Mr. President Here Comes 2011

New Years Resolution “Suit Up For Battle”

First, have to explain to some old friends my support of Obama. Complaints about his lack of any ideological commitment to real change arrived via e mail. I am reminded of a well known AARP saying when seniors complain about the terrible ills of old age. Response, “better than the alternative.” That’s about how I feel about our President. He is not only an anomaly being the first Black but also how he got elected with that sweep through the Internet was very new.

Mr. President, Welcome back from warm friendly sunny Hawaii ! Hope you are in a good strong mood for a fight. That’s is what is going to greet you on January 2nd. The GOP stung by the Tea Party stalwarts are going to come out swinging at everything you try to do. They are single minded in their objective. “NO SECOND TERM.” I know you don’t like to hear this but they just, “viscerally hate you.” You have to give up that grand illusion that, “if you keep making nice they’ll come around.” It will never ever happen. So, lets get on with it. Or as my friend Elaine says, “Get a grip.” Here’s what you need to do. Hopefully, “we can make you do it.” More about that later.

In sports, or military parlance you need to grab the ball and dominate the field with your initiatives. To do that requires that you make very clear to the whole country what exactly needs to be done to change the economic climate. Your Administration has saved Wall Street the Bankers and their bonuses. Now you have to save the jobless, the foreclosure victims, save your Health Care Law with that same kind of determination you showed on the Bush tax cut deal and the Start Treaty. Yes working the phones to Richard Trumka at the AFof L CIO, Andy Stein and all your friends on the Internet to rally support for what you are trying to do. I emphasize again, the need to get your program objectives down to simple understandable slogans. Remember you are not teaching a class at the U. of Chicago or Harvard Law School. Your talking with a lot of everyday folks gathered at a local coffee shop or at a Blue Collar watering hole.

There is an important lesson to be learned from The Tea Party bruha. To their credit they were able to chorale much of the anger of citizens who lost their jobs, or their homes, or both. Contrast that with the Bank Bailouts and Wall Street bonuses and they BLAME YOU FOR FORGETTING THEM. That’s what you now have to fix. The only way to do it is with a vigorous no holds, clear cut agenda for correcting the inequality. My friend Stanley Aronowitz some time ago wrote a program for Progressives in which he suggested that our central argument be based on FAIRNESS. That is exactly what has been lacking in the recent economic rescue.

Get your veto pen ready to strike down any of the GOP shenanigans to turn back the clock on Social Security, Medicare, Abortion and Education just to mention the major issues that come to mind.

I know you have another review of the Afgan war coming up. Well use that opportunity to get us out of there. We can’t afford that adventure any longer both in lives lost and wounded soldiers filling our military hospitals. It is becoming increasingly clear that the terrorists that are threatening us come from all over the globe not just Afghanistan. Its a corrupt sinkhole that will keep us there forever. Time to get out.

My earlier reference to, “make me do it.” was a statement FDR made to A Philip Randolph who was complaining about the lack of help for the members of his union. FDR wanted to see a mass movement in the streets demanding that he act hence, “make me do it.”

Finally Mr. President, a final bit of advice from Baron Von Clausawitz the great Prussian Military Strategist. Paraphrasing, when the enemy has you surrounded and outnumbered and your not sure what to do, “LAUNCH AN OFFENSIVE.” In the meantime have a Happy New Year and best of luck. Your going to really need it,

Blizzard of 2010

I was really prepared to do a blog on what happens in Washington Comes 2011? Then this Blizzard arrived with a bang. Now I am all tied up as natures fury dominates the scene. I yield to nature. It is blowing 40-60 mile an hour on our “anemometer” (wind speed indicator.)

Snow piled up over our front door but Kate managed to clear it. I was amazed that she was able to do this as she is trying to recover from Limes disease. (Kate is on a daily infusion of Anti-Biotic. I am learning “Infusion procedure’s as her helper in attendance.)

The winter has its own beauty here on the bay. There is also a real disadvantage in our isolation. It means we need to make sure we can get a car out or an Emergency vehicle in. Tonight we hope the snow plows will come through. Tomorrow our driveway plow guy will plow us out and all will be well for the Blizzard of 2010.

My son Fred, lives in Madison Wisconsin and knows a lot more about winter than I do. He has been disturbed over the fact that people have totally misconstrued the effects of Global Warming. Some time ago he insisted that I start calling it, Global Climate Change. As snow and cold have gotten worse in recent years people say,”see I told you that Global warning was more baloney from that elite crowd from New York,” that’s why we need to call it “Climate Change.” Okay, I agree.

Fred in this Sunday Times there’s an article “BUNDLE UP,IT’S GLOBAL WARMING.” The Article explains how the Jet Stream, that circulation of air five to seven miles above the earth is picking up increasing moisture from the defrosted Arctic Ocean and dumping on the Northern Hemisphere. “In winter this change in flow sends warm air north from subtropical oceans into Alaska and Greenland, but it also pushes cold air south from the Arctic on the east side of the Rockies. Meanwhile across Eurasia, cold air from Siberia spills south into East Asia and even southwestward into Europe.

This is why there were thousands of stranded air travelers sleeping on the floor at Heathrow Airport. This is just an attempt to get us thinking about Climate Change. We are facing an increase in flooding, drought, snow, rain, mud slides in places it was never seen before, That is the tragedy of Global Climate Change.

The Blizzard continues to blow away out here. I was reminded that birds need to find food and water blizzard or not. I looked out at my Finch Feeder and sure enough there in the middle of the night, with light from our living room, was this shiny little Goldfinch hanging on to the feeder for dear life. I often think about what animal species are going to be able to survive the terrible damage that the humans have done to their habitat. Yes, we will survive this Blizzard. It may be one more warning about things to come.

It is now Monday afternoon and the Plow Guys did clear our driveway of a couple of feet of snow. I hope by tomorrow I will be able to get my Station Wagon out. I can easily suffer from bunk fever. Got to be able to go! Never mind where? My best from Snowbound Bob

Atom Bomb & Me?

Obama’s victory with the Salt 11 treaty reminded me of an experience with the Nuclear problem back in the 1970s. Nixon was President. He was trying to show off his nice side. One of these “nice” projects was a job training program on the Sioux Indian Reservation in a God forsaken place called Wolf Point Montana. Trying to woo Ford Foundation support the President invited McGeorge Bundy, Mac President of the Foundation to join the Assistant Secretary of Defense, Robert Charles at a Job Training Inauguration on the Reservation.

Bundy suggested that Mike Sviridoff Ford Foundation VP. for National Affairs go as he knew more about job development. As the downward spiral continued Mike suggested, “we send Schrank he’s our job training expert.” There I was, 8AM at Andrews Air-force base ready to take off in Air Force 2 for Wolf Point Montana. All the necessary papers had been sent ahead that admitted me to the Base and the plane.

Upon boarding I was introduced to a motley bunch of reporters from all over the world including 3-4 Russians from the Tass news agency. (Remember the Cold War was in full swing at the time.) The seating on the plane was against the outside wall with a long center counter loaded with all kinds of goodies from nuts to booze and nuts to booze. Reporters who have an accepted tendency toward alcohol were just proving the point with early morning Bloody Mary’s. Maybe it’s the tomato juice that makes the boozers think “it’s a breakfast drink!”

We made a fuel stop at Minneapolis and then on to Wolf Point. The major topic of discussion amongst this weird collection of folk was “where’s the worlds best restaurant?” Soon after take off the wife of the Assistant Secretary of defense emerged as the Maitre De. She seemed to win out with the choice of Wing Loo in Kowloon.

As the plane was on approach at Wolf Point it seemed to me we were going in circles. (I had done some flying. I loved it until the bill at the end of the fourth or fifth month made me realize this was not an affordable hobby.)

At the flight deck I listened to the conversation between the three crew members. There was no control tower. A pea soup fog just hung over the area. Captain said,” “We just gotta be able to see this friggin air strip. One more try and then we’re outa here.” This was visual flying and there was no ground to be seen. The Captain advised the Secretary and suggested “we find the nearest field with instrument landing facility so we can, put this plane down safely.” The Secretary reluctantly agreed as we would miss the start up ceremony. It turned out that Maimstrom Missile Base was the nearest safest place for us to land. The base was about 15 minutes away. They were notified. The Base Commander told Secretary Charles we might make it to Wolf Point by Helicopter. Or we could make it the following morning. If the fog cleared?

As we were getting ready to land at Maimstrom I realized that I too was half crocked from a couple of -------I don’t know what? The plane lands. Taxi’s up to the Gate. There’s a red carpet and a Band playing Hail to the Chief. As we deplane, Haynes Johnson a reporter for the Washington Post is poking me, for God sake Schrank salute at we go by the flag. I was now feeling like Charlie Chaplin in Modern Times as he came up out of the sewer with his red flag in hand to end up a May day parade.

The Base Commander welcomed his distinguished guests to one of Americas “first lines of defense.” Reporting the weather, he indicates we would not be able to get to Wolf Point until noon tomorrow. So, what would we like to do in the morning? Secretary of Defense wife suggests, a visit a missile sight and see exactly how our multiple missile warheads might work in a real war emergency?”

Oh my God I near fainted. Because of my radical past I couldn’t get a pass to go pee in the Pentagon. And here were all these Tass reporters from Russia. Others from Eastern European News Agencies I never heard of. Here we were about to be shown Americas top secret.

Next morning, bright and clear we were on our way to the “demonstration Silo.” Out came the mostly little “spy” cameras as the whole bunch were clicking away as though it was a wedding party. Then in groups of 2-3 we went down the Silo and were shown a cutaway of the multiple warheads and the gyroscopes that would control the flight pattern and finally the nuke part that would send the whole three tons skyward. I admit it was fascinating to see how this deadly machine had been put together. (Old machinist could not help admiring the engineering. Except when I thought how it would or could be used.)

Around this time there had been an accident at a missile base in Arizona. Somebody dropped a wrench down a Silo and the missile exploded. Why? Turned out nobody was sure except some Air Force mechanics said because of poor maintenance nobody knew for sure what might happen if we launched these suckers.

