I close my eyes,
Eight bells sound,
“Relieve the watch
Relieve the wheel
And the lookout.”
My ears perceive the prow
As it cuts the waves,
Splitting the sea,
Throwing the waters aside
With that powerful hiss.
My nose wishes it could smell
The oil that keeps
This steel engine whole
In the face of sea and salt,
I don’t want to open my eyes.
When I do, I shall be
An old man again,
Sitting at my desk,
In my house,
In the forest,
Far from the sea,
While young men do the work,
I long to do.
Our democracy will die in the near future. There is great gnashing of teeth over trapping the perpetrators of the 06 January coup attempt, but the hazard lies ahead. Republican manipulation of the state wide electoral process has been well described by the national media, but it isn't clear to me that the average American understands the implications.
The media has played up the concept of state legislatures throwing out future results.This is a real possibility, and it may infuriate voters. We have never had to worry about our votes not counting. Now we will.
But I see another potential aspect. 06 January was a firebreak for political violence in modern American electoral politics. Expect Republican thugs and their fellow travelers to be present at key polling places, and expect them to seek violence as a way both to intimidate, and to simply act out for self aggrandizement. If you think it can't happen here, think back to 06 January 2021.
The fact is, the Roman Revolution in the United States has already begun (See Syme, Ronald; “The Roman Revolution. Oxford, 1939). Donald Trump may not be president, but he is in full control of the Republican nominating process. Elected officials in safe seats and offices have suddenly found themselves facing primary challenges due to some perceived slight felt by the Donald's fragile ego. He says the word, and a Trump loyalist challenges a long time Republican office holder. Trump is driving his party just as surely as Octavian was driving the Roman Senate. Those Republicans who might oppose Trump are silent (See McConnell, Mitch R-KY).
When we consider Democratic incompetence in the current congressional session, and Republican manipulation of the electoral process, the probability of a Republican Congress in 2022 is better than even, and a Trump presidency in 2024 an even better bet.
Once all branches of government are in Republican hands, democracy as we know it will fall to the lessons the Trump Administration learned in its first, abortive term. Donald Trump will be unrestrained.
Remember, the Constitution places responsibility for elections in the hands of the state legislatures. Only the social contract has kept that responsibility honest. “Stop the Steal” ended that contract as the Republican party abandoned the fundamental western concept of truth. Now truth is what you want it to be.
I hear tell from Jen the Press PSecretary that President Biden has drawn a Red Rine with Vladimir Putin. Did Biden's National Security Advisor tell him that we are barely playing checkers (maybe tick tack toe) while Putin is playing 3-D chess? Jake Sullivan probably didn't bring that up because Jake is an idiot. At his all too tender age, the National Security Advisor is already a warmed over alumnus of the Obama Administration, where he helped craft such ingenious ventures as the Syrian fiasco (complete with its own very special, and meaningless Red Line) and the barely thought out Libyan adventure that destabilized the country without the slightest clue as to what the result might be.
The Red Line supposedly revolves about an “invasion”. So an internally engineered coup after destabilization, with Russian troops “requested” to intervene and restore order, crosses no Red Line. It's a familiar playbook.
President Biden was careful to chat with Ukrainian President Zalinsky for just about as long as he spoke with Putin. Uncle Joe's conscience will be clean in the aftermath, assuming he remembers all this.
Does anyone want to bet on the US having a coherent plan that has been vetted with our allies any more than we vetted the Afghan pullout?
I am a very poor predictor, but there is the smell of disaster in the air. The strong leaders are on the wrong side, and they are on the move. Putin in Russia is likely to move on Ukraine. He's taken a chunk of the country back, and would like it all. Russia would like Ukraine to once again be the 'The Ukraine,' or Little Russia. Given the sorry state of the Russian treasury, it's unlikely Putin would move that many troops and their materiel on the border unless he intends to use them. They may not execute a frontal invasion; they may be called upon to stabilize a country thrown into chaos by other means, but they will be employed for something.
My guess is that Putin's lackeys will wipe out Ukrainian telecommunications, then pull off a coup, complete with agents provocateur to create the chaos the new puppet needs to call for a stabilizing Russian intervention. That was the 40s playbook. Vladimir Putin has publicly stated that Russia feels naked without her empire. Russia supplies nearly all of Ukraine'a natural gas, so that's a card to be played. It can only be played well since the Putin has found another source of gas revenue, making it possible to shut the Ukrainian spigot. And he has found that source.
