Look Homeward, Clemie

Vacations vary, often synonymous with visiting relatives, sightseeing, traveling far and abroad, catching up on chores, but mostly doing whatever one wants restrained only by economy and time. For me there was one destination, an emotional attachment as well as a place, northern Michigan. From the age of nine I spent one to two weeks every summer there for ten consecutive years, staying with my family at a remote and rustic cottage that a friend lent us. During my twentieth year, the cottage was sold and the area temporarily vanished into the mists of my distant memory. I ventured back a few times in the ensuing years, but never for an extended interval.

Two years ago, I returned to capture some nostalgia and alleviate the strain I was under at the time. Clementine, my golden retriever companion of ten years, accompanied me on that trip and it became the best vacation of my life. In August 2006 Clementine was robust and healthy, with only the grey hairs exposing her true age. She ran and swam and played, never betraying for a moment that a disease had infected her, a disease that would sap her strength six months later and take her life in twelve. Perhaps it was remembrance of that vacation, just so recent, that made Clementine’s ultimate demise incomprehensible.

Last year, of course, with Clementine’s infirmities taking hold, no trip was possible. This past spring, however, I became the human companion to Blondie, a beautiful and bouncy five-year old Golden Retriever rescued by the generous folks of Golden Retriever Rescue of Michigan (GRRoM). With Blondie’s initial fidgeting finally manageable, I returned, again for the same reasons, though this time the pangs of nostalgia augmented by my previous visit. The logistics were simple; the resort was perfect, set off of the expansive Otsego Lake, complete with no telephone connection, but equipped with cable television. The proprietors were dog people, moreover, and I knew we were welcome.

As before the worst part of the trip was emerging from mass suburbia, navigating through the traffic congested tri-county mega-metropolis known as Metropolitan Detroit. Having cleared that cluster, my anxiety gave way to calmness inasmuch as the scenery changed from parking lots and cars to trees, farms, and rolling hills. Before checking in, I drove down some wilderness roads, parked at a desired location, and Blondie and I cleared the confines of the car and explored the north woods of Michigan. On our way to the resort, a fawn, very young, was spotted by the side of the road. We locked eyes for a while, Blondie unsure what to make of it, until the deer sprinted off to the dark reaches of the forest. We are home.

Also as before, I had a basic routine in mind, grounded upon practical weather patterns and my desired pace: long hikes in the morning, the beach in the early afternoon followed by a leisurely drive, and ending with a stroll to walk off the evening’s consumption. The main portion of the trip, of course, was the morning excursions on foot into the wilderness. This is where all one can hear are the song birds, no starlings in these parts, and the rustling of tree leaves, punctuated with an occasional crackle in the brush when a white tail is intruded upon and gallops away with its graceful stride.

We literally spent hours walking, or more pointedly, I walked while Blondie raced ahead, doubled back, plowed into the woods, and treed innumerable wildlife. Until now, to the best of my knowledge, Blondie has been a suburban inhabitant, her quests limited to assorted squirrels and rabbits, all the while restrained by tether. Here in the wilderness, she reveled with the discovery of her inner wolf. At one point she ran towards me and jumped up, as if warning me of an unidentified predator she had detected. At 60 pounds of solid muscle, she is dominant of the predatory species found in these parts, inhabited by fox, coyote, and perhaps a rare and secreted bobcat*. Michigan is home to bears, approximately 19 thousand, but the omnivorous and reticent black bear poses no threat to live or limb; however, at 300+ pounds, its presence discourages nighttime walks. As it is, my primary concerns are skunks and porcupines, both an extreme nuisance for a curious dog.

We trekked through abandoned, at least unoccupied until fall, hunting trails that led deep into the wilderness, some branching off to ancillary paths that nobody had set foot upon in years, literally miles and metaphorically light years from any human being. Some were on public lands or part of some sportsman’s association, while others belonged to private clubs, legally making me a trespasser. I encountered one member along a private roadway, perhaps an official, but was seen as just some guy out walking his dog, greeted not with inquisition but rather a friendly wave and a smile. Their paramount interests are vandals, poachers, or thieves, of which I am none.

It was on private property when Blondie and I came across a stray dog that had been following us at an undetermined distance. He was a big guy, definitely male with his maleness apparently intact, a mix of retriever, not aggressive but aloof to a certain extent. He seemed playful and he and Blondie greeted each other with the prerequisite sniffing. Since we were in proximity to the main lake, I assumed he had come from one of the surrounding properties.

The first place I inquired was, coincidently, at the same address where I had spent many parts of my summers growing up, though of course with different ownership. The cottage itself had undergone a transformation from a primitive dwelling to something of a chalet. I was greeted most warmly by the lady in residence and she believed the dog belonged to her neighbor. She indicated that I could reach her neighbor’s by taking a path through the woods, the same path I had first explored when I was nine years old. After a friendly chat (they’d purchased the property post renovation, but she seemed genuinely interested in its history), we went ‘next door’ (which translates to over a 200-yard trek through the woods) to find that cottage empty.

In sight, however, was the next cottage and it was occupied, once owned by a man named Miller, and remains in the family to this day. After another especially warm welcome, the man was able to identify the dog and knew its owners, a few properties down, just past the Sportsman’s Association, about a half-mile by shoreline. It turned out that Miller was the man’s late father-in-law and he inherited the property along with Miller’s son. Taking the continuous wooded path to the dog’s owners, we stopped by the shoreline and the dogs cooled themselves off in the lake, the lake of my youth, the lake of effortless days of yore, the lake where I spent the happiest days of my childhood.

The lake, such a central part of my existence, lay before me. I’ve seen it a few times in adulthood peering through the brush, but this was the first time I could really absorb it. Since my first visit, the number of developments has doubled, from seven to 14. Considering the lot sizes, it’s doubtful if another property could squeeze itself in, and therefore the lake retains much of its rustic charm. Most of the abodes are modest, save for the newest ones, which take on the modern grandiose appearance of opulence.

Harkening back to my somewhat spoiled yet innocent youth, I vividly recall the times spent on these waters. Fishing was never really my scene, but I enjoyed the boat rides and sense of discovery, of skipping stones and catching frogs, of swimming and getting bitten by a leach, for there are no beaches at this lake, only the uncultivated shores. Today the lake appears enviable and even idyllic, but somehow tamed. To the succeeding generations who frolic in those waters, this is certainly the wilderness, all reality being perceptive.