At the bottom of the Silo sat two Air Force officers who when called upon would unlock separate boxes on the wall take out a key insert it into a ready to launch lock click it and wait. The actual firing is controlled from an underground bunker somewhere in the Rocky Mountains.. I asked the guys how they were spending their time down here at the bottom of the Silo? They were both going to school. One to be a lawyer the other a doctor. Schmoozing with them I asked about the Arizona episode? They laughed, agreed that “yeah nobody can tell for sure what happens if we ever had to launch.” “Hell if we don’t know what they’ll do think of what those Rooskys know? There’s would probably never leave the ground. Nobody knows and I sure as hell don’t want to find out.”

In the afternoon we went on to Wolf Point and the training program. The Sioux were being taught how to rebuild M16 rifles that were by then pretty obsolete. At the time the rifles were mostly being used for guard duty at Army bases. Watching the trainees using sledge hammers to remove the sights from the barrels convinced me that this was another joke being perpetrated on Indians. Some company out of Texas had the contract to operate the program. When I inquired about the value of what they were doing I was told. “THEY gotta learn how to walk before THEY can run.” The minute I hear “THEY.” I realized this was this same old bullshit that the oppressed need to prove first that “THEY” can do it and then we’ll let them in. This program like so many others would result in the opposite. “Well we tried but THEY just couldn’t cut the mustard. We can’t just molly coddle these people.” The Secretary and his wife were given fancy Indian Headdress and some blankets. They thanked the Indians and we started our trip back home.

I reported my experience to Sviridoff and Mac. Mac asked me what I was going to report to the Administration about the training program? With a twinkle in his eye, “how is all that whining and dining going to effect your report?” “About Maimstrom or about the training program?” Unless you have any strong objection it will be the way I told it.” He looked at Mike, said, “I bet you knew that. Is that why we sent him?” They were the best two bosses I ever had. Somehow I was pleased to tell my Anti Nuclear friends, “nothing to worry about, chances are, they will never get those rusty old Nukes out of the Silos.” I wished.

A Bronx Christmas

I have always had trouble remembering my life before my mother died in the mid twenties, Yet, the older I get, 94 this year, the more things are popping up that I had thought were long lost.

My family, mother, father, two older sisters and I lived in a tenement on 181st Street, a few blocks from the entrance to the Bronx Zoo. A six story walkup with two apartments on each floor and a single toilet between them. The Howe family shared our 4th floor. He was an inspector for the Sheffield Farms Milk Company. He rode around in a small horse-drawn rig checking up on the work of the milkmen and their deliveries.

I have a felt sense that mama was the sentimental side of my German family. Papa was the stern disciplinarian. Instances of severe bad behavior might bring mama to say, “possoff due dine Varter comt.” lookout your father is coming. That was enough to transform me into a little angel. Any pain that her cliner leibshen felt would be healed with a long hug against her pillow like breasts.

Though we were not at all religious it was mama who brought home and decorated the XMas tree. Sneaking out of my bed at night I watched her and my two older sisters pinning those little candles on the tree. On Christmas eve they were lit and the little tree just glowed with joy as our friends and neighbors sat around and sang, “Still a Nacht Heiliga Nacht.” All was well and happy.

The feeling of warmth and love might soon be dissipated. Drowned out by the clang of, what was probably the last Horse drawn Fire Engine Company as it roared through the street with sparks from the steam boiler filling the sky. This was “night riders in the” streets. Once the lovely candle lit XMas trees caught fire it was soon enough a four alarmer calling out Fire Engines from all over the City. That never happened to us.

Sure enough on Christmas day there would be presents. My most wonderful memory was a toy automobile go cart. I now remember sitting in it driving around the apartment and making conversation with other drivers. “okay Jack om gonna back her up” or “can’t ya see it’s a red light.” Papa would laugh until the tears ran down his face. He would ask mama, ‘where did he learn that talk?” She said, “It was the auto repair shop around the corner where he can hang out all day watching what is going on. The men who work their insist, “he’s no bother.” My sisters got girl presents. Mostly clothes to pretty them up.

Papa said, we had to save all our stale bread for the animals in the Bronx Zoo. He insisted that we treat them as our distant relatives. “They also need to have something special for the holidays, even if the Bible said they had only to get on the Ark if they were to be saved.” Papa always the teacher would then add. “Yes if it wasn’t for the Chimpanzees across the street we wouldn’t be here. So let’s go give them some thanks.” On Christmas day the Zoo was all ours. When we arrived with our shopping bags of stale bread the animals would come running. Papa said see how they appreciate our taking time to come and share with them whatever we have. That of course was the lesson of the day. “Thank you so much Papa,”

Aside from organizing workers Papa started the Modern Sunday Schools. He believed that if we are ever to have a socialist society children had to learn exactly what that meant. He often said the Jesuits were right. “Give me the child from zero to six and I will give you the man.” At its peak Papa had schools in three Boroughs, Bronx, Brooklyn and Queens. On Sunday morning instead of church, or much like it, we went to Sunday School. We sang songs in praise of the working class. Teachers helped us understand the evils of capitalism and the glories of socialism.

The holiday spirit in our home would continue on through the week. Mama had baked all kind of cakes and cookies. This was all before telephones. People just showed up. No appointments, no advance notice and they were always welcomed with warmth and love. The big welcome seemed to produce a magical appearance of coffee, cake and talk.

The folks I was blessed to grow up with were obsessive talkers. This was all before radio and television so whatever punditry there was came from all your relatives, friends and fellow true socialism believers. A favorite in those times was, “the true meaning of the Russian Revolution” That could keep the argument going well past midnight. It was mama who always made me feel, “it was okay to argue about all that but above all else she was going to keep this home a, “safe warm and loving place.”

Of course, this was all before the great depression of 1929. That would change everything especially that warm homestead that mama made. In the mid twenties she would suddenly depart from a botched back alley abortion leaving a very young boy without these sweet memories that have only recently begun to return. Now that’s a blessing. Happy Holidays to you all. My very best RS

WikiLeaks & Marxism

I can’t understand all the Sturm und Drang about the sensational WikiLeaks stuff taking up page after page in the NY Times. The Pentagon papers it ain’t. Should I say, the stuff that is called, “the great secret Government documents” that whip across the cable and wireless networks of our Government is really just bloody boring.

Is it really a great discovery that Berlosconi is a playboy trying to act like a Prime Minister should. Or that President Sarcozy worries more about his suits and neckties than he does about the French Muslim problem? Or that Hillary is really losing her patience with Prime Minister, Netanyahu who, as any informed person knows is a prisoner of his extreme right coalition. I’m sure he thinks that Hillary is a pain in the ass and so on and so forth. And who cares?

(Yes of course Senator Lieberman thinks Mr. Assange, the WikiLeaks founder, should be tried as a terrorist.)

(Assange is wanted in Sweden for sexual misconduct. Holy Cow Sweden is the most tolerant sex State in the world. How’d they ever come up with that one?)

Our Attorney General is trying to figure out exactly under what law they could prosecute Assange? Surely not The First Amendment. The US Supreme Court recently ruled that spending money in political campaigns is free speech. What WikiLeaks does is kindergarten stuff compared to what that court decision, “Citizens United” does to our electoral process.

I was trying to figure out why none of these “secret cable” made much of an impression. I realized it was my years as a student of Marxism. What has one to do with the other? Once you get a Marxist understanding as to how Capitalism operates you can begin to see what is going on in the WikiLeaks stuff.

All of those documents confirm the power struggle going among the competing capitalist countries for dominance in the various spheres of influence. Marxism described this power struggle as the reason for armies navies, spy systems, military buildups including colonial adventures. The latest addition to this roster of international struggle for economic dominance is Globalization. Source of cheap labor for outsourced manufacture. Best way to get out from under unionized workers in the home country.

It has been very useful for me to hang on to many of the things I learned growing up in a world of intelligent radical ideologues. Upon entering college in my late forties I did have to make a very important adjustment. I realized that my old ideologies were barriers blocking any new ideas. As I drove to school I began to think of my brain as a blackboard. To learn I had to wash it clean as Miss freemen did in my fifth grade class at PS 34. Wow was that ever right. A blank blackboard for new learning.

Yes, college in my forties was a great learning experience. Yet it was within that learning environment I began to incorporate some of the old things I learned with the new. That's why keeping the good stuff I learned from Karl Marx sure helps in understanding how capitalist society functions. Yupp, WikiLeaks is just another side show that is given us courtesy the “Press” that reflects the hopes of the ruling class that we don’t think of anything more serious than the fact that the Secretary of State Hillary Clinton can get mad. No kidding!?

"Can't We All Just Get Along"

This was Rodney King a few decades back. It didn't work then and it ain't working now. It could be Obama’s problem. I have tried real hard to understand him. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe it’s my desire to see the first Black President succeed. I have been fighting back a conclusion that he simply doesn’t have any real fight in him. This has lead me to think about how do we learn how to put up a fight for what we believe in?

Drawing on my own experience. Could it be something that needs to be learned early in life. Maybe even in childhood? In the radical world where I spent my growing up years fighting for what you believed in was not just taught but you learned how to practice it. Questioning authority was the mantra of that world. Hence in Public School I neither stood for the Pledge Allegiance or sang the Star Spangled Banner. Yes it was tough the first few times but little by little you became proud of what you were doing. Learning to say, like the little girl, “But The Emperor Has No Clothes.” In the home I grew up in she was the hero numero uno.

Okay, now go over to the world Obama grew up in. His white mother taught him how to “Get Along” in the world of the white men. Obama talked a lot about “change.” Yet he was not a participant in any movement that dealt with any meaningful change like the Civil Rights efforts. So all through his first two years as President he spent an inordinate amount of time and political capital reaching across the isle to find, NOBODY THERE!

