Roger O Green

H is for Hate

I started writing this before, but I think I have now found an angle; thanks to Anthony North’s piece about greed and this response to it.

SamuraiFrog is a blogger I visit regularly. (For those of you who do not, he currently has a lovely young woman, nude, seen from the rear, prominently featured on his masthead, in case such things bother or entice you.) Anyway, he won some blogging award, and as part of the acceptance of same, he was supposed to tell something about himself.
I hate people who say things like “Well, I don’t actually hate anything/anyone/whatever you just mentioned hating, because [pick one or more: a. it takes too much energy to hate something, b. hate is too strong an emotion, c. hate is a relationship that places too much importance on something I dislike, d. it takes up too much mental space to hate something, or e. I try not to give in to baser emotional states].” What I really hear is “I’m better than you” and what I really think is “Go f*** yourself.”

Now, as it turns out, I don’t feel that I HATE anyone, and I was just going to say that in his comments and let it go at that. But as I thought more on it, I realized that I needed to examine just WHY.

Life magazine, 1960

As I reach back, I recognize that I DID used to hate. And the primary focus was Richard Milhous Nixon. I hated him for the lies he spread in his very first house campaign, before I was born. I hated him for surviving staying on Eisenhower’s ticket by the use of the 1952 Checkers speech, also before I was born; you should watch the speech, if you can, as it’s brilliant political theater. But mostly, I hated him because he said, after he had lost the 1962 California gubernatorial race, “You won’t have Nixon to kick around anymore”, but he lied. He ran for President in 1968 with a “secret” plan to end the Viet Nam war and won a close election over Hubert Humphrey.

Actually most of my bile towards Nixon was over Viet Nam. Though not his war – LBJ had expanded it and JFK (or arguably, Eisenhower) had started it, I wasn’t seeing his positives, as I did with LBJ’s civil rights legislation and Great Society programs. So, when Nixon left as a result of Watergate in August of 1974, my schadenfreude was exceedingly high.

At the same time I was able to hate him, I was able to be easily enraged by others. Think of those people showing up at those American town hall meetings shouting down those who disagree with them. On Election Night in 1972, when Nixon won re-election in a landslide, there was one Nixon supporter named George and I wanted to throttle him over his glee.

I didn’t always DISPLAY the rage, and in fact seldom did; I was brought up too well. But the FEELING of the rage was there. And it was not working for me.

I was like Stanley, the black guy in the American version of the television show The Office. On the Super Bowl episode, he nearly had a heart attack, so deeply was his festering rage. He had to find another way to go.

So when another politician came along who I thought/think was even more contemptible than Nixon came along, while I found him politically anathema to me, it didn’t eat at me the same way Nixon did.

Life magazine, 1990

And a funny thing happened: I stopped hating Nixon. I saw the movie Nixon, starring Anthony Hopkins, and found the guy more tragic than contemptible.

Moreover, I found that in retrospect, despite the war and the dirty tricks, there were some positives there. He formed the Environmental Protection Agency. He went to China; as a staunch anti-Communist, only he, not a liberal Democrat, could have pulled it off.

Moreover, and I did not remember this until after the death of Senator Edward Kennedy last month, one of Teddy’s great regrets was not accepting Nixon’s plan for HEALTH CARE, a fight that continues to this day in the United States.

I’ve deliberately have left out any discussion of how religion or spiritually has affected my feelings about hate, not because it’s not a factor, but because it was something that was already in process when all the faith stuff got infused into it.

So, Mr. Frog, sir, I leave it to you to decide if my reasons for not hating fall into one or more of your “hated” categories.

Note: Nixon pictures © Time Inc. For personal non-commercial use only

ROG

Laboring to Put Together A Coherent Blogpost

This blog post started innocently enough, just noticing how different the United States is than most other places. Many countries have Labor Day in May, but we have it in September because of an event in our history; fair enough.

But what’s with our resistance to the metric system? And don’t use medicine or track as examples; they were more or less required for international competition. You COULD mention the ubiquitous two-liter bottle, but what else has cut through?

I asked Nik, an expat from the US living in New Zealand the difference between the two countries. On the plus side for the US: “friendliness (I find Americans, while they can be loud, are more open-hearted sometimes).”

I found this troubling, because I’m finding Americans a pretty unfriendly lot sometimes, biting off a finger, shouting down a lady in a wheelchair, pulling their kids out of school because the President’s going to “indoctrinate” them, etc., etc. One guy heckling the wheelchair-bound woman said he did so because he didn’t want to hear her opinion on health care. I can only wonder what he thought his own position was; the “facts”?

Letters of comments have gone from expressing differences of opinion to becoming bile-infused rants. Jon Stewart joked recently that we used to feel apologetic to the rest of the world for our President. And now it’s our President who must apologize for us.

Oh, sure, the crude behavior doesn’t represent everyone. But I can’t help but wonder how we went from being a country that would watch Jerry Springer on TV to one that has brought Springer-Show tactics to the public debate. Perhaps race is part of it, and that GQ got it right.

WAIT a minute…GQ?

