Crisina: La Mia Amica Italiana

Guests:

“Some people can stay longer in an hour than others can in a week” William Dean Howells

“Fish and guests stink after three days”                                           Greek Proverb

“After three days men grow weary of a wench, a guest, and rainy weather.”  Benjamin Franklin

“No guest is so welcome in a friends house that he will not become a nuisance after three days.”                                                       Titus Maccius Flautus, (circa 200 B.C.)

“For I, who hold sage Homer’s rule the best, welcome the coming, speed the going guest.”                                                                                        Alexander Pope

“Much did I rage when young,…., it speeds the parting guest.”      W.B. Yeats

“It is equally wrong to speed a guest who does not want to go, and to keep one back who is eager. You ought to welcome the present guest and send forth the one who wishes to go.”                                                                        Homer, Circa 700 B.C.

Despite the advice of my learned friends above I view three days as much too short a time, especially when it concerns such guests as my Italian countess friend, Cristina. For the past two and one-half weeks Cristina has been visiting me here in the desert, a very far cry from her native Venice, where her family has resided for over 1000 years.

When I last visited Cristina in Venice she showed me her former ornate family palace, now an elite hotel, and the family crypt in a nearby church on the same campo in Venice.

Cristina told me the other day that her father was a Chevalier de Malta, (a knight of Malta), which in the pecking order of European nobility is further proof of the ancestral noble standing of her family. She also said that her brothers, who all  are, of course, Counts, are , in addition, recognized as Barons of a Greek Island,  (I am not naming the island to preserve their privacy), which was once a Venetian colony.

I met Cristina when she was my instructor in intermediate Italian at a Tempe college. Gradually we became friends, taking nearly a dozen trips together, one with her brother, a geologist from Padua, and keeping in touch through the internet.

Cristina is a linguist. Her family sent her to Germany, France, and England when she was young to get her education and learn those three languages. She has since added Urdu from several years in Pakistan, and some Hindi, a Philippine dialect, and scattered other languages including Spanish. She is currently learning Japanese and improving her German.

She teaches English or Italian to many people in Italy, including one group in northeastern Italy who are Italian but only speak a German dialect, and many immigrant women from all over Europe, Asia and Africa.

When she was in America she not only taught Italian to people like me, but English to immigrants from all over the world, including a Japanese couple, with whom she has since become good friends. She has also conducted tours for groups from various places in Europe, to various places in the West, speaking German, French or Italian as needed.

Cristina is not only a voracious reader, but. whenever possible, reads the most recent popular books in the original language, as well as outstanding literature from the past, also in the original languages. (Wears you out, doesn’t it? It certainly wears me out!)

Her wide range of experience includes visits to Malaysia, Indonesia, Viet Nam, Nepal, several South American countries, several African countries, and most of Europe as well as several nearby Asian countries.

She and her sister, who lives in Paris, will visit Uzbekistan this summer, after spending several recent summers in India. Many of these trips Cristina has resolutely ventured on her own, as a single woman! She’s braver than most of us!

When she and I visit, or travel together, it is doubly delightful because of the range of her knowledge, as well as her experiences, when added to her naturally effervescent personality, and her always ready laugh.

She brings me a view of the world , including the United States, from a European perspective, which is often enlightening, refreshing, and dismaying, all at the same time. There is no question that there are limits to what an American can readily grasp of European culture and viewpoints, and vice versa, but it is certainly worthwhile to make the attempt.

Cristina is quite like her country- Italy- warm, bright, outgoing, friendly, but often like a mini human Etna in her emotional outbursts. Although she takes Yoga, reads meditation books and literature, and wants to emulate the Hindu mantras of enlightenment, meditation and tranquility, she is in reality the antithesis of tranquility in her impact on others.

Her relationship with her two children, a son in Chicago,a daughter in London, is intense and frequent, as she keeps herself thoroughly involved with their lives.

Although she is always a delight I feel that three weeks ,(not three days), is about right, because having a mini volcano constantly nearby makes me weary. I am used to my quiet desert life, as I have become somewhat like the desert tortoise peacefully plodding along munching on a few treats, oblivious to the turmoil around me.

Even my little house, I fancy, breathes a huge sigh today and welcomes the change now that so much energy has departed.

Ah, Cristina, I am always overjoyed to see you…. but also so relieved to see you go. Hasta luego! Ciao!

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Hellos and Goodbyes

“Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other”  Rainier Maria Rilke

“Why meet we on the bridge of Time to (ex)change one greeting and depart?”  Sir Richard Burton

“Experiment to me is everyone I meet.”                                         Emily Dickenson

“…if we meet again, why, we shall smile, if not…this parting is well made.”   Julius Caesar- Shakespeare

“I can scarcely bid goodbye, even in a letter…”                                     John  Keats

“Here lies my past. Good-bye, I have kissed it.”                                      Ogden Nash

“..that this (moment) will never come again is what makes life so sweet,”   Emily Dickenson

In our lifetimes we go through an incredible number of hellos and goodbyes. Some are the casual circumstances of a short interchange with a stranger, some are the painful partings from friends and/or places that have been an important part of one’s life. Some of theses meetings we will seldom, if ever, remember, others we will never forget.

For many years I shared custody of my young daughter with her mother and I often picked her up on weekends and brought her to her grandparents home in Newbury Park, Calif. On one of those occasions the parting at the end of the weekend was witnessed by my much younger brother, then a teenager, and my father.  My brother remarked (as he later related to me), “How sad that goodbye seems.” And my father answered, “Yes, and think of how many times it has been repeated and of how many more weekend goodbyes there are to come.” When my brother shared that exchange with me it was a psychological and physical blow to the pit of my stomach. I wept in anguish at the thought of my poor young daughter’s repeated sorrow, and at the thought of all the many children in similar broken family separations all across the world. Some goodbyes are repeated pain!

Many goodbyes are happier. The journey of a young person off to college, or into a marriage, or starting a bright new future in a new enterprise are often full of joy, as they should be.

In many languages there are often ambivalent expressions about meeting and departing such as the Hawaiian “Aloha” which means hello and goodbye. “Hasta Luego” in Spanish means “see you later”, as does the English “til we meet again”

We greet the world with a lusty cry, long before we know what our parents have gotten us into, and we spend the rest of our lives trying to figure it out.

In my case I break up  my hellos and goodbyes into three parts: my youth in Massachusetts with friends, family, my first jobs with the concomitant work associates, and a few girl friends; my experiences as a young man in California with all of the foregoing plus a wife and child; and the last 40 years in Arizona with two additional wives as well as all the foregoing relationships.

In addition to all the people who move in and out of your life over time there are ideas, experiences, and changes to yourself, mentally and physically, which have to be recognized, dealt with, and reluctantly included, or missed, from your evolving life style.

I have not done well in keeping my former Massachusetts life current and fresh. All of my friends have disappeared into the ether of their own lives and when I did make contact with a couple of old acquaintances a few years ago the gaps in experience were too large to bridge. As Thomas Wolfe said.”You can’t go home again!”

I did a little better with my sojourn in California. I still keep in touch with one old friend, now in Nevada, so that’s one goodbye postponed.

My sojourn in Arizona has included a forty year involvement with the Phoenix Ski Club and over one hundred of these fellow ski clubbers have become members of my extended family, to varied degrees, but always held in my heart warmly, no matter how close the relationship.

It seems to me that our goodbyes should be categorized by their relative emotional intensity. The casual meeting and departing from occasional or one-time acquaintances have a minimal impact.

It is another thing entirely when you know you are seeing some one or some place for the last time. That can be heart rending and have a long lasting impact on your life.

