Jigsaw

Were it not for the coronavirus pandemic, my wife could have gone through life having never done a jigsaw puzzle.  But now she knows the immense satisfaction of watching a thousand small, random and misshapen pieces come together to make one coherent picture. One puzzle completed. She’s ready to start on our second.

It took the two of us five days, working four to five hours per day, to complete the puzzle.  Initially we completed 998-pieces of the puzzle.  When we got to the end, we discovered that two pieces were missing, but still we felt pretty good about what we had accomplished.  The picture was mostly complete, minus two small holes.

Two pieces missing out of a thousand, two pieces leaving two obvious holes in what otherwise would be a totally complete and perfect picture.  All that work and effort for a flawed picture?  Not content to leave the puzzle in that state, the carpet below the table was carefully searched.  And there in the shag of the carpet we found the missing pieces.  It’s hard to explain why a 1,000-piece totally complete picture feels infinitely more gratifying than a 998-piece picture.  But, it does.

My wife mused that I seemed more enthusiastic about completing the puzzle than I was when we had our children.  I responded that the very dumbest animals know how to reproduce, but it takes special skill to complete a 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzle.  It takes organization.  It takes patience and perseverance.  It takes a keen eye for small detail.  And it takes time, something right now that my wife and I have plenty of.

After the puzzle was completed, my wife and I stared at our work for a very long time, recalling the joys we shared, adding this piece or that to the puzzle.  My wife put a layer of mod podge over the completed picture so that we could lift the puzzle intact and find a place of honor for it in our home.

By the way, this is the 80^th piece of my blog, a blog that has been an assortment of small, random and occasionally misshapen pieces.  My goal is to get to 100 pieces.  Who knows?  Maybe by then the pieces will fit into some sort of coherent picture.  But there will be some missing pieces.

Existential Angst

It’s been another long, strange and stressful week.  There are more to come. While I am hopeful that “this too shall pass”, I am trying to prepare myself emotionally and physically for what I anticipate will be a very difficult next few months.  The news is bad.  Though most will survive this plague, far too many will not. 

Before there was Covid, I took much for granted.  I never thought twice about going to the barber or going out to eat.  No more.  Now it’s home haircuts and home cooking.  It used to be easy going grocery shopping.  No more.  Now, our food is delivered and before it comes through the door it is wiped down and disinfected.  I never worried about spending an afternoon at the lake fishing.  No more.  It’s not worth it.  I’m too busy watching everybody else at the lake, hoping they don’t spit, cough, or violate my six-foot space.

The days have a different pace, a much slower pace.  I have lots of time to read and to write, but so far, I’ve really done very little of either. Humorous memes shared by friends and family are a welcome relief from the day’s routine.  Calls from the kids and grandkids are another welcome respite from the long hours, but the calls are bittersweet, reminders of our forced separation and reminders that they too are feeling the vulnerability.

To pass the time, my wife and I are doing something we haven’t done for thirty years, a 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzle.  Altogether, I would guess we’ve put together 300 of the pieces. 700 to go.  We’ve got plenty of time to get it done.  There is something immensely therapeutic about transforming the chaos of 1,000 random pieces into a complete coherent picture, no matter how long or how difficult.

Next week, via Zoom, I'll resume teaching philosophy to the psychiatry residents.  Given what’s going on, the topic will be Existentialism.  One principle of existentialism is freedom, the freedom to choose the attitude with which we face our circumstances.  Another principle of existentialism is meaning, our potential to live authentic and meaningful lives.  However, the core of existentialism and the source of existential angst, is the inescapable reality of mortality.  Our lives are fragile, and our days are few.  And should we happen to forget this inconvenient truth, we need only turn on the news.

I often think about a joke told to me by a friend back in Junior High, a joke I now think of as Existentialism 101.  A wise man was asked by his young pupil, “Tell me father, what is the death rate in this part of the country?”  The wise man did not answer right away, but instead consulted books of ancient lore and wisdom.  Finally, after several weeks of study and contemplation he returned to his pupil.  “Son, the death rate in this part of the country is one per person.”

Because a Little Bug Went Ka-Choo

“One fine summer morning a little bug sneezed.  Because of that sneeze a little seed dropped.”  And from the dropping of that seed came a series of connected happenings that changed everything, “Because . . . just because . . . a small bug went Ka-Choo!”

Because a Little Bug Went Ka-Choo is the ultimate ‘what-if’ story.  Who hasn’t looked back on their life and been amazed how one small incident, one decision, one action, changed history forever.  What-if I hadn’t gone out on a blind date 37 years ago?  I look at my children and my grandchildren, knowing that their lives all connect to that blind date, as do the lives of their spouses and their spouses’ families, and so on and so on.  The impact of that date 37 years ago, that ka-choo, continues to send out ripples into the world and the world is forever changed.

