. Then the interaction of these characters becomes high drama after the disastrous picnic in the Malabar Caves...

Doctor Aziz, who hosted the party, is accused of rape through the willful ignorance of the authorities, etc. etc. The mother-in-law, Mrs. Moore, Dr. Aziz's friend, who could have vindicated him, is shipped off to parts unknown and crowds gather around the courthouse chanting "Esmiss Esmoore, Esmiss Esmoore!"

In the last climactic scenes, Dr, Aziz is at last exonerated, but not in a way that does any credit to the criminal justice system that had already broken and humiliated him beyond measure. And all because he wished to prove to his friends that it was possible to make friends with the English...

I'm very curious to learn how Indian writers feel about this book. I recommend it as one of the best books ever written, but I am always ready to be taken down a peg or two.
 
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
  Helping Make History
Back in the year 2,000 my cousin Max kept telling me I had to get email. "Why?" I answered. "I have nothing to say to anyone in the world." That turns out not to be true. I've been blogging since 2006, and it has been as much fun as a naked nude orgy.

After the corporate weasels tore out a significant portion of my entrails in 2005, Max gave me a part-time job putting up stories at GoNOMAD.com, which had just emerged from his basement to a little office by the graveyard in South Deerfield, Massachusetts.

Over time, it has evolved into a full-time job, a dream job, really, posting stories by old pros and amateurs and first timers. I love the pros, don't get me wrong. They make my job easy. But giving someone the chance to get published for the first time? Priceless.

When the opportunity to go to Iran first came up, naturally Max decided to jump on it. He loves showing people how to have fun in unlikely destinations, not just Greenland and Colombia, but Arkansas and Milwaukee. We're an alternative travel website, after all.

But this Iran trip, I had a really strong feeling about. We were on the brink of war with them, remember? Bombing them was supposed to solve something. Do you believe that? We have to be careful, of course. Bush and Cheney are still in office and they are both vile abominable people, who will unquestionably do all the harm they can to the peace of the world.

All that aside, it's clear that Iran is taking serious steps to establish people-to-people contact with the U.S. Thankfully, we do not have a president who sings songs about bombing them. The people of Iran, like the people of the U.S., want peace.

They have a belligerent moron for a president; actually he is a figurehead who has far less power than the president of our country. Can we blame them for that? We've gotten rid of our pustule of putrescence. They may well get rid of theirs.

It seems now that the real powers in Iran want to encourage tourism, and tourism obliterates prejudice and promotes international understanding, and Iran has so much to offer. It's a truly heartening international development and GoNOMAD is in the vanguard. Way to go, Max.
 
  A Great Slog

It's always a treat for me when my very glamorous daughter Sarah Banks Hartshorne comes to town. (Helps my Google ranking, too! She's famous!) We went out to dinner with our pals Catherine and Starshine yesterday, and this morning we had a great slog through the mud in the pouring rain over the farm fields (with permission) down to The Place Where We Lose Track of Time.
If you would like to visit this place, I'll give you the coordinates: it's on the east bank of the Connecticut River right on the Sunderland-Hadley town line. Leave your watch at home. It will be good for you. (photo by Joseph Obeng)
 
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
  How the Good Guys Finally Won
Here's yet another riveting read from Jimmy Breslin, a book I had never heard of, that changed everything I ever thought I knew about the impeachment of Richard Nixon and US politics in general: How the Good Guys Finally Won: Notes From an Impeachment Summer.

With consummate skill, Breslin takes us to the grey courtroom where disgraced Attorney General John Mitchell is sentenced to prison along with a cadre of coconspirators, to the offices where the articles of impeachment were prepared, to the House of Representatives, where the illusion of power is power, to the precincts in Cambridge where Thomas P. O'Neill was first elected to Congress.

The book gives what were for me astonishing insights into the career of Tip O'Neill who was, along with John Sirica, another Breslin pal, chiefly responsible for the victory of the good guys in 1974.

The Watergate break-ins, you see, were a tiny irrelevancy, though very handy, to the massive crimes that were being committed all over America. The Nixon government used every branch of government that they could influence to extort money from anyone doing business in the USA.

Not only that, they targeted every donor to the Democratic Party, including George Steinbrenner, and initiated IRS audits, Commerce Department investigations, etc., etc. to compel them to become "Democrats for Nixon." It was a shakedown on a national scale, engineered by Maurice Stans, and it was Tip O'Neill who first realized this.