Sometimes the significance of these partings are not evident at the time and only become relevant after a later event such as a sudden death, often leaving us with regrets.

The happier side of belated discoveries is when a casual meeting somehow goes on year after year and evolves into something much deeper and more meaningful. The initial hello has turned into a prolonged relationship that adds meaning to your life. My meeting with my seven year plus bridge partner, Jean, started out as a one time encounter arranged by a friend and has blossomed into a close friendship.

My class in intermediate Italian gradually evolved into a  long distance friendship with Cristina, about whom I’ll write shortly.

As I have often mentioned I spent most of my youthful years on a small farm where animals were plentiful, and their deaths were not usually emotional,so that, therefore, I have a tough time identifying with people that anguish over a lost pet, even though I recognize that it is an increasing phenomena in our affluent society where animals are often close members of a family and are often anthropomorphized.

This is so common that books, movies and TV often show animals in highly emotional dramas that often draw huge audiences into tearful identifications with the agonies of the animals as well as the humans involved. Nevertheless I prefer to keep my hellos and goodbyes to other humans.

Literature and film are full of memorable hellos and goodbyes. Here are a few of my favorites: “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” (Gone with the Wind); “Call me Ishmael” ( Start of “Moby Dick”); “We met in the maw of a hurricane and parted in the maw of a shark” (Opening of a Jack London south sea island short story); “Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?” (Mae West line); “Hello Sucker”( greeting by Texas Guines); and “Louis, this may be the beginning of a beautiful friendship!” ( last line from “Casablanca”.

Shakespeare’s plays are full of  other wonderful lines related to a meeting or a departure;”Parting is such sweet sorrow”, “But soft, on yonder balcony, it is the east and Juliet is the sun…”, “Alas, poor Yorrick, I knew him well”.., “we have come to bury Caesar, not to praise him…”, just to quote a few.

Hello, goodbye, farewell. Our lives are full of these moments. Not the least of which are epitaphs, such as: ( most of the following were suggested by the celebrities named) “Do not disturb” (Constance Bennett), “Pardon my dust” (Dorothy Parker),”Pardon me for not getting up” (Ernest Hemingway), and “I’m involved in a plot” (Alfred Hitchcock).

Even at the end it’s wonderful to leave with a laugh.

 

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Life: A Joke or a Farce?

“Farce is a tragedy played at a thousand revolutions per minute”  John Mortimer

“Hegel remarks somewhere that all great world historic figures and personages appear…twice. He forgot to add: the first time as tragedy, the second time as farce.”     Karl Marx

” …draw the curtain, the farce is played.”   (Alleged words at death) Rabelais

“A cynic is not merely one who reads bitter lessons from the past; he is one who is prematurely disappointed in the future.”                                       Sydney Harris

“Cynicism is an unpleasant way of telling the truth.”                   Lillian Hellman

“Cynicism is humor in ill-health”                                                         H.G. Wells

“No matter how cynical you get, you can never keep up.”               Lily Tomlin

I have my cynical hat on today so I intend to ramble on about life in general with emphasis on meaning, irony, and illusions.

In, of all places, an “oater” called “The Professionals”, the actor Jack Palance, playing a Mexican bandit/rebel has a marvelous soliloquy about revolutions which is also in a larger sense about life in general. He says that we get involved because “we believe”, we leave “because we become disillusioned” , we drift from place to place and cause to cause, in a series of “quick sordid affairs”, but ultimately we return “because we are lost.” Like Shakespeare’s wonderful comments about life in MacBeth (“…life is but a poor player that struts…” , a great deal is said with very few words.

Like many aging people I finally feel as though my life, my world, and this universe makes a sort of sense but it is though I have returned full circle only to find from my new perspective that what seemed so serious in my youth is now both serious and farcical at the same time.

When I was younger, for example, and studied the lives of ants or bees, I would smile at the utter meaningless of their existence performing their little tasks for the good of the swarm, because my life seemed to have so much more promise, reason, and purpose.  Now , of course, I have come  to realize that there is no difference.

We talk about immortality through our offspring, and in a few cases singular achievements, but only the former endures. Experience has shown that political and religious fanaticism, or the simple erosion of time, or natural upheavals, often destroys the records of our achievements, just as great libraries, books, works of art, etc. have been so often destroyed in the past.

We do not know why we are here, we can only guess from traces of evidence how we evolved, we are just beginning to realize that what we are discovering about our universe is but a tiny glimpse through imperfect lenses.

When I was younger it seemed logical to me that our universe didn’t pop out of nothing into something, it has always seemed obvious that there are other universes  beyond what we can perceive somewhat like the farcical universe in the small globe on the neck belt of the cat in “Men in Black”, although in my case I used to visualize our world as existing in something like the flat wood extension of my grammar school desk.

I was reminded of that image when I read a column in a recent issue of “Scientific American” wherein the author said that when someone begins talking to him about a particular version of “God”, he remarks, “All that’s okay, but who or what created your “God”,  since it’s only logical that the deity, whatever it is, was in turn created by something else.” So, you see, both the concept of a deity and a universe logically become chains in a endless series of mirrors, beginning- who knows where, and ending- who knows where.

Our lives, like the ants, therefore are just  a period that we have to make our little contributions, look around, take a few breaths, maximize our joys and pleasures, minimize our pains and discomforts and cheerfully await oblivion, in our perception, that is.

Some religions and most scientists believe that matter in any form never disappears, so in larger sense we always go on, somewhere, somehow, to one day probably reappear in some other, or similar, life form so that reincarnation actually has some credence.

The purpose of all this cynicism is to remind myself, and you, that it pays to retain your sense of humor. If we, in a sense, with the mediocre clues we have, make some sort of recognition of reality, as our finite globe in its finite solar system spins inexorably to its oblivion, knowing that somehow our progeny extended infinitesimally into the future has to escape this system and move on to some unknowable destiny, then at least we have a semblance of clarity that is denied to our insect co-inhabitants. (as far as we know !)

The fact that we can recognize all this is doubly difficult when we have to cope with so many other benighted souls that either don’t have a clue, or choose, like the proverbial ostriches, to bury their heads in the sand of some illusion such as a religion, or similar fantasy.

In literature, especially classical literature, we have many stories of sirens, goddesses, or other tempters that lead would be heroes astray. Life, for those of us who are less than mythic heroes, is full of popular social theories of how to live a better life, get more out of living, reach higher levels of awareness, etc, etc, etc.  Many of these theories are useful and can enrich our lives but none are panaceas and like diets and other fads they each have their time, and then move on.

To my way of thinking good health, a perceptive active mind, and clear vision are all we need along with a very active sense of humor. Is all this important? Yes!  And No!

I choose to believe that the whole concept of human life, in the shorter sense for each of us, is a rich joke. In the longer sense for mankind, it’s either a great journey, or even a greater farce!

I’ll never know!

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The Plays the Thing

“Theatre Director: a person engaged by management to conceal the fact that the players cannot act.”                                                                             James Agate

“I go to the theater to be entertained. I don’t want to see plays about rape, sodomy or drug addiction. I get enough of that at home.”                                Peter Cook

“Actors are the only kind of merchandise allowed to leave the store at night.”  Ava Gardner

“When we play the fool how wide the theatre expands.”                  Walter Landau

” The theater needs reminding that there is nothing more debasing than the work of those who do well what is not worth doing at all.”                          Gore Vidal

{advice to an actor) “…forget about motivation. Just say the lines and don’t trip over the furniture.”                                                                                    Noel Coward

Once again I am acting in a melodrama in a distinctly amateur production for a small audience of less than 100. Over the years I have had the good fortune to have “trod the boards” ( the traditional description of stage, rather than TV or movie acting) in many formats, including a semi=professional production for the “Conejo Players” in Thousand Oaks, California that played three nights a week for over a month and one-half. The rehearsals for even a one night show like the current melodrama are nearly as arduous as the longer shows.

