Memorial Day 2020

Here we are, once again, at our annual day of memory for America's fallen soldiers, the men and women who never made it home, having given the last full measure of devotion for our country.

Memorial Day honors the dead, but its placement in mid-spring, and as a symbolic signal of the coming summer, is also about life. Most any veteran will tell you that we remember those who passed to be grateful for what they have given us: for the freedom to live our lives as we see fit.

Which brings us to 2020, and the uncertainty and despair that so many are feeling now, as our country, and the world, are in the grips of the Coronavirus pandemic.

What has a pandemic to do with a war memorial? It was the President himself who called the fight against Coronavirus "Our big war" back in March. And now, the American death toll from that war is likely to pass 100,000 by the end of this sacred day.

So, this Memorial Day, these 100,000, who perished due to COVID-19, are the "soldiers" I want to honor, and keep in my heart and mind.

Like the dead from any war, we can -- and will -- argue now and into the future whether they died for a noble cause or were the victims of the hubris and folly of inept leadership. But not for today.

For today, I ask that we just remember these 100,000, remain hopeful for the coming summer, and pray that we don't soon lose 100,000 more.

Schadenfreude is Dead

Yet another casualty of the Trump administration, schadenfreude has died in its sleep. There will be no pleasure taken from its passing. Schadenfreude will be buried next to irony in a private ceremony.

Since the start of the Coronavirus pandemic, I've struggled to not be political in my postings and sharings on Facebook and elsewhere.

Partly because I'm trying to survive and remain positive.

Partly because I'm tired. I've been blogging and shouting and warning here since 2001, including a multi-year "Carnival of the Decline of American Democracy." I've also been ranting on Facebook and Twitter and YouTube off-and-on since before any of them became popular. In 1996 I ran as a protest candidate for Mayor of Sacramento. I've attended hundreds - maybe thousands - of marches, sit-ins, rallies, and whatever else you've got since the 1970s. Making noise about politics is what I do. Or did. I'm tired.

Partly because of the noise. Once everybody else started blogging and vlogging and tweeting and sharing every meme they could get their cursor on, it was no longer necessary. I didn't have to nudge people to be active, the "Like" system did it for me. At least, it did for a while, except:

Partly because of the gaslighting. I'm tired of fighting against an algorithm that says one person's off-the-cuff, illogical opinion is equal to another person's well-reasoned, factually proven information. (Or greater than it, if it gets enough Likes.)

And, to a large part, as much as I loathe Donald Trump, I actually wanted, and hoped for, the moment to make the man, and to witness some actual leadership from the White House. I so wanted, and as an American citizen, needed to be proven wrong about Trump.

But these last few days made me give up on that as well.

A couple of days ago, the "good" Trump dutifully read off the notes that he supported the individual state Governors in their decision of when to remove restrictions and shelter-in-place orders, and gave a set of criteria to help them in their decisions (an abridged version of the guidelines issued by California Governor Gavin Newsom days earlier).

Then, hours later, the real Trump got on Twitter and told his followers to LIBERATE Michigan, Minnesota, and Virginia. And the LIBERATE! message spread, and armed protestors violated the social distancing protocols and have taken to the streets in cities nationwide, in close proximity to each other, to demand an end to the state trying to save their lives. Because: fuck science. Because their president told them to.

Yes, there are some on "my side" who are posting things like, "Good, it'll kill off the morons, and leave the smart folks alone." But they're missing a bit of the science as well. COVID-19 just looks for a host to travel with. It doesn't care where it lands or who they voted for.

These LIBERATORS will bring it to the market. They'll bring it to their families. They'll bring it to their neighbors. And they'll bring it to our over-crowded hospitals. And people will die who did not go to LIBERATE their state capital.

So, no. I cannot take pleasure in their risking their health or their life. And not just because it risks my own. But because I don't want any unneccessary deaths. Even these stupid, ridiculous assholes.

I don't need them to die just to prove me right.

Logic is dead. Irony is dead. And now schadenfreude is dead. All casualties of Trump's assault on science, facts, and the American people. Isn't that enough?

Anyway, I made a little meme of my own:

30 Days In

One month ago, on Monday, March 16, 2020, six counties in the Bay Area, covering 6.7 million people in the cities of San Jose, San Francisco, Oakland, Berkeley, San Mateo, etc., jointly issued the nation's first official "Shelter-in-Place" order dealing with the Coronavirus/COVID-19 pandemic, to be effective through April 7 (unless "extended, rescinded, superseded, or amended in writing by the Health Officer").

A few hours later Santa Cruz county joined the Bay Area group, and by mid-week Governor Newsom laid down the law for all of California. Within two weeks from that, nearly every state was under some sort of official restrictions. Currently, the order is through May 3, but likely to be extended at least a few more weeks before restrictions start easing up.