We hoped, well maybe he’ll get it now? They really don’t want anything to do with you. They just want “There Country Back.” Translation of that “underneath feeling” We just want that Black man out of the White House. He can not accept that. For Obama it means they are rejecting me so I must not be making myself clear. “I’ll just keep trying.” That’s where we are now. He just keeps rolling that same stone up the, “we can all get along hill.” You know where that got Sisyphus?

With all the rejections he finally has to find a way to prove that “we can all get along.” Down that road he ends up making compromises that just gives the store away to his opposition. His base goes berserk watching him say okay let the Bush tax cuts for the rich just stay a little longer and then maybe just maybe we can do something about it. It is sad that the first Black President in our history is not measuring up to a fight with the very people who simply want to see him in the trash bin of history. “Can’t we all just get along and be friends” a much desired wish and never achieved. To bad.

Goodbye Aldo!

Sitting on the edge of the bed staring at the bay

Trying to unbend a dream of again, lost and searching?

For what for whom? Before the morning mist had gone, I’d know.

There before the little cat door in tears is Kate.

In her arms is Aldo mouth wide open in pain.

“His back legs paralyzed. He can’t move them.

I’m sure he has a blood clot.”

On a lonely farm in Minnesota miles from anywhere 's

Cats took Kate as their best, best friend.

Snookims was dressed up pushed around in a doll carriage.

Now Aldo like his brother Louigi had to be put down.

Just to save him from the pain.

Louigi’s legs had turned to sticks when he went down.

Aldo couldn’t move them anymore. Dr. Brian said,

“He is to old to have a chance.” I knew what it meant, I left.

Kate stayed and held him, “he went peacefully to sleep.”

A state decidedly to be wished for.

Now we are without our precious friends.

Everyday they reminded us of the many ways of life.

Kate you heard Dr. Howard, “Louigi and Aldo are together having fun.”

As we make it through December.

Can we try to do that?

Soren the Decade of the 1980s

This is another part of my ongoing effort to leave a record of my life for my Great Grandson Soren decade by decade.

Your mother and father paid a visit---yesterday.
18 months old you made us giggle and laugh.
The country, the world in recession-depression?
We all need a Giggle and a Laugh..
Meeting Kate was my 80s highlight.
My belief in love was reborn.

Actor, President Ronald Reagan opened the decade.
He fired 11,000 Air Traffic Controllers over a strike threat.
The sleepy old Unions, just sighed and dismayed.
Union coffin got another nail. To bad for your Grandpa
He continues to believe in a Labor Movement.

We sent men off in a Shuttle to space.
At the same-time credit card mania took off,
For the worlds greatest party.
On credit off course. “We can have it all”

Yupp, that’s what they thought.
Most celebration’s,--- were down on Wall Street.
Billions in bonuses for money launderers.
Make nothing---just shuffle paper around.

Ronald Reagan, the movie star turned President.
Russian, Gorbachev and he end the Cold War.
(That was between the US. and Soviet Union.)

4500 Nuclear Bombs later. They’re still out there.
Chenobyl, nuclear power plant blows up.
Thousands radiated. Reminder
Nuclear can end life as we know it.
So can Global warming.

New wars, Iraq and Iran--Soviets, Afghanistan Israel--Palestinians.
Computers are everywhere. ”Globalization” The new world economy.
Grandpa thinks its Imperialism under a new rubric.
Cars get child safety seats bicycles get helmets.
Global warming nuclear weapons got nothing.

Berlin Wall between East--- West Germany comes down
Symbol of divided world. Not a failure of socialism,
It was never, never ever tried. Dictatorship is not, socialism.

Aids a new disease decimated the Village where we lived.
350 Bleeker Street Used to be a Village.
Now it’s home to Ralph Lauren, Burberry, Winston, Tiffany?
We left when the locals lucked out. Village my foot.

Aids infects 31 million world wide.
Lung cancer results from smoking. Cure, cut smoking.
Aids from sex. Try cutting that?
New diseases in bloom, like Global Warming
Maybe no cure? Maybe just to late?

Music reflects the time. Rocks in many forms.
Hard, Soft, Heavy Metal, Hip Hop, Country Rock
Punk Rock, Salsa Rock. Maybe rocks in our heads?
Even Klezmer is back. Whiney clarinet and all.

The 1980s will be remembered as the party age.
Soren I hope you wont be “Paying the Piper.”
Love your Great GrandpaBob.
.

Memo to Richard Trumka President AFofL-CIO

You and I met a few years ago at University of Stony Brook Award Ceremony. I was given a “Lifetime Contribution for Social Justice Award.” You and I spoke about the Miners For Democracy that I had been involved with.You acknowledged the role it played in your own career.It contributed in no small way to your becoming the President of the United Mine Workers. You spoke about how you saw the future of the Labor Movement. Yes, you were going to lead a new effort to organize a whole new class of service workers who had little or no tradition in the union world. Okay, that was one of those upbeat and inspiring experiences. Now the Labor Movement is confronted with a very different reality The new Conservative Tea Party Congress will pick as one of their targets the decimation of unions.

I have a fundamental concern with how the Labor Movement needs to respond to any and all attacks. Its hard won victories starting way back with the establishment of the eight hour day will be targets for the conservative steamroller. In defense of hard won concession there has to be a new fearlessness in protecting those gains.There can be no caving in as there was when Reagan fired the Air Traffic Controllers. That was just the latest turning point leading to the precipitous decline of the unions. The Labor Movement simply cannot tolerate any more of that and still expect to be a force for the workers.

Having spent many of my early years in the Machinists Union I remember another turning point. That was when the leaders of the AF of L. and the CIO couldn’t wait to sign the Non Communist affidavit resulting from the passage of the Taft Hartley Law. The exception was your very own great leader of the UMW John L Lewis. He rightly called the signing of those affidavits a disgrace. Following the end of WW2 the employers with the help of that anti union Taft Hartley Law attempted to cancel any gains the unions had made during the war. We had to find many ways to defend our hard won gains.

I’m going to go back again for a little history. It was in 1935 I was 18 when I got my first organizing assignment for the newly formed CIO. A group of youthful organizers like myself had the opportunity to meet with John L. Lewis. (Oh, my God we were going to meet with the guru himself.) I do remember some of the things he told us. One was when you are really up against it and things look particularly bleak create a crisis. Don’t sit and wait for something good to happen. Emphatically he said “It never will” you have to make it happen.

After WW2 that's what we did in Stamford CT. Yale & Towne lock had decided to cancel their union contract with the Machinists. The strike there was in its sixth month. The union was desperate. Remembering what Lewis had told us we organized a one day General Strike. By God it worked, Lewis was right. That action saved the union.

My message Brother Trumka is please begin planning now exactly how the Labor Movement is going to respond to the attacks that are on there way. New dramatic tactics are called for. Stoppages, sit ins, demonstrations at State and in the Capital Washington. Marches, marches marches, get all that anger out there directed at those who are fleecing the working population. Yes your the leader and your going to have to take some risks. Remember anything is better than just sitting there playing dead.

If there is one lesson I have learned in our long struggle for “Social Justice” it is that the outcome of the struggle will be determined by the very nature of the resistance. Ideally we should win. We may not win all that we started out to fight for. The outcome may not be what we wanted. Most important we should find ourselves in a position to fight another day. One final word from Baron Von Clausewitz the great Prussian military strategist. He suggested, I’m paraphrasing when the enemy has you surrounded and outnumbered and your not sure what to do, launch an offensive.

Richard Trumka my best wishes for a successful outcome. Remember another General in WW2, Vinegar Joe Stillwell's battle slogan, “Illegitimate No Carborundum” or “Don’t Let the Bastards Grind you Down”

What Jobs are we Talking About?

Or Upon Reconnecting with old friends.

Recently I had the opportunity to reconnect with two old friends. One reminded me that he was finished with, “trying to change the world.” The other reminded me of what happened to the old Blue Collar Democratic coalition. They are the working class who have been losing out since the end of manufacturing across the industrial heartland of the U.S.

First about trying to “change the world.” I grew up with folks who had a dream of a utopia controlled by industrial workers. Workers would form elected councils that would start at their workplaces and move on through government. Yes they would be elected by the people who actually worked in the mines and mills to run the country.Back then there was the Soviet Union. Its supporters held that it was the living example of the new utopia.

I was a young radical growing up in the storm of these never ending arguments. There was a debate between myself, as a leader of the Young Communist League in the Bronx and Gus Tyler the head of the Young People Socialist league. It was held at The Bronx Free Fellowship. This question was posed to me. “In the struggle for socialism do you consider the Soviet Union a beacon or a burden?” Without hesitation I answered emphatically, “it was a burden.” That was my first step away from “changing the world.” Gus Tyler expressed shock and disbelief. Yes I confirmed my position. He then wanted to know “what on earth do you believe?”

In explaining my comment I said that I had come to the conclusion that in our struggle for a better world we can make improvements in the every day lives of working class people. I explained, “that’s what unions do every day in factories across the land.” It was in the struggles for Home Relief, Unemployment Insurance, Right to Organize that I experienced the real gains made for working people. Later I came to understand that what I was doing was making “imperfect adjustments.” This idea left plenty of room for future adjustments. That’s is how I have been dealing with “changing the world.” I guess I am still in that space and that is why I remain engaged even if it is just this old blogger holding forth as if on “Tremont & Prospect.” ( Soap box corner in the Bronx.)

On to the second old friend who for the many years was always a voice for the Guys who worked in the monstrous industrial heartland of the country. In a recent NY Times column David Brooks said, “This is the beating center of American life. The place--the trajectory of American politics is being determined. If America can figure out how to build a decent future for the working-class people in this region then the U.S. will remain a predominant power. If it can’t, it wont.”

Wow where is Brooks coming from? This heartland of America is now the rustbelt of most of those smoldering giants of the early industrial revolution. The few new mills that are operating under foreign ownership are producing more stuff with 80 percent less workers than in, “the good old days of Bethlehem Steel.” Brooks wake up it’s over. In place of Steel Making and cigars for a successful melt we have computer screens you sit in front of and push buttons.