For those of you who have never performed in theater I will describe the process for you. I should add that once you have gotten the acting bug you are addicted for life and to illustrate that point I will end this post with a famous joke about old actors called “Hark! The cannon roars!”

When I first get the script I go through it with a yellow high-liter to make all my speaking part and physical instructions stand out. Then I separate the sections, where my moments on stage are, from the rest, with paper clips. Then I read just those sections speaking my words aloud to get a sense for the action, the emotion and the timing. I also try different levels of voice and/or accents to try to fit the character. (I have a good ear and in the past have used English, Russian, western,  and pirate voices. In the current play I am an old hillbilly moonshiner so I’m using a high-pitched querulous, rural southern voice.)

The voice, responses, and timing work is all temporary until I interplay with the other actors and get a better grasp of the interplay. The most important thing now is to memorize my lines along with the cues from the other actors that prompt those lines. I go over my lines aloud a number of times and then I buy a small book in which  I write the last two or three lines of the actor speaking before my lines and then I write the first two words of my speaking part. This forces me to learn my cues and to fill in the missing lines after the two word start. With this little booklet I can practice in my car or away from home. There are always sections that take longer than others to get and there are often cues that sound like others and have to be carefully distinguished to avoid skipping ahead or going backward. ( A few years back, in a melodrama I fortunately wasn’t in, an actor got excited and/or misheard a cue and raced on the set to recite lines five or six pages ahead, thereby eliminating about 1/5 of the play!)

Next the whole cast gets together for the first read through of the whole script (for accuracy we read the script because we are recording this on a CD for each us to use for practice at home.) At this meeting we set up all the future rehearsal dates before the play, usually about 10, or so. The first two or three will be to work on timing and word interaction, then we move to the stage, usually without any sets, or props, to work on our movements in each scene. It is very common  for memorized parts you were sure you had down cold to be temporarily forgotten in the confusion of learning the movements and physical interactions on the stage.

In addition to relating to each other there are ancient rules of stage craft to remember. Here are three just as examples: 1, All actors on stage at the same time, unless there is script direction stating otherwise, stay on the same line across the stage, an actor who moves slightly forward is “upstaging” or “stealing the scene”, a no-no;2, Unless called for in the script, such as when walking off the set, or in furious types of action, an actor never turns his back to the audience;3, One of the most difficult things for a new actor to get is that even though you are talking to someone right next to you the actor always actually talks to the audience-sounds easy but its hard to remember because in ordinary conversation you are accustomed to facing and watching the person you are speaking to.

Once you are comfortable with your dialog and movement vis-a-vis the other actors you start to add the schtick–actions that define and animate your character. This , for me, has two parts; 1. Actions I take while I am speaking to further illustrate the action , humor or drama of the speech; 2, Actions I take while others are speaking or moving to show my reactions to what is being said or done. (In amateur theater this last is where most would-be actors let down, they forget to react as they would in a real dramatic event and  therefore become part of the audience rather than the cast. In other words, they stand around like dummies!) Sometimes when an actor is making an important speech the director will tell us all to freeze, and in that case it is important to do exactly that so it becomes a tableau.

The stage action will go through many tweaks as the rehearsals go on especially as props and scenery are introduced. Sometimes certain sets of action do not go over well and have to be completely changed. In a play like ours which is staged outdoors we add microphones and have to adjust our stage activity to their locations although in my case that is seldom necessary because I have learned to project.

In California when I was rehearsing for the Conejo Players I was negotiating with my estranged wife to get back  together and as a result had had much too much to drink that afternoon. In the middle of the rehearsal that evening the director, who was in the back of the theater, yelled out, “Lundstrom, I can always hear you wherever I am but tonight the middle of all your words is missing!” (In other words, even us loud mouths can’t drink and rehearse.)

There are several things I miss in these one time productions that I have experienced in the extended run productions. On the dressing room walls of the permanent playhouses are not only posters but memorable words or photos from each production. In the play “The Lady is Not for Burning” by Christopher Fry, the actor playing the judge dropped out with a week to go, so my roommate and good friend, Don, stepped in to do play the part and literally stole the show with a very favorable review in the local paper. Don, however, in the last act in the climatic court scene mangled the words “Suicidal tendencies” , saying “suidcidal” every time. As the weeks went by the cast had an increasingly hard time keeping from cracking up every time he said those lines. Now, the last night of a long production is when the entire cast plays subtle gags on each other, the trick is to make sure that the rest of the cast gets it, but the audience doesn’t. A hand offered for a hand shake, for example, might contain cold cream or a buzzer. A door knob can be held on the off stage side just long enough for a actor trying to walk off to nearly panic. On our last night these gags were happening in every scene. We finally got to the climatic scene with everyone on stage, with most of us already smirking while waiting for “suid-cidal”. The SOB skipped the whole line! That was worse! You never saw a stage full of actors squirm more , covering mouths with hands and hankies to stifle laughter! That was a topper! And those words “suicidal tendencies” are on the dressing room wall to forever remind other actors of that play.

As promised I’ll end this with the hoariest of all acting stories: Hark! The Cannon Roars!  An old actor had retired and lived in California. A friend of his was producing a dramatic semi-Shakespearean play on Broadway so the old actor emailed and asked his friend if he couldn’t sneak him on one night in a little speaking part just for that performance. One morning the producer called the actor and said, ” A soldier in the final scene got sick. If you can fly out here you can dress up in armor and give his line, which is”Hark! The cannon roars!” The actor profusely thanked him, made emergency plane arrangements and proceeded to practice all the way to New York, in endless variations, the words. “Hark! The cannon roars!” He said those words over and over, softly, loudly, with various accents, etc. etc.etc. He got to New York, grabbed a cab and endured typical New York traffic, although he made frequent phone calls to assure the producer he would make it. Sure enough he just got there in time to throw on his costume and zip onto the stage just as the curtain rose. Right behind him came this tremendous “Boom”! “What the hell was that?”he yelled.

And that sums it all up.

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The Fabled Arizona Heat

“All Arizona needs is more good people and more water.” Reply: That’s appropriate, that’s all hell needs,too.”

“Sun burn is very becoming, but only when it is even, one must be careful not to look like a mixed grill.”                                                              Noel Coward

“Borne to the burden and the heat of the day.”                                   Matthew

“Heat cannot of itself pass from a a colder to a hotter body.”  The second law of thermal dynamics–Rudolph Clausius  ( Obviously he never observed the Arizona legislature at work!)

“Where it is a duty to worship the sun, it is pretty sure to be a crime to examine the laws of heat.”                                                             John, Viscount Morley

“Pontoon boats are for people who can’t get sunburned enough on land.”  Crabby Road

April 22 and 23 have just set new heat records for Arizona with temperatures of 105 and 103 respectively, while the media tells me that the poor folks in the Northeast are getting a foot of snow. After a few days in the 90s the temperature will climb over 100 and stay there until late September with a long stretch of days over 110 highly likely at some point. Oh, boy, this will be my 40th summer here and I’m looking forward to it.

People in this area will tell you with a straight face that it is different here because its a “dry heat”. That’s a bit of Arizona dry humor. The truth is that the humidity stays low so the climate says relatively dry, but our bodies don’t.

My second ex- wife, Marylin, is a third generation Arizonian and she and members of her extended family told me how they lived B.A. (before air conditioning). Many a house would put wet sheets in an open window if there was a breeze or in front of a fan. Wet sheets or wet towels were put in windows of cars and many a car sported cloth bags of water on the front bumper. The whole family would head for one of the nearby seven lakes. (Arizona, a desert state, has more boats per capita than any other state. Go figure! The many cars and trucks on the freeways towing boats are the Arizona Navy.)