Joseph Biden, the Weak Old man in the White House, has encouraged this by waiving sanctions on users of the Nord Stream 2 gas pipeline system, that bypasses Ukraine. It will supply our NATO allies with Russian natural gas and Putin with desperately needed money to enrich himself and his cronies, and finance adventures such as the destabilization and re-absorbtion of former Soviet colonies. Perhaps the Baltic states will be next. Though they aren't on the US news radar, Russia has been bombarding them with destabilizing fake news for years.
If Biden wanted to kick Putin back a few yards, he could leverage our “allies” to swear off Russian gas in return for US gas. We have enough gas, and there are enough LNG tankers to do the job. But Biden is too busy cutting the throat of his petroleum industry to placate the Democratic Party's extreme left wing.
On the other side of the world, China shows signs of preparing to invade Taiwan. China never, ever backs down. That's an important lesson that US foreign policy experts would do well to learn. You don't influence Chinese behavior. You might deter future action, especially if you are obviously willing to go to war. China isn't just paranoid at the thought of being surrounded. She is paranoid at the possibility of anyone preventing her from becoming the most powerful country in the world, able to dominate everyone else.
These days Chinese military aircraft are constantly violating Taiwanese airspace, and Chinese civilian ferries have been seen equipped to double as invasion craft. China's increased belligerence in this area may be tied to the following:
— The recent US security guarantee (how many Americans noticed this?)
— The US sale of a much more advanced block of F-16 fighters to Taiwan
— The landing of US Marines on the island for joint training
— The Taiwanese government's announcement that they have secured the necessary foreign technology to build their own modern submarines
The US has several allies and would-be allies who are affected by the Chinese vast territorial claims beyond their current borders based on “historical” issues. We should keep in mind that some of those Chinese claims are on Russian territory. Last time Russia and China fought over those claims (in the 60s) things got so out of hand that the Soviet Government felt obliged to move the strategic Baikal-Amur Railway several hundred miles north, “Just in case.”
The emergence of Xi as a singular apparent president for life has added to the risk.
It would not take a very big mistake to create a two front war in a world where the United States itself is an unstable democracy.
I could add more, but it would only distress, and details are, well, details. They cannot be well predicted. It's enough to say that a true Axis of Evil is on the move, and the United States is not only no longer the leader of the world's democracies. It is its own enemy. Look for things to get worse in 2024, if it matters by then.
by Rabbi Rose Lyn Jacob (My Wife)
Thanksgiving 2021 arrives this Thursday, and I can honestly say I do not envy those making their personal pilgrimage, whether by car, train or plane. While the traditional Thanksgiving hymn says, “We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing,” this year I would give it a pass.
I understand how eager people are to see their loved ones, even it means taking the risk of illness and death. Last year most people cancelled their travel plans opting to stay home, watching the Macy’s Parade, and dine on a microwavable turkey dinner from the freezer section. There were virtual visits via Skype and Zoom and some took the opportunity to drive by grandma and grandpa’s house or nursing home and wave Thanksgiving greetings through the window. Most hunkered down and stayed put.
With only 50% of eligible persons fully vaccinated, families are having to decide if they CAN gather together safely this year. CDC predictions show an uptick in the numbers of infected and subsequent deaths, but won’t know for sure until 21 days after Thanksgiving. Breakthrough infections are possible even with the booster shot. So, we’re opting to stay home again this year. Crazy as it seems, YOUR right to remain unvaccinated trumps MY right to travel and visit friends and family safely.
One thing I’m not immune to is nostalgia. And I have been positively awash in holiday memories this past week. With over 60 years of Thanksgiving dinners under my belt I’ve been awash in holiday memories and my mental guest list has grown very long. During my childhood I never experienced a “Norman Rockwell” Thanksgiving.” Unlike the famous painting, OUR family turkey was never presented to the guests on a platter, whole and stuffed, admired in all its brined and browned glory. Instead, my father, a man well versed in poultry anatomy and skilled with an electric knife, elegantly carved the guest of honor in the kitchen, placing light and dark meat on platters to pass. There were serving dishes of stuffing, bowls of cranberry sauce, and an assortment of Jewish and Hungarian side dishes switched out for “traditional” all- American foods, like marshmallow topped sweet potatoes, and “classic”, string-bean casserole with mushroom soup created in 1955 by an employee of the Campbell Soup Company. I hope there was a bonus in her Christmas paycheck!
Whether you enjoy it or not, the turkey is THE all-American Thanksgiving food. But folks of every ethnic background have always found ways to personalize (and improve) the All-American bird with foods that reflect their heritage. Even those who do not traditionally consume turkey, cook one, because they are American, and that is what Americans do for Thanksgiving. Some gather with family to eat the tasty and diverse dishes of their immigrant ancestors, foregoing the string beans and marshmallows, and leaving the roasted bird as an untouched centerpiece, to be stewed or made into sandwiches the next day.