Jimmy Breslin met with a primary opponent of Nixon in 1972, an anti-war Republican candidate named Paul "Pete" McCloskey and introduced him to prospective donors in New York.

Breslin was later able to supoena documents that showed that the attorney general of the United States was reading reports of his (Breslin's) fundraising efforts for McCloskey -- everywhere they went that evening.

Is that what the people of the United States pay the attorney general to do?

Then Breslin was audited by the IRS. Your tax dollars at work.

All this aside, this book is a series of riveting Jimmy Breslin stories that gave me a completely new insight into the proceedings that saved our fledgling republic from a nationwide network of graft and corruption.

To the spirit of Thomas Phillip O'Neill Junior, I offer a heartfelt tribute. And to Jimmy Breslin, I offer thanks for yet another riveting read.
 
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
  One More Smart Remark...

I have a caption for this great photo by Cynthia Roderick:

"One more smart remark and I'll snap this leash and rip your lungs out."

It was taken at a Christmas parade on Martha's Vineyard.
 
Sunday, November 16, 2008
  La Amistad and the Greatness of America
I have always been sickened by the people who are always talking about the greatness of America. I believe they are airheads who know nothing about American history.

Personally I don't think a nation can be called great while its citizens condone the branding of human beings.

So while America may have contained the seeds of greatness prior to 1865, I refuse to refer to it as a great nation. It wasn't. Don't ask me, ask John Quincy Adams.

I bought a video of Amistad six months ago and just never got around to watching it. There are telltale signs you're in for a great movie -- Anthony Hopkins, Steven Spielberg, Morgan Freeman...

I'm sure most of you have seen this film, but if you haven't, I hope you will take the time. It shows how obscure lawyers and ex-presidents can set our country on the right course and uphold the greatness of America.

Is the US a great country now? Well that's open to question, but there's no doubt we took a bold step forward on November the Fifth. 2008.
 
Friday, November 14, 2008
  A Footnote on Executive Privilege
We're going to see a lot in the news about executive privilege as the Bush administration seeks to protect those who are guilty of torture and other repugnant offenses.

And as my hero, Rachel Maddow, has pointed out, we have a government that is not only based on laws, but also on precedents.

One of the earliest precedents related to executive privilege occurred during the treason trial of Aaron Burr under Thomas Jefferson, and it concerned executive orders that were considered relevant to Burr's defense.

Were they? Chief Justice John Marshall upheld the supoena (duces tecum) but he was a Federalist and a foe of Jefferson, so you be the judge:

Burr was apprehended in Louisiana after a bit of gunplay -- no one injured -- part of which was included in the indictment against him, as evidence of his treasonous conduct.

Burr wanted to offer in evidence the fact that the party arresting him had been given orders that stated they should "shoot to kill."

I think that's relevant to his defense, don't you? Considering he surrendered himself as soon as it was safe to do so, and considering also that he was on trial for his life? Jefferson refused the supoena on the grounds of executive privilege.

I fail to see how complying with the court's order would have jeopardize in any way the safety of the United States, especially considering that a man's life was on the line.

The case against Burr and his codefendant Harman Blennerhassett fizzled when the War of 1812 broke out and everyone in government had something better to do, so we never got a definitive answer on the question of executive privilege. Both men were acquitted, justly, I believe, and life went on.

But what if the president of the United States wanted to withhold evidence that could set someone free, or conversely, help convict someone guilty of a crime? This issue remains to be decided.

If you're interested in the Burr trial, email me. I have a wealth of amusing anecdotes. For example, did you know that Aaron Burr founded the Chase Manhattan Bank and Tamany Hall AND was convicted of adultery at the age of 80?
 
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
  Ernie Pyle Loses His Touch
At one point during the US campaign in Italy during WWII, Don Whitehead of the Associated Press dropped in on Ernie Pyle of Scripps-Howard. He knew Ernie had been feeling depressed.

The campaign was far slower and more costly than anyone had anticipated, Whitehead writes, "and the strain began to wear on everyone."

Whitehead found Pyle at work. He had been to the front to get some stories about the mule teams they were using to supply the men fighting in the mountains.

"I've lost the touch," Pyle said. "This stuff stinks. I just can't seem to get going again." He tossed three columns to his visitor and said, "What do you think of 'em?"

The first one was a tribute to Captain Henry T. Waskow, a beloved commander whose body had just been brought down on one of the mules.