Which brings me around to what kind of jobs are we all talking about? Can I remind my readers that some months back I wrote a blog on “Women As A Majority of the Work Force.” Now that has some real implications for the kind of jobs we are talking about. I love when I hear talk of, “shovel ready projects.” I don’t know exactly when the shovel became obsolete. I do know that any shovel job that required more than a dozen shovel fulls was taken over many decades ago by a machine called a back-hoe. They come in all sizes from a little bitty one that I can rent to use in our garden to giants operated by one person that can dig a quarter mile six foot deep trench before lunch.

My point is that jobs in the U.S. have been rapidly changing from the old industrial mills to the service, health care and automated computer controlled operation. It is now estimated that half the workforce or 75 million people do their jobs sitting in front of a computer screen the whole day.

That reminds me of a book Patricia Sexton wrote back in 1969 called “The Feminized Classrooms, White Collar and the Decline of Manliness.” I knew Pat Sexton and I read the book when it came out. Most of what she had to say is in the title. I was ambivalent at the time because my own experience moving from the plant floor to the office helped me to understand that in the white collar settings men and women were equal as far as the tasks were concerned.

Sexton’s concern about “manliness” was and is real. It was while working as a plumbers helper in high rise buildings I became a man. I was doing hard physical labor that was only done by men. Hence I became one. My work determined my state of mind. So now I’m in front of a computer screen and my major help comes from my wife who knows a hell of lot more about this machine than I ever will. This brings me back to the unemployed that Brooks wrote about in the “Great heartland of America?”

It was my second “old :friend” who called my attention to the fact that without some kind of college education getting any job at all is becoming extremely difficult. So what is going to happen to all those middle aged blue collar guys who lost their jobs as a result of the recession? Who out there thinks they can be retrained to sit here like I am and be, a claims operator at an insurance company? I have some real doubts as to how possible that will be. That brings me back to the David Brooks piece. If we need to create jobs in the Heartland to put the old timers back to work I’m afraid we can’t and so we may be losing our “predominance in the world.” I’m not sure if that’s good or bad?

Social Unrest Has Arrived

A a number of occasions I have written about social unrest. Now its breaking out all over the world. Karl Marx might have observed that capitalism, in its regular economic upheavals is once again going to solve the crisis on the backs of the working class. What has changed since Marx’s time is whose backs are going to pay for this latest big rip-off? The rip-off artists are known as Madoff speculators, Bear Stearns, Citi Corp Goldman Sachs or any one of the big Hedge fund artists. Yes, we hardly know these days who exactly constitutes the capitalists or the “working class?” Do we include all those millions of white collar people sitting in front of computer screens? Is the new ruling class the Gates, the Zuckerburgh’s? Who? However in the meantime the social unrest factor is spreading across the globe.

Look at the protests in Britain. So far they were primarily students furious at the proposed increase of college tuition. What of the street demonstrations in France, Greece? This of course is only the beginning as all the “advanced capitalist countries” begin to figure out how to pay for the big party of the nineties. That's when we all went on the biggest credit binge in history. Buying mountains of stuff that most people couldn’t come close to affording. That's when your house was your big poker chip. You could burrow against it. You could buy and sell it doubling your money and it was all so easy. And for a little while it made lots of people feel oh so happy that WE GOT IT ALL. Then the bubble burst and very suddenly we are back in the same old dump of a recession. Or depression depending on who you are talking to.

Capitalism is not nearly as scared of social unrest now as it was back in the 1930s. That’s primarily because all that threatens now is a move to shift the distribution of wealth. Back in the 30s the capitalists were scared of a socialist revolution. That’s why I have often told how FDR with the aid of the left saved capitalism from its own abuses.

My years in the Labor Movement were precisely in those times of great social unrest. You bet workers were angry about the unfair distribution of capitalism’s goodies. With our regular use of social unrest we were able to create a world of tolerable working conditions for millions of workers. The Unions in those days had some really dynamic leaders like the head of the Miners John L. Lewis. In a very early new organizers meeting he growled at a roomful of us young whipper snappers. “They’ll be many times when you feel there’s no hope, your up against it don’t have an idea what to do. Then create a crisis.” Soon after the end of the war that’s exactly what we did in Stamford Conn.

Yale & Towne Lock company had been out on strike for months. Strikers morale was eroding. Ahaa! Time to create a crisis. We managed a general Strike in Stanford and man did the rulers ever take notice. We were threatening the system. Workers got a sense of power that they had never experienced. And man did they love it. The strike was settled. I learned from that experience why the idea of the General Strike had been wiped off the map of ways to strengthen working class power. The union leadership in cahoots with the owners of industry realized early on that the experience of the general strike was far to dangerous to the system. That was social unrest that could lead to revolution. Taken off the books.

Okay so now we come to President Obamas Commission on the deficit. They have issued a preliminary report, “for discussion.” The argument that has quickly emerged is who is going to pay for the big party that is now over? Here a lot will depend on the social unrest factor. If the argument boils down too a conversation of do we or don’t we expand the Bush tax cuts nothing much will happen. If the changes in SS and Medicare don’t get anybody mad and out on the streets the working class is going to pay through the nose. We are back to the social unrest factor. To the degree there is a protest movement out there to defend the basic interests of the average wage earner that will determine how much the cost of the crisis will be paid for by that very same wage earner. Keep an eye on the social unrest factor. It will determine the outcome as well as the future of the programs under consideration for cuts, cuts, cuts.

Voting as an Exorcism

When I went to vote in our local school there was an old lady using a walker. I was sitting down. I offered her my seat. She asked,”how old are you?” I told her 93. She said,”your older than me you stay there.” I thanked her and met her again as we were leaving the school. “How’d it go I asked.” “Oh it was just fine as now we’ll get those scoundrels out and get the country humming again.” “Do you always feel that way after you have voted?” “Oh of course" she replied.” “So you always feel uplifted once you have voted?” “Yes indeed. Isn’t it the American way?”

It dawned on me that people get a heightened sense that the act of voting has somehow cleansed there felt sense that “by God I have actually done something for my country.” She just seemed to be one happy AARP member. If for some the election is an exorcism then for others it has become a sporting event. Think of it as the baseball pennant race. That’s the primaries and the election the world series. The result is the same. Just an opportunity to be a fan for your team. God forbid there be any serious thought given to the issues.

All my life I have tried to understand what the voting means to the individual voter. As a soap boxer way back in the thirties I often told my audience that the whole system of Tweedledum and tweedldee was setup by the capitalist system to create the illusion that you are voting for change. When in fact we were just voting for the same script with just a change of players. Having said that I still tried to convince my audience that F.D.R. was better than his opponent. “So if you have to vote go with FDR as he is indeed better than Alf Landon." Yes, it was the lessor of the two evils. We had lots of explanations for that notion as Europe was going fascist and we felt that FDR was our best bet against that rising tide.

Now with capitalism in one of its regular crisis the Democrats became the fall guys for 8 years of Bush. It was Carl Rove’s idea to raise that enormous debt in order to a “starve the beast” policy. Translated it meant raise the debt to make sure there is no money left for social programs. That’s is exactly where we are now. The Republicans who created the debt crisis are now going to solve it on the backs of those who can least afford it. And yes they will champion all those Bush tax cuts mostly the ones for the very rich.

What went wrong for Obama? A couple of things at work here. I believe the fact that we have the first Black President is what got the Tea Party folks bonkers. That’s what, “Give us our country back” was about. It just sat there right under the skin of so many white people who just couldn’t abide with the new Black face of our leader. It expresses itself in the “Where’s his birth certificate?” “Yeah we know he’s a Muslim just waiting to take over the country." And to boot a socialist and on and on.

Obama really never had an organized base. To the pickup truck, beer drinking old buddies of mine Obama is not a good communicator. He reminds me of another to smart politician Adley Stevenson. He also had trouble putting his thoughts into very simple little slogans that the average Joe can understand. (Just think about the Obama Health Care campaign.) Talking of the essential need for an organized base I am reminded of a meeting between A.Philip Randolf President of the Sleeping Car Porters Union and FDR. Randolph at the time was the lone Black in the leadership of an A F of L union. The Sleeping Car Porters was the largest black union in the country. Randolph was complaining to FDR about the lack of jobs for his members. He was pressing Roosevelt to do more about job creation. FDR is reported to have said. “Philip I agree with everything you are saying now you go out there and make me do it.”

That is precisely what Obama simply doesn't have a mass movement to make him do it. It was great to see all those young folks out there being excited about their new President. Problem was the day after his inauguration the youngens went back to text messaging and forgot about politics.

There simply never was an organized movement in support of what Obama wanted to do. Yes there were some nice slogans like, we can” and “Change.” That last word “Change” seems to have all kinds of magical connotation for the citizens. Yet there is no definition of what “change” means. Just changing the actors doesn’t mean a hill of beans. If there is no change in the system we are doomed to endlessly play the game of treedledum and tweedlldee.

I am glad that a little old lady helped me to understand the excitement that comes over people as they go to the polls. I never thought of it as an exorcism a cleansing of the political pallet. A sense of relief. A feeling that “by God I really changed things today. because I voted.” So there.

Deathday Birthday

Yupp my spell check don’t know “deathday.” and one could ask, "why should it?" Oh lets say I made it up. Kate took me to the theater for my birthday to see Le Bett at the Music Box on 44th street off Times Square. I hated the crowds and the stairs down to the “Mens” room but I loved the play. It gave me license to make up words the way Molier did a few hundred years ago. LeBett is a spoof on our blowhard blowvators. That's what inspired me to come up with“Happy deathday to you happy deathday to you” and so forth. You just don’t want to go there. Right? So, why am I?

Since 1954 I have had this terrible birthday problem. My poor father at age 74 was overcome with an total cancer attack. In and out of hospitals with body wrenching treatments. He would plead with me to find a German doctor scientist he had known at Lenox Hill hospital. Of course he was long gone. My atheist father was a true believer in science. Life and death was only a matter of finding the right scientist. Which of course I could not.