I return my uninvited guest, the aforementioned stray, to his relieved owner, who had walked him along the road, as she does every morning, allowing him to dash in and out of the woods free of molestation, when he undoubtedly caught Blondie’s scent and gender and went searching for their source. She had been calling out repeatedly to no avail and, distraught, she was about to hop in the SUV and start looking when I approached. She was pleasant and grateful and joyful, as was I, for we both felt a sense of relief: her for having her beloved pet returned unharmed; I no longer burdened with a stray canine of uncertain temperament.

As I left I could surmise by the surroundings that she was one of the year round residents of the newer houses, not to be mistaken for a vacation cottage. The property has an element of seclusion and its design is tasteful, unlike the hulking McMansion of today’s sprawl. Yet with the attached garage, manicured lawns, white fence, and lavish gardens, it seems out of place among the more Spartan domiciles. Returning to my hike and my carefree position, I reflected in wonderment whether I would have been greeted as amiably if I looked less like Bill Clinton and more like Barrack Obama.

Inconclusive and speculative racial politics aside, these encounters left me with the satisfaction that very little has changed. One defining feature of this area wasn’t so much the scarcity of people, but rather the cordial respect they extend one another. When I encountered a power company employee servicing the station where I parked, I inquired if parking was permissible. He replied bearing a cheerful smile, “No problem, you have a wonderful dog; I love goldens, they are so happy.”

At the end of one rather long trail, over a mile in distance, I discovered evidence of a dangerous species. This class, unfortunately, is the lowest life form on earth and apparently, as with any invasive species, stubborn in its existence. There was an unused encampment, and surrounding the old fire pit were dozens of discarded beer cans, many ripped or burned, broken glass, candy wrappers, bottle containers, energy drink cans, newspapers (latest dated December 1, 2007), an old tee shirt, a pair of undergarments, spent fireworks (in a wooded setting!), etc. Nine months after their invasion, elements of their wanton destruction remain unadulterated. That this devastation is contained to this single site is hardly assuring, as their offense is hardly trivial. As a part of nature, we use and consume resources, but to the enlightened, we choose to leave the smallest footprint possible, thereby enabling others to satisfy the same enjoyment. These creatures, in contrast, deliberately ruin a pristine environment because of capricious indolence and callous indifference, unpardonable sins against nature and humanity.

After exhausting our collective strength, I more than Blondie, we retire to my favorite public access, a semi-private beach and boat launch, covering approximately 200’ of frontage. Clean, seldom crowded (indeed vacant at this hour), and with plenty of shade and sun. I relax under a tree while Blondie soothes her paws in the cool, clear water. Recently introduced to water this summer, she ventures deeper with trepidation, unsure of her swimming prowess, and is more content to romp along the shoreline and around the park, investigating oddities with her nose to the ground. Clementine, naturally, would bolt from the confines of the car and into the water, swimming with the ease of waterfowl. On these cool early afternoons, I attempted to entice Blondie into deeper waters, only to discover that it’s too cold for my soft, suburban constitution. Some other time, perhaps; we are here to have fun and not work. The fetching stick never reaches the deeper waters.

Gazing out, I see fish jump and fishing birds scan the surface. On the second day, in the distance a gull is making noises, trying to distract the attention of a larger, more graceful bird. It’s clear that the larger bird has alpha status; its flight seems as purposeful as it is easy, simply gliding as it maintains pace. As it draws nearer, I detect the unmistakable white head and dark feathering. It continues in my direction, dropping to only 20’ directly overhead, majestically soaring with its massive wingspan, truly the ruler of the airwaves, the Bald Eagle, in all its grandeur and elegance. A camera would come in handy, I thought, but I’d probably capture the blue sky and perhaps a smidgeon of its bold tail feathers.

During the afternoon we visit the small towns, or more accurately, the farm markets of yesteryear, charming in their simplicity and apparently free of intense, angry curmudgeons. Nobody tailgates or honks his horn, cell phones are uncommon, nobody seems rushed or stressed out. The presence of a farmer meandering down the lane draws neither irritation nor obscene gestures. The big ball executives who inhabit the larger lakefront estates leave their boorish mannerisms behind in Detroit or Chicago.

I nap in the late afternoon, read, relax, while Blondie looks remarkably contented, as only a dog can, with her paws spread out, her snorts interrupted by an occasional sigh. The breeze from Otsego Lake provides sufficient air circulation, negating any need for fuel manufactured comfort.

The early evenings are spent taking Blondie for a walk on leash along the nearby trail and visiting dining and drinking establishments, feasting on the local specialties, Lake Superior Whitefish and Northern Pike, the co-owner of the inn having made impeccable recommendations. The first nights were slightly overcast with a full moon, much resembling the graphic on this blog, and we drove down some more distant and unknown roads, searching for exotic wildlife. It’s a hit or miss endeavor, one I recall from childhood, and both times we came up empty, save for a porcupine scurrying into the woods as the car made its approach.

The final two nights were cloud free, however; and those nights were spent along the Otsego Lake coastline. I have only seen the Northern Lights in photographs, I and the land of the midnight sun are complete strangers, but here there is no grander vista than the celestial masterpiece painted in the heavens above, the night sky awash in a dazzling display of brilliant starlight, the tectonic constellations discernable to even the unpracticed eye.

I was never a resident of Otsego County, my extended visits seldom exceeded one week; indeed, as an adult, we remained apart for over a decade. Yet to this day it remains an indelible part of my life, the fabric that Thomas Wolfe wrote of in 1929 with his first novel, Look Homeward, Angel. If it is serenity that I seek, a system of value and trust I most admire, an appreciation for natural beauty and its preservation, it is there where I find it. Tranquility reigns supreme, triumphant in its enchanting splendor.

I was once asked if I’d want to live forever, and my answer was negative. I rue the day when my beloved Otsego County takes on the appearance, atheistically and socially, of sprawling Oakland County or the innumerous suburban quasi-communities that blight our natural habitat with dizzying speed. Whether I return or not in the near or distant future is immaterial, for my entire hopes and aspirations end where they began, in north woods of Michigan.

