Chasing the Blues

Ida Comes to Town

The tropical storm Ida soaks Atlanta all day. Again, I've had the experience of first hearing about a storm as a distant disturbance, thinking it will not affect me, and then perceiving it slowly come closer and closer. At last, it dumps a bunch of rain into my life, or blows off my roof, or knocks down a tree. Hello, Ida. Thanks for bringing more rain and delaying a plumbing project.

On the eve of Veterans Day, I think about the connection of war and literature. From the dawn of human storytelling, the two have been intertwined. The Iraq-Afghanistan wars have brought countless movies, and nonfiction books, but little if any novels or poems (although I've seen some poems written by our soldiers). Some of the best work on the war has been done by Garry Trudeau in Doonesbury. Am I the only person who still reads it?

I'm sure that a young soldier now serving in Iraq or Afghanistan will eventually write the definitive novel of the war. Or perhaps the era of of the great war novel or poem is over. Now, it may exist on Twitter or Facebook.

Riding with Del Griffith

Lately, I've been haunted by two movies I caught much too late: John Hughes' "Planes, Trains and Automobiles" and Spike Lee's "Do the Right Thing."

John Candy's portrayal of the shower-curtain-ring salesman Del Griffith is one of the best comic performances ever. The story of the journey to Chicago by Neal, played by Steve Martin, and Del has echoes of the Odyssey and Pilgrim's Progress. Not to put too heavy a burden on the film, I see it as reflecting the essence of the Christian message. Candy's scene of performing along with Ray Charles' "Mess Around" creates immense joy out of basic human gestures, comparable to the magic created by Charlie Chaplin's "Oceana Roll" scene in "The Gold Rush."

"Do The Right Thing" also haunts me, with Danny Aiello's performance as Sal the pizzeria owner and Ossie Davis' as the Mayor standing out among a wealth of fine acting. Again, Sal and the Mayor offer shining examples for attempting to live with honor and ethical purpose, although these efforts may fail.

Good marks to Comcast's On-Demand for making a selection of fine films available, although the "free movies" menu could be strenghtened. A variety of essential Hughes and Lee films are now on the pay site, which also frequently offers early classics, such as Fred Astaire-Ginger Rogers films.

Meanwhile, "Mad Men" finished with a bang, "Bored to Death" with a whimper. In Mad Men, I loved the audacity of Don Draper, et al, buying back Sterling Cooper, and how the honorable British bloke turns out to be an ally. At the end, Draper triumphs, while Better Draper takes an ominous plane ride with her new flame, grimly holding onto that baby (an unwise plot development). However, that shot of January Jones answering the phone in her yellow blouse and gray skirt shimmered. Please, Mr. Weiner, keep January on the show.

After a run of good movie/TV viewing, I'm beginning to believe in miracles. Perhaps an SEC replay official will even one day look at the tape and have the guts to overturn a bad call.  The Saints will win the Super Bowl. The Cubs will win the world series. I'll keep the faith.

Attack of the Drones

The Oct. 26 New Yorker contained a disturbing story by Jane Mayer on U.S. drone-missle attacks in Pakistan and Afghanistan. The Predator attacks, begun in the Bush adminstration, have increased under Barack Obama, with a matching increase in civilian deaths.

The article clearly states the moral dilemmas of the attacks, carried out by the military as well as the CIA, the latter using private contractors like Blackwater, now xe. The Predator gives the killer remoteness from the killed. Army experts quoted in the article called it dishonorable warfare, the opposite of the old hand-to-hand ethos. The attacks target individuals for assassination, forbidden to the CIA by law. Civilians are mistakenly killed. Tribal areas in Pakistan where the drone attacks occur have been sealed off to international press, and humanitarian agencies like the Red Cross and Doctors Without Borders.

