Category Archives: Americana

Why isn’t this photo on the front page of the papers ?

Americana, Current Affairs, Psychological Musings, Religion, ,

Prayer
 

Three weeks ago, eight prominent American imams went to Dachau to pray for and commemorate the six million Jewish dead.   It was obviously done, at least partially, for publicity – that isn't bad just like Obama making a speech at a green factory isn't bad – but almost nobody seemed to pay any attention.

One thing we hear over and over again is the meme Why don't moderate Muslims protest extremist Muslims? It turns out that they do, but it just doesn't get reported in very much.

Right after 9-11, a prominent Muslim cleric said Attacking innocent people is not courageous, it is stupid and will be punished on the day of judgment. Another one said Terrorists are not Muslims. And there has been a steady and continuous litany of Muslims condemning violence. But we don't hear much about it.

I don't think it is a conspiracy or laziness. The heading of this post is a real question. I just don't understand why.


Two apologies….using the term loosely

Americana, Politics, What's a man?

Last week – maybe two weeks ago – Marty Peretz, who is alleged to be a deep thinker, but is really just a racist jerk, and was honored at Harvard this week said among other racist things – and I am not paraphrasing here – Muslim life is cheap, most notably to Muslims. On the eve of Yom Kippur, the day of Atonement, by way of atoning, Peretz said  I allowed emotion to run way ahead of reason, and feelings to trample arguments. For this I am sorry.

That's not apologizing or atoning. That is just a cheap cop out. No, I was wrong. Just a I am sorry I allowed emotion to run way ahead of reason. Shame on you, Peretz, you are a jerk. I was glad to see they protested him when he showed up to accept his prize.



This spring Virginia Governor Bob McDonnell made a proclamation that started out

WHEREAS,  April is the month in which the people of Virginia joined the Confederate States of America in a four year war between the states for independence that concluded at Appomattox Courthouse; 

At the time, I went on a rant about it and I still feel the same way.

But, now, McDonnell has made a heartfelt apology that started out My major and unacceptable omission of slavery disappointed and hurt a lot of people–myself included,  he went on to say 

Until the Civil War, the founding principle that all people are created equal and endowed by their Creator with unalienable rights was dishonored by slavery. Slavery was an evil and inhumane practice which degraded people to property, defied the eternal truth that all people are created in the image and likeness of God, and left a stain on the soul of this state and nation. For this to be truly one nation under God required the abolition of slavery from our soil.

Now that is a proper apology, Way to go Governor.

Plant Sale

Americana, Cactus & Succulents, California, Psychological Musings

As a preamble – When I was in highschool, I was part Jewish – by heritage – in a world that was almost completely WASP and at a time when Jews were still considered second class. (I went out with a girl and later found out that her father beat her because she had sullied the family name by going out with me.). Our family was desperately trying to be middle class – we liked to think upper middle class – trying to follow a set of arcane rules we didn't quite understand.

By the time I got to highschool, I wanted to be cool. I suspect this is pretty much a universal impulse, and  – at the time and for years after – it was my major motivator. I pretty much pulled it off. I played football – not because I liked playing football – to be one one of the cool kids. I got in fights. I dressed like the cool kids, etc, etc. I didn't get very good grades.

I was a nerd: but I was a closet nerd.

In my mid-30's, I discovered the San Jose Cactus and Succulent Society – here were nerds who liked being nerds, who were willing to let their nerdieness enrich their lives – and it changed my life. End preamble.

Sunday was the UC Botanical Garden at Berkeley Fall Plant Sale. I hadn't been to a plant sale at a Botanical Garden in about 30 years and Michele had never been so we were a little unprepared for how great and tempting it would be.

It was a beautiful late summer day and plant people were out in force.

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What makes plant sales fun – whether it is the Rhoddy Club, the Cactus and Succulent Society, or UC Botanical – is that the people involved are so into the plants they are hawking. Putting up for adoption is probably a better term.

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At the cactus area – where I always go first – I got into a discussion on watering in which the seller? docent? salesperson? plant sitter? promoted watering some plants every six days and others – in the same greenhouse – every seven days. And he did this with a straight face. Now I am a little nutty on watering myself – being willing to hand water, with water that has a tablespoon of vinegar added to five gallons of the tap water, to bring the acidity up – but this seemed extreme.

Michele got hijacked at the shade plant table where the seller exposed her to the joys of a Podophyllum hybred – Asian Mayapple to us less informed – seen here on the left of the table.

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Everywhere there were interesting plants.

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And interesting people buying them. It was fun and going to an event like this and seeing young, hip, kids buying plants is very exciting.
 


   

 

 

 

 

Mad Men and the missing Civil Rights Movement

Americana, California, Politics, ,

Madmen1

Mad Men is about a lot of things in the 1960’s but one thing it is not about is the Civil Rights Movement. That is way off to the side, not apart of the life of any of the main characters. I think that is just brilliant.

It is hard to tell from this close, but I think that the most important, long lasting, earth shattering, thing that came out of the 1960’s was the Civil Rights Movement. When I was a child, the typical black person was Stepen Fetchet or Uncle Ramos, by the time I was twenty five, the typical black person became Bobby Seale or Eldridge Cleaver.

Stepin-fetchit
Bobby Seal Elridge Cleaver

There was no stopping in the middle. Between the 50s and the 70s – that is the 60s – blacks went from being friendly but powerless to scary but powerless. It is hard to overstate how marginalized blacks were. For example, Willie Wood , of USC,  was the Pac 8’s first black quarterback – now this is California, not the south – and he led USC to
a conference championship. In the pros, he could only play defense. Blacks weren’t considered good enough – although nobody said it, but I think they were not considered smart enough to boss around white guys – to play quarterback.

Another example, much closer to home (both figuratively and literally). We had a black – I so much wanted to type in colored – cleaning lady, Carrie, who came in once a week. Behind our home was a one way dirt alley and one day, as Carrie was coming to work, a white kid – driving the wrong way down the alley – hit her. The cops showed up, took one look at black Carrie and then the white kid and gave HER a ticket – now, this is still California. I tried to talk her into fighting the ticket, but, wisely I think now, she said No.

Now, back to Mad Men. What is so brilliant, I am sorry to say, is that Mad Men – by only showing a black maid and elevator operator – shows that the Civil Rights movement was not in most white people’s lives. Oh, sure, we felt superior because the papers all made it look like a southern thing. But, really, it was a white thing. The world was changing and most of us were too busy with our daily lives – just trying to keep one nostril above the water line – to do anything but – slightly – notice the world changing.

 

I’m thrilled to have a photo in the New York Times….well, sort of

Americana, Bay Area Walks, Photography,

Not sort of thrilled, I'm very thrilled; but I only sort of have a photo in the Times. Who really has a photo in the New York Times is René de Guzman, senior curator of art and all around good guy, in an article on the Oakland Museum. But there – just above his head and probably not noticed by anybody but René and Richard Taylor – is a portrait of René's wife that I took. 

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