Frankly, we knew this was coming, and we (my wife and I) were pretty well prepared to shelter in place starting with the weekend. Still, we went out Saturday night to see my wife's cousin who was passing through town. We were the only customers in the restaurant for much of the meal, but got great service and lots of attention from the staff. A "good" but eerie experience.

Then on Sunday we considered cancelling our plans, but went out because how often does a friend have a 90th birthday party? Hard to imagine at the time that it would be our last "social event" for (perhaps) several months. That was in San Francisco, and coming back down an empty Van Ness Avenue felt like a scene from the Omega Man.

On that Monday, one month ago, we were already hiding out when the official order came. Since then we've only been out for occasional trips to a market, and for near daily walks. We have bandanas we wear around our faces as masks on walks, and a limited supply of disposable medical masks for the market.

By the third day, I'd started doing a daily "Quarantine Hootenanny," quickly recording and posting to Facebook a song on guitar or ukulele. A couple of days into that, I started posting the daily songs to YouTube, and cleaned up my channel that I'd been neglecting for several year. In these thirty days I've already posted 28 Quarantunes and four old-stlye vlogs.

Other original vloggers from way back in 2006 also came back and started posting at about the same time, and for the same sheltering-in-place reasons, and it's been something of a fun reunion.

Other activities: board games (Scrabble, Monopoly), puzzles, cooking, eating, washing dishes...

Work-wise, there's not much. A board I'm on, to start up a new nonprofit in Santa Cruz, has moved our meetings online, and changed from weekly to semi-weekly, as things have slowed to an uncertain crawl in our launch plans. But enrollments in my on-line course have surged, as people with time on their hands are looking for something to do.

Perhaps I'll do a separate blog about the political aspects of this, and how perilously close this country is to completely abandoning any pretense of democracy and accepting a Trump dictatorship, but my point here is just to document my personal journey of trying to remain sane and keep our spirits up.

The Lily Pond - A parable within a riddle?

For those of you who still think this coronavirus stuff "is just media madness" (or liberal hoax), here's an old riddle for you:

In a lake, there is a patch of lily pads. This patch doubles in size every day. It completely covers the pond in 48 days. On what day will it cover half the pond?

Many people will guess that it's day 24, and they'd be wrong.

Half the pond will be covered on day 47.

And on day 40? You'd still barely notice that the lily pads might be a problem, unless you'd been counting them every day (or listening to the folks who count them).

Right now, the rate of coronavirus infection in the US is doubling every few days. Those numbers are "small enough" - a few here, a couple hundred there - that it's easy to think it has nothing to do with you.

But at this rate of growth (doubling every few days), it will reach all 320 million of us in the USA by mid-May. With a death rate of (at least) 1.5-2%, that's five or six million deaths by summer.

You don't think this is serious problem now because the lily pads are over on the other side of the pond. If nobody was raising the alarm, you'd hardly notice the difference between this year and previous springs in the pond. Please listen to the people counting the lily pads.

Wrong guesses on riddles are no big deal. Wrong guesses on pandemics kill millions.

(NOTE: I first posted this on Facebook a few days ago, but thought I'd re-post here for wider sharing. Also, in this time of social distancing and sheltering-in-place, I'm looking at re-starting some of my broader social media venues.)

James Bond and the Color Line

I haven't blogged for a while, so let's get re-started with a truly controversial topic... Should (or could) the next James Bond be black?

My favorite James Bond is still the Bond of my youth: Sean Connery. The best Bond movie ever is still Goldfinger. Don't argue with me; that's simply a fact. I was pissed off when Roger Moore took over, 'cause it just wasn't right!

And yet, back when I was a toddler and Sean Connery was hired to play Bond, there was outrage. Hadn't the producers read the books?

James Bond is clearly, deliberately, and proudly Welsh! His background, history, education, and stature are all laid out in the books in such a way that a Scott could never accurately portray.
Yes, they were serious: Connery, from Edinburgh, was entirely unfit to play Bond, from Wales. Bond is a certain kind of gentleman, that Connery certainly is not, was the general feeling. *

But Albert "Cubby" Broccoli was on to something. Bond was bigger than the books. Bond was more worldly than Welsh. Bond was more timeless than the era in which he was created.

The movie Bonds have always been contemporary, and have refused aging with the post WWII generation that spawned the character. I miss the Aston Martin, but Bond can drive a BMW, and that's just fine.

What are the requirements to play the modern movie Bond? Bond must be loyal to the Queen, and Bond must be cooler than cool. Race (and gender) are inconsequential.

The question to the current franchise owners/producers is how to make the Bond fresh and relevant again? Questioning whether he "needs" to be played by a white actor is certainly part of that. But - for me at least, just IMHO - that also means stepping back from the effects and gadgetry a bit and coming up with a story that's relevant to the world today, and finding the very best actors to perform it.