*Years ago my parents were out walking with their dog and cat (yes the cat would follow) when suddenly both animals turned about face and ran in the opposite direction. Seconds later a fox appeared from the woods, noticed mom and dad, and scampered back. Apparently Dachshunds and felines are further down the predatory chain than Golden Retrievers.



21 Aug, 2008 | Clemie | Leave comment - 1 -

The $6-billion Heist

Responding to the 800 pound gorilla in their mist, the senate passed a "Foreclosure Prevention Act", this past spring after striking down a crucial amendment and thus guaranteeing additional foreclosures. Not to be outdone, the home builder industry also came away with a few treats with a tidy $6.1 billion tax credit. The tax credit is another subsidy for the malefactors of sprawl, the corporations that continuously scorch our environment and increase our fuel consumption (and ultimately increase gas prices). The Bush Administration and its Republican allies, of course, readily supported the home builder tax credits and corporate bail outs.

While the Federal Reserve places $30 billion of taxpayers’ money at risk to prevent the collapse of the investment bank Bear Sterns, the Senate rejected, by a vote of 58 to 36, the Helping Families Save Their Home in Bankruptcy amendment while simultaneously granting $6 billion in tax breaks to corporations that feed off the local and state till. Once again the federal government extends feudal privileges for the bourgeois and ignores the interests of middle-class homeowners. Both presidential candidates missed the vote on this amendment, introduced by Richard Durban (D-IL), and every single Republican voted against it.

The amendment in question would permit bankruptcy courts to restructure debts on home mortgages by setting interest rates and principals at commercially reasonable market rates and extending repayment periods. Only those who are in imminent danger of foreclosure are eligible for loan modifications under the proposed amendment. If a bankruptcy court reduced a principal to the current fair market value of the property and the value later rose, a lender would be entitled to receive the net proceeds from a sale of the property. The legislation further protects at least $75,000 in equity in a principal residence from creditors in bankruptcy for homeowners over the age of 55. Bankruptcy law currently permits such restructuring only for vacation homes, family farms, and yachts.

Not to bemoan the entire episode as plutocratic abuse, the final bill contains some benefits to cloak its true measure. The bill does enable more homeowners to refinance problematic mortgages and provides $3.9 billion in block grants for communities hard hit by the crisis to reclaim foreclosed properties. Lastly while enhanced mortgage disclosures are helpful, they are no substitute for a genuine ban on deceptive lending practices. The Bush Administration only recently (July 23, 2008) dropped their opposition to the block grants, the only redeeming quality in the legislation.

In the final analysis, this bill does little beyond saving politicians from the charge of being 'out of touch' with the problems of 'ordinary Americans'. As we have seen since 2002 when the initial Bush tax cuts took effect, the middle class is stuck with continuous assaults on their dwindling earning power, with a grand transfer of wealth from the working and shrinking middle class to the wealthiest few, a pace accelerated by spiraling deficits that have accompanied Bush’s brand of fiscal madness.

It’s debatable whether knowledgeable voters are only stupid during an election year or that knowledgeable voters are only treated as though they’re stupid. All we know for certain is that most voters are anything but knowledgeable. When a uniformed public fails to look beyond the easy solutions, Orwellian measures become inevitable.

Over the past forty years the word ‘liberal’ became a bad word. The condemnation probably commenced following Robert Kennedy's assassination on June 6, 1968, the same year that Justice Abe Fortes, while defending the constitution, withered under a malevolent assault from Strom Thurmond. Liberals cowered when spoiled hedonists commandeered college campuses and thugs replaced civil disobedience with wanton destruction and lawlessness. Four years later George McGovern lost 49 states to Richard Nixon for telling the truth about Vietnam and respecting the rule of law. Today liberals continue their subservient postures, often in the face of evil; an evil manufactured by a public that fails to look beyond truncated headlines.

If the Democrats are painted as spineless liberals, the Republicans have abandoned the conservative principles of Russell Kirk, Barry Goldwater, and even Ronald Reagan. Today they are marked by a far darker form of ideology, a conservatism replaced by corporatism and civil libertarianism replaced by theocracy. The corporatism is clearly on display when a mounting storm is avariciously exploited by an industry that exacerbates the crisis instead of solving it.

The American Dream Act of 2003 expedited the aforementioned foreclosure crisis, an event predicted as early as 2004 when Bush was gearing up his re-election campaign. There is no better way to mask a stagnant economy than creating a false prosperity and sometimes a political figure needs more than just fear to garner votes.

In the immediate years following the crash of 1929, many Americans were reduced to living in shanty towns, deridingly called ‘Hoovervilles’. 80 years later, while no such stock market crash is imminent, there is another visual homage to a failed policy and a failed presidency, it’s seen in many middle class neighborhoods, abandoned homes, proliferating for sale signs, and potential drug dens, the 'Bush Blight'.


23 Jul, 2008 | Clemie | Leave comment - 1 -

Hail to the Chief, Part Two

The winter of 1963-64 was a forlorn time for many Americans. There, on their television screens, footage of a young man riding triumphantly through the streets of downtown Dallas was replayed almost continuously. Handsome, urbane, confident, and witty, the young man came to symbolize the limitless optimism that many shared for a bright future; he was the epitome of vigorous, intelligent, and youthful exuberance. The despondency of that winter was temporarily lifted when a singing group (as they were once known) from Liverpool gave many a reason to smile again with their creative sounds and charming repartee. In the background, however, there was this dreadful feeling of despair, leaving many to wonder how something this horrifying could have ever transpired.

(Fade out)

On Wednesday morning, November 9, 1960, John F. Kennedy, 43, awoke without complete certainty that he would assume newer and far greater responsibilities. The election held the previous day was close, as expected, and neither he nor Vice-president Richard Nixon had been declared victorious. He was a decided underdog when the campaign commenced for myriad reasons. Nobody from his religious denomination or as youthful had ever won a presidential election; moreover, his opponent was the heir apparent to the revered and now retiring incumbent Dwight Eisenhower.