President Obama must weigh these moral dilemmas as he makes his decision on whether to increase troops in Afghanistan. George Will, and reportedly Joe Biden, want the U.S. to fight in Afghanistan by use of the drones and special forces. Gen. McCrystal and the military want the boost in soliders to conduct counterinsurgency, in which the U.S. military would build ties with Afghan communities. On the moral plane, the limited drone war will undoubtedly result in more civilian deaths, and more hatred of the U.S., and more development of terrorists. The counterinsurgency offers the possibility of Afghan respect for U.S. troops, but also that the involvement will turn into a quagmire. With both of these risky outcomes, the U.S. could choose the course of leaving Afghanistan to its own control.

Before Sept. 11, the Drones were used only for surveillance: they  give crystal-clear images, stunning in detail. In the effort to track down Osama bin Laden and Al-Queda, President Bush authorized the use of drones for killing. The drones have done their work well: experts in the article say Al-Queda's leadership has been decimated, and the Taliban has also suffered strong losses. Americans remembering Sept. 11 might not worry too much about ethical niceties when it comes to the killing of such characters. But hundreds, if not thousands, of tribes folks, including children, have been slaughtered. And the killings help the Taliban and Al-Queda recruit new terrorists.  

The same issue of the New Yorker had a piece by Dana Goodyear on the thriller movie director James Cameron, king of special effects. After reading Mayer's description of how the Predator drone took highly detailed video of a high-level Taliban officer later killed, I was struck by how close Cameron's imaginative devices are to the real thing. The U.S.' relentless drone campaign is likely to have a much more calamitious outcome than Cameron's movies, sowing increased hatred.

 

Hanging with Al and Dave

I think I'm getting whiplash. Now the political pundits are frothing over the Republican gubernatorial wins in Virginia and New Jersey, political mirror images. Both are states without very big cities, with huge suburban areas, and live in the shadow of huge cities. Northern Virginia is in the orbit of D.C., and Northern New Jersey New York City. But I'm not convinced that the GOP wins mark a change in the wind from Obama-cracy, although I could be whistling past the boneyard.

Last night, punch drunk from the election returns and having to cover a mind-numbing civic meeting, I watched David Letterman. Now he's back to making jokes about the sex problems of others. Way to go, Dave. Michael Buble had a funny bit singing the top 10 list, and then Al Gore came out.

Perhaps I was hungover at reading the New York Times story about how the green movement was making Gore a billionaire, but I found "the Ozone Man" curiously unappealing. He looked odd, his complexion waxy, his face puffed, reminiscent of an aging queen actor/singer. Then he made an horribly wooden joke about Letterman's stalkers, which Dave let fall flat. The tastelessness of Gore's remark had me doing an inner double take. When Letterman started his characteristic detailed questioning of Gore on global warming, Gore seemed surprised at the thoroughness of Letterman's preparation, saying "you're such a wonk." I'd noticed the same intelligence and depth in Letterman's questioning of President Obama; he's much better than Jon Stewart. Gore actually wanted Letterman to lighten up.

I believe Gore is right on global warming, and I've liked him over the years, but couldn't take any more of his hipster mode. Besides, I've always been pissed at him for giving up so easily at challenging the Supreme Court when it chose Bush. Members of Congress were ready to keep fighting. How much better off we would have been with eight years of Gore instead of eight of Bush. But if he'd been president,  Gore wouldn't have been able to set the stage to become a billionaire. Now Clinton's rich, Gore's rich, and Obama is on his way to getting rich. Just call it Green Democrats Going for the Green.

 

 

Farewell to the Snows of Kilimanjaro

Environmental news can leave me angry/depressed. Today, the local newspaper reported that the Snows of Kilimanjaro are melting.The phrase recalled images from Ernest Hemingway's short story, the wounded writer lying in his hammock remembering scenes from his life (taken from Hem's own life), the famous inspcription about the antelope going to the top of the mountain. When the snow has vanished from Kilimanjaro, readers can turn to Hemingway for an understanding of how the snow on the distant peak entralled the human imagination, if any books or readers remain. No traveler will be able to witness the snows for himself.

Then I heard on the radio Fresh Air's excellent Terry Gross interview a scientist who's written a book on the ocean's depleted fish stocks. He grimly recounted how trendy fish like orange roughy and Chilean sea bass are physically unappealing species from deeper waters that people would not have eaten 30 or 40 years ago. He talked about how overfishing ruins the food chain, leading to the proliferation of algae.