Written by Rosetta Stone, a.k.a. Dr. Seuss, Because a Little Bug Went Ka-Choo is a remarkable book and not only for children.  In its own clever way, the story poignantly and humorously illustrates many essential truths.  The little actions of everyday life can have enormous consequences. The actions of little people can have enormous consequences.   The actions of any one person can have a great impact upon many others.  We are all connected.  What we do matters.

In these difficult days, Because a Little Bug Went Ka-Choo is especially poignant.  May I suggest a slight modification of the story?  “One fine spring morning a little bug sneezed.  Because he covered his mouth, washed his hands for twenty seconds, and practiced social distancing, no germs were spread, the curve flattened, and that changed everything.  Because . . . just because . . . a small bug went Ka-Choo!”

COVID-19

“Although the world is full of suffering, it is full also of the overcoming it.”       (Helen Keller, 1880--1968)

Eerie.  Unreal.  Crazy.  I’m looking for the right adjective to describe what’s happening.  From last week to this, everything has changed.  The world is under siege.  Daily life is radically altered and I’m struggling to get a handle on it.

I watch the news closely trying to sort out which precautions are essential and which, if any, are excessive.  Which are based in logic and reason and which in fear?  I am at high risk, and I take this pandemic very seriously.  I understand that we must try to avoid here what is happening in Italy.  I understand that we must ‘flatten the curve’ so that the health care system won’t be overwhelmed.

Just to get out of the house, I got in the car and drove around.  Stores were quiet and most restaurants were closed.  There were a few cars in the drive-throughs at McDonald’s and Freddy’s.  There were a few cars getting gas, the price having fallen to $1.94.  There were lots of cars in front of the grocery stores, and the parking lot at Costco looked like the day before Christmas.

Fortunately, due to my wife’s foresight, we are well provisioned.  We’ve got plenty of food and toilet paper.  And my kids continue shopping for us bringing additional groceries, as needed.

I now sleep-in later than usual.  I get up, drink a cup of coffee and watch morning T.V.  I read.  I eat a large late lunch and a small dinner, all the while getting used to eating at home.  The indoor pool at my apartment complex has closed.  For exercise, I ride my stationary bike for an hour each afternoon.  When the weather allows, I get outside and walk keeping an appropriate social distance from other fellow walkers.  At night I either read, play my guitar, or watch some more T.V.

One of my hobbies, playing poker, is out of the question.  Sitting in close quarters at the casino with nine other players, passing back and forth filthy poker chips, isn’t an option.  I do go to the lake and fish.  That’s been my most life-normalizing activity.  However, the weather’s been uncooperative, and the fish aren’t yet biting.

It was announced yesterday that my grandchildren’s schools will be closed for the remainder of the year.  Their parents must now figure out just what that will mean regarding schedules, activities and home-schooling demands.  My children are well equipped to handle this challenge, but I fear for many who are not.

My youngest child is on the front lines, an internist in Omaha specializing in geriatric care.  She was asked by a worried family member if she could take a leave of absence from work.  She replied that was out of the question. That would be like a soldier deserting on the eve of battle.  I am proud of her for her sense of duty and her courage.  I hope she remembers, that in battle, a good soldier remains vigilant and avoids unnecessary risks.

Rush

There was once a time, many years ago, when I enjoyed listening to conservative radio pundit Rush Limbaugh.  Occasionally I agreed with what he had to say, and I used to argue with his detractors that he was good radio entertainment.  Sure, at times he was outlandish, but that was the stuff of high ratings.  Frequently I’d disagree with him, but always he made me think.  And then, after hearing a call Rush took from a listener named Irv, I stopped listening.

It was a mistake that Irv ever got onto the air.  He was a thoughtful and articulate liberal.  Usually, the only liberals the pre-screeners allowed on Rush’s show seemed somewhere between ditsy and psychotic.  But not Irv.

Irv stated articulately, from an historical perspective and a personal belief system, why prayer in schools shouldn’t be allowed.  Rush responded, at first, with several non-sequiturs which Irv correctly pointed out.  Rush accused Irv of not listening, to which Irv calmly replied that Rush was wrong.  In fact, he informed Rush, he was listening, just not agreeing.

Rush began to raise his voice attempting to bait Irv.  Irv did not take the bait, but instead calmly and politely pointed out to Rush his inconsistencies.  Rush then ended the conversation by stating that Irv had called with no intention of dialogue and accused Irv of rudeness and arrogance.  Rush got in the last word, cut off Irv, and switched over to a commercial.

For me, this was no longer radio entertainment.  I heard on this call an arrogant, mean-spirited and intolerant man.  I no longer found Rush amusing or thought provoking.  I came to believe that his detractors were right to be concerned.  In all fairness, Rush never claimed to be “no spin” or “fair and balanced.”  It was clear that his radio show was a widely-listened-to platform for one man’s right-wing conservative opinions.  Rush had no intention of allowing his show to become a forum for debating ideas.