In the end the result was razor thin, with Kennedy receiving a plurality of 112,827 of more than 68 million votes cast. In the Electoral College, where the election is ultimately decided, his margin was a comfortable 303 to 219, aided, some have alleged, by a high turnout of cadavers in Cook County Illinois (JFK carried Illinois and its 27 pledged electors by a mere 0.19%, or roughly 9000 votes). Kennedy's victory was a strategic masterpiece, built around a coalition of the traditionally Democratic South and a few select industrial states, and serendipity. Nixon, in contrast, made a few but mortal blunders. First he endeavored to campaign in all fifty states (Alaska and Hawaii achieved statehood the previous year) when it was unnecessary and worse he arrived for the first televised debate pale, fatigued, and perspiring, a result of cramming in as many personal appearances as possible during the previous hours while his challenger prepared by working on his tan and catching a nap.

Sworn in on January 20, 1961, Kennedy delivered perhaps the most quoted inaugural address of all-time and thereupon immediately enthralled his countrymen with an unaccustomed style and charm. For the first time in decades writers and artisans held the comfortable knowledge that their works might be absorbed by the nation's chief executive. A voluptuous reader, JFK consumed printed material at a rate exceeding 1200 words per minute (at times, when handing memoranda to aides, he would lose patience and declare, "I asked to you read it, not memorize it") with 95% retention. Today, it's uncertain if President Bush even reads the daily headlines, much less a news story, relying on his aides exclusively for information.

Behind the glamour and intellect, however, there was the volatile world he had elected to confront. During the final year of the Eisenhower Administration the CIA hatched a harebrained scheme to overthrow Fidel Castro. When the two architects of the plan, Allen Dulles and Richard Bissell, presented it to Eisenhower, who had led the largest amphibious assault in history, it was rejected outright and the two ambitious plotters went back to their drawing board. Enter Kennedy. Dulles and Bissell made their pitch, punctuated with the misleading understanding that Ike had approved the invasion at the Bay of Pigs, an invasion that not only required no direct US military support, but would also lead to a popular uprising against the accursed Castro. Kennedy took the bait and a band of Cuban exiles were subsequently routed on the beach by Castro's army. Had anyone in power bothered to read a then recent issue of Reader's Digest, the notion of an anti-Castro uprising was delusional; such was the credibility of secret intelligence. The young president learned his lesson the hard way, by experience, and released Bissell, fired Dulles, and tempered his expectations.

Taking full blame for the Bay of Pigs fiasco, JFK saw his popularity swell to an astounding 83% as he departed for Canada and Europe. There Jacqueline Kennedy, fluent in three languages including French, left Paris spellbound and JFK enjoyed his first tussle with Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev in Vienna. Appraising his young counterpart as vacillating and inexperienced, Khrushchev attempted to force the allies out of Berlin; in turn Kennedy defied the Soviets and kept the autobahn open. When the Soviets began installing missiles 90 miles from the US coastline in Cuba, Kennedy met perhaps the greatest challenge of the Cold War where failure meant Armageddon. Kennedy emerged victorious after the Cuban Missile Crisis because he presented unmistakable evidence to the public and the world, garnering support from US allies, including the bloated and defiant Charles De Gaulle. When his naval quarantine of Cuba forced the Soviets to dismantle and remove the offensive missiles, he gave his adversary, the humiliated Khrushchev, a bone in the form of an obsolete base in Turkey. With the realization that the US shared the large world with the Soviet Empire, Kennedy rightly recognized that the devil you know is preferable to the devil you don't.

The aftermath of Cuba led to a reduction in tension between the two superpowers, enabling the world to breathe a sigh of relief after coming so close to nuclear destruction. A 'Hotline' linked Washington and Moscow and negotiations began in earnest for a limited Nuclear Test Ban Treaty, ushering an age of détente. Kennedy articulated an enlightened approach during a commencement speech at the American University announcing the Test Ban, concluding with, "Confident and unafraid, we must labor on--not towards a strategy of annihilation but towards a strategy of peace."

He expanded the scope of NASA, witnessing the inaugural manned US space flight and the first American to orbit the Earth. He committed the nation to "the goal, before this decade is out, of putting a man on the moon and returning him safely to earth." During a rousing commencement address at Rice University, he outlined his reasoning with these familiar questions: "why climb the highest mountains, why cross the Atlantic, why does Rice play Texas (thunderous applause)? We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win."*

At home Kennedy moved cautiously, too cautious for some perhaps, in the field of civil rights and the alleviation of poverty, but as an astute politician, he picked the battles moderately, forestalling the alienation and division that seemed to exemplify the rest of the turbulent decade. During the early 1960s, the Democrats were two parties, the northern liberal wing and the southern 'dixiecrat' wing; indeed it was the latter wing that every Democrat since Jefferson could count on every four years. He did, however, establish the Peace Corps by executive order and procured $500 billion for an "Alliance for Progress" with South America, seeking genuine allies in the southern hemisphere instead of coerced accomplices.

With progressives slowly making their way to congress following the 1962 elections, Kennedy introduced a civil rights bill that would ban discrimination in public accommodations, inspired by the moving address from Martin Luther King on the Washington mall and the despicable and malicious bombings of a Birmingham church. He sought to overturn a 21-year old tax code, established first to finance World War II (today, the current administration merely passes on the bill for its wars to succeeding generations) and later the Marshall Plan, Korea, Interstate Highways, and other large expenditures. This tax reform begat a period of sustained economic expansion, reducing the national unemployment rate to full employment, lowered inflation to below 1%, and elevated wages to unprecedented levels (in 1965 compensation for the average corporate CEO was 24 times that of its average employee; today it exceeds 400 times).

Intertwined with these policy initiatives, there was the distinctive Kennedy charisma. The one constant throughout his 1007 day administration was the excitement and interest level Kennedy generated. The PT-109 became a staple among model ships, the Kennedy rocker became a household item, and the ‘Jackie Look’ dominated women’s fashion. The articulate Kennedy was perhaps at his best facing the fourth estate, usually a politician’s worst nightmare; though his staff would periodically counsel restraint, as his press conferences were at times described as “Jack’s Comedy Hour”, the polar opposite of the tortuous ineptitude on display today.

