Category Archives: Americana

The reconstruction of General and President U.S. Grant

Americana, General U.S. Grant, Politics, War

Grant_sitting

A couple of days ago, maybe a week, Siena Collage ran – did? – a poll of 238 presidential scholars on the ranking of our presidents. This is a poll they run periodically and it is interesting to see how the ratings of different presidents have changed over time. In this poll, FDR is always on the top and Teddy Roosevelt, Lincoln, and Washington always round out the top four.

Former – former, that has a nice ring to it – president George W. Bush was ranked 39th with poor ratings in handling of the economy, communication, ability to compromise, and foreign policy and current president Barrack Obama was ranked 15th. For years, Grant – a personal hero of mine – has always been near the bottom.

In the1982, 1990, and 1994 polls, he was in the bottom five.In 2002, he moved up the 35th (of 42).  Now, he’s 26th, escaping the ranks of the failed presidents. No, he isn’t in the top ten, and he probably shouldn’t be, but he is no longer the drunken clown; as he was painted.

It makes me happy.

Happy 4th….redux

Americana, Current Affairs, Photography, Travel

On the 4th I went to what seemed like my first, small town, 4th Of July parade. But, upon reflection, it was really my second 4th of July parade: my first was a parade in Downieville, California in 1957. I don't remember much about that parade except that, afterwards, I was eliminated – in the second heat – in the town footraces.

My second, small town, parade was in Sonoma. It was very small town. It was much fun, and, I hope, it will be as long before I go to my third, small town, parade. I don't know what I expected, certainly not the Rose Parade, but something more than what we got. Maybe not more, different. I don't mean to knock the parade, but I do want to say that it was more charming looking back at it than standing in the hot sun looking at it.

I kept thinking how the parade reflected California and, more specifically, Northern California, and how much different – and the same – it would be if we were watching an Iowa small town parade.

Sonoma Parade-9056 

What I didn't expect, but should have, is that most of the floats were by service groups, promoting their causes. This one, by a mentoring group, was typical.
Sonoma Parade-9060 

What I did expect was that lots of groups used somebody's car to promote their group.

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I was a little surprised that there were so few Mexican entries. Maybe not Sonoma proper, but the Sonoma area must be primarily Mexican – it is a farming community after all, even if the farming is mostly grapes for wine.

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A couple of great looking draft horses turned into riding horses.

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It wouldn't be a California parade without atleast one dragon.

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This grandfather and his two grandkids representing nothing more than their family, charmed me.

 

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I am not sure what the deal was with these zombies and their dollar truck – and if anyone has an idea, I would love to hear it – but I did think they were great fun. 

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Sonoma Parade-9135

And they were a contrast to the fuzzy puppy (Bichon) entry.

Sonoma Parade-9117

Of course, I expected veterans, but is still a shock when the veterans turn out to be young kids from a war we are still fighting and not some old guys from WWII. This particular vet, I think the only one in the parade, was almost a parody. 

Sonoma Parade-9113

Sonoma Parade-9114

I had come to get a picture of a fire-engine with flags, but we had to wait until the end of the parade.

Sonoma Parade-9145
Sonoma Parade-9173

Maybe they are at the end because – in small towns all over America – everybody has come to see the
fire-engines with flags.

 

This whole McChrystal thing fascinates me

Americana, Current Affairs, War

It seems to me, as somebody who has fired people and seen alot more people fired, that some people just want to be fired. Why else would General Stanley A. McChrystal put himself in this position. We are loosing the war under McChrystal and he seems to know it but it would be very hard to quit. 

McChrystal-1

Why we are loosing the war is not important – not enough troops, wrong strategy, ineffective allies, not enough US civilian agency support, corrupt Afghani government, whatever – what is important is that McChrystal bought in to being able to win the war with what he had and, it seems, he can't. For all the knock on generals being stupid, being a general, in wartime, is a very competitive job and McChrystal is not making it.

Happy Father’s Day 2010

Americana, Psychological Musings, What's a man?

 

Daddy-1-0029

Last Thursday, I went to see my daddy’s grave. He died 42  years ago and I have only been to his grave a
couple of times – if that is the right word for a filedrawer in a marble wall – but I was in the neighborhood taking pictures for Michele, had some time, and Father’s Day was coming up.

He is at the Gardens of Eternity, a Jewish cemetery, in the necropolis of Colma. The first time I went to see him, I couldn’t find him. When I got to where I thought he was and looked up at all the 2’ by 2’ niche covers with
people’s names on them, I saw my grandparent’s niches, I saw my aunt Minette’s niche; but  not my daddy’s.  I
must have walked around the area 3 or 4 times, looking at every name on every
niche.

I finally found him around the corner from the family. At the time, I wrote, There, around the corner from the rest of the family, was
Daddy. Alone, in this small little
space. It was so sad. Just standing there, looking at my daddy’s
little niche with

Alfred Joseph

1906-1968

Stern

It felt like he was not there; that he was very,
very, gone. I touched his neatly bifurcated name with my
fingers and I felt so alone.  The letters
were cold and unequivocal. 

Last Thursday, I had the same feeling. I was more prepared for it, but I still had the same feelings of loss. I never
really knew my father. I wish I had. He was what we used to call a proud man meaning he was not a person who talked about his inner life. So his fears, hopes, disappointments, and dreams were all unknown to me – and, I think, everybody else. 

Now, I am more than eight years older than my daddy was when he died.