Another favorite summer treat is to get at least two cars or trucks full of people and inner tubes and head for the Salt River below Sahuaro Lake to tube all day with drinks (pop and beer) and snacks. We needed two vehicles to have one at each end of the float trip. Just about anything that floats can be seen in the river between Memorial Day and Labor Day. For the last 20 years or so there has been a commercial business that now dominates the tubing mecca with rental tubes and plenty of buses that make round trips between start spots and finish spots (all numbered) on the river.

For the more adventuress, at this time of year, you can go to the Salt River Canyon and White Water Raft down the salt. Other adventurers kayak on the Salt, Verde or Gila rivers.

Can you fry eggs on the sidewalks here in the summertime? Yes, you can and every year some rascal does it.

Most Arizonians, however, move briskly from their air conditioned house to their air conditioned car (many a lady waits until hubby cools it down before entering the car) and then to an air conditioned commercial building or mall.

Probably a third of Phoenicians leave for the summer-either up north out of state, or to a second home in the cool mountains. Many people spend some time at the beaches in San Diego, where irony and chauvinistic payback rear their ugly heads, because we poke fun each year at the winter visitors we call “snowbirds”, but get our own feathers ruffled in San Diego where they poke fun at us by calling us “zonies’.

Flying over Phoenix you would get an overwhelming impression of 10s of thousands of swimming pools here in the desert where water is scarce. Even so its obviously a desert except in places like Sun City where a replica of the the mid-west has been recreated with water wasteful spacious grass lawns everywhere.

That it is still obviously a desert was brought home to me years ago when I was lying by the pool at an apartment complex in Scottsdale and heard a sophisticated German visitor from Berlin ask her sister, “Helga, why are you living in the middle of this kitty litter?”

Arizona has many different climate zones. From my house I can be in Payson, a relatively cool mountain town in the pines in one hour, and over the Mogollon rim among numerous mountain lakes in a hour and one half.

One of the most rapid climate changes is just south of us in Tucson where I have gone in July from 105 degrees in downtown Tucson through 7 climate zones up Mt. Lemon to emerge on the top, park my car, don a ski jacket, and run through sleet to a diner for some hot coffee and some warming chili.

One of the jokes in Phoenix for locals in summer is to take a visitor to see the mighty Salt River. When the visitor crosses the wide and long Mill Avenue bridge over the wide river bed what they see is acres and acres of sand, but little or no water. In the summer the Gila and Salt go underground for  over 200  miles to emerge in the Colorado above Yuma. (See my earlier post about Horton Creek, which drops down a narrow hole in the mountains and emerges 260 miles away in the Colorado.)

One of the joys of living here in the summer is that the many gold courses become very inexpensive.( Courses that charge over $100 in the winter can be played for $20 or less, sometimes with a drink and/or sandwich included) and in the afternoon, which is when I play, I can play 18 holes in 2 1/2 hours or less.

I also do a lot of hiking in the summer, either on the county trails next to my place, or on the many scenic Superstition Trails nearby. For a 2 to 3 hour hike I take a 16 ounce bottle of water and drink about half of it. (I hydrate before a hike and afterward but just moisten my mouth during the hike.) I frequently check my forehead since I know as long as it is damp from perspiration my cooling system is working- if it gets dry, I am in trouble. It happened only once, many years ago on Camelback Mtn. but I made it out okay.)

Two years ago I found a young man on a trail prostrated by heat even though he had some liquid and some snacks. I got emergency help but he didn’t make it. There are many trail and mountain rescues every year because people don’t remember the scout motto: Be Prepared.

I have always liked the Navajo attitude about living with the environment.They believe that you individually make a mental and spiritual adjustment to live in harmony with nature.

The evenings at this time of year through June are heavenly. Arizona has very few flies or mosquitoes in  most places most of the time, but there  are sometimes short lived hordes of tiny black gnats which like to swim in my wine. Oh, well, they don’t drink much and its good protein.

I’ll leave this subject by paraphrasing Harry Truman:” If you can’t take the heat, stay out of Phoenix.” Leave it to people like me to enjoy.

Posted in Mylife, Travels | 3 Comments

America’s Increasing Embarrassment

“If we had no faults of our own we would not take so much pleasure in noticing those of others”                                                                     Duc De la Rochefoucauld

“Every man has his own follies–and often they are the most interesting things he has got.”                                                                                             Josh Billings

“Only two things are infinite-the universe and human stupidity- and I’m not sure about the former.”                                                                        Albert Einstein

“No man is to be trusted with power…any man who has lived at all knows the follies and wickedness he is capable of…”                                            C.P. Snow

“Genius may have its limitations, but stupidity is not thus handicapped.”   Elbert Hubbard

“When a stupid man is doing something he is ashamed of, he always declares that it is his duty.”                                                                            George Bernard Shaw

Since I am writing this from Arizona, the current poster child for inanity in state government, I have to excuse my living here by pointing out that despite its government it’s a lovely climate and a state with lots of natural beauty. We’ve had an impeached governor, an imprisoned governor, a governor with a memorable bee-hive hairdo, and a current governor famed for pointing her finger at our sitting president.

The legislature, however, continues to compete for the title of “The Nations Laughing- Stocks” ,with our governors, as they endeavor to garner national headlines with memorable measures, such as the immigration bill currently before the Supreme Court. Recently we have had a spate of bills obviously spurred by the affluent NRA lobby. Most of us can now carry concealed weapons, despite the fact, as reported in the Economist article entitled “Arms and the Man”, that “safety conscious Americans are increasingly aware that, statistically, a gun is a is a far greater risk to friends and family than it is of potential use in self-defense.” The legislature has passed, but has had veto-ed by Governor Brewer, two other bills-one to allow guns in schools, and another to allow guns in public buildings including the legislature , where one female legislator brags she has her own gun always with her, just in case. Another lady legislator, from a rural area, wants to appropriate several million dollars to train , arm and send “vigilantes” along our border, which ought to scare everybody on both sides. All of these ideas delight the gun lobby which is led by the NRA fronting for the manufacturers of weapons and ammo as the Economist further notes in the same article;”Although the NRA is ostensibly an organization seeking to protect the civil rights of its 4 million members, critics such as the Violence Policy Center…contend that the level of funding from firearms manufacturers makes it, in effect, just a trade association for the gun industry.”

Next the legislature will want to buy some wagons to circle around Phoenix!  (sometimes I suspect that asylum administrators are releasing harmless mentally challenged people into our legislature on the rationale that no one would notice!)

As bad as it is in Arizona at least most of the time people in other counties don’t notice or care. In the past 2o plus years I have traveled quite a bit and our national government, which does get noticed, has gotten increasingly embarrassing.

First we had the mortification of hearing Bill Clinton define his unique definition of “sex”. (In the sophisticated countries of Europe , where mistresses are common, few could understand the fuss.) At least the Clinton’s administration went out with a monumental positive bang ,(pardon the allusion), when they not only balanced the budget, but actually paid off billions in long term bonds over four years-the last a carry-over into Bush,Jr.’s first year.

Then came Bush, Jr., who spent it all, and much more, by rescinding taxes for his buddies. What was worse, of course, was his portrayal of Mortimer Snerd to Dick Cheney’s Edgar Bergen. The most mortifying moment was when the President of the United States cavorted around on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier in a ridiculous flight suit hooting,”Mission Accomplished” Only the hapless Michael Dukakis in that tank was sillier than that.

