I think I’ve mentioned before that I’ve done quite a few newsletters over the years. I think I started doing them in part because it was what my father had done aboard ship during World War II, when he served as a Radioman in the U.S. Navy. I used to have a collection of his newsletters, which would be about five years older than me now. They might still be in a box somewhere in our garage. Maybe I’ll find out one of these days.
At any rate, here is a newsletter I found recently. I’m just posting it here because I scanned it and want to preserve it. Now I can throw away (recycle) the paper copy which, as you can see, is discolored from age. A quarter century is a fairly long time for it to have lasted. I probably shouldn’t have kept it, but I’m a paper pack rat.
Funny how being mostly confined to your house gives you a lot of time on your hands. After over a month of familial isolation, I think I’m finally getting used to what will likely be my existence for up to another year; maybe more. The reason I expect it to take that long for me to feel comfortable going to the gym or eating out at restaurants has to do with my vulnerability to this virus. I will be 73 in a little over a month. I have type II diabetes, essential hypertension, stage 2 kidney disease, and mild COPD. All of these health issues are normally well-controlled but, with COVID-19 that quite likely won’t matter. Ergo, great caution is warranted, IMO.
So . . . what am I doing with that time? Well, it generally doesn’t feel like much, though I do spend a lot more time planning our grocery shopping. I would prefer to have our groceries delivered, but nobody was doing a very good job of it for the first few weeks of this social isolation effort. At first, I went online and spent anywhere from a half hour to forty-five minutes carefully choosing what I wanted to have delivered, only to discover when attempting to check out that there were no times available. Frustrating! That’s beginning to change and I’ve been able to successfully get a couple of deliveries. This necessarily includes several disconnects (for instance, I had coffee from Trader Joe’s delivered but forgot to ask the woman who did the shopping to grind it for us.) Also, nobody picks fruit and some other things the way I do, and we normally shop from a half-dozen different stores depending on what it is we’re purchasing. That’s no longer possible for now.
I also find I’m spending a fair amount of time helping my 16-year-old with her homework, some of which requires a significant investment of time. Today I learned (or re-learned) a lot of stuff about the difference between Napoleonic warfare and WWI warfare, so I could help her answer questions about them. I don’t think I’m capable of helping her with her algebra homework. Although I was in one of the first classes in the Los Angeles Unified School District allowed to take Algebra in the second semester of eighth grade (in 1961) I don’t remember a damned thing about it and I don’t recognize anything when I look at the equations she has to work with. Frankly, I’m not relishing revisiting high school; it was a disaster when I was a student from 1962 to 1966 (one extra semester as a result of cutting far too many classes.)
Now, the point of this post isn’t to regale you on all the ways in which I’m coping—or not—with this pandemic lock-down. I just want to share something I found while straightening out some of the clutter in my office. This “Birthday” card, homemade by my brother’s daughters almost 28 years ago, was in a bag with old photos, etc. I decided to scan it and I’ve share it on Facebook. I want to share it here as well. It warms my heart. My nieces were four and seven at the time.
Although I am an atheist, I was raised in a predominantly Christian country, in a Conservative Jewish family (I’m bar mitzvah) and am well aware of the importance of both Easter and Passover. They no longer (or never did) carry any religious significance for me, but they do (in the broadest sense) carry a great deal of spiritual significance . . . in terms of the import of each holiday’s lessons on the human condition.
So . . . without going into great detail to assert my bona fides when it comes to all things religious, I just want to wish my Yiddishe meshpuchah, chag Pesach kasher vesame’ach, and my Christian friends and family (yes, there be Catholics in mine) a blessed and joyful Easter.
In this trying time we’re experiencing, we can use the dual messages of liberation from slavery and oppression, and the dialectic of life and death that both these holidays bring us. May we come out of this pandemic with a new appreciation for life, and for each other and the value each of us intrinsically brings to human society. Peace, love, and Harvey Krishberg.
I’ve never understood how people who once loved and cared about each other can not merely drift apart (which is far more normal than we think) but who end up hating each other. In my early twenties, somewhere around 1969 (I think) I had been living in Berzerkely and wasn’t taking very good care of myself. I became very ill with a form of asthma. I ultimately decided—thanks to the I Ching; the Chinese Book of Changes—to return to Los Angeles and get medical help. I don’t quite remember how I met Susan, but we ended up living together and she literally nursed me back to health. Our relationship didn’t last that long, mostly due to my being an asshole, but we’ve remained friends over the years; perhaps because we shared a lot of the same friends. Susan Marlow is her name, and she sent me this short essay, which I want to share. Self-isolation, social-distancing, shelter-in-place, whatever we’re calling it . . . seems to be fueling some interesting creativity and innovation. I’m happy to share it.