So how did we end up with this national holiday that evokes in every American feelings of gratitude, spirituality and patriotism? George Washington was the first president to proclaim a day of thanksgiving, issuing his request on October 3, 1789, but it fell short of becoming an actual Federal holiday. Subsequently, individual states, mostly Northern states, each held its own day of Thanksgiving. For fifteen years, the editor of Godey’s Lady’s Book, Sarah Josepha Hale, waged a one-woman campaign to get an American president to create what she referred to as, “the day of our annual Thanksgiving.” She persevered, finally writing to President Abraham Lincoln, urging him to have the "day of our annual Thanksgiving made a National and fixed Union Festival." Lincoln acted immediately, issuing a proclamation for a national, annual day of observance on September 28, 1863. He made the point that we Americans didn’t always give due credit to the Creator who enabled our abundant harvests. Included in the proclamation were the following words, “I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens.”
I’ve spent several Thanksgiving abroad, and I’ve noticed that there is a particular pride in observing Thanksgiving with other Americans, even ones you’ve never met before, when you do find yourself in a foreign country. As if with the wave of a magic wand, all politics are set aside, and all feast together not as Republicans or Democrats, but as Americans. As Lincoln pointed out, we Americans are obliged to set apart and observe the holiday at the same time it is observed in the U.S. Many years ago, while studying in Israel, I helped assuage the homesickness of my fellow American students by pulling together a Thanksgiving feast for forty-five. We feasted on Tarnagol Hodu – Hebrew for turkey, which translates as Indian Rooster!
While I won’t be spending the holiday with others this year, I certainly have more than enough Thanksgivings on which to reflect. These are wonderful, treasured, vivid memories of meals shared with friends around festive tables in far flung places from New Jersey, to Minnesota, and California and many states in between. In my mind I recall the attributes of each unique celebration. I remember the conversations, the side dishes, the circumstances of the invitations to dine, and more often, these day, I find myself recalling friends and family who have passed on, yet who remain vivid in my memory as the day we celebrated together.
Should you find yourself spending Thanksgiving at home, either alone or with your very small circle, I hope you’ll take a moment for a little prayer; a few words of thanks to the Power behind it all.
I enter Your gates with thanksgiving,
With gratitude I sing out Your praise.
You provide food for the hungry,
Sending the rains to bring forth bread from the earth.
Thanks to Your abundant kindness, our fields yield a rich harvest.
In the spirit of Thanksgiving, let us share our bread with the hungry; clothe the naked and shelter the homeless.
Help us to help those who have no help.
Help us to never take our blessings for granted.
Wishing each and every one of you a blessed Thanksgiving, no matter where you spend the day.
Since the start of the pandemic, we have been inundated with numbers and statistics meant to help interpret the unfolding disaster around us. Thanks to our news outlets we’ve seen graphs and charts updated daily, weekly, monthly, breaking down numbers of cases and deaths; vaccination rates by location, the lack of ICU beds in hard hit rural America, and charted and graphed the over 1700 healthcare workers who have died of Covid so far. Our epidemiologists, politicians, medical professionals, sociologists and news outlets, can barely keep up with, let alone analyze the statistics generated by data gathering organizations like the CDC or American Public Media’s “The Color of Coronavirus Project” which breaks down figures of Covid deaths by race, ethnicity, age and location in the U.S. The data is dry, but, in the words of science writer Paul Brodeur, “Statistics are human beings with the tears wiped away.”
There is no question that numbers and statistics can be powerful. But as any newspaper editor can tell you, news of one death is a tragedy; news of a hundred deaths is a statistic. And it is the one tragic death that makes the headlines. Sadly, Covid has shown us that the closer that death is to you, the greater the tragedy.
Be honest. When you look at the numbers, do you find yourself thinking, “but I don’t live there,” or “I’m young and healthy,” or “my local hospital still has beds.” And be really honest and admit you are relieved when you look at the numbers and think, “I’m not an Hispanic or Black American, or Pacific Islander, Native American, or Evangelical Christian. I don’t go to rock concerts or other large gatherings, and I don’t have a job in an essential industry where I come face-to-face with the public”. What you’re really thinking is “I don’t fit into any statistically vulnerable group, so Covid isn’t going to impact my life.”
But all that is about to change. We now have a new category for statistical analysis: Covid Orphans. These are children who have lost a parent or a grandparent with whom they lived and/or financially responsible for them, or other primary caregiver. And as of this point in time, over 120,000 children in the U.S. have become Covid Orphans. Does it matter what color or ethnicity or statistical group they land in? I can tell you that 35 percent of the kids are white, about 32 percent are Hispanic and about 26 percent are Black. And there will be more. And one way or the other, all of us will be impacted by their losses as they enter a lifetime of uncertainties, lost opportunities, along with financial, social and mental health challenges. So many times during the pandemic I have uttered, under my breath, “there but for the Grace of God, go I.” And just last month, someone in my own extended family died of Covid, leaving three children behind, now officially “Covid Orphans”. Just one more statistic? No, not when the tragedy creeps closer to home.
