The film by @RodLurie of “The Outpost” by @jaketapper (on Netflix) is very good, but one aspect of the book it couldn’t capture was how many troops rotated in and out of that base over the years. Hundreds, perhaps. All of them to defend an outpost that had no earthly use. A Tweet Peter Sagal @petersagal

“I’m now the fourth United States president to preside over American troop presence in Afghanistan, two Republicans, two Democrats. I will not pass this responsibility on to a fifth.” President Joesph Biden.

President Biden has announced that we are pulling our troops out of Afghanistan. I’m happy with that but not as thrilled as I thought I would be and I’m not sure why. I have, after all, been ranting and whining for years about our being in Afghanistan. (A couple of examples are here, here, and here.) We currently have about 2,500 troops – although there are reports that there are an additional 1,000 Special Forces hidden away – in Afghanistan and our NATO allies have another 7,000 or so. At the height of our presence, under President Obama, we had about 100,000 troops in-country and, over the almost twenty years we have been there, over 750,000 different troops have served in Afghanistan with the main result being the drastic increase in housing cost in Kabul.

Interestingly enough, only the New York Times and the Washington Post seem to feature the withdrawal, the LA Times mentioned it below the main headline of an old murder case that has been solved – well, maybe not solved, but people arrested and charged for the murder, anyway – and FOX didn’t seem to mention it as a news item at all (still, they did have a commentator reference it, saying it was a mistake). Another guy who thinks it is a mistake is Conservative Bret Stephens, who, in an editorial in the New York Times, gave the biggest reason why we should stay. After writing about an Afghan girl’s soccer team, he writes, Those women are now being abandoned. So is every Afghan who struggled to make the country a more humane, hospitable, ethnically, and socially tolerant place ...

He is right, we will be abandoning a lot of people, probably, mostly, women and I would be in favor of staying if there was any chance of being successful. But, come September of this year, we will have been in Afghanistan for twenty years and are no closer to winning – whatever that is – than we were ten years ago or fifteen years ago. The mistake, in my opinion, is not in our leaving, but in the whole misguided adventure. I want to be clear that this has not always been my position, when Candidate Obama said that Afghanistan, not Iraq, was the good war, I agreed and it was one of the reasons I worked on his campaign. But, by the end of 2011, I realized I was wrong, writing When Obama first started talking about Afghanistan being the good war, I thought it sounded like such a good idea. I was wrong – which means nothing – and Obama was wrong, which means a lot. We should get out. Say it was a mistake, say we got Osama and we won, say whatever; just get out. This will not end well and it is time to cut our losses.

We should have treated the Al-Qaeda attack like the criminal act that it was. The Taliban didn’t attack us, Afghanistan didn’t attack us, an antiAmerican-in Muslim-countries terrorist group,  al-Qaeda, attacked us because we have stationed troops in Saudi Arabia. Osama bid Ladan, the founder and main motivation behind Al-Qaeda, was a Saudi, a rich Saudi, the heir to Mohammed bin Awad bin Laden, a Saudi millionaire. Of the 19 terrorists directly involved in 911, 15 were from Saudi Arabia (one was from Egypt and two were from the United Arab Emirates). Attacking a tribal, male-dominated, Islamic fundamentalist country like Afghanistan and expecting to leave it as a Democracy ’s was and still is a fantasy.

If President Biden persists, we will be leaving Afghanistan this year and, and, while I’m not thrilled, I am relieved.

To put things in perspective for my white friends: every single time I get in my car and go anywhere, because of police, there’s an underlying fear for my life. EVERY time I make it home safely, it’s like I’ve won the lottery. And I should never have to feel that way…Tweet by Henry Lake @lakeshow73

Last Saturday night Michele and I went to Napa for a small dinner party at The Pereira’s. The Ramirez/Kuhlmans came down from Boise and the six of us, all fully vaccinated plus two weeks, sat around the dinner table – inside – eating Vietnamese pork – yummm! – and drinking great wine. We told stories and laughed and it was all the sweeter because it seemed so normal. It’s as if the last year and a month hadn’t happened.