Now the arena is set for the 2012 Presidential battle: “In the right corner, Ladies and Gentlemen, we have George ‘Mr. Flipflop’ Romney’-who conveniently forgets his recent past and reinvents himself. Who will George be now?”—-”In the left corner, Ladies and Gentlemen, we have Barack ‘No Follow Through’ Obama. who appoints prestigious committees and then ignores their advice, aka ‘Mr. flash in the pan’, for his lack of leadership after his soaring rhetoric.

Neither man has shown any leadership, especially last summer when we were floundering in the debt crisis, and needed leadership from somewhere.There was a plethora of name calling but a dearth of resolve as well as examples of political courage.

In the legislative arena, held over from “Alice in Wonderland”, we have Tweedle-dee-dee, the Democrats, and Tweedle-dee-dum, the Republicans—with no plan, no clue, and no interest in the good of the country. They do frequently prate that “they are doing their duty.” (See the G.B. Shaw quote above.)

Then there is our esteemed Supreme Court- 9 souls dedicated to justice- (or is that “Just us!”) This robed La-La Land has one justice who sits, and sits, and sits, never speaking,–I’m assuming his pulse is checked regularly- his inactivity reminds me of Dorothy Parker’s quip after the announcement of Cal Coolidge’s death:” How could they tell?”

I full expect this Supreme Court to vote 4.5 to 4,5 on something in the near future.

For further embarrassment, as to our government, let’s look at the record: for example, on a series of recent ads by a prestigious company it was repeatedly announced that American children were ranked 25th, or worse, in several categories in world standings on various subjects, even though we spend more money on education than any other nation.

A recent documentary points out that a substantial part of the problem is that the powerful teachers unions have ensured tenure for teachers in every state that makes it nearly impossible to fire mediocre and incompetent teachers. New York state, for example, has rooms full of mediocre teachers who cannot be fired, but are too incompetent to teach, therefore they are drawing full salaries while doing nothing. (In the Economist under the heading “Governor Jindal extends his reach” the governor of Louisiana is making a bold move to weaken tenure for mediocre teachers for the good of the state youth.)

Our esteemed Congress, especially Tweedle-dee-dee, frequently accused of kowtowing to the unions in return for heavy campaign funding, has decided that the careers of thousands of teachers are much more important than the minds and education of millions and millions of children as well as more important than the future of our country. (Tweedele-dee-dums don’t care because they can afford private schools.)

Tweedle-dee-dums have been holding their hands on their hearts and saying that it is their sacred duty not to raise taxes—ever! (See G.B. Shaw quote above.) That is so absurd that it defies the imagination that any intelligent legislator can repeat it. The government doesn’t produce anything to earn an income. It has to cut costs and raise revenue as its costs rise. That’s basic economics. C’mon!!!

For further embarrassment here’s some statistics for you: Life expectancy in years; Japan- 82.1; UK-79; Germany-79; Switzerland-81.3; USA- 77!–50th in the world. and again we spend more money  on health care than any other nation.

Here’s another: Deaths at birth; Japan-2.8; UK-5.1; Germany-3.9; Switzerland-4.2; USA- 6.8!!! That’s appalling!

Here’s one in all the latest news: Obesity; USA-30.6 %; Mexico-24.6%; UK-23%;Slovakia-22.3% and Greece- 21.9% and our good neighbors to the north in Canada come in 11th at 14.3%, less than half our rate. Embarrassing! (Too much fat in the heads of Congress and the bodies of our friends.)

Scientific American has two good articles on the subject. One is ” Fresh Fruit, Hold the Insulin”, about the battle against obesity and diabetes, the author points out that a couple of years ago some nutritionists went shopping: 1$ bought 1,200 calories of potato chips or cookies but only 200 calories of carrots. The reason: Congresses continuing subsidies of products such as corn that are detrimental to our health.

An even more revealing portrait of our country is on page 96 of Scientific American entitled ” High and Dry in the Food Desert” which shows four pictures of our nation colored to show the key problem areas: #1. Depicts Low Income Households more than 1 mile from a grocery;#2. depicts Car free households more than 1 mile from a grocery;#3. depicts centers of obesity;#4. depicts centers of diabetes. The last two show  pockets of problem areas that are heavily in the Southeast and Central east. The heaviest areas in the Southwest, that I recognize, are on the Indian reservations, particularly the four corners area.

In 2009 50.7 million Americans were without health insurance. Beyond embarrassing-TRAGIC! The Chinese covered everyone 1000 years ago!

The scientists in Scientific American and elsewhere are concerned about the increasing regression in education because of religious conflicts. That was evident in the recent debates by the absurd comments of some allegedly educated candidates.  The Economist has an article entitled “Monkey Kabuki” that discusses a recent bill in Tennessee that requires that state education system “to explore scientific questions”. The Economist notes, “At issue is whether this innocuous sounding measure is actually a back door to allow teachers to introduce creationism and intelligent design..” C’mon, this is embarrassing stuff to explain to other countries. Are we retrogressing so that the world can pass us by? Laughing at our withdrawal from reason?

This country is badly in need of a simplified tax code. I am confident that no one in Congress has the courage or knowledge to tackle that issue but I suggest that the country is full of retired CPAs that could do a great job of simplifying the tax code if given the task.

On top of everything else we have a series of embarrassing incidents involving our military doing things that they shouldn’t do, in places where they shouldn’t be. Leadership, leadership, leadership, where art thou?

And we continue, to the disgust of the rest of the world, to have an anti-drug policy that is just as effective as prohibition, a noted disaster, for similar reasons, and with even more lucrative results for criminals all over the world, who are raking in billions hoping we never wake up. Note that almost all the Presidents of Mexico, Central America, and South America recently asked us at the conference of American States to legalize drugs for everyone’s sake. Fat chance, it makes too much common sense for politicians to grasp.

Elections coming up. Oh, boy! It’s as Will Rogers said, ” I don’t need to create humor, I just need to watch the politicians and report the facts!

Posted in Kitchensink, Mylife | 1 Comment

McCullough’s Romans a Clef

“Tis pride, rank pride, and haughtiness of soul, I think the Romans call it stoicism.”                                                                                                    Joseph Addison

“History is the sum total of things that could have been avoided.”Konrad Adenaur

“History is a set of lies agreed upon.”                                         Napoleon Bonaparte

“History does not repeat itself; historians merely repeat each other.” Philip Guedalla

“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” George Santayana

“The history of the world is but the biography of great men.”               Carlyle

“Fellow citizens, we cannot escape history,”                                 Abraham Lincoln

“…history has many cunning passages.”                                        T.S. Eliot

“The only thing new in the world is the history you don’t know.”  Harry S. Truman

Colleen McCullough wrote seven novels about Roman life and history starting with “The First Man in Rome” in 110 B.C. and ending with “Anthony and Cleopatra” in 27 B.C. These seven historical novels are each epic chronicles of fascinating people in a unique place in a momentous period of human experience. McCullough has obviously spent years pouring over historical records and then bringing it all to life in vivid prose.

The books teem with characters both male and female that cannot soon be forgotten such as Gaius Marius, Sulla, Pompey the Great ( self proclaimed “Magnus”), Mark Anthony,  and Caesar, each of whom tower and topple in their times, and lesser but very important men such as Cato, the Younger, Brutus, and Cicero and even a common man or two such as Lucius Decumium. assassin, crossroads ruler, and friend and aide to Caesar and his mother,Aurelia

The women are so numerous that one of the books in the series is entitled “Caesar’s Women” and  Aurelia, Julia, Julilla, Servilia, several Marcia’s, Tertulia, and Fulvia are but a few of the many women who grace these pages.

