Trump's Win

It is now been twelve books, nine jigsaw puzzles, and 4 ½ months since I first blogged about Covid.  The pandemic is worse than ever, no end in sight.  The election is less than 100 days away (maybe).  Here, friends and readers, is my prediction . . . the pandemic continues and so does Trump.

People are passionate about Trump.  You either love him or you hate him.  Joe Biden is as exciting as a glass of warm milk.  In the coming election, people will turn out to either vote for Trump or vote against Trump.  But how many will turn out, enthusiastic enough to risk their health, to vote for Biden?

Ruth Bader Ginsburg is not going to make it through another four years.  All the right-to-lifers, all the gun-rights advocates, and all the right-wing conservatives will vote Trump.  They don’t want to lose the opportunity to appoint more conservative federal judges and to get one more conservative judge onto the Supreme Court.

Law-and-order conservatives will vote Trump.  Right-wing nationalists will vote Trump.  The wealthy, seeking to protect their wealth from the left-wing progressives, will vote Trump.

Trump will do all he can to discourage mail-in ballots.  In contrast to Democrats, Republicans take the Covid epidemic far less seriously, observe less social distancing, wear masks less often, and are more willing to meet in large crowds.  This means that they will be more willing to come out in public, wait in lines, and vote on-site.  Advantage Trump.

The Democrats will inevitably shoot themselves in the foot.  The radical left-wing will do to the Democratic Party what the Tea Party did to the Republicans.  At a time when this country needs uniting, when we need politicians willing to work across aisles and to make compromises, ideology and polarization will prevail.

The media will contribute to Trump’s victory.  Moderation and compromise make for boring news and lower ratings.  The news media outlets, all of them, have a significant investment in Trump being President for four more years.  Love him or hate him, with Trump in office people watch the news.

Russia and China, to the extent that they will try to influence the election, know it is in their best interest to see Trump win.  No need for war or espionage.  They will be able to sit back and watch the U.S. implode.

Add it all up.  Trump wins.

(I hope I'm wrong.)

Mark Twain and the Jews

Mark Twain was a literary giant, a great American humorist, essayist, and novelist.  Some have called him a friend to the Jews.  But others have said he was an anti-Semite.  I’ve read and heard both sides.  I set out to form my own opinion.  What I discovered was not straightforward.

In 1897, Mark Twain observed the Austrian parliament in session.  In a magazine article he wrote that its members came from all walks of life, all classes of society.  He added, “They are religious men, they are devoted, and they hate the Jews.” Subsequently, Mark Twain received a letter of inquiry.  “Now will you kindly tell me why, in your judgment, the Jews have thus ever been, and are even now in these days of supposed intelligence, the butt of baseless, vicious animosities?”  Mark Twain answered in an essay “Concerning the Jews,” published in 1899.

It is clear to me that Mark Twain was not anti-Semitic, certainly not when judged in the context of his times.  However, it is less clear that he was a friend.  There are no Jewish characters in any of his fiction.  Except for a single essay, there is little evidence that he gave much thought to the Jews, one way or another.  Mark Twain’s essay about the Jews was filled with respect and praise, but it was also filled with the biases and stereotypes that pervaded gentile America.

Mark Twain admired the strong Jewish family.  He praised Jewish support of charitable institutions.  He acknowledged the disproportionate contribution of Jews to art, literature, science, music, and medicine.

Unfortunately, in offering praise, Mark Twain often resorted to conventional stereotypes.  “The  Jews have the best average brain of any people in the world.  The Jews are the only race in the world who work wholly with their brains and never with their hands.”  Twain urged Jews to unite politically, writing that if Jews organized, as Zionist leader Dr. Theodor Herzl proposed, they would become a “concentration of the cunningest brains in the world.”

In his criticism of the Jews, Twain resorted to unflattering stereotypes.  He saw Jews as disinclined to fight as soldiers, and he repeated an old charge, “you feed on a country but don’t like to fight for it.”  Twain later wrote a gracious apology when he learned of the large number of Jews who had served, fought, and died in the Civil War.

Why are Jews hated?  Mark Twain wrote that economics, not religion, was the source of anti-Semitism.  Jews were hated most in the marketplace.  “The Jew is a money-getter:  and in getting his money he is a very serious obstruction to less capable neighbors."  Twain seemed to be commenting on the relatively affluent and assimilated German and Austrian Jews.  He said nothing about the millions of Jews living persecuted within the impoverished shtetls of Eastern Europe.

Tragically, mistakenly, Mark Twain showed little understanding about anti-Semitism and the vulnerability of the Jewish people.  On the eve of the 20^th century, speculating about their future, he wrote, “I do not think that the Jew need now stand in any fear of being robbed and raided.  Among the high civilizations, he seems to be very comfortably situated indeed.”

Touching Spirit Bear

For several years I worked with a particularly angry and troubled teenager.  He spoke little and visits were mostly for medication management of severe mood swings and aggressive outbursts.  Then one day he entered my office and began a conversation.  He asked me if I’d ever heard of the book Touching Spirit Bear, by Ben Mikaelsen.  When I said that I had not, he asked me if I would be willing to read it and I said that I would.