Surrounding me was one of those autumn days that stun you with its beauty. Vivid blue skies, orange leaves, wind, lovely sunshine. Outside, a small bird hops along the patio; the rain of several days ago lingers in leaf cups. The day is too nice to worry about the melting snows of Kilimanjaro, the end of the red snapper, the cod, the flounder. But I keep thinking about this, among so much more.

Suddenly, It's November

November arrives, the true start of the new season. October was a different reality, this year marked by steady rain. All-Saints day, and All-Souls, recalling all of the loved ones, friends and aquaintances no longer among us.  We live with a different clock, a different reality.

How strange to contemplate that last year at this time, the country was in a fever pitch over the presidential election. Now, almost a year into the Obama administration, although he ruled over the last months of the Bush era, the country spins in the low tides of transition. The first Tuesday in November brings a new round of municipal and state election, but Obama's sense of hope and change appears dissapated. However, many of us remain faithful that he will bring in a new era of purpose and accomplishment. Although his accomplishments remain few, and the economy remains in the shallows, he shows a leader's essential quality of buoyancy, of remaining committed to the task, such as characterized Lincoln and FDR. They too made mistakes, took wrong turns, faced tough choices, but they kept on.

Meanwhile, "Mad Men" revisits the sad and shocking weekend of JFK's assassination. The World Series, which should be long over, lurches toward a close. The excitement of college football is once again deadened by the machinations of the BCS. Pro football writhes in its Roman circus of violence and beauty. Jobs remain scarce; middle-aged folks see their dreams crushed; younger people find it impossible to get their lives started.

The future, as usual, is a work in progress. The country keeps churning in a stew of ideas, dreams, appetites and aspirations.

The Wall Street Journal's Strong Journalistic Menu

Among the hemorraging circulation at American newspapers, the Wall Street Journal actually increased its circulation to take the No. 1 spot. The circulation bump undoubtedly has many factors, but surely readers are responding to the newspaper's continued excellence.

When Rupert Murdoch bought the American business bible, journalistic purists moaned that the tabloid king would ruin the Journal. But under his watch, the paper has moved further beyond its financial news franchise to give excellent coverage of sports, arts, books and foreign affairs. Lovers of journalistic depth can point to the circulation increase as evidence that such coverage remains commerically viable.

As an old newspaper junkie, I'm impressed each day with the Journal. The A section always has national or interenational stories not found elsewhere, even in The New York Times. Mostly conservative, the Journal's columnists write from a fresh, unpredictable perspective. I love the daily book review that runs down the right-hand side of the columnists' page, which runs before the editorial page and the op-ed page. The reviews cover a comprehensive selection of history, politics, economics, business, fiction and biography and are contributed by an impressive group of writers, not the formulaic in-house critics at The Times. The WSJ's Personal Journal page gives a broad look at arts, from opera to rock to jazz. The paper's Friday and Saturday editions are full of the same strong cultural coverage.

I particularly like the columns of Holman Jenkins, who goes against the conventional wisdom from the point-of-view of business. He's very conservative, and I often think he's off-base, but he expresses himself so well that I enjoy reading him. And, often, I find myself reluctantly agreeing that he makes sense. Also on Wednesday, Thomas Frank gives the liberal/progressive view with strongly constructed pieces.

While the Journal's ultra-conservative editorials often flabbergast me, no other editorials on economic issues display such knowledge. And the Journal's recent boosted sports coverage goes beyond game reports to give perspective with wit and style.

Of course, I still love the Times. It also provides stories not found elsewhere, such as the recent one about CIA ties to Karzai's brother and a piece on a new journal, Electric Literature. But, The Times has sunk into predictability, especially its daily book reviews and op-ed columnists. Maureen Dowd's column about President Obama's "guy-jock" White House was so predictable that I thought I could have written it myself, exactly like Maureen did. Paul Krugman, Nick Kristof, Bob Hebert all write the same column week after week. Thomas Friedman comes up with fresh insights, because he actually reports, but he irritates me with his cute phrases and glib formulations. The Times used to rotate the days on which its columnists appear, but apparently it's even given up that gambit to shake things up a bit. The new token conservative, Rob Douthit, has not overly impressed me so far.