To get there, Michele and I drove across the San Mateo Bridge and then ran up the East Bay until we turned off for Napa, we came home through Marin County. Our route choice was based on time going up and scenery coming home. At one point, we passed a California Highway Patrol car pulled over to the side, and even though we were rolling with traffic, I glanced at the speedo to make sure I wasn’t speeding. It never occurred to me that we might be pulled over and shot. It didn’t even occur to me that I might even be pulled over for no reason.

Three or four years ago, late at night, I was pulled over by the local sheriff on a very dark and deserted Portola Road. It was a 40 zone and I was driving 45 (on purpose, on cruise control). I put my hands on the wheel and rolled the window down, when the cop came up asked for my license, and told me I was doing 45 in a 35 zone, I told him it was a 40 zone and could feel him tense up. My first thought was that I’d rather not get a ticket than be right, I’ll just drop that, let it go and I told him I didn’t realize I was going so fast. He looked at my license and my white face, commented that I lived nearby, gave my license back, told me to be careful, and drove away. It never occurred to me that the sheriff might pull out a gun and tell me – yell at me, fucking yell at me while pointing a gun at my head! actually – to get out of the car, to get down on the ground.

But getting beat-up- maybe even killed – did occur to U.S. Army Second Lieutenant Caron Nazario when he was pulled over in Windsor, Virginia on a dark road and, from what I read, it occurs to every black man under the age of, what? dead, I guess. Lieutenant Nazario was pulled over last December for not having plates, although the paper plates are clearly visible in the video from the on-board camera in the cop car. When the Lieutenant rolled his window down, the cops pointed their guns at him and told him to both put his hands out the window and get out of the car. When he could follow an obviously impossible command, he ended being pepper sprayed and pushed to the ground. At some point, realizing that they were in the wrong, the cops threatened Lieutenant Nazario and let him go. Now the Lieutenant is sueing the two cops involved in Federal Court. I hope he wins but, even if doesn’t win because of the cops qualified immunity, it is a great place to start. Somehow, cops are going to have to start paying for their constant violations of black people’s rights.

As an aside, under the guise of a letter to his son, Ta-Nehisi Coats wrote a book, Between The World And Me about the daily intimidation and humiliation black men live with. The book is short and very readable and, to quote Toni Morrison, visceral, eloquent, and beautifully redemptive. If you haven’t read it, I highly suggest giving it a try. End aside.

The reason why this has gone on so long without any recourse is that this kind of harassment and humiliation by the cops doesn’t happen to white people. If the harm being done by society doesn’t affect us white people, it is easy to overlook, even justify. That may be starting to change, but we have a long way to go before we reach a society that matches the bullshit we are fed in school.

I’m home from the hospital and still have no idea why I am so anemic. The endoscopy found nothing which ordinarily would be good news but now we are looking for something so it’s, more or less, bad news. I’ll start worrying about it again on Monday but, tonight Michele and I are going to dinner with some vaccinated friends.

Life is sweet.

An echocardiogram (echo) is a graphic outline of the heart’s movement. During an echo test, ultrasound (high-frequency sound waves) from a hand-held wand placed on your chest provides pictures of the heart’s valves and chambers and helps the sonographer evaluate the pumping action of the heart. Cleveland Clinic via Google.

Endoscopy is the insertion of a long, thin tube directly into the body to observe an internal organ or tissue in detail. MedicalNewsToday via Google.