It was clear that my patient identified with the story’s main character Cole.  As the story begins, Cole is an angry and violent youth, a bully.  Cole had beaten up and seriously injured a boy named Peter.  As would any good sociopath, Cole blames Peter rationalizing that he deserved his beating.

Cole had been in and out of the system, a system he experienced as uncaring and hypocritical.  He had been sent from one facility to another, from one social worker to another.  This time, rather than return to jail, Cole is offered the option of going to an island where, under the supervision of two native Alaskans, he will remain isolated in a journey of self-discovery.

Initially, in a rage, Cole destroys his only food and shelter.  He attempts to escape the island by swimming but is swept back ashore by the tide.  Exhausted, cold and hungry he is approached by a great white bear.  In his continued rage he tries to kill the bear but winds up getting seriously mauled.  In a moment of near death, he has his epiphany.  He wants to live.

Cole is rescued, rehabilitated, and returns to the island for a second time.  Much more open to the experience of the island, he begins to come to terms with his anger.  He begins to feel remorse for the hurt he has caused.  He begins to feel forgiveness and understanding for those who, in the past, had hurt him. In the second part of the book Peter, traumatized and depressed, is brought to the island after two suicide attempts. The later part of the story is about the healing that occurs between these two scared and scarred youths.

Touching Spirit Bear holds out the hope of change but emphasizes that change is not easy.  The story makes clear that remorse alone is not enough.  Where there has been hurt and damage, there must be a process of repair.  When my patient read this story, he felt understood and he felt hope.  He felt that he too could change.

Does it take a near death experience in order to change, or is a good story enough to inspire and to transform? Over the years, I saw many angry youths.  I didn’t have an island where I could send them, and near death experiences are generally not recommended.  Instead, I recommended they read this book and I asked them to discuss. How were they like and unlike Cole? What would they have done if alone on the island?  With the book as a catalyst, I had many productive conversations with otherwise guarded and angry youths, who were willing to consider the possibility of change.

Sometimes it takes being alone on an island.  Sometimes it takes being mauled by a bear.  But sometimes it just takes a good story.

Stupidity

 “Think of how stupid the average person is and realize half of them are stupider than that.”  (George Carlin, 1937--2008)

While the country convulses through times of historic challenge and change, I remain shut in and socially distanced.  I read a lot, and I watch the news.  I’ve written nothing since mid-April. My ideas have felt like loose threads, scattered and unorganized, not worth putting down on paper.  It has not been for lack of thoughts.  I am flooded with thoughts, but thoughts that often seem trivial, inadequate given the circumstances in which we now live.  So, I’ve been silent.

I’ve been silent.  I’ve been angry.  And I’ve been dumbfounded by the pervasive stupidity that characterizes this country’s response to the pandemic.  Everybody wants the economy to reopen.  Everybody wants the kids to return safely to school.  The solution isn’t rocket science.  There should be no controversy, no politics involved.  Everybody needs to avoid crowds, socially distance, wash hands and wear masks.  If everybody would do these basic things, without griping, we could get through this mess and move on with our lives.  But no . . .

I’m sick of hearing about the “right” to not wear a mask.  Is there a right to blow cigarette smoke in someone’s face?  Is there a right to drive impaired by alcohol?  Is there a right to run a red light, if so inclined?  There are rules and behaviors that protect others.  Wear the damn mask and quit complaining. Quit whining about your rights and assume your responsibility to others.

Sadly, enabled by a minion of spineless politicians, supported by cult followers and egged on by ratings-driven media, there is this piece of work we call Mr. President,  He claims, on the one hand, that his response to the pandemic has saved millions of lives.  He also claims that 99% of all Covid infections are harmless.  Let me repeat, he claims that he has saved millions of lives from a 99% harmless virus.  Really?  Is it just me or does that make no sense?  And just in case you were wondering, neither assertion is true.  He has neither saved millions of lives nor is the virus 99% harmless.

Mr. President likes large rallies.  Mr. President doesn’t like to wear a mask.  Mr. President criticizes and marginalizes his top medical expert, while the pandemic rages on.  All this AND Mr. President calls himself a “very stable genius.” Mr. President is a moron, but he’s a powerful moron and he’s dangerous.

It’s clear that this pandemic will continue out of control for the foreseeable future.  My hope for better things to come depends on two happenings, neither of which is guaranteed.  First, I pray that by winter there will be an available and effective Covid vaccine.  Second, I pray that in November there will be a large voter turnout and an uncorrupted presidential election.

It's Fantastic

In this time of fantastic news stories and press conferences, I often think about a joke I heard in Junior High.  It’s a useful joke.  Comes in handy on many occasions.  It’s a joke I’ve told my kids.  Over the years, it’s become a family inside-joke.  I now share it with you.

(Imagine, if you will, two little old ladies talking on a park bench.  For good measure, add in a bit of a Yiddish accent.}

B:  “So Myrtle, what’s new?”

M:  “Bessie, you just won’t believe it.  Remember my son Gerald?  He’s a genius.  Just got into an Ivy League school.  Someday he’ll win the Nobel Prize.”

B:  “That’s FAAN’-tastic.”

