Category Archives: What’s a man?

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.

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.

Slavery and Confederate History Month

Americana, Current Affairs, Photography, War, What's a man?

To me, from now, from here, slavery seems so improbable. Not informal, chance slavery like bringing home a captured souvenir from winning a war; but institutionalized slavery. It requires a belief that the slaves aren't really as human as the owners – how does someone do that to a person they are living with every day (and, more than sometimes, having sex with), it requires complex laws to define who are the slaves and who are the owners, it requires an huge infrastructure to  keep the slaves from escaping, it must, I think, require a preoccupation that permeates every part of society. 

That is why the whole concept of slavery in the south is abhorrent but not really real. And that is why a post, entitled Honoring CHM: One Drop, on Ta-Nehisi Coates's blog, is so horrific. With little commentary, it shows a picture of eight people and reprints a letter asking for money to educate them. They are  emancipated slaves.- eight individual, traumatized, human beings.

8slaves

The letter describes each one of the people with passages like this

Wilson Chinn is about 60 years old, he was "raised" by Isaac
Howard of Woodford County, Kentucky. When 21 years old he was taken
down the river and sold to Volsey B. Marmillion, a sugar planter about
45 miles above New Orleans. This man was accustomed to brand his
negroes, and Wilson has on his forehead the letters "V. B. M." Of the
210 slaves on this plantation 105 left at one time and came into the
Union camp. Thirty of them had been branded like cattle with a hot iron,
four of them on the forehead, and the others on the breast or arm. 

I really recommend that you follow the link back to the original post. It is hard to read – at least it was for me – but it makes real what we often think of as abstract. Check it out.

Obama 24/7

Americana, Obama, Politics, What's a man?

I want to start with a quote from last weekend by Michael Scherer of Time's Swampland 

About
20 hours ago, I was in Bagram Air Base, watching White House advance people
change the television station in a troop mess hall, so that NCAA basketball
would show in the background as President Obama shook hands, not motorcross,
which had been playing.

and then go on to the fact that Obama held a second – now annual – Whitehouse Seder last week. From the article in the NY Times, it seems like it was non-political act. Just a personal gesture that has become a tradition.

28seder_span-articleLarge

and finish with a reference to a story of one letter in an article in the Washington Post on the ten letters -that have been culled from hundreds – that Obama gets every day. The letter is tragic, touching, inspiring, you know – all that stuff.

If you haven't already, read these two articles. They are pretty short.

I am fascinated by Obama's attention to detail, the cautious consideration given to doing a good job, to doing things right – not just as president, but as a man, as a father, as a mensch. In Obama, it seems to be coming from the inside rather than from the outside to look good.

Who we are vs. who we want to be dept.

Books, Web/Tech, Weblogs, What's a man?


I have never played a MMO – Massively multiplayer online – game or, even, seen one played. All I know about them is from reading Snow Crash by Neil Stephenson. As I understand it, the players can pretty much make their avatars anybody or thing. What they come up with is pretty interesting.

From a book by Robbie Cooper via a blog called The Swedish Bed here are some real people and their avatars.

Robbiecooperavatars1
 
Robbiecooperavatars3

Robbiecooperavatars7