"The simplicity and beauty of that description brought tears to my eyes," Whitehead writes. "This was the kind of writing all of us were striving for, the picture we were trying to paint in words for the people at home.

"'If this is a sample from a guy who has lost his touch,' I said, 'then the rest of us had better go home.'"

Whitehead was correct in his assessment. Ernie's tribute to Captain Waskow was printed on the front page of more than 270 newspapers across the United States. The Washington Daily News gave it the entire front page, and as his friend Lee Miller says in his biography of Ernie, "Radio commentators helped themselves."

I hope you will take the time to read Ernie Pyle's tribute to Captain Waskow. It is a masterful description of the waste of human life in war, and a fitting tribute to our brave veterans.
 
Monday, November 10, 2008
  Meeting Michelle and Barack Obama
My parents and I met Michelle and Barack Obama in Conway, New Hampshire, last summer at a rally at Kennett High School. I remember I told a bunch of Lyndon Larouche zombies, "Lyndon Larouche is a nutcase who thinks the queen of England runs a worldwide drug ring. You should be working for this guy (Obama)."

I also made a decisive contribution to his subsequent electoral victory by not saying, "Hey Barack, isn't it obvious we need a single payer health care system?" Being a truthful guy, he would have had to say yes, and that would have sunk his candidacy. Thankfully I have learned, late in life, how to keep my mouth shut, at least once in a while.

I think just about everyone in that gymasium had the same thought: "This guy's the real deal." But to tell the truth, I was most impressed with Michelle. And of course it reflected well on him that he acknowledged her role in his life and made her part of the conversation.

I gather that early on they had to flip a coin about who was going to be the candidate, and I'm not second-guessing their decision, but I will say this: I'd vote for her for anything in a New York minute.

I was going to write a blog entry called Obama's the Real Deal, but I couldn't, because I didn't want to talk about my reaction when I realized he was the real deal. I did not want to give voice to this feeling of fear that came over me: "This guy is going to be shot."

Here was a brave strong guy who understood the real strength of America. Here was a guy that was not going to take any shit from the blatherskites and the toadies of the rich.

The last guy like that was... sorry, Bill, sorry Jimmy... Robert F. Kennedy. And before that Martin Luther King and John F. Kennedy.

Please tell me that this feeling of dread is irrational, shaped by those three assassinations during my formative years. I dearly wish to believe you. But, I am sorry to say, I also have in mind Tiberius and Gaius Gracchus, champions of the people of Rome in the second century BCE. Then there's Jesus and St. Stephen and Ghandi, Benigno Aquino and so many others.

You start telling the truth and concentrating goodness in your person, and it somehow seems to attract violence. This is not some vague cosmic priniciple, it is a principle of ineluctable historic veracity: If you use the power of the people against the rich, take care for your personal safety. Julius Caesar neglected this small detail with a result that is well known.

In fact I believe that Romulus, the founder of Rome, was murdered for the very same reason. I don't have time to go into it here, but here's how I see that story: He became too popular with the people and was murdered by the senators, and they got a guy to say he saw Romulus ascend into heaven, and Romulus left a message for the people, this guy said, and that was to always be good soldiers (and defend the rich).

And the people turned out to be pretty good soldiers at that. Not only did they defend the rich, they brought in lots more riches! Hooray! Never mind that they lost their land and their children were sold at auction. Things were great! For who? You guessed it.

I always think twice before offering a prayer to the Almighty, but I sure do hope that these fears of a silly old man will be something we can all laugh about in years to come.
 
Saturday, November 08, 2008
  The Mandelbrot Set: Infinities Within Infinities

I was very surprised to learn that the two most accomplished scientists I know don't know about the Mandelbrot Set. I have known about it for a long time, and recently saw a great show about it on PBS while I was pedaling on the stationary bike at the health club.

But these guys had not heard of it. Imagine that.

So without mentioning names, I have to say, everyone who wishes to be a scientist should know all about the Mandelbrot Set. It is the model we need to reproduce mathematically the patterns we find in nature. But don't ask me, ask cardiac surgeons and paleogeologists.

Here's the nub: If you map the coastline of an island -- England, let's say -- with a one-mile yardstick, you get a certain number of miles. If you use a one-foot yardstick you get a much higher figure. If you use a one-centimeter yardstick, it's higher still.

The simplest Mandelbrot formulas create infinitely complex patterns within infinitely complex patterns, just as the branches of a tree resemble the veins in the leaves.