Not only are the 93 years of the seven novels steeped in the history of the period but many prior periods, characters, and events are discussed as well when germane to issues of the periods covered.

As well as Rome and Italy the books describe wars and alliances with kings, and other rulers in many countries in Arabia, Africa,and Asia,as well as specific references to Germany, Gaul, Spain, England, Greece, Macedonia, Syria, and, of course, Egypt, as well as numerous others.

The intricate relationships of Romans with their Gods, rites, religious duties and roles such as auger, Pontifex Maximus, Flamen Dialis, and relationship of the women with Bona Dea are described as well.

There is enough intrigue, skulduggery, back-stabbing, treachery, double-dealing, and other sinister machinations to satisfy the most devious minds in the course of these novels.

There are plenty of wars, both within and without Italy, against foreigners, and against each other in several civil wars fueled by greed, malice and distrust. These wars involve great generals like Gaius Marius, Sulla, and Caesar and numerous incompetents, usually wealthy aristocrats with bloated confidence as to their innate military prowess as well as being indifferent to the thousand of lives they put in jeopardy.

There are fascinating inside looks at the opulent lives of the fabulously rich both within and without Roman, as well as frequent peeks at the lives of the less fortunate in this turbulent world.

And there are plenty of glimpses at the incredible graft, corruption, nepotism, and naked acts of outrageous thievery that enabled so many to live so well.

Some of this wealth was gained by arranged marriages in exchanges of rank, beauty and power for incredible wealth. The ease of marriage and divorce in Roman society is soon evident in the narrative. The many sexual affairs, as well as their diversity, are plentiful enough to satisfy the most prurient appetites.

“The First Man in Rome” sets the theme for the whole series as Gaius Marius, “a new Man” without the proper birth and ancestry to qualify for the elite strata of Roman society has to prove so skilled at warfare, political maneuvering and craft that he bulls his way to the top of Roman society. He is aided by Gaius Julius Caesar, father of the Caesar we know from history, who marries his oldest daughter to Gaius Marius, thus assuring that by marriage into the august Julian family Marius will have to be accepted by Roman society. In exchange, Marius, who is fabulously rich from warfare and family inheritance, endows the Julius family with enough money to ensure the future of the sons and the financial stability of the family.

While on one of his war campaigns Marius visits a seer who delights him with favorable prophecies of his  prominent future but also frightens him with the prediction that the extremely bright younger son of Gauis Julius Caesar will eventually eclipse him. Gaius Marius craftily appoints the young Julius Caesar to the post of Flamen Dialis which will make it impossible for Caesar to have a military or political career. This sets the stage for the battles to come.

In the second book. “The Grass Crown.” Lucius Cornelius Sulla emerges from the shadow of Gauis Marius to vie for the title of “The First Man in Rome” after he wins a “grass crown” awarded by the soldiers after a battle. A grass Crown is given for singular acts of bravery that save the day and the lives of many men when events have nearly led to defeat and disaster.

Sulla is undoubtedly the most complex character in the whole seven books. When he is first introduced we learn that although he was born with the bloodlines of the elite he was so poor as a child he had to survive as a male prostitute until his beauty and charm brings him into a more secure life as a gigolo with several mistresses and lovers, including a young male actor, Metrobius, who becomes the one true love of Sulla’s life.

Sulla is completely immoral and amoral, but shrewd enough to know he has to mask his proclivities, if he is to rise in society. He skillfully embarks on a series of murders, disguised as accidents, of his mistresses, and others, who have either named him as their heir, or stood in his way, and thus secures himself enough money to buy political office and a career in the army. Through serving as a aide to Gaius Marius and through acts of bravery, cunning, daring, and self advancement, as well as marriage to the younger daughter of Gauis Julius Caesar,  the spoiled, headstrong Juliila, he soon becomes a rival even to the great Gaius Marius, First Man in Rome.

Sulla bans his male paramour, and other dissolute companions, from his society as he embarks on a campaign to rule his world. One of the characteristics of his complex character is that he can easily be beguiled by theatrics and underneath everything we sometimes see glimpses of Sulla relishing with internal laughter the absurdity of the world in which he is immersed as well as the effects of his machinations.

Along the way as he gains prestige and power he is amused and beguiled by Aurelia, the young Caesar’s mother, who has bought herself a huge complex in the heart of the unfashionable part of Rome, Subura, where she is a landlady overseeing apartments, offices, and other businesses and  where, unbeknownst to her husband, who is often away, she is so tough and thorough, she even confronts Lucius Ducumium, custodian of the crossroads and leader of “protection gangs”, who is so captivated by her lack of fear and display of independence, that he becomes not only her ally, but protector and  a god-father to her son, the young Julius Caesar.

The second book ends with the end of an era in the death of Gaius Marius, whose behavior has become brutal in his last years as a series of strokes and fears about his legacy have driven him to half-mad, half-paranoid behavior.

The third book is “Fortune’s Favorites” in which Sulla takes over Rome as the true despot that he is. He proscribes and kills many of his enemies and other prominent Romans, and passes numerous laws to correct the mistakes of prior indifferent leaderships. Sulla eventually fulfills all his goals, resigns as dictator, and in a hilarious sequence leaves Rome in a  drunken torpor, with his long time male lover, Metrobius, and other members of his Bacchanalian coterie to live out his life in drunken excess.

This is also the period of Spartacus , whose revolt brings new Roman generals to the fore including Marcus Crassus, a fabulously greedy and wealthy man. McCullough tells this story in a version closer to history and not Hollywood.

We also have the emergence of Caesar, freed from the flamen dialis trap set by Gauis Marius, by whim of Sulla, who displays his remarkable memory and military prowess in an audacious series of encounters with pirates. Earlier in Caesar’s first military campaign, he not only gains one of his worst enemies in Bibulus, but so angers his general, Lucullus, that he is posted to fight in the most dangerous spot in the  vanguard at the outset of a battle, but conducts himself with such poise, audacity and brilliance that he wins a “grass grown” from his troops, which, under Sulla’s new laws, automatically puts him in the Senate at the tender age of 20, and requires the wearing of the grass crown to universal applause at every public gathering.

In “Caesar’s Women” we begin to see the further emergence of the young prodigy, Julius Caesar. An unfortunate rumor, spread by the many enemies of the young man, already jealous of his singular beauty, skills, and accomplishments, is that he was taken as a lover  in return for money by one of the dissolute eastern kings in an area of the world where bisexuality is not only common, but socially acceptable. The king actually did make overtures, but was not offended by Caesar’s rejection, and, in fact, he and his wife become so fond of Caesar that they treat him as  a treasured godson and actually give him gifts and money.

Caesar’s treasured dignity (dignitas, to him) is wounded by these rumors and he asks his mother, Aurelia, for advice. She suggests that he embark on a campaign of wooing the wives of famous men, especially his critics and enemies, and cuckolding them one by one, in revenge, and to dispel any further thoughts that he prefers men. Thus, the campaign, and the title of the book.

In addition to all the philandering, political acts, oratorical displays, intrigue, and other maneuvering in this complex society we witness the brash emergence of Pompey the Great, another claimant for first man in Rome, and three memorable foes of Caesar—Cato, my personal poster-child for stubbornest brat of all time; Cicero, who McCullough portrays as a shameless braggart, liar, and political incompetent; and Marcus Anthony, a dissolute Arnold Schwarzenegger type with brains, but no scruples or common sense. Marcus Anthony is first seen not only as an unruly rowdy brat and bully, but as a star member of the notorious “Clodious Club” that will do anything for notoriety, the more infamous the better, including in Mark Anthony’s case, the public kissing of another man on the lips.