Hiring a black Bond just because it's "trendy" and will get some extra PR... I don't object, but that's not enough to get me to the theater. Hiring a black Bond because it contributes to the story and says something about our changing world (and then casting the best person)... That's something I'll shell out to see.

Now... on to Superman... What makes you think Superman has to be white? He's not even human!

* After Connery was hired, Ian Flemming wrote in the added back story that Bond's father was Scottish, and that, although raised in Wales, Bond was educated in partly Edinburgh. I'm pretty sure that Timothy Dalton has been the only Welshman to play Bond to date. For more on all this, please see JB & Wales.

Ray Thomas is Dead. No, He's Outside, Looking In

In October of 1972, at the age of eleven, my brothers and I rode the MTA to Boston Garden for what would be my first real rock concert; The Moody Blues. (If memory serves, we did not ride the MTA home, but our father picked us up at an appointed time and place.)

Our seats (courtesy of Dad, who worked for the Moody's distributor, London Records), were third row, slightly to the left of center, right in front of flautist/singer, Ray Thomas. At one point, while introducing a song, Ray paused, asking "What album was this on?" I shouted the answer up at him (probably the catalog number too). Ray looked down, surprised that the answer came from probably the youngest person in the crowd, then realized I was right, and finished up the intro.

Over the years I saw the classic Moody's perform several times in Boston, then again in the come-back tours in Los Angeles (and, most recently, Justin Hayward solo in Napa).

While I don't necessarily still listen to their music as often as other favorites from over the years, all of their albums continue to hold memories and meaning. Justin's songwriting won me over as a devoted fan forever, but it was Ray's songs, like Dear Diary and Legend of a Mind, that first pulled me in as a child.

And today, at the age of 76, Ray Thomas has died, "suddenly at his home in Surrey, England. No cause of death was announced."

Ray Thomas is dead
No, no, no, no
He's outside
Looking in

The Moody Blues, on tour, 1970

Damn the Torpedoes

Sometimes I get discouraged,
Sometimes I feel so down,
Sometimes I get so worried,
And I don't know what about.
But it works out in the long run,
It always goes away,
I've come now to accept it
As a reoccurring phase.
Why worry 'bout the rain?
Why worry 'bout the thunder?
Century City's got everything covered.

I remember, sometime in late 1976, hearing Breakdown for the first time on the radio and thinking there was something there that set this new kid apart from everything else we'd been hearing. There was the validation of the viewpoint when Roger McGuinn covered American Girl on his Thunderbyrd LP.

By the end of 1979, I had just graduated High School, and I recall being in line at Tower Records, Sunset Blvd, to pick up "Damn the Torpedoes" on the day it was released. I'd already heard much of it on the radio - Refugee for sure, maybe Here Comes My Girl or Even the Losers - but nothing that could have prepared me for Louisiana Rain.

Today that rain is falling just like tears, running down my face, washing out the years, soaking through my shoes. I will never be the same since that album played through. It may only be 36 minutes and 38 seconds, but it opened up the possibilities of what a rock and roll record could be. Now it's just the normal noises in here.

I can't say I remember which was the first time I saw Tom Petty and Heartbreakers play live, but there were many shows, from Hollywood's Universal Amphitheater to Sacramento's Arco Arena.

One of my best concerts ever: Bob Dylan, Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers all together (1985?). Three hours of nonstop music. Tom & the band - Tom, Bob, & the band - Tom & Bob acoustic - Bob and the band - just the Heartbreakers - everybody all together.

My other favorite show was maybe the last time I saw Tom Petty. It was the Mudcrutch reunion tour a few years ago, and they played the Santa Cruz Civic Auditorium. It was great to see Tom having fun with his old buddies, back in a smaller venue outside of the areneas, not needing to be the lead man on every song.

We missed the final tour this past few months. Tickets were already sold out at 10:01 am, one minute after going on sale. He'd announced it would be the last "Big Tour" and that was fine with me. I hoped it would lead to more Mudcrutch type shows: intimate affairs with the long-time fans, where we'd all rock together. I didn't imagine that could really be the final tour.

Tom Petty was taken from us last night way too early, following an afternoon of rumors and premature headlines.

Today my thoughts are with his kids, and young grand-kids, and with the guys in the band. Mike Campbell and Benmont Tench have been the rock Tom rolled against from the start, and they form the basis of the most under-rated back-up band ever. Mike, Benmont, and the rest are all incredible musicians in their own right, and I hope I have not seen or heard the last from them.

How about a cheer for all those bad girls
And the boys who play that rock and roll
They love it, like you love Jesus
It does the same thing to their souls