As he slips away the life machines keep him from going under. On October 18th I spent the night with papa at Presbyterian Hospital. With only looks and nods of the head he was telling me it was time to go. With my hand on the plug in the wall I asked him three times if he wanted me to pull it. Each time he shook his head with a most emphatic head shake yes. I pulled it. Short time later a nurse appeared looked at papa looked at me smiled, kissed my cheek said, “time for you to leave we have things to do.” By the time I got home there was a telegram. Papa died 15 minutes before the time I had been born.

This is what has made my deathday, birthday a complex mix of emotions that get tangled up in the two most dazzling of our human experience. Since our beginnings humans have struggled ceaselessly with some way to make sense of our deathday. All the worlds peoples invented some kind of religions to assure them that we just don’t end-up as dust. I was fascinated by how my papa replaced the religion of God with science. I am now beginning to understand the balm of believing that “yes I am happy as I am going to meet all my beloved friends.” There are volumes of songs, hymns, oratories about the glory of the hereafter. And how about those heavenly Cathedrals?

I must admit a change of heart. (No, I’m not going to call for a Minister, Priest or Rabbi.) There is an old Wobbly song, “The Preacher and the Slave. “Long haired preachers come out every night . Try to tell us what’s wrong and what’s right.” The chorus. “You will eat by and by in that glorious land up in the sky. That’s a lie.” Like that. The tune is based on the song. In the Sweet By and By. Here’s what that song says.

“There’s a land that is fairer than day. We shall meet on that beautiful shore. And our spirits shall sorrow no more.” We’re going to meet all our friends over there. In this time of my life I sometimes, fleetingly wish I was a true believer who could meet his old friends in the sweet by and by. Unfortunately the old rationalist takes over says,” it will never happen” so make love to the life you got left, pick up your guitar and enjoy those melodious songs of faith and happiness. Honestly I do try.

Obama's Armegeddon

Yes, it’s just two weeks to the midterm election. The pundits, including the Democrats are falling all over themselves predicting disaster for the President. Some of my faithful blog readers will recall what I wrote during the campaign. High Expectation’s would do Obama in. I warned that Obama will chill out once he hits that cement wall of Republican opposition to anything he would propose. Back then I thought he was completely naive regarding his ability to reach out across the isle to his opposition. Man did he ever get smacked right in the puss trying that reaching out routine. What he got was a resounding NO NO NO. So, what’s at work here?

If I were a few years back from these 93 years I would love to go sit in some blue collar beer joints and listen to what the guys have to say about the man in the White House. I was doing that some years ago when Tiger Woods was first doing those holes in one that blew the golfers away. “God damn now the f------- niggers are about to take over the last of the white mans sports. Aren’t we gonna have nothin left for areselves?” I have a hunch if I returned to any of those bars now I again would hear what is underneath all this, “mad as hell and I ain’t gonna take it anymore” stuff. “Give us our country back” is the password phrase, translated means, “get that Black man out of our White House.” Then we’ll have our country back.

Of course we all know that much of the anger and unrest is about the economic mess we are in. However the GOP right wing has used that anger to turn it against their enemy of the moment, The President. Of course Obama has not done at all what he should have. Some argue that is the reason for the unrest.

1. He didn’t frame the fight with his enemies in a way that people could understand what he was trying to do. 2. He kept hoping that somehow or other his reaching across the aisle might payoff. Remember that disgraceful wooing of the two ladies form Maine?

3. He failed to put into simple terms exactly what he was trying to do. Even today no one in this administration has made a clear simple explanation of how the Medical Insurance Plan will benefit the average citizen. 4. Obama seemed unable to speak directly to the young voters who elected him in order to enlist their support for what he was trying to do.

5. The man who had been a Community Organizer forgot a guiding principle. “An organizer must always make absolutely sure his supporters understand the strategy for successful organizing.” The administration simply failed to do that. Now they will pay the price for that failure.

The outcome of the election will not signify the beginning or end of anything. What it probably do is embolden the crazies. Those are the right wingnuts, Glenn Beck will keep rousing people “to arms” against the “socialists” in the White House. That can become a very dangerous time in our history. It reminds me only to clearly how the Fascists back in the thirties turned the anger in Europe into their anti-Semitic crusades. It was all the fault of the Jews.

In Arizona right now the economic mess is becoming all the fault of the illegal Mexicans. In a sense it’s as if any handy scapegoat will do. Just as long as we don’t want to take a hard look at who were the people responsible for the economic meltdown? It sure as hell wasn’t the Mexicans looking for work in Arizona. Yeah, but it’s a lot easier to go after them than it is to go after the Hedge Fund jockeys who enriched themselves on mortgages that half the people who bought them could not, by any definition pay for them.

This is where we will find ourselves in a couple of weeks. It will just mean some more fighting to keep the rightwing nuts from further destroying the country. Do they have any solutions to the problems before us? Of course not. That’s why we need to keep working to come up with ideas that will address the real issues that we are confronted with. Namely, unemployment, foreclosures, decline of manufacturing, those endless wars, and the increasing discrepancy in how our wealth is distributed. This sure is a mouthful. Well. it’s better than despair.

Obama Needs a Mine Rescue

Did the world ever need the rescue operation in Chile? You betcha. It’s the very best news the world has had in a very long time. I have spent time in the Hard Rock mining community of Butte Montana. I can feel that emotional excitement as the Guys are brought out alive from a half mile down in the rock. In Butte I mostly experienced the opposite. Following a rock slide or a roof failure, miners were brought up mauled or dead. That is exactly the opposite of the emotions being experienced in Chile.

I am also very proud of the fact that the drill that was the first to break through the rock and reach the trapped men was made in Pennsylvania. This should assure Tom Friedman of the NY Times that, yes we can still make good stuff right here in Pennsylvania.(Friedman often bellyaches, in his columns about the fact that we can't make anything anymore.)

The Mine Rescue is exactly the kind of break Obama needs. Instead he got hit with the oil blowout in the Gulf. That just added to a feeling that our government is impotent in the face of any natural disaster like Hurricane Katrina before the BP blowout. Obama administration was far to slow to act in the face of the Gulf disaster. Much of that failure falls on the shoulders of the Cabinet Secretaries who are supposed to be able to take charge in emergencies. Problem is, Presidents tend to hire politicians who need to be paid off rather than people who are actually knowledgeable about their responsibilities.

I have my fingers crossed that Obama might get a breakthrough in of all places Afganistan. Fareed Zakaria reported this week that President Karzai of Afganistan has invited the Taliban to a peace conference in Kabul. Zakaria suggests that if that could succeed it might mean an early end to this 9 year nightmare in Afganistan, If that were to happen Obama’s schedule for the US to leave by July 2011 would turnout to be right on track. That would be Obamas “Mine Rescue Drama.”

When thinking about mine safety there’s another important difference to remember. The Mine in Chile is in hard rock. That suggests they are mining minerals like gold, silver copper, zinc, lead etc. But not coal. Coal mining is where most gas explosions occur. They are far more dangerous mines than the hard rock. And of course that’s part of the argument for open pitting for coal. In that case the danger of gas explosion’s go away. That has other devastating consequences. The the stuff on top of the coal face, called the “overburden” is lifted to expose the coal. It gets dumped in the hollows of West Virginia and end up contaminating the water table. That's got the environmentalists up in arms to save the rivers and streams from being poisoned.

I think of it all as just more chapters in the history of the Industrial Revolution. I have often wondered why was it called a “revolution”? I think I’m beginning to know. Revolution has been against the resources of the planet. Yes we are using them up or as we exploit them they begin to hit back as seen by the red mud lumina sludge in Hungary or if you will, Global Warming. (Just had the hottest July and August on record.)

I will now figure out how I can celebrate the successful effort to save the lives of a group of Chilean miners doing one of the most dangerous jobs on earth. PS. My very first involvement with miners was at 7 years old my father sent me out with a shopping bag to collect canned food for the Harlan County coal miners who were on strike.

Slouching to 93

Yesterday I saw my foot doctor. That’s primarily for a neuropathy problem. That is what he called an “age appropriate” phenomena. Yupp, thats how it going now stuff in this 93 year old body is just wearing out. Or age appropriate. What’s one to do? I find myself still thinking in terms of machines.

Remember I spent the first third of my working life as a machinist. I often tended to steam engines as old as me. My job was to find the parts that were worn out and replace them. That's what the doctors are trying to do with this old “engine.” No, not replacing parts just keeping the old ones well lubricated and running. Man! I have worked around lots of pumps but there is nothing out there in the mechanical world that can come any wheres near the human heart. My heart has been beating at a rate that indicates that it has passed the 3 billion mark. Believe me there is no mechanical pump out there that can come anywhere close to that. So, thank you old heart even though now and again you are indicating to me that your getting tired. All I ask of you is that you keep going as I still have some things I need to do. Like what?

Get the lawn mower overhauled for next years grass cutting. Write a blog about my interview with the Mafia for a job in New Jersey. Visit with old friends, I haven’t seen for a while in New York City. (We live 75 miles out on Long Island.) There are plans of woodworking projects for dear friends and loved ones that are still on the drawing boards. Pulling together writings, from early in my life that ended up on the “cutting room” floor. I cannot understand how the past that I remember so clearly is either forgotten or unknown to most people.

Talking of human organs, while I.m most thankful to my heart for keeping this whole body working I cannot neglect paying homage to this old “computer” in my head called the brain. Everyday it astonishes me as to how much stuff it has on file there. I can start playing the guitar and singing and up pops the lyrics to a song that was popular in 1926. Now how on earth can my file up there remember that? But it does even though I never asked it to. Go figure.

I am very excited about the Royal Shakespeare Company visit to New York next July and August. They are rebuilding the old Armory up on Park avenue and 72nd street into a replica of the old Globe Theatre in London. thrust stage and all. They will do five plays and I want to camp out in New York to see them all. I have had a life long love affair with Shakespeare and I have never understood why? One thing I know is I always come away from the play feeling smarter about the human condition. It’s important that I be in good health so as not to miss anything.