Pompey the Great (who has appended Magnus to his name) marries Julius Caesar’s daughter Julia, which gives Caesar has an alliance with still another fabulously wealthy and potentially powerful man.

Next we come to “Caesar” in which McCullough treats us to many of the great military campaigns of Caesar, in which he displays his unmatched genius for strategy and organization. He further shows his unparalleled ability to get his men to perform incredible feats of hard labor to compete engineering designs and machines created by Caesar for sieges, or as needed in other encounters, to defeat much larger armies of enemies.

In this book all of his enemies unite in scheme after scheme to belittle him only to be thwarted at every turn until finally Caesar is forced to cross the Rubicon and drives them into exile. He proves in encounter after encounter that he is not only a military genius who never lost a battle, but also so skillful in politics and intrigue that he is not beaten there either. In addition he is also skilled at oratory, poetry, political maneuvering, and in so many other areas I won’t even attempt to itemize them here.

Her sixth book , The October Horse, (I suggest you look up the historical reference to understand the significance of this title), outlines Caesar’s military defeat of his enemies. While pursuing his enemies he meets with, and is  courted by, Cleopatra, who judges Caesar to be another King and therefore a fit match for her, and with whom he sires a son.

Caesar falls ill with a strange disease but is diagnosed with a cure by Cleopatra’s doctor.  He continues to pursue his enemies and ultimately defeats them at last.

He then returns to Rome where he is murdered by 22 assassins on the infamous Ides of March

His revenge is carried out by Marcus Anthony, who, while still a dissolute wastrel, has become an excellent military leader, along with Caesar’s great-nephew, Octavian, who is Caesar’s heir. Although ill health and a weak frame make Octavian an unlikely soldier his courage, will, and a sagacity well beyond his years make him outstanding in every form of leadership and diplomacy needed for his survival.

The last book, Antony and Cleopatra, completes the seven stories. Cleopatra believes that Marc Antony, as kinsman to Caesar, is also a God and can give her the daughter she needs to mate with her son by Caesar to continue her line of succession under Egyptian laws. So she lures him to her bed and they begin their tragic relationship.

Marc Antony is furious that Octavian was named as Caesar’s heir instead if himself and resolves to squash this weak “mushroom”. Octavian shrewdly buys time by arranging a triumvirate with Lepidus and Antony.

Antony chooses to rule the east where he can war against the rich kings and gain glory and wealth while leaving Octavian to wrestle with the many problems in Rome and Italy which lacks money and is beset by the pirate, Sextus Pompieus, son of Pompey the Great, who with his vast fleet of ships controls the grain harvests as well as movement of grain and becomes fabulously wealthy by selling the grain at exorbitant prices. Sextus is abetted by Antony as his piracy aids Antony in his campaign of making Octavian’s life difficult.

Octavian in consort with his close friend , ally, and superior general, Agrippa, reconquers Gaul and parts of Germany, builds and  raises a fleets of ships, and ultimately battles the pirate, Sextus, on sea and land, and defeats his forces. Sextus escapes but is later defeated, captured, and killed. Octavian, after defeating Sextus in Sicily, has to deal with the land forces of Lepidus, at Agrigento, where Lepidus attempts to steal the horde of money abandoned by Sextus for himself. Octavian thwarts him by using his resemblance to his great-uncle, Caesar, to steal the troops loyalties and allegiance back to him. Octavian secures the vast treasure, sends 40 % to Antony as previously agreed, but gives his portion to the Roman treasury. The money sent to Antony becomes useful in Octavian’s continuing propaganda campaign to undermine the popularity of Antony.

Thereafter Octavian begins a long campaign to convince Rome and Italy that Antony is besotted by Cleopatra and becoming less and less a loyal Roman.  He is aided in this propaganda campaign by a disastrous war campaign by Antony against the Eastern kings in which he makes several errors and his badly fooled by treachery within his own allies. Antony loses the bulk of his army, many of whom are lost in an arduous retreat, and goes on a prolonged drunken binge until rescued by Cleopatra. Cleopatra funds one more war campaign against the Eastern Kings and sends her own Roman diplomat to negotiate the surrender of an important King, who comes with his family and a considerable treasure.

Antony wants to bring the royal prisoners, art and treasure to Rome for a triumph but is convinced by Cleopatra and her minions that during his drunken stupor he has pledged to hold the triumph in Egypt and give the treasure to Cleopatra in payment for her financing his rescue and new campaign.

This is the beginning of the end for Antony and Cleopatra as they are soundly defeated by Antony’s forces in a series of  battles and return to Alexandria for their ultimate suicides and the death as well for all of their dreams.

In the end it is the sickly heir to Caesar, Octavian, who becomes not only the true First Man in Rome but also assumes the unique name and status of Caesar Augustus, the one and only.

As you can tell I have glossed over nearly 7000 pages of narration with a only a few details. These seven books are definitely worth the attention of anyone who loves a dazzling view of  such a rich part of our history.

The dozens of main characters are bold and picturesque and the hosts of supplemental characters and situations could easily rival the fabled stories of the 1001 nights for their mesmerizing capacity to enthrall.

The significance of this period is that Rome at that time carried over from Greece the concept that they needed no royalty, that they were a community of equals-so that even their leaders were prima inter pares-first among equals. In theory it was a society of equals governed by laws, traditions and elections.

In practice, however, their was a elaborate order of elitism. Only Romans counted and the old established families counted above others. Marriages were carefully arranged among the established families but outsiders with wealth or demonstrable skills could “buy in” by marrying into prestige families through daughters and widows as did Gaius Marius , who abetted his martial skills and wealth by marrying a “Julian” daughter to be ranked as socially acceptable despite his Picentine origins.

After the elite families, often called the “boni”, came ranks of knights who voted on key Senate questions and the Plebes , who had the power of the veto.

Caesar was reviled by so many because he not only proved himself to be superior at everything he did but he rubbed their noses in it by flaunting his skills to his rivals, while maintaining the common touch and an unmatchable rapport with the common people, including the disenfranchised Italians and Gauls who were working with,  and fighting for, the Romans, but not accepted as citizens.

Men like Cato, whose own ancestors were of low birth except for his grandfather, Cato the Censor, who earned prominence with his hard work, became highly valuable to the anti-Caesar forces because of his stentorian voice, his utter lack of fear, and his conviction that his version of tradition was the only proper course regardless of how his obstinacy imperiled his country. (Sounds like a lot of current politicos, doesn’t it?)

The irony was that Caesar, through his role of Pontifus Maximus, had access to old scrolls and knew more about old, traditions, laws, and religions than Cato ever would, plus he had the interests of the whole country always in mind.

After reading about Roman history in this tumultuous period I felt I knew more about how our government really works.

A sidelight to these stories is that I couldn’t help thinking that the graft, corruption and greed of the Roman politicians are being echoed in our modern congress with the many special interests and lobbyists with their fat wallets open to buy influence. There is truly nothing new under the sun!

Thank you , Colleen McCullough, your books are so rich with delectable narratives, characters, and events that I will read them again and again as the years roll on. These are the creme de la creme of Romans a Clef!

