Show Your Papers

With a stroke of the pen, Arizona’s Governor Brewer, has reduced every Mexican-American in the state to a second class citizen. What is overlooked, forgotten or ignored by the passage of this law is that Arizona, together with most of the southwest was part of the Republic of Mexico until 1848 when the treaty of Guadeloupe Hidalgo ceded it to the United States. At that time the indigenous people of Arizona were the hispanic Mexican and Apache Indians; they became American citizens as a matter of law. The Apaches, as a threat, are gone; the Mexicans have been Americans for generations; now subject to warrantless stop and interrogations as if the 4th amendment to the Constitution no longer applies to them. Concerns for unlawful immigration, drug smuggling and other crimes, shall henceforth be regard as likely the result of activities by dark skinned, spanish speakers who shall henceforth be subject to strict police surveillance and harassment without concerns for due process of law or other niceties warranted by civility and civilized conduct. ‘Show me your papers “ shall henceforth be the mode of greeting rather than buenos tardes.

Reflections “THEN “

But then the beautiful people

lost their tans and resolve

the world went a little bit mad

with bombast and bull droppings

found new reasons to anger

concocted new meaning less slogans

and made war again and again

destroying our young men

destroying our young hopes.

Jefferson’s Gibe

Few realize that the Jefferson dictum now brandished by Tea Party types, “a little rebellion now and then is a good thing. The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants ...” was actually intended as a humorous gibe concerning the “Mouse that Roared” quality of Shays Rebellion on 1787. It was contained in a private correspondence and not intended to encourage nor approve of rebellion.

“I’m Mad as Hell and ....etc.”

A Chinese sage once said a long journey is commenced by taking the first step. He might also have said that before one begins a long journey it is well to have a destination in mind.

Lately our politics has degenerated into the shouting of empty slogans and crowd-pleasing postures ie; whipping up the base. Shakespeare called it “playing to the pit”, appealing to the lowest common denominator.

In the 1950’s an independent self educated guru named Eric Hoffer distinguished between real leaders and those who determined the direction the mob was traveling and ran as fast as possible to get out front to appear as if a leader. Today we have an oversupply of the latter, basking in the limelight and encouraging more heat and less light.

Term limits advocates have been morphed into a “turn the rascals out movement,” vote out all the incumbents and then, what ? Replace them with a bunch of pliant know-nothings, except to respond to the voices of the mob ? Better a quick review of the French revolution.

Before you hop on a bandwagon, make sure it has 4 wheels and the driver knows where he’s going.

Mark Twain and the Telephone

April 21, 2010 is the 100th anniversary of the death of Mark Twain, an original American icon, literary giant, and home grown sage. Whether lionized or lambasted, his contribution to American thought and our uniqueness of character is undeniable.

What is sometimes overlooked was his astute recognition of what an unmitigated annoyance the telephone was to become.

In “A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court” he observed, “ Confound the telephone, anyway. It is the very demon for conveying similarities of sound that are miracles of divergence from similarity of sense.” Elsewhere in his works he is less oblique.

Imagine what his reaction would be to today’s proliferation of cell phones; ubiquitous in every purse, pocket, automobile and belt loop in creation; a society where there is more talk and less said than at any time in recent history. Any conversation, any pause of quiet, in any venue, now is in immediate danger of rude interruption of an irrelevant noise, some wag’s idea of what would be a clever ring tone. Not confined to the hearing of the wearer of this offensive gadget, it assaults the ears of everyone present, whether at table, in solemn conclave, awaiting a doctor’s appointment or a stroll down a quiet path, the cell phone repeatedly squaks for attention until it’s buttons are pushed. Thereafter, the wearer will conduct a loud conversation with his invisible caller, indifferent to the irritation caused to all within hearing.

During rush hour a goodly number of drivers devote half of their attention to hazards of the road, holding the gadget to one ear and yammering away, oblivious to the dangers they create. Like some infectious virus, no longer content with having seriously damaged the ancient art of polite dialogue, the gadget now takes pictures and offers an ever increasing menu of distractions, diversion and services, called apps, competing with computers, directories, magazines and newspapers.

The fine art of corresponding; carefully crafted letters going around the world has been supplanted, by instantanious blather, via satellites. Small wonder then, when over 100 years ago, the visionary Mark Twain, when composing his famous prayer that :

“...all of us, the high, the low, the rich, the poor, the admired, the despised, the loved, the hated, the civilized, the savage (every man and brother of us throughout the whole earth) may eventually be gathered together in a heaven of everlasting rest and peace and bliss, except the inventor of the telephone.”

What a damn pain this little miracle has become !

Good Morning Day!

At first light, whether I was out on my morning walk or just to the road to get the paper, my first impulse was to greet the morning with a verbal salute, ”good morning day.” The light was just asserting itself, stirring the birds to their early, busy chirping and singing, colors beginning to grow strong, the time of a new beginning - a new day. Sometimes the addition of a late setting full moon would bring its additional brightness to view, prompting a special greeting to that large luminous rock in the sky.

For me, first light has always had some special magic about it, when as a young lookout on the bridge in the Navy or later in life when sailing overnight. From the end of the mid watch, 4 A.M. when everything is inky black, particularly when an overcast deprives the sky of star light, voices of people nearby seem disemboweled bodyless with little sense of direction. Then, with the earliest of gray light, outlines appear without much sense of depth and little definition. As the colors begin to assert themselves in turn, a wonderful transformation begins. Shapes assume dimension, distances resolve and the world becomes full, alive and three dimensional. It is morning.