PS – Thank you, Sue . . . for this and, especially, for taking care of me way back in the wayback machine. I’ve long regretted how I acted back then, but I’m pleased we both went on to have wonderful, interesting, and fulfilling lives and that we remained friends. Hopefully, we’ve got another decade or two to enjoy . . . once this is behind us.
by Susan Marlow – 26 March 2020
I am finding this Covid-19 isolation, while mostly strange, not entirely unpleasant. The disease has me frightened. It is such an unknown and one that I want to keep that way. Yet clouds can be fluffy and white and pretty or dark and sullen. They bring us rain which cleans and they filter and cool the heat. So too has this isolation that we are living through brought some very interesting and beneficial changes for us all.
“This too shall pass” and “That which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” are my favorite quotes. And perhaps that is what is happening. I actually do not mind being home I am not bored. I have oodles of half baked ideas and partially concocted schemes that I can pick up and play with. Who knows I might finish the knitting project, or begin my composting and renewed vegetable and flower garden. The composter has been ordered through amazon prime. I have learned to order household items to avoid shopping. My pointer finger is getting stronger, as I push those order buttons. With each boxed item it’s a bit like Christmas.
Learning to Cope
I have gone into the garden to collect worms for the composter. They are busy I hope eating what is in their temporary home. Now I’ve read that there are specific worms that are better than the garden variety. Wouldn’t you know it there are designer worms available on line 1000 per pack.
I am not much of a cook and my husband (the cook) has grown tired. His meals are not so exciting after 37 years. So we joined a meal delivery service. The food comes fresh and ready to prepare with complete instructions. Surprisingly it is a lot of work but very tasty. My back aches as I stand by the sink cutting chopping and stirring. So I prep the meal early allowing myself time to rest. Then maybe 2 hours later together we finish. It’s become a very nice, even anticipated activity for the two of us. Time is not of the essence anymore or maybe it is but there is a lot of it to spread about. We don’t have anything to argue about and we are able to laugh at ourselves quite a bit. I like that part the best.
I should tell you that I have actually been in semi isolation since 2/27 so I consider myself the expert. I love the quiet streets which remind me of my childhood where a kid could safely ride a bicycle at break neck speed down a hill across a residential street without much chance of getting creamed unless you hit a pothole and there were fewer potholes back then as there was less slurry, trees were younger and their roots had not yet begun to encroach. People are out walking cranky children or happy dogs. We are walking Peanuts twice a day and he is now a very happy doggy. We waive at our neighbors most of whom we have never even met. Hundreds of bees are darting to and fro through rain soaked flower beds.
Maybe people will once again remember how nice this all is and make the necessary changes to keep it that way once this crisis passes.
The amount of world nastiness seems to be reduced. Everyone seems to be getting the message that we are all in this together. Borders, walls, languages will not protect us. Jobs have changed and are still changing. Many types of employment never to be seen again or never seen before. Creativity is running high. California needs ventilators and someone is crafting them on 3D printers.
My husband and I seem to be getting along better than ever which amazes me. We treasure humor and stuff that makes us giggle a bit. I am checking on friends whom I rarely see. Despite our limits we are finding common concerns. People are caring for each other even at a distance which I find nothing short of magical. The meanness that Trump fostered has finally been challenged by something far bigger than that “Stable genius.” He can not buy it, sell it, hide from it, or manipulate it. Nevertheless, I know he tries.
I am learning more about myself. I’ve been sequestered for a month now. I can withstand a fair amount of isolation from others. But I can not stand our 24 hour news cycle. Our TV isn’t going on until 5:00.
I am finding that when I casually throw out “I love you,” I really do. I mean it. Likewise, the kiss throwing emojis have sincere meaning to me now.
This poem was written by a Facebook friend who I’ve never actually met and who lives on the other side of the continent, as do many of my FB friends. It’s haunting, poignant, beautiful, and not a little sad. I feel the same for my daughters, though my youngest is so troubled and needy, I can’t seem to do anything for her.
I’m trying to stay inside for the duration, but grocery deliveries are either delayed because of the demand or horrendously expensive. I will probably go through the weekend, but will venture out to Trader Joe’s on Monday, as I did this past Monday. Wish me luck . . . but please read the poem. It’s really a tear jerker (though, as a man, one of my superpowers is to choke ’em down.)