Rush espoused the virtues of a free and democratic country, but consistently devalued debate and ridiculed divergent opinion.  He espoused conservative American values, but excluded dissent from his media platform.  There was to be no right other than Rush’s right.  It took just one call for me to view Rush Limbaugh no longer as an entertainer but as a hypocrite, a demagogue and a threat.  I stopped listening.

Now fast forward twenty-five years, and I watch in disbelief as Rush Limbaugh is awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

Leaders

“With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation’s wounds . . .”  (from Abraham Lincoln’s second inaugural address)



The Democrats have bumbled and stumbled through the Iowa Caucus, the impeachment trial and one more forgettable candidates’ debate.  And now our president stands at the podium gloating at the Democrat’s ineptness, ridiculing and pointing out by name the political rivals he so easily dismisses as ‘horrible people’.  Democrat or Republican, I look to either side in search of great leaders and I see none.

By consensus, Washington and Lincoln are considered the two greatest American presidents.  With courage and character, each led the country through times of crisis and vulnerability.  When I was a boy, we honored Washington and Lincoln on their birthdays.  A symptom of the times, Presidents’ Day now passes with hardly any notice or fanfare.

George Washington was the undisputed leader of this newly emerging country.  With little opposition he became the first president.  He was described by peers as candid, to the point, and a man of quiet strength.  He rejected ostentatious trappings and titles.  With disdain for unrestrained power, he established many precedents for future presidential behavior and protocol.

Yet, if he were alive today, Washington could not survive the venom of modern politics.  Media would call him aloof and arrogant.  Critics would point to his quick temper.  On camera he would be just a dull and uninteresting public speaker, with bad teeth.

Abraham Lincoln was a remarkable, if not improbable leader.  Rising from the obscure politics of frontier Illinois, he was elected president at the time of this nation’s greatest crisis.  Lincoln has been described as an unpretentious man, quick with words and wit, concerned about people and their problems.  He knew how to utilize the talents of his political rivals and how to turn his rivals into allies.  His moral clarity was unwavering.  If there is heroism in words, never was this more so than in Lincoln’s second inaugural address.  To a nation torn in two, eager for revenge, he spoke instead of forgiveness and reconciliation.

Like Washington, Lincoln too would not succeed in today’s political climate.  He had a strange and awkward appearance.  He was prone to cycles of severe depression.  And he was without the personal wealth it now takes to run a successful campaign.

Great leaders don’t emerge from the malevolent environment of today’s politics.  Many who might be well suited to lead won’t enter the fray. The press, the party henchmen, and the president himself are all too eager to criticize, humiliate, cut down and destroy.  Few candidates survive the gauntlet of our current political process, and none come through unscathed.

I think we need to once again celebrate the lives of Washington and Lincoln.  In order to inspire great leaders, we need to honor these great leaders.  For the sake of our future, we need to remember our past and those who truly made America great.

Selective Inattention

Yesterday, Kansas City celebrated the Super Bowl champion Chiefs.  Outside it was cold and damp.  Despite the weather, hundreds of thousands came out for the tickertape parade and the rally at Union Station.  It was a joyful day, a party atmosphere for the city.

That evening, as is my routine, I watched the ABC World News.  Halfway through this national news broadcast there was mention of the Kansas City parade.  What was shown on T.V. had occurred just prior to the parade, a clip of a drug-impaired driver being chased down the parade route and caught.  The police had done well, a potential disaster averted.  No one was injured.

That was it.  There was no mention of the celebration.  No mention that the remainder of the event went without a hitch.  No mention of the tremendous joy and civic pride.  The news showed a brief chase scene and an impaired driver.  That’s what they chose to show.  Anyone watching only the news would have seen one more unpleasant incident in a newscast filled with unpleasant incidents.

There was so much that could have been covered, that could have been shown on the news.  There were many uplifting moments.  There were many memorable speeches.  There was so much energy coming from a crowd that had waited fifty years for the celebration.  There was so much youthful exuberance from the newly crowned champions.

I am not concerned by what was covered in the news.  I am concerned by what was not.  Call it ‘selective inattention’.  Nothing portrayed in the news was a lie.  Nothing was ‘fake news’.  However, through selection and through omission, the whole story was skewed and all that was so joyful was ignored.

With such glaring omissions, I assume there was an agenda.  I just can’t figure out what. Was it ratings?  Are ratings better when only reporting disasters and near misses?  Was it political?  Is the agenda of the news to remind us of what isn’t right with our society?  Was it editorial?  Are news editors on the East Coast dismissive of good news coming from the Heartland?  Was it the constraint of time?  If so, why show only the bad?

I believe that democracy must have a free and independent press.  I don’t like the current administration’s attacks on the media.  I don’t like the common accusatory cry of ‘fake news’.  I write this blog concerned for our free press. However, because of the glaring omissions, because of the ‘selective inattention’, in one otherwise trivial minute of television news I became aware how selective reporting gives credibility to its critics.