There is, of course, the legacy of Vietnam. Much is debated on Kennedy’s role with the US led conflict and ensuing quagmire, but it’s plausible though speculative that the more cautious and deliberate Kennedy would have pursued a different path. It is true that Kennedy gradually increased the number of US military in Vietnam from 800 to 16,000. It is equally true that he was advised as early as 1961 to bomb North Vietnam, he never did. He was advised as early as 1961 to send combat units, he never did. He did go on record with Walter Cronkite in late 1963 that he supported South Vietnam but was unwilling to fight their battles. He did sign National Security Action Memorandum (NSAM) #263 on October 11, 1963, ordering the withdrawal of 1000 military personnel (LBJ signed NSAM #273 on November 26th, effectively negating the previous order). His and Johnson’s defense secretary, Robert McNamara, also went on record implying that JFK strongly considered removing all US forces from Vietnam after 1964; moreover, there is a tape recording of LBJ confirming that JFK planned to withdraw from Vietnam, a position of conflict between both men.

During the latter portion of 1963 Kennedy went on tour. He visited West Berlin, where he gave his famous “Ich Bin Ein Berliner” address before a throng of 1 million, comprising nearly half of the isolated city’s population. On a western swing he promoted conservation, and of course he made plans for 1964. One of the more obscure tragedies is that Kennedy never lived to face Barry Goldwater, his true friend and political rival. The two had laid groundwork for joint appearances during upcoming campaign, enabling the voters to observe each candidate without interference from the media; such was the respect each had for the other. For the remainder of his life, Goldwater always referred to Kennedy as ‘my dear friend’.

It was preparation for 1964 that led him to Texas, to repair a feud between state Democratic rivals, Senator Youngblood and Governor Connolly. During the flight to Fort Worth on the evening of November 21st, JFK mentioned to Jackie, “we’re going into nut country now”, after having read some incredulous rants full of hatred and recrimination from Dallas right wing extremists. That evening he reviewed his planned remarks for the Dallas Trade Center which ended with “…the righteousness of our cause must always underlie our strength. For it was written long ago: ‘Except the Lord keeps the city, the watchman waketh but in vain.’”

(Fade in)

The young man felt confident about the future and he had reason to smile. The trip had been a success beyond measure and his agenda remained unfulfilled. His debonair and sophisticated wife, resuming her chores as the political asset, smiled radiantly at his side. Their two young surviving children waited impatiently for the familiar sound of the Marine One back at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, ready to shout out, ‘daddy’s home’. This small family had captivated much of the country and the world at large. Then, suddenly and inexplicably, rifle bullets from out of nowhere tore into the young man’s head.

There is a bluff overlooking the Potomac and capital beyond offering a vista of the bleached white monuments of power and achievement. On that plateau a flame burns eternally, lit by a delicate, dignified, and courageous young widow. For over a generation thousands visit the site, now complete with the widow herself and their two prematurely diseased children (John Jr. was cremated, with his ashes tossed to the sea). Today it remains a place of meditation, wonderment, sorrow, and reflection. Surrounding the gravesite, etched in stone for infinity, contain perpetuate passages from an address that continues to inspire millions:



Sadly John F. Kennedy never wrote his memoirs, a loss to historians and literary critics far and wide, given both the momentous events that marked his administration and his own eloquence. There are two memoirs from his staff of note, the Pulitzer winning A Thousand Days by Arthur Schlesinger and Kennedy by Theodore Sorenson, chief counsel and speechwriter (ironically the prose is quite flat). I also recommend Conversations with Kennedy by Benjamin Bradlee, an unfiltered account of Kennedy off camera, so to speak, and An Unfinished Life by Robert Dallek, an unbiased look at the Kennedy Administration. There is, of course, lighter works, such as the gossipy books that concentrate on Kennedy’s sexual appetite and other personal transgressions. On the assassination there is William Manchester’s Death of a President and, of course, innumerable books that deal with conspiracy theories. The Kennedy museum is located at Columbia Point, not far from downtown Boston, which offers a spectacular view of the bay and numerous films and other displays. It's well worth the visit.

*The speech, delivered on September 12, 1962, is currently quoted by the John McCain campaign, "we went to the moon not because it was easy, but because it was hard." The implication loses a little zest in the translation.



16 Jul, 2008 | Clemie | Leave comment - 1 -

Hail to the Chief, Part One

Following is the first installment of "Hail to the Chief", a resume of US presidents over the past 50 years; not necessarily a mini-biography (i.e. Born, died, served, etc), but a few highlights from their prospective administrations that correlate with current issues or impacted the world as we know it today. Relevant material as our eyes, ears, and other unmentioned senses are simultaneously assaulted with jackhammer intensity from the ongoing and seemingly endless presidential campaign.

I picked 50 years somewhat arbitrarily, but perhaps there will be a connection to contemporary issues. Although much has changed over the past half-century, many daily pursuits remain constant. Most of us commute almost exclusively by automobile, we have jobs, we watch "I Love Lucy" on rerun, we see inane game shows (increasingly dubbed as scripted reality programming), and we cheer our home team and glorious alma mater.

Leading up to the 1952 election, General Dwight D. Eisenhower was so esteemed that both major political parties recruited him for their presidential nomination. President Harry Truman even went as far as to not only step aside, but also run as Ike's vice-president. Truman, maligned at the time though vindicated by history, certainly had no chance of winning, but was nevertheless unwilling to give way to a parade of deceitful or fraudulent aspirants.

The United States in 1952 was gripped in an anti-communist hysteria. The Soviet Union acquired nuclear weaponry and enslaved the continent of Europe east of Elbe River, ‘from Stettin in the Baltic to Trieste in the Adriatic’. Truman was denounced for the impasse in Korea and for 'losing' China (how does one 'lose' something one does not own, anyway?). The capricious Senator Joe McCarthy, wanting in talent and scruples, manufactured a communist conspiracy and adversely destroyed the lives of innocent Americans with his malicious witch hunt.

It was into this environment of fear and discontent that Eisenhower continued his public service when he accepted the Republican nomination for the presidency, having defeated the principled yet audacious Robert A. Taft of Ohio, grandson of the former Chief Justice and 27th president, William H. Taft. For his running mate he picked the young anti-communist firebrand, Richard M. Nixon, the perfect antithesis for the non-partisan Eisenhower. With this balanced team, the Republicans cruised to an easy victory over Adlai Stevenson of Illinois, capturing every region save for the solid Democratic South, as it was theirs since the times of Jefferson. Four years later, the Eisenhower/Nixon team again prevailed over Stevenson with almost identical results.