Well, specifically Jim Nelson’s editor page comment: Remember a long, long time ago – it almost seems like a recession and a half ago – when Barack Obama first came (via Kenya, of course) to power? Remember how certain hope-doped commentators predicted that his election would finally allow Americans to have a frank discussion about race?

Something different and less hope-inducing has happened. His presidency has allowed us to talk around race, to talk about it constantly and subliminal, without ever truly discussing it. And by doing so, we’re proving how much distance we have to grow up.

And my favorite:

“Everywhere you look, people keep making bats***-crazy comments about race and ethnicity, stream-of-consciousness-style, as if the election had unleashed some Freudian anxiety in the cultural air.”

And how did #uknowurblackwhen become the leading trend on Twitter yesterday? For every interesting note, there were five dreadful ones. Well, as far as I know; I’d read 20 and 75 more would be waiting.

Again, I know it isn’t everyone – I’d vote for the Roberto Clemente award for MLB community-minded players if it didn’t take so long to load – but I get the feeling that the fall will be as disheartening as August was.

ROG

Mistakes Were Made

I was at our choir party Thursday night with my wife and daughter. We had a lovely time. Our organist showed Lydia how the organ worked. But somehow one of our co-pastors asked me about a television show called “My Mother, the Car.” Seems that one of them claimed that the show existed, while the other co-pastor said that it couldn’t possibly be so. Even when I noted that it starred Jerry Van Dyke and the voice of Ann Sothern (why was THAT sticking in my brain?), I was not believed. It was not until three others acknowledged that they too saw remembered the program that the first co-pastor and I were vindicated.

But I had forgotten until afterwards that not only did friend Fred Hembeck write about the show a few months ago, he found a link to five episodes, including the first one.

Fred wrote: Look, “Bewitched”, “I Dream Of Jeanie”, “My Favorite Martian”, and “Mr. Ed” were all of the same era as “My Mother The Car”, and all shared a central conceit with it–one character, and one character only, is aware of a magical totem right smack dab in the middle of things. A witch. A genie.A martian. A talking horse. All were big hits. All were just as fanciful as having your dead mother come back, reincarnated, as a talking car, maybe, but far more manageable, storywise. Viewers found the notion of a pair of attractive young women performing magical tricks, a faux uncle who’s really a man from outer space, and even a horse that talks, far easier to believe. For one thing, each of them could casually interact with those in the cast unaware of their special abilities, even the horse. But David Crabtree’s (Jerry Van Dyke) mother? There wasn’t much she (the voice of early sitcom icon Ann Sothern) could do but squawk at her son via the radio when he–and he alone–was sitting in the car. Sorta limited the plot possibilities…

Well maybe that was the problem but I think it was something more Oedipal: Dave Crabtree was riding INSIDE of his mother. Freud would have had a field day.And check out the lyrics:
Everybody knows in a second life, we all come back sooner or later.
As anything from a pussycat to a man eating alligator.
Well you all may think my story, is more fiction than it’s fact.
But believe it or not my mother dear decided she’d come back.

As a car…
She’s my very own guiding star.
A 1928 Porter.
That’s my mother dear.
‘Cause she helps me through everything I do
And I’m so glad she’s near.

My Mother the Car.
My Mother the Car.

Hadn’t really thought about it until the other day, but it has a real ick factor. Maybe that’s why TV Guide in 2002 named the 1965-66 program the second-worst TV show ever, behind only Jerry Springer Show.
***
So I’m reading my 2009 World Almanac – yeah, I’ve been known to do that from time to time – and I came across a listing of Cabinet officers. Cabinet secretaries are interesting in that sometimes they either go onto higher office (Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, JQ Adams, Hoover to the Presidency; John Marshall and Roger B. Taney as chief justice of the Supreme Court) or at least become well-known to this day (Daniel Webster, Alexander Hamilton).

I get to page 443 and the list of Secretaries of Housing and Urban Development (created in September 1965); they are listed:
LBJ- Robert Weaver, WA, 1966
LBJ- Robert C. Wood, MA 1969
Nixon- George W. Romney, MI, 1969
Nixon- James T. Lynn, OH, 1973
Ford- James T. Lynn, OH, 1974
Ford-Carla Anderson Hills, DC, 1975
and so forth

Then I look at the Secretaries of Transportation
LBJ- Robert Weaver, FL, 1966
Nixon- Robert C. Wood, MA 1969
Nixon- George W. Romney, CA, 1973
Ford- James T. Lynn, CA, 1974
Ford- James T. Lynn, PA, 1975
Carter-Carla Anderson Hills, WA, 1975
and so forth

The same held true for the Secretaries of Energy; Health, Education, and Welfare; Health and Human Services; Education; Veterans Affairs; and Homeland Security. The first person listed was always Robert Weaver, followed by Robert Wood. Now the President appointing always changed as was the year sworn in and home state. Weaver was appointed from VA for Energy in 1977 by Carter, for HEW from TX in 1953 by Eisenhower, from HHS from DC in 1979 by Carer, and so forth. And Wood and the other up to a dozen names followed. So it was ONLY the names that are wrong; the years, the appointing Presidents, the home states were all correct.