I'll keep reading The Times, of course, but these days, it's often like a chore, an obligation, akin to taking my medicine. I approach the Wall Street Journal with more pleasure.

Back to the Neighborhood After a Whirlwind Trip

Back at the Blog after a whirlwind weekend jaunt to the University of Florida, where my daughter received an academic award. Gainesville is among those midsized university cities enjoying the benefits and suffering the drawbacks of too much growth. Even on a non-football weekend, the town pulsed with the energy of heavy traffic, full restaurants and students and their parents.

Headed back on I-75 to Atlanta, we bogged down in the perpetual construction in South Georgia, although it appears that great progress has occurred. The work over the years has steadily progressed from Macon to Tifton and now Adel. Eventually, it's probably hit Valdosta, after which the Georgia Highway Department will run out of state territory.

On a lovely Sunday afternoon, we attended the annual fall street fair of the North Buckhead Civic Association, where we've now become old-timers, looking wistfully at the young parents and their small children. When we first moved to the neighborhood more than 20 years ago, we were the ones receiving looks from the empty-nesters. Still, a few of the old guard show up. The event drew a number of candidates in Atlanta's approaching municipal election. Everyone agrees that Atlanta's mayoral candidates are all well-qualified, but none seems to excite enthusiasm.

Atlanta, once the leader of the South, keeps losing ground to innovation, art, culture and commerce to other Sunbelt cities. While competent, the mayoral and city council candidates lack "the vision thing," as old man Bush put it. The metro area's long lamented fragmentation has caught up with us at last. People are fleeing, but at least our notorious congestion will be relieved.

Doctor, Mr. M.D....

I began the new week with a doctor's visit for an annual physical, uncertain whether my incredible shrinking insurance plan would pay for it. Often, I count the blessings of having lived in the same neighborhood for more than 20 years, and frequenting the same pharmacy, businesses, restuarants, health clubs and filling station (old-fashioned term). I've been going to the same doctor for more than 10 years, and he has guided me safely through several medical problems.

Early on this overcast Monday morning, the last day of August, I made the less than five-minute drive to the doctor's office at the tip of what is now the city of Sandy Springs. Since the procedure for undergoing the physical hasn't changed, the morning had a "Groundhog Day" quality to it. But, from the beginning, I noticed that many of the good doctor's support staff had changed. His mainstay, with whom I have dealt happily for years, was still there, to greet me pleasantly. I often call her to renew prescriptions, or, in this case, to quickly schedule exams. But the lady who brought me in for the initial taking the blood pressure and temperature was not the pleasant young woman I remembered. The new one was nice, but I missed the other one.

The doctor came in and did his exam in the exact same sequence as usual, but I noticed he didn't take his own blood-pressure reading as he normally did. He had his same calm nature, and I assumed I was in pretty good shape. Then, when I went to give blood, I noticed another shift in personnel, a woman I'd never seen before. She was pretty businesslike, and I don't think I've ever had a more efficient prick of the needle into the vein. Then I went across the hall to the bathroom to leave a urine sample. I found myself in a Larry David "Calm Your Entthusiam" moment when for the life of me I couldn't summon any urine. Finally, I walked out and asked a technician what to do. She said to go and drink some water and wait, which I did. Finally, I returned, able to dribble out a suitable sample.

Since the X-ray technician had called in sick, and a replacement wouldn't be there until 10 a.m., I returned home to eat (I'd been fasting) and check the e-mail, which goes slower every day it seems. Then I drove back to the doctor's office, stopping to fill up with gas at my friendly local service station. The x-ray technician was pleasant, leading me through the same "Groundhog Day" procedure I'd done a number of times through the years. With the health care debate still unsolved, I imagined what would have happened had this been a government-run clinic. Not as efficient, I supposed. In the x-ray room, a number of signs said "If you are pregnant, or think you are pregant, please tell the technician." Nobody doing x-rays today but gray-haired men like myself. I don't believe I've ever seen anyone in that x-ray room who had the slightest chance of being pregnant, or thinking they were pregnant.