During the first campaign Eisenhower, a five-star general, promised to go to Korea and end the stalemate. In July 1953, a mere six months after inauguration, the warring parties agreed to a cease fire, establishing a line of demarcation at the 38th parallel, almost the exact location when hostilities commenced. The truce was no defeat, however, as it validated the writ of the United Nations to resist aggression, that modern warfare need not include nuclear weapons, and it confirmed that international law is functional whenever the Soviet Union is absent.

Domestically Eisenhower exhibited the wisdom of never impeding an adversary's destruction as he watched the diabolical McCarthy implode under the glare of klieg lights. Tensions eventually began to fade as the American middle class reached its zenith, producing a baby boom while enjoying one new consumer product after another. To move the increasingly mobile citizenry, Eisenhower signed the Interstate Highway Act, connecting, among other places, Sault Ste Marie to Key West without the hindrance of a traffic light. With the peace and prosperity, came the eventual enlightenment, with Eisenhower playing a pivotal role, for example warning against “book burners” and thought control during his commencement speech at Dartmouth College, a generation before political correctness and library purges became customary.

Throughout his presidency Ike relied on the formula that guided him in previous positions, diligence welded to reason, honesty, consultation, and most of all, wariness. When the Soviets launched Sputnik, Ike assuaged national fears by creating NASA. When the Soviets paraded their latest missiles in Red Square, Ike reassured the nation that our defenses are capable of launching assured destruction at the Soviet Union. When the generals who specialize in military procurement, literally his former subordinates, begged for additional funds, he held them accountable.

Eisenhower was a rational caretaker in an immoderate world, though; and therefore he didn't always meet with unqualified success. When the French surrendered (they have much experience) at Dien Bien Phu, Eisenhower kept US forces out of Vietnam. Then he put them right back in when he extended SEATO protection to the South Vietnamese government, and thus violating the Geneva Agreement, instead of supporting a plebiscite (Ho Chi Minh would have won in a landslide). There the long journey of US involvement in Vietnam and the era of quasi-colonialism began in earnest.

As with his predecessors, Eisenhower found that his second term in office was at times frustrating. This, of course, is without prescient, as even FDR saw the mild recovery of the mid-1930s morph back to the Great Depression, Jefferson saw his embargo act stall the national economy, Jeffersonian outrage placed Washington's very mental competence and loyalty under suspicion after Jay's Treaty, and of course we all know what happened to Lincoln.

During the latter part of the 1950s political opportunists created a perceived missile gap with the USSR, the once booming economy stalled under the weight of an old tax formula, a despot in Cuba was overthrown, replaced by a revolutionary thug, and the adventurous defense department insisted on continued U-2 flights over Soviet airspace, resulting in the capture of a US pilot and international embarrassment for a leader the world had trusted. The CIA continued with their reckless mischief and incompetence, leading Eisenhower himself to depict it as, "The Legacy of Ashes", as one foolish enterprise followed another.

The 1950s has often been referred to as the 'American Decade' because its leadership was undisputed and the nation as a whole seemed immune to the troubling world beyond its shores. Much of the credit goes to President Eisenhower, who kept a firm hand on the instruments of power, using it when necessary but humble enough to resist its darker temptations. He was a leader the nation and the world could look up to and aspire to become. The very notion of a scandal that plagued many of his successors seemed incredulous because Eisenhower's dignity was unwavering and his devotion to his nation and fellow citizens was always above reproach. History will rightly regard him as both a great president and an exceptional human being.

On January 17, 1961, at the conclusion of a 49-year commitment to his country, President Eisenhower delivered a valedictory address noted for its similarity to another famous presidential farewell address delivered 165 years earlier. "In the councils of government," Eisenhower warned, "we must guard against the acquisition of unwarranted influence by the military-industrial complex. The potential for the disastrous rise of misplaced power exists and will persist. We must never let the weight of this combination endanger our liberties or democratic processes. "

Today, 47 years later, it appears that our guard has been let down. Both presidential candidates have reaffirmed their commitments to military spending. Former candidate and presumptive election winner Hillary Clinton complained that President Bush wasn't spending enough on the military, and indeed her campaign was a special favorite of defense contractors. With all this military bluster and saber rattling, one is reminded of Proverbs 28:1, the wicked flee when no one is pursuing.

The annals of military history have proven that a show of overwhelming force obviates the need for armed conflict against an existential threat. With the hysteria surrounding national security, what constitutes a sufficient if not overwhelming force? Today more than half of the federal government's discretionary spending ($625 billion dollars in 2007) is devoted to the armed forces. In real dollars, US military spending has nearly doubled over the last decade.

The US military currently maintains more than 800 overseas bases, in more than 130 countries. We have more than a quarter of a million uniformed troops stationed outside the United States (this figure doesn't count support personnel and military dependents). The United States accounts for more than half of the world's total military spending and spends nearly 10 times as much on its armed forces as the second-highest military budget in the world.

Eisenhower and Washington were two military heroes noted for far more than battlefield strategy. Both were engaged in odious tasks requiring political as well as administrative skill. One fought to preserve an underpaid and untrained revolutionary army against the mightiest armed forces in the world; the other had to preserve an alliance that included, among others, Bernie Montgomery and Chuck De Gaulle, an alliance necessary to liberate a continent from tyranny. Both witnessed not only the horrors of war, but also the folly of foreign military adventurism.

On September 19, 1796, Washington delivered his own valediction as an open letter, later dubbed "the Farewell Address" and in his closing remarks, written in his own hand (for comic relief, imagine the current president attempting an identical task), he proclaimed: "It is our true policy to steer clear of permanent alliances with any portion of the foreign world; so far, I mean, as we are now at liberty to do it; for let me not be understood as capable of patronizing infidelity to existing engagements. I hold the maxim no less applicable to public than to private affairs, that honesty is always the best policy. I repeat it, therefore, let those engagements be observed in their genuine sense. But, in my opinion, it is unnecessary and would be unwise to extend them. Taking care always to keep ourselves, by suitable establishments, on a respectable defensive posture, we may safely trust to temporary alliances for extraordinary emergencies."