Outside, it is Spring, a sort of cold and dry Spring, still, the flowers are blooming and the birds are looking for a good place to nest (which I can’t type without guilt because Michele and I – along with the Woodside Fire District – have been cutting back trees and removing brush, removing the local fauna’s habitat, really, to make our home, our habitat, safer for the upcoming fire season). But, I’m not outside even though, for the first time in, probably, a month I feel good enough to enjoy it. I am still in Sequoia Hospital, feeling better but not great and I still have very little idea what is wrong. Well, why what is wrong is wrong is more accurate. I had an echocardiogram yesterday and that seemed to indicate that my heart valve is not the problem. Today I get an endoscopy and, after that, I can go home. I have been on a liquid diet since Tuesday and they cut off all food at Thursday midnight but, with the alternative being the liquid diet, skipping breakfast is not much of a change. The upside – a huge upside – is that I have lost eighteen pounds – most of it excess water – since Tuesday.

Inside the hospital it is also Spring, I guess, but it is a sort of a never-ending pseudo-Spring, not too warm or too cold. It all has a surreal feel to it. I sleep in my backless – well, not backless, just a perpetually open back – hospital gown which, I read, is a design that is over a hundred years old. My gown has a newish addition of a pocket for a transmitter that is connected to various electrodes stuck to my chest and sends a perpetual EKG to the nurse’s desk across the hall. It also weighs down the front of the gown, exposing my chest and my past heart-surgery scar, which increases both the awkwardness and my discomfort. I sleep in a pair of yellow socks that have no-slip rubberish pads all over them. The pads keep me from slipping on the floor but they also prevent the sheets from comfortably slipping over my feet and I end up sleeping in a mixed pile of polyester sheets and cotton blankets. For some reason, the whole thing has a vaguely camping feel. Maybe it is because I haven’t had a shower or shaved in almost four days.

My doctors – there are three different ones who visit me or call, every day – are all women. I didn’t plan it that way, but I am glad for it. The original model was for male doctors and female nurses in a proper patriarchal hierarchy with the doctors having a slightly godlike detachment but now there are male as well as female nurses and the atmosphere is slightly more congenial. An example for a better future, I hope.

The medical establishment is a little like the military-industrial complex in that there is lots of money to be made which drives innovation and complexity but, under the guise of necessity, there is not much regard for the environment. Almost everything is plastic and deposable except, to be accurate, my daily flatware – of two soup spoons with every liquid meal – is metal. But the bowls are plastic as is my bedside table and all the housings for the electrical gear that surrounds me. Almost everything seems to be disposable from the rubber gloves used only once to the countless disposable needles used on me. Everything comes wrapped in cellophane – well, what used to be cellophane but is probably some other plastic now – to keep it sterile. I am wearing a wrist band – plastic, of course – that has a row of QR codes so that the nurse just scans them to confirm that I am me and the pills I am about to take are for the right person. Interestingly enough, they still ask for my name and date of birth but the question seems to be more to test my cognitive abilities rather than getting information.

On a different subject, today is April 9th, the 156 anniversary of Confederate General Robert E. Lee’s surrender to General U. S. Grant of the United States.

Happy Friday, Happy Spring, Happy Union.

Anemia is a condition in which you lack enough healthy red blood cells to carry adequate oxygen to your body’s tissues. Having anemia can make you feel tired and weak. There are many forms of anemia, each with its own cause. Anemia can be temporary or long-term, and it can range from mild to severe. The Mayo Clinic via Google.

I am in Sequoia Hospital – I know, again -and I feel better than I have in months. It now seems that my problem is that I am seriously anemic. That is both the good news and the bad news. The good part of the news is that we – we being a bevy of doctors – now know what is causing my shortness of breath although the anemia is probably more of a fellow traveler, along with a replacement heart valve that is ending its useful life and lungs that are pretty trashed, the bad part is that nobody knows what is causing the anemia, although there are theories. As the various theories are being tested and explored, I got a blood transfusion, iron injections, and heavy-duty Lasix injections to lower my water level.

One theory was that I had an ulcer but that lost favor after testing, another is that my esophagus is chafing against some other, nearby, body part. My gastroenterologist will perform an endoscopy on Friday to explore that theory. Still another theory is that my deteriorating heart valve is the culprit (both Michele and I are in that camp). Meanwhile, I am sitting/lying all day long with a constant parade of doctors, bored enough to watch My Fair Lady on Netflix.