Good or bad, it is human nature to hide our heads in the sand, hoping that bad things will pass us by, and rarely do we extend a hand to help the other. Martin Niemöller, a German Lutheran pastor during WW II, is best known for his statement on man’s ability to turn his back on “the other.” We, in the U.S., having all experienced tragedy during Covid, can no longer afford to categorize the suffering of each ethnic or racial group. The suffering is catching up with each of us:
First they came for the Communists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Communist
Then they came for the Socialists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Socialist
Then they came for the trade unionists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a trade unionist
Then they came for the Jews
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Jew
Then they came for me
And there was no one left
To speak out for me
Wishing you all a peaceful and healthy week.
We’d been friends since we’d met, over twenty-five years ago, when we’d bumped into each other in the university parking lot. We were a “mutual admiration society” and we each had the other’s back, no matter what. We laughed a lot. We could always talk; about anything, and everything. She was smart; a former economics professor, and we loved to shoot the breeze regularly on the phone or over coffee. We talked about life, the day’s headlines; societal, political, economic, and which movies to take in. For as long as knew her, she never ended a conversation without asking which book I was reading, and when I was laid-up with shoulder surgery, she sent me a three-pound translation of Don Quixote. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to read it or just lift it as a physical therapy weight.
Suzanne and I had been able to speak freely with each other on any topic, but that changed during the first year of the Trump presidency. Her news sources were different from my news sources. Her “truths” were different from mine. In retrospect, I suspect there were the beginnings of a fissure in our friendship during the long presidential campaign.
It wasn’t long before events overcame us and our friendship was taxed, seemingly beyond repair. It was apparent, for the first time, that, what I had always assumed were “our” deeply held values and views, were now divergent; I was shocked, and at a loss as to how to sustain our friendship.
The regular calls became fewer and fewer. Not knowing what to say, we talked about our kids, college and career choices, and before we knew it, we were talking about grand-children. But we had completely stopped talking about everything else. It seemed to be the only way to sustain a friendship that was now fraught with divisiveness.
As time passed, she had fewer and fewer friends in her circle, and she started to withdraw. It was happening all around me. People – family and friends, were withdrawing from book clubs, their houses of worship, and activities they’d enjoyed in the past because they couldn’t find their way around the conflict. It was the same scene on both sides of the aisle. Red. Blue. Remember “Color War” at summer camp? “Color War” would break-out with a lot of hooting and screaming by counselors. For one week, campers divided into Red and Blue teams to compete with each other, cheer their own team, write fight songs and behave with faux hostility. The last night, around a bonfire, everyone joined arm-in-arm, and sang “Red team, Blue team, together as one again”… a song of friendship regained, and for some, friendships retained through the years.
There were days, after my friendship with Suzanne seemed to be withering, when I would scroll down through my phone contacts, and almost call her.
Then, one day, the phone rang. “Rose, I have a brain tumor.” Suddenly, everything else in the world fell away, and we talked as friends talk when there is no one else who can understand. We talked during the treatments, we talked when she was too weak to walk. We talked when Covid made it impossible for her to see her children and grandchildren. And our friendship was put to the test when she wept on the phone and mustered the strength to say she’d had enough, and was ready to let go.
We resurrected our old friendship over her remaining months. With a spirit of trust and love, she reached out; writing me a note or two, her beautiful handwriting and thoughts almost illegible. She did her best to talk with me on the phone, until the last stroke took her speech as well.
After our last conversation I became overwhelmed with sadness. How many of us have lost touch with or avoided friends and family due to the political divide? I was infuriated by people who, in their misguided patriotic resolve to protect their personal freedoms, show little regard for the greater good. I was indignant that so many Americans were choosing to squander God’s greatest gift; life.
None of us know when it will be our time; or when our last opportunity to heal or make amends will come. We’ve missed out on so much over the past few years, and not just because of Covid. We’ve missed out simply because we have willingly chosen to break bonds of family and friendship over politics.
I received a phone call shortly before Suzanne died. It was her husband asking if I could guide him through the process of death and mourning. He bought a plot. He made arrangements with the funeral home. And when she finally passed, he called. “Suzanne asked that you conduct her funeral. You were her closest friend and you’ll know what to say.” I was blessed with one more opportunity to confirm my friendship, for which I am eternally grateful.