At last, I was able to return home, to look for gainful employment. Perhaps I could make a career change into medical technology, I thought, then reminding myself that I couldn't draw blood or take an X-ray to save my life, or anyone else's.  

Ted Kennedy, a Man for the Ages

The most striking thing to me about the Ted Kennedy eulogized over the weekend was his sense of history. His nieces, nephews and children recalled how he had taken them to historic sites in Boston and Massachusetts and to Civil War battlegrounds. The sense of history weighed heavily on events, from the Friday night wake to the Saturday funeral and burial in Arlington.

The sense of history also brings a reverence for language. Human acts, the actual making of history, is remembered in language, and, of course, art. The language of the eulogies, the rememberances, the evocation of his love of the sea, showed the greatness of American speech, a special talent of the Irish, along with other ethnic groups. Kennedy, and his brothers Jack and Bobby, were masters of language, and the Kennedys in their remembrances displayed this gift, as did President Obama and Kennedy's Senate colleagues. Politics corrupts language, but the eulogies and tributes showed that language enobles politics.

The events also showed the power of the spontaneous, true emotion. One of the strongest memories I'll have is the unscripted singing of "God Bless America" and "America the Beautiful" by staffers gathered on the Capitol steps as the senator's hearse pulled away. I'll also remember the darkness at Arlington, how one of his grandchildren overcame her fear of the darkness to give a moving tribute. The moment echoed Ted Kennedy Jr.'s beautiful eulogy to his father, the highlight of the day.

The people lining the streets in Boston and Washinton evoked memories of similar outpourings for Ted's slain brothers, events which many Americans are now too young to remember. Many people seemed to want to again honor Jack and Bobby, as well as Ted. As many said, Ted's passing is the end of an era, whatever meanings can be pulled from that hackneyed phrase. Unlike the grief-stricken, stunned people lining the streets for JFK and Bobby, those saying goodbye to Ted showed joy amid their grief, as with the spontaneous applause from those on the Capitol steps.

Despite its conservative viewpoint, Fox News provided the best coverage, thanks to Chris Wallace. His sense of history and measured commentary were just right. He could actually remember viewing JFK's funeral cortage, and Dwight Eisenhower's. Of course, Mike Wallace's son would have such a sense of history, but Chris showed his own grace and sensitivity.

When the black limousines and the hearse gathered at Arlington,  the eternal flame burning at JFK's grave recalled a famous piece by Jimmy Breslin. Before the JFK funeral, Breslin interviewed the man digging the slain president's grave for a memorable piece. It's a telling sign of how much newspaper writing has waned that a piece like Breslin's is unlikely to rise out of Ted Kennedy's farewell. Fox's Major Garrett showed some of the Breslin spirit when he told Wallace about speaking to the Kennedy tailor, who told Garrett that Teddy Kennedy III could be the member of the next Kennedy generation to take up the family's political legacy.

With all of the well-deserved praise given to Vicki Kennedy, I had sympathy for the ignored first wife, Joan, the mother of Ted's children. The marriage to Joan ended disastrously, marked by Kennedy's worst behavior, but surely she merited some mention. After all, as a documentary recounted during the day, she helped him to a Senate victory while he was lying on his back for months with a broken back. And, she undoubtedly had to endure much abuse, a different picture from the compassionate, concerned man so often painted during the two days. Joan was present at the funeral. Perhaps she was relieved not to be mentioned.

The gathering of the nation's powerful, and Boston's average citizens, to honor Kennedy showed the best of our country. We can hope the views of America's political, religious and literary traditions brings an elevation of civic discourse, but that is unlikely. As Kennedy understood, messiness, demagoguery and debacle are also part of democracy.

Many decry our fascination with celebrity, and the Kennedys definitely are part of this. But the farewells to Ted also showed that the family, despite all of the salacious events that have marked its reign in the public view, has also stood for our highest values. Ted Kennedy's legacy embraces the sacred and profane, the best and worst of us.