Then some guy whose landlord restricted the size of his antenna used Mandelbrot principles to increase the power of his antenna by bending it in Mandlebrot patterns. This is the basis of cell phone technology. The tiny antenna receives a wide range of electromagnetic waves.

Benoit Mandelbrot is clearly onto something, and I have to say, as a former hippie, that a Mandlebrot Set, when you set it on constant magnfication, resembles a journey through a womb lined with Persian-carpet-Paisley designs, infinite complexity within infinite complexity -- the kind of thing that would keep hippies occupied for hours on end, without drawing any conclusions of any value, except to say "Wow!"
In fact I think Mandelbrot's astonishing success affirms many of the hippies' ideas about infinities within infinities, but I'd be surprised if you could find anyone who understood what they were, exactly, at the time or any time later. It's a fuzzy period in a lot of people's memories, especially those who were on the scene.

That's why the scientists should know about these things. They're the ones who can do something with it.
 
Thursday, November 06, 2008
  Kinsey Has Great Sex
I've been looking for escapist reading lately and greatly enjoyed Thank You Mr. Moto by J.P. Marquand. That whole series is very entertaining and well researched. Mr. Moto represents the peace faction in Japan, which is trying to keep the war faction from taking power. Didn't work, but entertaining nonetheless.

I was disappointed with my Rex Stout Nero Wolfe trilogy Three Men Out (1952), but it did have a World Series game between the Red Sox and the New York Giants (They moved to San Francisco in 1957) where four Giants players are drugged and another is slain with a baseball bat.

And in an earlier story there's a 1952 recipe for "il pesto" as prepared by Fritz Brenner (Nero Wolfe's cook) which has pig intestines and some exotic kind of cheese. I'll look it up for you if you want.

Then I spotted the new Sue Grafton in the supermarket. My prayers were answered. I shelled out full price. Kinsey Milhonne, who won my heart many years ago, is helping an aged millionaire keep track of his wastrel daughter.

Then Kinsey has some really great sex with a fellow cop and the next day she doesn't care whether he calls her or not. She's had a great time. She would probably like to have a great time again, but it doesn't make a lot of difference one way or the other. Right on Kinsey.

The guy sounds ok, except for changing clothes three times a day and driving a Mercedes convertible. I'm not done with the book yet; he could easily turn out to be the bad guy.

I'm recollecting the very first book in the Kinsey Milhonne series that I wrote a poem about which I will share with you:

Kinsey found a guy who gave great head
And shot him dead.

I have to say in her defense that he was intent on doing the same to her. She had to hide inside a trash can on the beach and then pop up and blow him away. That's the kind of resourcefulness that won my heart.

In Kinsey Milhonne's world, love is where you find it.
 
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
  Ringo Lives in LA
I applaud all those who are dedicated to teaching children, but I don't think anyone can teach children unless they are able also to learn from them.

When you learn something from a child -- and kids in school today learn, if they want to, ten times as much as old fogeys like me ever learned -- and you tell them what you learned from them, they get a feeling that is much stronger and deeper than the feeling they get when you praise their fingerpainting.

It shows you are treating them as an equal, and that what they say counts.

I remember driving along with my daughter and asking her, "What kind of clouds are those?"

"I don't know," she said. "I'm only six years old."

Two or three years later we were driving along again and I asked, "What kind of clouds are those?"

"Cumulo-nimbus, dad."

When she was older she went to London with her mom.

"Say hi to Ringo," I said.

"Ringo lives in LA, dad."
 
Literary gadfly Stephen Hartshorne writes about books that he finds at flea markets and rummage sales.

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Location: Sunderland, Massachusetts, United States

Stephen Hartshorne worked in newspapers and magazines around New England for many years and served as Information Officer in the New Hampshire Senate under Senate President Vesta Roy. He worked as a material handler for nine years at the Yankee Candle Company until the company was taken over by corporate weasels. He is currently the associate editor of GoNOMAD.com, an alternative travel website, which gives him the opportunity to correspond with writers and photographers all over the world. He lives in Sunderland, Massachusetts, with his daughter Sarah, a student at Drew University, and their cat, Dwight D. Eisenmeower. This blog is dedicated to his mom, who made him bookish.

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Sunshine, My Mom, and the Goodness of Life
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The Goodrich Foundation
The Lady Cardinal
The Dearly Departed


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