One has to wonder whether Washington would be either pleased or shocked to discover that the sun never sets on the American empire, just as Eisenhower would be equally dismayed over the national conquest by the military-industrial complex.

For further reading about the Eisenhower Administration there is a two-volume set of memoirs entitled Mandate for Change and Waging Peace that offer a detailed chronology of events and the president’s actions. I also recommend Eisenhower the President by Stephen Ambrose, an unbiased though generally sympathetic history of Ike’s time in office. Lastly there is the Eisenhower Center in Abilene, Kansas, which contains the meditation chapel, his boyhood home, presidential library, and a museum containing innumerable displays. In my opinion it is the best of all the presidential museums, given his remarkable life and accomplishments.




09 Jul, 2008 | Clemie | Leave comment - 2 -

Defining Discourse Down

During the spring of 1992 Kai Erikson, chairman of the Sociology Department at Yale University, organized the Conference on Sociological Visions. There Senator Daniel P. Moynihan delivered an essay on the escalating acceptance of criminal, deviant behavior entitled, Defining Deviancy Down. For me to provide a scholarly counterpart to that watershed work is tantamount to St. Augustine defending Christianity in 410 AD from the charge that it was culpable when the barbarians sacked Rome. In other words, I have no provocation, aim, or ability as grand as either Saint Augustine or Senator Moynihan. This piece may be Augustinian, however, in that there is a verbal barbarism in critical discussion which has led ultimately to a fulfillment of barbarism in US foreign policy.

Argument is often uncivil and moreover this is no new phenomenon. In 1971 the iconic All in the Family hit the airwaves, a hilariously groundbreaking situation comedy that often featured the lead character, Archie Bunker, engaging in shouting matches with his ideological opposite, his son-in-law Mike Stivic. 20 years earlier, we saw on our early TV sets the thug Joe McCarthy brutally destroy innocent men and women with fictitious and unsubstantiated charges of communism. The former was self-parodying comedy; the latter, our darker elements exposed.

Today the disrespectful climate has transcended both Archie and Meathead, and has taken a darker path blazed by the discredited McCarthy. Some of this is a by-product of the anti-intellectualism that has been growing steadily since the late 1950s, coincidentally when television replaced all traditional sources of information. The pace accelerated to its nadir over the course of the past seven years, however, because of the deriding, divisive rhetoric of one man. When a visible man encourages apoplectic rage against his detractors, the public splinters. George W. Bush is that man.

There is no issue as divisive as the war in Iraq and Bush is the main cause for the acrimony. Rather than communicate with the public frankly on reasonable terms, he resorts to totalitarian tactics, demonizing those in opposition as 'siding with the terrorists' and worse yet taking a domestic debate to foreign shores, to the parliament of the most militarist democracy in the world. Bush’s address to the Israeli Knesset can be described as nothing less than an act of unprecedented treachery and an inimical act for the leader of supposed free people.

During the early days of WWII, in 1942, many Americans were disheartened and frustrated over our apparent lack of progress in the pacific theatre. President Roosevelt planned to address the nation via radio and in preparation the WH asked the citizens to purchase or obtain a map of the Pacific Ocean or the world a few days in advance.

FDR began his address by asking each listener to look at his/her map, and there he proceeded to explain in adult terms the logistical difficulty of moving an armada over such a vast space. In addition, he also noted the Japanese efforts in this theatre of battle and eventually was able to inform the public with complete candor and respect. FDR communicated with the public and in turn educated them; Bush, in contrast, despite all the technology at his disposal, with the visual medium of television, not to mention Google Earth, does none of that. Instead he repeats the same lies, he poses in a flight suit to look tough and resolved, he admonishes those who question not only the wisdom of the war but its execution as lacking resolve or of ignorance and questions their patriotism. He repeats the same old jargon that neither informs nor educates, reminding everyone of the 'events of 9/11' and that we are in a permanent state of war. Rah, rah, sis boom bah.

When a leader so disrespects his fellow countrymen, when a leader questions the patriotism and courage of his detractors, when a leader resorts to fear without fact, when a leader fails to articulate or even debate a strategy, the level of discourse can only disintegrate into name calling on both sides. Bush has failed his nation and disgraced his office on every level imaginable.

As an informed, educated, and literate citizen, I am appalled at the conduct of my president for failing to level with me and for talking to me as if I were some 15-year old immature child. I don't buy Bush's explanations because he provides nothing but discordant rhetoric, poorly worded and appealing to our darker angels. Intelligent dialogue is fundamental for a free society to survive and this sorry excuse for a statesman, a commander-in-chief, a chief executive, and a head of state has stifled that dialogue when he should not only encourage it, but also facilitate it.

This administration used patriotic fervor to such an extent that those who dared hold Bush to the rule of law were branded as traitorous left wing extremists and stifled the freedom of dialogue so necessary in such momentous issues of war and peace. Serious and polite disagreements end and insults begin when one starts attacking another and moves off point. After the US invasion of Iraq I resented being called a traitor or a coward just as much as those who supported Bush’s war resented being called war mongers. Whether side of the issue one finds oneself, though, there are salient, indisputable, and even incontestable facts.

The US had deployed a strategy against Iraq, prior to this administration, that had worked against the Soviet Union: containment. Saddam Hussein was nothing more than a harmless dictator in the desert in 2003. His air power was checked by no fly zones, sanctions and two wars had destroyed his infrastructure; not only had he no weapons of mass destruction, he wasn’t even close to acquiring any. Moreover, countless UN inspections turned up no proof of these wild and false accusations. Bush clearly violated not only the UN charter, but also the code of civilization itself when he repudiated the facts and went to war. While the sane world was willing to wait for the inspections, indefinitely if necessary, George W. Bush wanted war at any means.

It is increasingly clear that over five years after the initial invasion and ‘mission accomplished,’ the doctrine of regime change and preventive strikes historically translates to an unjust invasion and a war of unprovoked aggression. In short, Bush sold the people a bill of goods wrapped up in a misleading metaphoric 'war on terror', all the while ignoring that Hussein was a secular Muslim with no - that is in none, zero, zilch - ties to Al Qaeda.