For Micaiah 3/26/2020 You probably don’t remember this: One day we were joking in the car after school. You said something about being a mistake. I corrected you. “I got pregnant by a…
I don’t often use the “Press This” button that sits in my browser’s toolbar, but I’m thinking I should do it a bit more. This story and video were sent to me by a Facebook friend who creates some really excellent memes, most of which are political. It’s partly because of him I got real interested in using Photoshop.
This is a wonderful, uplifting cover of Burt Bacharach’s “What The World Needs Now,” performed remotely by dozens of students from the Boston Conservatory at Berklee and Berklee College of Music. I suggest reading the backstory before listening/watching the video. It’s all pretty heartwarming; makes me long for a little more human contact . . . but I’m staying inside for at least another week or twelve.
Student Shelbie Rassler, eager to bring her community together amid quarantine and isolation, organized a massive performance of the classic “What the World Needs Now Is Love” and put it on YouTube.
One of the interesting side effects of self-isolation was “celebrated” in an interesting article I came across on Facebook. Its title is “Nation’s dogs fucking loving whatever’s going on right now,” and you can find it here. I know our dog, Angel, is used to spending significant times either alone, or without the person who gives her the most treats . . . and that time is generally spent sleeping or moping around the house.
Upon our arrival back at home, whether we were gone 10 minutes of 10 hours, her excitement is temporarily boundless. That is no longer happening, as we’re seldom out of the house. In fact, the only one who’s left the house for the past week (at least) has been me. I take that back. I believe my wife went out one evening to pick up a papaya salad at her favorite Thai restaurant. That’s it.
My Pooper Girl, Angel(three years ago)
As an aside . . . a secondary effect of thinking about how our animals are dealing with this, though I’ve been noticing it recently; i.e. before the corona virus changed everything, I’ve come to realize the role our pets play for many of us. Certainly, with respect to dogs, this is my experience. I’ll try to explain.
My last dog had to be put to sleep before he was very old. He was a Rottweiler and had been gifted to me by a girlfriend who couldn’t handle him. His name was Heinse . . . Kavon Heinse of Stoneflower, to be exact. The appellation “Stoneflower” came from Stoneflower Productions, Sly Stone’s company. My girlfriend’s father was the business manager for Sly and the Family Stone, and Sly had given Heinse to him, but he was getting divorced and didn’t want the responsibility.
Heinse was an interesting dog. Powerful and resolute, he also chased shadows and stomped ants. He would sit under a tree and wait for birds to fly out of it so he could chase their shadows on the ground. Once, on the beach at Malibu, he confounded a couple of guys tossing a football. They took a while to figure out he wasn’t chasing the ball. He could smell ants and would rear up and stomp on them when encountered. He was a wonderful companion and putting him down was not easy for me. In fact, I had numerous cats, but never another dog until about three years ago. I lived dogless for well over thirty years.
Angel entered our lives about three years ago. The picture above was taken shortly after we rescued her. Her arrival was somewhat serendipitous, and I had precious little to do with it, other than responding to my wife’s text where she sent me a picture of her with a couple of question marks. I wasn’t ready to take on the extra expense, but I’m a sucker for a face like that and I said “OK.”
So . . . she came into our lives when our oldest, Aimee, was going on 16 years old. What’s significant about it, and what has caused me to think about how we relate to our pets (especially dogs) is that was right about the time I could no longer hug Aimee or smother her with kisses. Up until then, I was able to shower her with affection, which I loved doing. She was no longer interested, understandable—I was once a teenager and, even though it was several lifetimes ago, I remember most of what it was like.
Now I use Angel to shower my affection on, though she was a bit wary of me at the beginning. I think she interpreted my kissing her snout as a dominance display; at least at first. I was pretty sure I could interpret the look on her face when I would hug and kiss her as one of moderate concern, perhaps a little distrust. This, of course, is no longer the case. She now serves as my substitute affection sponge and, as long as I give her the occasional treat, we’re good . . . and I’m content.
So . . . looks like we’re all going to be confined to our houses, apartments, or wherever we’re lucky enough to have a place to rest our weary bones, much longer than we’ve ever had to hunker down before. I came across this link and thought I would share, as well as memorialize it for my own use as I attempt to entertain myself and my children. Enjoy!
Google Arts & Culture teamed up with over 500 museums and galleries around the world to bring anyone and everyone virtual tours and online exhibits of some of the most famous museums around the world. Here’s a link to 12 of them.
Can we please stop using the phrase “Rule of Law?” The law has been used in this country for some of the most racist, vicious, and nefarious acts committed anywhere and it’s not, IMO, a useful phrase. Better that we use “Equal Justice Under the Law.” Here are a just a few examples of laws that have been passed or rulings that have been handed down that make the point:
Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 – At the time it was passed, Chinese were only .002% of the population, but white people were worried about maintaining “racial purity.” Like today’s fears of immigrants, it was claimed they were taking jobs from white Americans.