I found it quite bizarre.
ROG

The Bob Dylan Christmas Album QUESTION

As you may have heard, Bob Dylan is going to be releasing a Christmas album in October, a benefit album. (The YouTube video on this page has Tennessee Ernie Ford singing and Jon Provost, who played Timmy on Lassie, trying to pretend to be attentive; very odd.)

Our library director Darrin and his brother-in-law Fred, both rather expert in Dylanology, started exchanging possible song titles for the collection, including:

Santa, Could You Please Crawl in My Window
Knockin’ on Santa’s Door
Santa, I Believe in You
Sleigh Bells Blowin’ in the Wind
I Dreamed I Saw St. Nicholas
Santa, Lay Down Your Weary Sack
You’re Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go, Santa
Stay, Santa, Stay
Every Flake of Snow
Buckets of Coal (In My Stocking)
North Pole Homesick Blues
It’s All Over Now, Baby Red-Nosed Reindeer
Santa Claus Lane Revisited
Man in the 2-XL Red Coat
Positively 34th Street
Can You Please Crawl Up Your Chimney?
Dear Santa
You’re a Big Girl Now (…to Believe in Santa Claus)
It Ain’t Me, Kid (Now, Go Back to Bed!)
Ballad of a Not-so Thin Man
Annual Gift-Giver from the North Country
A Hard Snow’s A-Gonna Fall
Twelve Days
Motorsled Nitemare
Ring Them Silver Bells
It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Needing)
Boots of Arctic Leather
Chimneys of Freedom
Please, Mrs. Claus
One More Glass of Milk

I tried but only came up with these few:
Absolutely Sweet Mary
All the Tired Reindeer
Can You Please Crawl Down My Chimney?
When I Trim My Mantelpiece
With Nick On Our Side

Any suggestions?

ROG

Politics. Unusual.

There are three political lawn signs in our front yard presently. This is two more than have ever been in our lawn, and three more than I generally have in front of our house.

I guess I have a certain resistance to yard signs. It’s this public statement at my own address. Of course, it’s better than bumper stickers on the car. I STILL see this car in my block with a Kerry-Edwards sticker and even though they were probably jobbed in Ohio, it seems sad and slightly pathetic to look at. Lawn signs you can just pull up. My next door neighbor still has a half dozen signs from last year on the front porch, some winners (Obama-Biden), some losers (a Congressional candidate).

The first sign in my lawn is for a guy running for a new position known as city auditor. The job’s so new that the city has not yet established a salary for it. My candidate I have known for a number of years through the State Data Affiliates. More recently, his family belongs to my church.

I even appear in one of his campaign mailers, which I agreed to. The odd thing about that is that there are two pictures of me. The one where I’m facing the camera I see myself. The one where I’m in profile I literally don’t even recognize myself because of the vitiligo; very strange.

His opponent, BTW, is a parent of a child in the the day care my daughter attended until recently. For you folks from out of town, that’s why they call it Smallbany. He’s running using his first name, as he did last year in his unsuccessful bid for Congress, figuring that his last name, which is comprised of a 4-, a 2- and a 3-letter word is somehow too difficult for the populace to remember.

The second sign is for a woman running for a seat on the common council; that’s what they call the city’s legislative branch in Albany. I initially met her through an old FantaCo friend but now know her quite independently of him. She’s a bus advocate, among other positive traits. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to vote for her because the lines for her district end a block away.

So two of the candidates I actually know personally before they ever considered running for office. I suppose that happens when you’re in a place long enough. The last candidate I had a sign for, who ran for school board, and is now up for re-election this year, I had known since college.

The third sign in my yard is someone I don’t know personally. He is running for mayor against the incumbent, who has about ten times as much money; that is no exaggeration, as these things do have to be reported periodically. Thing is, he wasn’t my first choice for the job; my initial choice dropped out of the race because she – probably correctly – thought that two challengers to the current guy would leave us with the current guy again.

The guy I’m now supporting is, in the words of the song, “young, gifted, and black.” He also has the endorsement of a minor party, the Working Families Party, so that if he should lose in the September 15 Democratic primary, there may be a rematch in November. Is there a Republican candidate? This is Albany; does it really matter?

There are all sorts of reasons not to support the incumbent. One issue is garbage. I mean literally; the mayor, without the knowledge of hardly anyone allowed other municipalities to dump garbage in the Albany landfill for a too-low price, so it filled up very fast, and now where Albany’s trash will go in a couple years – not to mention how it’ll balance its budget, when that out-of-town dumping money dries up – is an open question.

A recent issue is the resignation of the police chief, an ally of the mayor, in part over a racially insensitive comment he made. (No, I don’t think it was the use of the epithet he used, but rather him suggesting relative value of black and white murder victims.)

There’s a primary Tuesday, September 15. These races will be decided by a relatively few people, if history holds. Frankly, I don’t know why so many more people voter in statewide elections than local elections; it’s the local races that have the greater day-to-day impact in our lives.

It IS more difficult to keep track of the issues in local races. Frankly, I’ve often decided that when people whose opinions I value had lawn signs in their yards was at least a leading indicator of who I might support. So, maybe I’M a leading indicator this time.
ROG

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