Just a word on the upcoming crazy, ridiculous political season. I have witnessed the dumbing down effect of our endless blah blah blah on television. A major quality required of candidates is to prove that they are not any smarter than you. “You” gets reduced to the lowest common denominator.

It’s okay, for no matter who gets elected the problems are going to be there. In my mind the most pressing is the planet. As I wrote to a young women activist in Maine, We can fix the socio-economic issues by rearranging income distribution strategies. We will not be able to fix some of the devastation being done to the planet by global warming. This is the most alarming issue our time and I wished I could be right in the middle of that fight. My campaign would be run on the issue of.”would you drive a car with brakes that you were told might fail?” Or would you say I’m not going to chance it and go have them fixed.” That’s the global warming problem. If we take a chance that its just a natural phenomena and it turns out we were wrong. Then we are in for a big smash up that will not be fixable.

I think most nonagenarian like me just hope we can make it to the end of the decade just in order to, “leave this old world with a satisfied mind.” Country Western Song.

Who Shall Lead Us?

As I started to write this I thought about the notion that a ”Child Shall Lead us.” Isaiah 11.6 “A little child shall lead them. Bringing together the wolf, the leopard, the young lion, the lamb, the kid and the calf” Johnny Cash sings a great song about how the lion will lie down with the lamb. It demonstrates that the problem of who shall lead is a very old one indeed. That dream of all of us working together is also very old and obviously not a very successful one. But we keep trying. Is that what’s going on now with the Washington Mall as the jousting place for who shall lead?

It now seems we are in a time of “who can get the most people to the Lincoln Memorial Mall in the Nations Capital?” I had mentioned in a previous blog that I had worked with Bayard Rustin back in August of 1963 to get 400 Mobilization for Youth kids down there and back. We had that once in a lifetime experience of hearing a most memorable speech.”I Have A Dream.” Never ever to be forgotten. The March was organized around the theme of jobs. Martin Luther King emerged as “our leader.” That's what Beck reffered to as his objective. For him to inherit the King legacy. Talk about hutspa?

It is now 45 years later and we are being subject to a lets see who can get the most people down there to show who is the leader. Far cry from the 1963 March. Most pundits thought Glenn Beck was going to turn his gathering into a right wing political rally. Instead he got religion and turned it into lets get our old values back campaign. And to finally defeat Woodrow Wilson. The former President is Beck’s favorite villain. He blames him for the start of the progressive government. “Progressive” is one of Beck’s watchwords signifying dangerous communists who want to steal your individual rights.

Last Saturday a group of Community and Union organizations took over the Mall for a demonstration called “One Nation Working Together.” Who exactly were they referring to as “working together?” The lion and the lamb? The rally sponsors included the NAACP, the AFofL CIO, Sierra Club, National Council of LaRaza. A pretty good representation of the old New Deal coalition or what’s left of it. From what I could find in the various news outlets no leader emerged from that gathering. Because that gathering had no sponsors from television I am certain very few of us knew it was happening. Wow, it’s is amazing to see how television is dominates every corner of our political lives.

Shall the comedians lead us? Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert from Comedy Central are taking on Beck with their call for a Washington Mall Day on October 30th. Their themes are. “Rally to Restore Sanity Jon Stewart. ‘March to Keep Fear Alive” Stephen Colbert. Their rallies are suppose to be competitive but I don’t get exactly how that is supposed to come off. Maybe something like dueling banjos? Stewart starts out and Colbert answers or what? But for now I wonder will one of them emerge as the leader on the left? A very sad commentary as to where this country of ours is trying to go.

In the meantime across Europe the street demonstrations for jobs and against pay cuts have been sponsored by unions. The leadership of the European Labor organizations are the leaders of the struggle for jobs and security for their members.

For as long as I can remember there has been this notion of American exceptionalism. That was the idea that we, the U.S. were not like other capitalist countries. Our Blue Collar, working class, in contrast to European workers, never seemed to see themselves as a class. I was forever explaining to my European friends that we are economic but not class conscious. That is again what I now see being acted out both here and in Europe. What will it take to create a mass movement in the U.S. for workers rights? Or is that just something in my sweet memory of things long gone? I would love to know what some of my old union buddies think about this? Who, or when will leaders emerge in a new invigorated progressive left?

Soren Chapter 6 the 1970.s

Part of my ongoing pledge to tell my life story to my Great Grant Soren in decades.

Soren Chapter 6 the 1970’s

All decades seem to outdo last one.

Women's right to choose. Roe V Wade
Abortion legal. Would have saved my mother.
People keep dyeing in Vietnam war.
Our street protests help end it. Killing stops.
Fifty thousand US soldiers died
1,5 million Vietnam people and for what?
At wars end always the same question, For what?

Nixon, Republican is President..
Nixon sends “plumbers” no toilet overflow.
Domestic spying on Democrats.
Plumbers “shit hits the fan.”
(WW 2 joke ask your Dad.)

Nixon waves goodbye to Washington.
First in our history.
His legacy, dirty tricks in politics. Still living with that.
VP Takes over. Oh yes, the plumbers go to jail.
Hank Aaron breaks Babe Ruth’s batting record.
(Have to tell you my Babe Ruth story)

Nuke power 3 mile island blows up.
Scared of radiation? You betcha.
Enough nuke bombs now
Blow the whole planet away.

We send astronauts to the moon.
Bring back rocks. Reminds me.
Rock and Roll music is fun
Your old grandpa roc-ken with Kate. Wah hoo!

Microprocessors, midget computers
Take over many many human functions.
Say goodbye to a lot of jobs.

Enough! Already. New subject
Women continue fight for equality.
Grandpa writes, “Two Women 3 men on a Raft”
In “Harvard Business Review” Fancy stuff eah?

Outward Bound---learn to survive wilderness!
On the raft going down Rogue River.
All on board take turns as Helms-person.
3 men on instinct, undermine the women.
A women at helm, men dump the raft and laugh.
Women say, “see we can’t do it.”
Men say, that’s right, “we do it.”

Grandpa says, “same goes on in the workplace.”
Oh Soren does he catch hell from men.
Women love it, “some guy finally told the truth.”
Yupp, I was the guy.
Women past that but still a way to go.

Your name in the news today.
Movie, Good and bad owls at war.
Soren leader of good owls from GaHole.
See I knew you were destined in blood
A fighter for social justice.
Just like old great Grandpabob.

The 1930's It Ain't

Lead News-story Sept. 17th 2010

"The poverty rate in the US has jumped sharply in 2009." I hear constant comparisons between this recession and the 1930s. You are fortunate as you are reading a fellow who actually lived through the thirties. So, here’s how I remember that time. When I was still a very young man under 20 and I applied for Home Relief. (That was the original name of Welfare.) You had to show some evidence that you had looked for work. There was absolutely no jobs available so we did the next best thing. This meant the name address and phone number of the places you sought employment. That was easy as a group of us would pool our job hunting experiences. Finally found eligible you were placed on Home Relief. That meant a monthly check for rent and food.

Next step would be a government run jobs program. My first was the National Youth Administration. I was sent to work as a Detective at the National Desertions Bureau. This was a Jewish philanthropic organization. It’s job was to find husbands who had left their wives and try to reconcile them. My big find was a wrestler, “Sam The Butcher.” But that’s another story. During the LBJ War on Poverty a similar program was the Neighborhood Youth Corps.

My next stop in the thirties depression was the WPA. There I worked on construction projects such as Orchard Beach, Macombs Dam Park, Bronx Zoo, etc. If any of those jobs were completed and there was no further work available you were put back on Home Relief. In other words there was a whole number of safety net programs that would help individuals and their families to survive.

When Michael Harrington wrote, “The Other America, Poverty in the United States” back in 1962 it lead to the creation of the “Anti Poverty Program.” That effort was closer to the government model of the thirties than what is going on now. When I read about whole families being forced to live in homeless shelters I am simply appalled. We had been through all that in past depressions, recessions. We had learned the need for the government to step in and find ways to support families from this terrible spiral of homelessness, alcohol, drugs. In a word, the path to destruction of what we hold as a precious form of social life, the family.

Anybody with an ounce of compassion should be able to see that the tragedy unfolding before us is not the fault of the people suffering. In the simplest terms, the system has failed them. When I hear some of the right wing blow-hards saying the “unemployed are lazy and if they wanted to work they could” and more terrible bullshit like that it makes my blood boil. (I guess you could sense that pretty good without me telling it,) Well, it was no different starting in the great depression. Yes, there were those back then who would make the same claim. “That bunch of unemployed out there are just lazy layabouts who just don’t want to work.”

Unfortunately the Obama team just doesn’t get how serious the recession is for those whose lives are coming apart through no fault of their own. In one sense the White House bunch are elitists who simply are not able to make contact with those who are bearing the brunt of an economic catastrophe. Never forget the victims were not the cause. And yes, “They are mad as hell” for the simple reason that those who created the mess have been handily bailed out while the victims are being told to, “hang in there better times are coming.” The problem is there is nothing to “hang on to” and so they are drowning while the right wingnuts are choraling all that anger into political capital. Obama and company wake up or the election results will give you a severe case of adjuda.

Passing The Public School

I live in a small town now.
A New York City man lost?
I needed a work place.
That means regular treks to the hardware.

That’s when I pass the Public School.
It’s September and I remember
P.S. 34 in the north Bronx.
Where the fall sun shone as it is today.
A prisoner squirming at that little desk.
Staring at the window.

Dreaming of the wonder world outside.
Empty lots with abandoned cars
To take apart. see how they run?

Teacher Miss Dawn “Robert Schrank
What is the answer?” “To what I replied.”
A roar of laughter seemed to wake us all up.
Dawn, did not think this funny. “Eight times 12
Is not funny.” Try to pay attention.”

That last was a plea. She knew somewhere in her self
That we should be out there.
Gorging on the last of summer.