People v. Hall – 1854. In this case, the California Supreme Court ruled that Chinese people had no rights to testify in court, adding them to the language of the laws at the time that stated “No black or mulatto person, or Indian, shall be allowed to give evidence in favor of, or against a white man.”
The internment of Japanese-Americans during World War II was facilitated by numerous laws and Executive Orders, including EO 9066, signed by our “Democratic Socialist” President, Franklin Delano Roosevelt. My own in-laws were forced to assemble at Santa Anita Racetrack, where they resided in captivity until they were transferred to the Granada War Relocation Center in Colorado (AKA “Amache”) where they were interned for over two years.
Slavery – The laws supporting slavery are too numerous to recount here, as each state had its own “Slave Codes,” which were designed to give slave owners absolute power over their slaves, including forbidding slaves to even defend themselves or their family. In many, they were forbidden from learning to read or to leave their plantation without written permission. All of these restrictions were perfectly “legal” at the time.
The history of the U.S. and Native Americans is rife with treaties and acts continuously taking away land or forcing entire communities to leave their ancestral lands and move to less desirable locations, as well as hundreds of treaties which were broken by the U.S. The Indian Removal Act of 1830 forced the removal of five tribes, culminating in a forced migration later known as the “Trail of Tears.”
There are numerous instances in history, especially notable ones being the laws passed in Nazi Germany making it unlawful to aid Jews and providing for their imprisonment and extermination.
All these were done under the color of law, e.g. the “Rule of Law.” We need to stop using this term. As I noted above, “Equality Under the Law” seems far more on point if we’re interested in freedom, justice, and equality of all peoples.
I’ve been an atheist—meaning I don’t believe there is such a thing as God, i.e. a supreme being—since I was 15. I’m now 72. However, I was raised as a Jew and am bar mitzvah (a man of the commandments.) My ethics are fundamentally based on my Jewish background, especially given my four years of Hebrew school, with liberal sprinklings of Christianity and—later—Buddhism, primarily Zen.
I sometimes refer to myself as a Jewddhist, but my favorite designation—for fun—is Quantum Gestalt Humanist. Quantum for my belief in science and reality; Gestalt for my recognition of the totality, synergy, and systemic nature of the universe, and Humanist for my recognition of the beauty and value of my fellow human beings. Still . . . the ethics I recall learning, especially in Hebrew school, form the basis of these beliefs and feelings.
Even though I haven’t been to schul since I attended a very familiar, yet very uncomfortable, Yom Kippur service about 20 years ago, I will always be a Jew . . . and not just because my parents were Jews, but because the world—especially anti-Semites, but even the ignorant and those easily swayed by propaganda—will always see me as a Jew; nothing more. Besides, I was raised to respect and stand up for the oppressed and, despite the actions of the Israeli government, with whom I greatly disagree, there is no place for any kind of bigotry in my world, and that includes anti-Semitism. There is a world of difference between being anti-Semitic and being anti-Zionist.
I hope the United States is the enlightened society I’ve been led to believe it is, but my confidence level is not very high and my Jewish angstometer is slowly flashing a soft, pastel red. Donald Trump has been stoking the fires of hatred since long before he was “elected” president. Incidents of anti-Semitism, as well as attacks on other minorities, have risen rather dramatically and there appears to be a correlation in the rise of these acts following every one of his rallies.
So . . . I want to make it perfectly clear I will defend Jews, including Hasidic Jews with whom I share absolutely nothing save for a long, somewhat convoluted history. At the same time, my “faith” in the interdependency of the human race and all life compels me to stand with everyone, especially the oppressed and downtrodden.
Unfortunately, age is starting to wreak havoc with me. I lift weights and work at staying fit, but I’m approaching 73 and it’s quite clear things are slowing down. I haven’t the stamina, nor the strength, I once had. I’m pretty sure I don’t have the intellectual capacity I once had, but I must continue to fight in any way I’m capable.
I’m planning on attending this year’s Women’s March next Saturday in downtown Los Angeles, not far from the place of my birth. I’m bringing my 18-year-old and a friend of hers who’s in town from the Bay Area, where she’s attending her first year of college. They both went with me last year. I’m hopeful my 16-year-old, who was problematic last year and had to stay home, will also attend. I wish I had the ability to attend the numerous events taking place locally, some as protest and some for electoral politics, but I still have to earn enough to supplement my retirement income (not as easy as it once was), and I also have to help my troubled high school sophomore get through the next two and a half years.
Systems Savvy 