It is increasingly clear that this war was waged by an administration that was clueless at best at the level of sectarian divisions and religious malevolence. Iraq was no nation inasmuch as Lebanon is no nation, but rather an artificially drawn map created by colonial powers. And the Bush Administration put US forces right into the middle of it, lining the pockets of cronies, and causing death to thousands of Americans and hundreds of thousands of Iraqis.

It is increasingly clear that Bush will go down rightly as the worst president in history. He was certainly the least qualified and his sole redeeming value is that he knew how to win elections. Period. His administration was the most corrupt, dishonest, and inept in history. He is a towel snapping frat boy who never had to own up to his mistakes and never accomplished anything of substance without cronyism and connections. His whole demeanor, actions, and words reinforced the negative stereotype of the boorish rich provincial American.

He was a mediocre student who got to attend the best colleges on his family’s legacy, he was a truant soldier who avoided service because of his father’s political connections, he was a complete and utter failure as a businessman who reeled in riches by skirting the law, again protected by his father, then the POTUS, he was an inconsequential governor, who by law is relatively powerless, and finally he was a bad drunk. He had no resume of achievement and lacked the necessary gravitas, vision, and intellectual curiosity incumbent upon holding high office.

He is, in short, a bimbo.

The real irony is that despite his tough guy, gun-toting image, North Korea acquired nuclear weapons on his watch and Osama bin Laden got away. If discourse is defined down to shouting and insults, then the free exchange of ideas, so vital in a democracy, is another casualty from the administration of George W. Bush.



18 Jun, 2008 | Clemie | Leave comment - 1 -

RIP, Tim Russert

For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required.

That one phrase from Luke 12:48 was the cornerstone of Tim Russert’s life, a humble man from working class South Buffalo, who came to appreciate the strong family values that guided him throughout his all too short life. In an era that places all value on material wealth, Russert in contrast regarded the support and love he received at home as his greatest asset. The impact of that biblical passage had such a great influence on him that he named his only son Luke as a tribute and perhaps as a reminder.

As Russert climbed to the pinnacle of his profession, winning accolades from all corners of the political spectrum, he never forgot where he came from and where he learned much of life’s lessons. He was the author of two books dedicated to his father, Big Russ, now 82. He was a religious man, a devout Catholic, but he never wore his faith on his sleeve. Many of his closest colleagues at NBC and in journalistic circles had no idea how important religion was to Russert because he never used it to enhance his moral standing or resume, so secure was he in his own abilities and own faith.

Few on television news could match Russert’s resume. Not only was he a graduate from the Cleveland-Marshall School of Law, he was, at age 27, the New York manager for the distinguished and cerebral Daniel P. Moynihan, a tough intellectual one would never expect to find in the superficial parade of US Senators. He became later the political advisor to Mario Cuomo, just as the governor’s political light was ready to shine its brightest. Thankfully for fans of TV news, Russert ended his political career and joined the fourth estate, often described as the slick politician’s worst nightmare.

Russert was perhaps a dying breed of television journalist, dedicated to his craft and devoted to his audience. Russert was never the story, avoiding the nihilism that afflicts so many others in his vocation. He asked the hard questions, offered unbiased analysis, and ignored the trivial, cosmetic material, all a product of his journalistic integrity.

He was, of course, a Sunday morning fixture on Meet the Press for over a decade, providing tough but fair and honest questions to the most powerful and significant figures of the day. Again, his integrity placed him above the rest, never offering an edited opinion, but rather trusting the judgment of his viewers to form their own conclusions. This sign of respect for the stay at home voter distinguished Russert from the many shrill talking heads that pollute our airwaves day after day.

Fox News proclaims itself ‘fair and balanced’ with the motto, ‘we report, you decide’. Here they might as well have been describing Russert, the star from their rival, NBC. The screaming and rude Bill O’Reilly, lacking Russert’s skills and preparation, prefers to badger his guests and lecture his audience, believing that they are incapable of digesting the substance of each issue. The phony super patriot Sean Hammity, posing as a journalist and pretending to take the moral high ground occupied by Russert, waxes indignation at anyone with opposing viewpoints, while continuously insulting intelligent viewers with his overly simplistic and belittling rhetoric.

Unlike those advocates pretending to practice the art of journalism at Fox News, Russert was the epitome of the unbiased and probing reporter. No political figure of either side received a free pass from him. He never mocked his guests; he never shouted over them, he never questioned their patriotism or their morality. Instead he carried no preconceived notions of what was right or wrong and moreover, he did his homework.

Incorporating the lessons he learned at law school and from Moynihan’s and Cuomo’s offices, he prepared for his program with background material and knowledge born of diligence. No guest received a pillow fight from Tim, but rather tough probing questions that left little or no wiggle room. A guest had to come clean facing Russert because he delivered major league quality questions and he always gave his guests opportunities to explain themselves. The goal was never to score ‘gotcha’ points, but rather to perform the journalist’s public service, inform the public.

The melding of journalism and politics often makes for an acrimonious relationship, but neither entity could survive without the other. In an arena charged with emotion and divergent opinion, the true journalist ignores his or her own beliefs, however deep seeded and emotional they may be, for a higher calling and for the benefit of the public. An informed public unbound from the constraints of partisanship is a free public. Tim Russert adhered to that ideal of professionalism to such an extent that, although he did work for two prominent Democrats, he never even hinted as to where his own vote was going.

That he was a professional also means that he was entertaining, witty, colorful, and lively. His delivery was as flawless as his astute observations. His laugh was genuine and nothing was ever forced or staged. This engaging and wholesome man was made for the cameras, yet he had a degree of dignity so lacking in that medium. First and foremost, however, he was a patriot who never had to boast of his love of country, for he displayed it every time he went to work in his own unassuming manner. He was an unaverage man who understood the average man.

Rest in Peace, Timothy John Russert, Jr. Along with millions of Meet the Press viewers, I echo what Spanky and our Gang sang over 40 years ago:

Now I wake up Sunday morning, walk across the way to find
Nobody waiting for me, Sunday's just another day.
Sunday Will Never Be the Same,
I've lost my Sunday song, he'll not be back again.




13 Jun, 2008 | Clemie | Leave comment - 0 -