That's what I knew was going on at the Zoo
A stones throw away.
If only I could watch the Lions,
Fast asleep in the high-grass.
The monkeys playing with themselves
Does the Zoo bore them like me in P.S. 34?

Or the kids in Center Moriches Public School?
They dream of the Bay? short distance away.
To swim, fish, dig for clams or watch the Osprey
Fish hawk dive for their dinner?

Maybe school should be at night?
Would there be less for us kids to dream about?
I wonder as I go to the hardware?

Hurricanes I Remember

I should be writing about Labor Day. I am still sentimental about a holiday that had great meaning in my lifetime. Now I'm not sure anymore what it means aside from a long weekend. Anyhow I can't resist writing about, you know what?

Yes, we have been up to our eyeballs with Hurricane Earl. Kate and I are exhausted. At the time it’s hard to realize how much stress is created by the anticipation. There was a fundamental difference in the Stage 5 1938 Hurricane that destroyed the city of Providence and Earl.

In 1938 I was 20 years old and working at Packard Motor Car. Sometime in the late morning the foreman says to me, “listen kid” that’s what they called me, “there’s a hurricane on its way here. Why don’t you grab a couple of batteries and some cans of ether and go make yourself some money starting up stalled cars.” I owned a 1929 Packard Touring car that had unusually large wheels that made it exceptional on flooded roads. That what I did and yes I ended up making over $20, bucks which back then was a lot of money.

My second Hurricane encounter was on Fire Island in the 1950s. We had bought a small “fixer upper”cottage that needed a lot more than fixing. It sat on Locust Posts as did most houses out there. In our first year of ownership I was determined to replace all of the 40-50 rapidly rotting posts holding the place up. It was September. Wife and kids left to go back to school. I had arranged to stay on for a few days and continue my post replacement project.

In replacing posts I would get under the house with a pressured hose. Pick a rotted post. Put the pressured hose into the sand and as the sand was washed away by the water remove the old post. Take a new one push it down into the wet sand until you got a solid lock under the house. It’s just plain hard physical labor. I had bought myself a nice steak and potatoes dinner for that night. That with a couple of Jim Beams and I was off to sleep.

I’m up early the next morning, half asleep I notice that I am surrounded by water. A Coast Guard motorized Dinghy comes by. He says,” what the hell you doing here?” Surprised, I say “I live here.” He says, “There was a Hurricane went through and the Island was evacuated.’ “Well I’m sorry but I was fast asleep and don’t know nothin about no evacuation.” He looks at me a little perplexed says, “okay I guess it don’t make no difference now that’s its over.”

The next one was Gloria, September 1985. It did a lot of damage out here mostly ripping off roofs. The major problem for most of the houses around where we live was loss of electricity. That resulted in these nightly cookouts in a nearby Park. As stuff defrosted folks would bring it to the Park for a community “Gloria feast.” Best community social activity I can remember.

Next was Hurricane Bob. Yupp, that was its name. Kate and I were visiting her parents in Kokato Minnesota. We had heard something on the radio about the approaching storm. I asked Kate’s father to turn to the Weather Channel. Back then it was not commercial. Just the weather. We both stood there aghast as the arrow pointed the Hurricane Bob right at our house. Kate’s mother, Esther packed us some sandwiches as we raced out of the house to catch the last flight out to LaGuardia. We arrived about midnight raced home to board up. by about 5-6 Am we were finished. Everything that could get airborne was put away and our 16 foot South facing glass wall boarded up. I said I was going to bed. Kate said not me I gotta see this, my first Hurricane. Bob never hit us it went 40 miles south.

What was so different with that 1938 huge storm that wrecked hundreds of houses all up and down the East coast, killed a couple thousand people, devastated the shoreline and yesterdays Hurricane Earl? Very simple. Back in 38 there was no television. Nobody even knew the storm was coming because the folks in the Carolinas or Maryland or Delaware didn’t bother to use the telephone to warn the people further up the coast that a deadly storm was on its way. When the hurricane hit the City phones began to ring and that’s how the manager at Packard sent his workforce home early.

Now with television we become aware of hurricanes from where they are born ,off the coast of Africa until they reach their final destination. I am not suggesting this is a bad. Not at all. My problem arises with the endless amount of sensationalized stuff coming over the television screens that can make you crazy by the time the storm itself arrives. I think it was Heidegger who suggested that all anxiety is in the anticipation.That is exactly what happened to Kate and I. After watching and listening we prepared to leave the Island. No we prepared to go to a shelter. No we prepared to put up the shutters. No, we finally agreed to do nothing.

So, what’s the problem here? All television Channels have a single interest. How to gain more viewers. This now includes PBS. They are all looking for increased Neilson Ratings. That’s how the commercial stations like “The Weather Channel” get their advertising. To keep us tuned they have to constantly come up with some brand new sensational information. At one point yesterday afternoon we got calls from different friends all very concerned for our safety, telling us to evacuate. They were getting their information from one of the many media outlets.

The lesson here is not that we just go about “posting your house” with a hurricane approaching. The lesson for people like us who live in vulnerable locations to learn and understand what is or is not a serious threat. So far we have been lucky. That doesn’t mean we will always be. But we will try to become more self informed regarding the risks.

Economic Crisis=Demagogue Time

I have been thinking about how to express my felt sense of the present mood of the country. Some time ago I wrote a blog on”A Pall “ that was hanging over the land. Now I am past “The Pall.” Well, I played with “angst.” No that’s just anxiety. Yes there’s some of that but yet there’s more. How about “ennui” No thats French for lassitude. How about “miasma?” Thats a “poisoned atmosphere." Okay, if we can think of it a mass psychological condition then I believe it fits the present mood of the country. We are suffering from a Miasma of the body politic. Now that the “Big Lend and Spend Parties of the nineties are over the American middle class is really pissed off. They cannot abide with the notion that all those goodies have gone with the economic bust. Then we elect the first Black President and instead of things getting better as promised they get worse. This makes for ideal situation for the demagogues.

In my 93 years I have lived through a number of Miasma’s. They are never exactly the same but there are a few characteristics that show up in all of them. The present situation with the persistent ten percent unemployment and the continuous home foreclosure is starting to increasingly resemble the 1930s. I estimate that the unemployment is probably now somewhere between 15 to 20 millions. Many people who cannot find jobs are either no longer eligible for unemployment benefits or just quit applying. That's a huge pool of angry folks out there. Who will they blame for their circumstance? People in distress often start out blaming themselves for the disorder. Slowly but surely they will find a need to blame somebody or something for their dire circumstance.

In my Marxist days on the soapbox I could make a good case that capitalist system was to blame for the working class ills. Om my desk is a copy of the IWW songbook. On the cover it says “Fan The Flames of the Discontent.” That is exactly what Glenn Beck is doing. Fanning the flames of the discontent.

The present political Miasma, besides the failing economy, is a fierce hatred spewing forth from the right wing of the Republicans against the Democrats and especially their Black President Barack Obama. This situation sets up an ideal situation for the demagogues to work in. They need enemies to blame the economic crisis on as well as slogans that will arouse people to act. Enter Fox News man Glenn Beck.

Speaking of the 1930s my papa used to say “It is very important in times like these to be on the lookout for hidden meanings of code words and phrases.” Yes of course, welcome to “Give Us Our Country Back.” And today with a huge crowd at the Lincoln Memorial Mr. Beck “Bring God back into our lives.” “Bring honor back to our country.” All of these slogans suggest that the present Administration is a danger and threat to “our country and we need to take it back.” Code for get rid of that Black man in the White House.

Todays caper at the Lincoln Memorial, claiming the mantle of Martin Luther King is a way to scare more people into believing the whole country is signing on to, “Give Us Our Country Back.” The mass rally technique is just another form of stampeding the uninformed, unsure and independents to get on board as “we take over the country.” It’s that old saw “you with us or against us?” You remember that one?

No. there was none of that back in the 1963 March on Washington for, “Jobs and Freedom” where King made his famous “I Have a Dream” speech. As it continues today. Blacks back then were suffering a far greater unemployment rate than whites. Freedom was not a code word for get the government off my back as it was used today at the Beck rally. Freedom meant the right to live unsegregated lives. With a couple of hundred kids from Mobilization For Youth I attended that rally. There is no question that the March became a rallying cry for the country to pay attention to the needs of a minority of citizens who for to long have been deprived of their just rights under our Constitution. What went on today at the Lincoln Memorial was an attempt to usurp that great moment from our struggle for civil rights and claim it for the Tea Party. That's what demagogues do. Turn things into their opposites.

This is a real challenge to the Obama administration. They need to to really smack back hard on any of these coded messages so that people can see what they are about. Obama needs to respond to the criticisms that he is just to distant from the average working stiffs. During the Gulf crisis I was hoping he would just go and schmooze with some of those Gulf fishermen. He never did. That has got to change or we will see another big deflection of blue collar people turning once again away from the Democrats as they did in the Reagan years. The administration needs to get back to organizing all those Internet folks who elected the President and alert them to the upcoming election in November. I hope they haven’t got to tired of it all and are able and willing to respond.

Hampton Classic Time, Again?

I confess, I am rerunning this blog again because in some ways it reminds me of the absurdities of our every day news reports. Besides it does remind me of another absurdity, me riding in a horse show in Mexico City. This was long before the drug Cartels took over the country. I still think of my time there as a very happy experience.

It is now Hampton Classic time out here on Long Island and I had another memory jolt. The horses reminded me of an early Sunday morning in Mexico City. I was at the stables of the Presidential Palace for an early breakfast. You are wondering, “What on earth was he doing there?” I was too.

It was probably 1965. I was in charge of Youth Employment programs for the City of New York. John Lindsay, the Mayor, asked if I would be willing to go to Mexico to evaluate a youth employment training program called “Instituto Nacional La Juventud,” National Institute of Youth. It was wintertime and I could not be more delighted to leave the City for whatever reason. (Mayor Lindsay sometimes referred to my job as “keeping the city from burning.” We did that by employing as many as 50,000 kids in summer jobs.)