M:  “And my husband Lou, he loves me more and more each day.  Showers me with presents, furs and diamonds.  Wants to take me on a trip around the world.”

B:  “That’s FAAN’-tastic.”

M:  “As for me, I’ve lost twenty pounds and am going to have plastic surgery that will make me look thirty years younger.”

B:  “That’s FAAN’-tastic.”

M:  “So, nuh Bessie?  Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

B:  “Well Myrtle, I’ve been going to charm school.”

M:  “Really?  And what are you learning in charm school?”

B:  “I’m learning how to say FAAN’-tastic . . .  instead of bullshit.”

Kafkaesque

“Someone must have been telling lies about Joseph K., for without having done anything wrong he was arrested one fine morning.”  (first line from The Trial, by Franz Kafka, 1883-1924) 

Kafkaesque.  It’s a wonderful adjective.  Kafkaesque connotes an absurd situation in which you find yourself trapped, powerless, and clueless.  You are controlled by a powerful, impersonal, and unapproachable bureaucracy.  A Kafkaesque scenario is nightmarish. You want to escape, and you can’t.
It’s a measure of Kafka’s literary stature that his name was turned into an adjective.

Franz Kafka was born into a middle class, unobservant Jewish family.  He lived his entire life in Prague.  During the day he worked as an official in an insurance office.  At night he wrote the novels and short stories that made him an icon of Western literature.

Much of Kafka’s writing is difficult to interpret, surreal, multi-layered, allegorical, written almost as-if in a bad dream.  Sometimes his stories feel grim, even ghoulish.  Simultaneously, many of his stories are laced with satire and ironic humor.  Some of his stories have been called prophetic, foreshadowing the totalitarian regimes of the mid-20th century.

Frequently his stories are deeply personal explorations into his tormented and neurotic psyche.  At yet another level, his stories are about unfulfilled religious yearnings.  He seems to search in vain for a distant, well-guarded, and unapproachable deity.  Some scholars detect in his writing similarities to the Jewish mystic writings of Kabbalah.

Kafka’s health was poor. For many years he suffered from, and eventually succumbed to, tuberculosis.  Tuberculosis was the great killer of its time, accounting for up to 1 in 7 deaths.  It was a respiratory illness spread by people working in close quarters to one another, affecting a disproportionate number of the poor. Kafka died in 1924.  It wasn’t until 1943, with the development of Streptomycin, that tuberculosis could be cured.  In the meantime, tuberculosis was contained by good hygiene and avoidance of overcrowded conditions.

Which brings me to another respiratory disease and the current pandemic.  It’s a situation in which I am trapped and powerless.  Decisions affecting tens-of-thousands of lives are being made daily by God knows who. It feels nightmarish.  I want to escape it, but I can’t.

 “It’s like the flu.”  “It’ll go away.”  “We’ve got it under perfect control.”   “It’ll all be beautiful.” Someone must have been telling lies about coronavirus for without having done anything wrong, the world changed, and one fine morning we were confined to our homes.   It feels Kafkaesque.

Dreams

“We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep.”  (from The Tempest, by William Shakespeare)

I had a vivid dream last night.  I was in an airplane, a passenger plane, and I was the only passenger on board.  There was a pilot, but he was asleep in the back of the plane and I didn’t wake him.  I assumed the plane was flying on autopilot.  Since no one else was on the plane, it occurred to me that I could move from coach to first class, and nobody would object.  It was a midnight flight and I was headed home to Denver.  I was going there to surprise my parents.

I was aware that there was nothing but air below me and only the thin skin of the plane shielding me from the void.  I was aware how quiet the plane was.  I could hear no sound from the engines, no creaking of the plane.  Just to hear something, I went over to a rack of music and picked out a George Strait CD.  If you’re wondering, George Strait is a well-known Country Western singer.  I occasionally enjoy country music, but I have no idea why I picked this music to play.  However, music, any music, was preferable to silence.

From biblical times to the present, much has been written about the meaning of dreams.  Some believe that dreams have prophetic meaning.  Some believe that dreams have deep psychological meaning.  Some dispute that dreams have any consistent meaning at all.  Whatever they may mean, during this Covid pandemic many people report having vivid and intense dreams.

I believe my dream was loaded with meaning and seasoned with a bit of existential angst. Travelling in a plane was symbolic of a new journey.  Being high above the ground, protected only by the thin skin of the plane, was symbolic of the fragility and contingency of life. The flight to Denver symbolized my mortality, an eventual reunion with my deceased parents.  The sleeping pilot . . . it symbolized the lack of leadership and guidance from a president who might as well be asleep at the helm.  As for the need to turn silence into music, I’m less sure what that symbolized.  Perhaps music was symbolic for hope and consolation.

Addendum:  A few nights before, I'd had another vivid dream.  I was fishing.  I could feel myself casting with my flyrod.  Twice I felt a fish take the lure.  Twice I felt the subsequent fight of the fish. Twice I reeled in a big fish, one a crappie and the other a bass.  Sigmund Freud wrote that dreams are the symbolic fulfillment of our unfulfilled wishes.  In this instance, I think he was right.