Once in Mexico City I was treated like royalty, with chauffeured car and airplane at my disposal, to be able to visit any one of dozens of cities and towns that had Youth Training Programs. I would visit the programs, spend a day or two observing, and make notes. Getting back to the Horse Show.

On Friday evening my host, Sergio Alvarez, Director of the Instituto, announced, “Sunday morning we ride with Mexico’s National Equestrian Team at the Presidential Palace in a practice jumping session.” You have to understand that Sergio, a small highly energetic man, spoke in proclamations that came out as major facts that simply could not be denied. Yet I valiantly tried saying, “Sergio, I know how to ride a horse, but for God sake I would not think for a moment I could ride with Mexico’s best riders. Besides, I know absolutely nothing about jumping a horse over a hurdle, and I have no riding clothes.” That last was a desperate attempt to get out of this impending disaster. To Sergio it mattered not. “Roberto,” he announced, “we have all your sizes and your clothes and boots will be waiting for you at the arena.” And so I gave in to Sergio’s determination that this was going to happen.

Early Sunday morning there was Sergio all decked out in boots, jodhpurs, tailored riding jacket, and helmet, assuring me that the very same outfit awaited me at the stable. We arrived at the great hall where dozens of men where already eating breakfast of eggs rancheros. There was no silverware and I noticed people were using there rolls as a way of scooping up the peppers and eggs.

I was greeted as a dignitary from Estados Unidos who will “honor us by riding in our La Pista.” I was still hoping that the riding outfit wouldn’t fit and that would be my way out. At this point Sergio was insisting that it would be a real insult if I were to withdraw. “Roberto,” he exclaimed “do you want to insult us by being disdainful of our riding ability? No Roberto, for the sake of the relations between our two great countries you must ride.” Sergio was what some Mexican friends described as a “declamador,” who declaimed as though he was addressing the multitudes. There was nothing to do but put on the outfit (it fit amazingly well) and make the best of it.

We proceeded to the riding hall and again it was announced that Roberto Schranko from Estados Unidos would be riding with the equestrian team. As I watched these fabulous riders and their horses go over the hurdles from a foot off the ground to what appeared like six feet, I was in awe of the grace and the ease with which they managed the ride. I did not have a clue regarding how they were being judged. It was getting to be late morning and I thought, “Oh well, they probably forgot about me,” when Sergio came to remind me it was time to “mount up.” Back to the stable. There was a beautiful horse held in check by a groom who very graciously, with a movement of his hand toward the horse, suggested I mount; which I did. Once up in the saddle, it seemed to me this was the tallest horse I had ever been on.

Adding to my overwhelming anxiety and prayer that this horse would know what to do, since I didn’t, was the fact that I was sitting on an English saddle instead of a nice Western with that great knob up front you could hold on to when things got hairy. Everything from here on out was now in the hands of the Gods, or the horse, or both.
The groom led us into the La Pista and sent me and the horse off to the very first hurdle. I gave the reigns a little lift, which is what I thought was a signal to the horse to jump. Once past that first hurdle there was a round of applause from the audience. I thought, “Well heck, that wasn’t so bad.” Then came the next and the next and the next, and after each one a loud applause. As I approached that final six-footer I thought, “Man, just hang on here or for sure you will be dumped.” But this dear sweet horse just took it his stride and over we went. Now there was thunderous applause. Sergio came forward to congratulate me on my great spirit. I had sacrificed myself to make the Mexican’s feel good by knocking down every single pole from the first to the last. “Roberto, you are a great friend of Mexico and we will never forget what you did here today.”

As the trophies were handed out, I was given a silver belt buckle with a Road Runner bird on it. I thought that was a perfect portrayal of me at the “Hampton Classic” in Mexico City. This was yet another case of “never look back,” for if I had I would have realized how absurd this whole episode was. I thanked the horse for getting me through the hurdles without a single refusal to jump.

Thinking Together

Taking a break from all the bad news I was inspired by a visit from my son to write about my kids instead of all the crazy stuff out there. It was a wonderful 5 days. Fred came here from Madison Wisconsin to help his Dad with a bunch of household chores, repairs, additions etc. He and I have had a tradition of doing “projects.” Often as a bored kid he would say, “Dad don’t you have a project?” Back then before cars, and most everything in our lives were run by microprocessors, you could basically do your own servicing. Fred and I could change spark plugs, distributor points, tune the carburetor, change the oil filters etc. etc. Of course you can’t do that anymore unless you have a computer programed to analyze your engine. That’s how we moved into the realm of house repairs.

First project this time around was a motion light over the garage. This was a ladder job from which I have been barred. A few years ago I fell off a ladder. Luckily it was on a lawn so I came away bruised but not seriously hurt. That ended my ladder career. After installing another motion light Fred made the observation, “at night your house lights up like a penitentiary.” Then came sash replacement on some of our old double hung windows. Because we live on the water the salt air is particularly hard on the house.

What’s the fun of working together? I have been wondering about that. As we tackle projects there is a lot of thinking that goes into, the how to. I have always got a kick out of thinking together with my kids. It’s a process in which you both see a problem. Then begins a conversation about how to solve it. Doesn’t matter if its how to get a new lamp-cord through an old lamp. Or how to re-rope a busted venetian blind or clear a stopped up sink. With my daughter it was how do you play an old Appalachian tune on the guitar.What we ended up doing is thinking together. What is that? Okay one of you spots the problem. Then each begin to offer solutions. It is in that problem solving exercise that we get real insights into how the other thinks. Fred grew up in the age of digital. I grew up in the age of the mechanical and therein lies a difference.

Now as a nonagenarian thinking with my son and daughter takes on the character of a new learning experience. Their life experience has given them a myriad of different ways of thinking that come as real surprises. My daughter Elizabeth has spent most of her adult life in foreign countries as part of the International Volunteer Service. That’s a teaching organization. She has probably learned as much from her students than what she had to teach them. She brings an entirely different perspective of how we might deal with our everyday lives. Elizabeth has also been a folk and jazz singer most of her adult life. She has always opened new doors for me to sing myself through a whole world of different music.

What I am talking about in this age of electronic communication might seem quaint. I do believe that this kind of face to face eyeball to eyeball relating results in a deep and abiding respect for the other. It is also a way of helping each other in the process of learning how we can successfully live together. It is precisely because of the absolute presents of all this electronic communicating that I have become such a true believer in some kind of direct interaction between parents and children.

With the ever increasing presence of Twitter, Tweeter, Facebook and what have you I fear we will lose the lasting value of doing real life things together. Thank you Liz and Fred. And my Granddaughter Allie who put me in her High School Yearbook quoting her Grandpa’s “Goodbye and Good Luck.” I love all these kids as they constantly add new dimensions to my old life. I just worry a lot about what kind of a Planet we are going to leave them? More about that some other time. (I don’t want to give up this good feeling I have now.)

Soren Chapter 5 the 1960s

(This is the fifth in a series of writings I am doing for my Great Grandson Soren. Hope it gives him a glimpse and a curiosity about the lives of one of his grandparents.)

How to write of the sixties?
God, it’s complicated.
Am I just getting old?
With a new young President John Kennedy
We were on the road to Camelot.
The place where only happiness lives.
Trouble was, a terrible war in Vietnam
Another stop on the domino idiocy road.

Kids born after World War two.
Soldiers came home, went to bed.
Twenty years later 70 million Baby Boomers.
Registered for a military draft. Just a number.
Yeahh, “when your numbers up you gotta go.”

That’s how it started, “Hell know we wont go.”
The government lies, The government lies.
Question Authority, Did they ever.

Communist, Castro in Cuba Russian Nuclear Missiles.
President Kennedy’s supreme test.
Nuclear, total destruction or what?
Our military says, just bomb em.
Kennedy waits, talks with Russians
World is saved for now.

Kennedy shot in Texas, Lyndon Johnson President.
Doesn’t know where Vietnam is. Need to continue war.
Why? Yes of course that domino shit again.
Evening news anchor reads names of the dead.

Baby Boomers “Hell no we wont go.”
Feminists Betty Friedan pleads equality for women.
Rachel Carson, “Silent Spring,” pleads for the planet.
Black youth demand right to sit at a drug store soda fountain.

With 400 Juvenile Delinquents on lower East Side
Your Great Grandpa teaching them vocational skills.
They-re teaching the horrors of Getto life.

Veitnam war protests take over the streets.
Kent State U, National Guard shoots protester.
On her knees screaming girl reflects its horror.
The country mourns. Are we are lost?

LBJ seems lost. He does wonders on home front.
New rights granted Black people.
Grandpa bob takes 400 kids to Nations Capital
They hear Martin Luther King. “I have a Dream.”

Civil Rights Movement in full protest.
Anti War, the Feminists, Civil Rights,
Protest crowd streets. This is the sixties.
Like our President King, too is assassinated.
As cities burn.These are the days of rage.

Beatles are visiting from Liverpool singing
Strawberry Fields Forever. As young girls scream in ecstasy.
And Warhol, art known as pop. A Campbell Soup Can.
Transcendental Meditation, smoking pot helped.
Foul language, dress as you feel, burn your bra.
The new road to enlightenment.

Honestly. As Watts in Los Angele's burned.
And Jerry Lee Lewis was rocking around the clock’
Fred, your uncle on August 14-15 1969 with 400,000 others.
A music wing ding, happening at Woodstock NY in the rain
Listening to Jimmie Hendrix, Joan Baez, Joe Cocker, Lead Zeppelin on and on.
In the muddy, and loving every minute. Go figure?

The Vietnam catastrophe was ending.
Russians send Yurie Gargarin to space.
We send Alan Shepard. So began the space war,
As the sixties ended it was clear.

America, the US of us will never be the same.
50 thousand US lives lost, millions in Vietnam died.
Civil rights for blacks, women on the march to equality.

We lived through a culture breach.
Maybe, the end of innocence?
Or the beginning. The age of doubt?
Anyway it was one hell-of a ride.
Changed who we are forever.