Posted in Books, Mylife | 2 Comments

…A Failure to Communicate…

“The saddest aspect of life right now is that science gathers knowledge faster than society gathers wisdom.”                                                                      Isaac Asimov

“Knowledge speaks but wisdom listens.”                                          Jimi Hendrix

“Some folks are wise and some otherwise.”                                        Josh Billings

” What can we reason but from what we know.”                         Alexander Pope

“…the improvable reason of Man himself…presents us with ever changing dominion of mind over matter.”                                                     Sir Charles Lyell

” The bourgeoisie…by the immensely facilitated means of communication draws all, even the most barbarian, nations into civilization.”           Marx and Engel

“I have suffered from being misunderstood, but I would have suffered a hell of a lot more if I had been understood.”                                         Clarence Darrow

“No one can flatter himself that he is immune to his own epoch,, or even that he possesses a full understanding of it…”                                                Carl Jung

“Do you know, my son, with what little understanding the world is ruled?”   Pope Julius III (1487-1555)

In a seminal moment the warden (Strother Martin) said to “Cool Hand Luke” (Paul Newman) “What we have here is a failure to communicate!”, (written by  Frank Pierson), a line which is deservedly a cult classic. The sad truth is that that line could be delivered with gusto about the relations between the myriad societies all over this world of ours.

Like Alice in Wonderland I find myself developing even more curiosity as  I get older which often prompts me to repeat Alice’s line, “Curiouser and curiouser!” when I read the magazines Scientific American, National Geographic, and Smithsonian in an effort to keep abreast of what’s new in science, or when  I read the Economist magazine to try to keep up with changes in societies all over the world. As a result while I shake my head in sympathy with the notion of a unified field theory in science, I can’t help thinking that what we sorely need even more is a unified social theory.

In a recent crossword puzzle the clue  “What are the letters on a Christian’s bracelet?”, gave me the answer WWJD. (What would Jesus do?) This got me thinking about a similar approach in the social sphere. Which in turn led me to recall that in certain aspects of law appropriate behavior guidelines are reached by considering ” what would a rational man think and do?” (I know my  thought process jumps around a lot and that drives some of you crazy but that’s the way my mind works. Eh!)

All of the above led to the point of all this, “What would a Rational Alien think about our society?”, assuming that the rational alien  could communicate.

A Rational Alien reading that scientists had determined that all mankind came from common ancestors in Africa millions of years ago would scratch his head (or not, if he didn’t have a head or the means to scratch) in bewilderment at all the tribes, clans, ethnic groups, religious groups, nations, and other sub groups in which mankind is divided. The Rational Alien would be even more bemused by the arbitrary borders of nations (set up either in error or cynicism) which contain subgroups that don’t get along, therefore assuring clashes and worse.

The Rational Alien, learning that we all have common ancestors would be confounded by learning how groups like the Greeks hate Turks or how the Turks hate the Greeks because of thousands of years of acrimonious  encounters not only between these two but in thousands of other historical conflicts.

The Rational Alien would be even more astounded not only at the proliferation of religions, but that these religions, each of which were founded to appeal to and bring out the highest and best behavior in all their believers, have 1000′s of years of history of warfare as well as unspeakable atrocities, not only against each other, but against members of their own religion. Truly bizarre.

The Rational Alien would be appalled at societies where hands are cut off (just like Caesar did 2000 years ago in retribution against the Gauls); where fathers can kill their children legally for abhorrent social or religious infractions; where religious police can enter homes to search for music or other banned items; where woman are prohibited to perform many acts and have to wear special clothing; and so on, ad nauseum. I could go on with this rant but you get the idea. Man’s continuing inhumanity to man.

The Rational Alien would be astounded at children not only carrying dangerous weapons in parts of Africa and Asia, but actually engaged in lethal guerrilla actions

The Rational Alien would be terrified at the notion of North Korea where leadership so inept it can’t feed its own people plays with weapons of mass destruction.

The Rational Alien would be astonished at the American Congress where legislators threaten to stamp their feet and hold their breath like 3 year old children if they have to take certain actions, or perhaps these juvenile malcontents should be likened to that paragon of stubbornness, Marcus Cato, the Younger, who, like them, would cheerfully have scuttled the welfare of his country rather than act cooperatively. (Perhaps we should require all of Congress and the Senate to wear Cato masks until they perform a meaningful act for the good of the country rather than their political careers.)

Lastly, the Rational Alien might look at the actions of the late Steve Jobs (The epitome of the concept that there is a thin line between genius and madness) and noted how he produced a plethora of well designed communication products at reasonable prices.

What a concept. The Rational Alien couldn’t help wondering if a smart phone, or similar device that worked, in the hands of every child above 6, and in the hands of every adult, couldn’t lead to a proliferation of meaningful communication! Just imagine, everyone, all over the world, communicating on the social media. That could turn failure into success!

Now, where is that Rational Alien?

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Music and Storytelling

“All music is folk music. I ain’t ever heard a horse sing a song.”  Louis Armstrong

“Pop music tells you that everything is okay, and rock music tells you that it is not, but you can change it. “                                                                                 Bono

“A wandering minstrel I, a thing of shreds and patches, of ballads, songs, and snatches, and dreamy lullaby.”                from The Mikado, Gilbert and Sullivan

“O black and unknown bards of long ago, how come your lips to touch the sacred fire, how, in your darkness, did you come to know, the power and beauty of the minstrel lyre.”                                                                               James Weldon Johnson

“…the story tellers own experience of men and things, whether for good or ill…has moved him to an emotion so passionate that he can no longer keep it shut up in his heart.”            From “The Tale of Genji” by Murasaki Shikibu (circa 1000 A.D.)

I have long had a strong aversion to types of song and music long in varieties of words and short in  complexities of music. This includes most country music, most blues music, much of reggae, most American folk music, and all of hip/hop or rap.

My aversion to country music was expressed well by Harlan Howard when he wrote: “country music is three chords and the truth.” These repetitive chords in most country music is the musical equivalent of triteness in literature or conversation.

Our local NPR station KJZZ, while it has some wonderful late night jazz hosted by a very good singer in her own right, Blaze Lantana, also has, on Sunday nights, several hours of blues with Bob Moritore. I will admit that good blues can be wonderful and the blues form often has some very funny numbers, but all too often it will be just a line of patter followed by a ta-yadda-ta-ya guitar line and then more patter.  Endlessly repeated it becomes—Borrrrrrring!

There are some exceptional blues artists like B.B. King, just as  there are some wonderful musicians in the mountains of the south who play with a verve and vivacity some colorful numbers, on guitar, banjo and other mountain instruments such as a jug or washboard, with lots of rhythm and foot-stomping virtuosity that are in a special class of their own.

It is not my intent , however, in this post to criticize or eulogize any type of music but rather to confess that I have just had an epiphany regarding the above types of music I have here-to-fore disparaged. I have just realized that all of these types of music are modern day manifestations of the ancient arts of the troubadours, minstrels or jongleurs.

Storytelling accompanied by music has existed all through recorded history and certainly in the nations rich in oral history long before anything was written down. As one expert on African storytelling wrote:”..in many old traditions storytelling is synonymous with song, chant, music, or epic poetry, especially in the bardic traditions.”

The Westcar Payrus of Egypt records storytelling with music, in the same time frame as the heights of pyramid building by a architect called Cheops, over 6,000 years ago.

The Greek theatre of Aristophanes , circa 400 years B.C., always had choruses and musicians along with the poetic narration of the plays. The Greeks didn’t like musical instrumentals by themselves , they wanted their music to accompany a story.

The histories of many nations of Asia, Africa, the Celtic lands, and elsewhere are full of  colorful legends such as the Nordic “Beowulf”, or ” The Song of Roland” that were told around the evening fires with musical accompaniment.

My own ancestors among the Cree and other Indian tribes would tell stories with drum accompaniment or sometimes flutes and often with whoops and chants.

So it is now my contention that country music, blues,  and reggae are just extensions of this tradition of folk music and storytelling heard around the world for 1000′s of years. Hip-hop and Rap are in one sense a new type of folk music storytelling in that the tales are from the urban areas, or big city life, rather than country life. You can certainly argue , certainly, that  some blues numbers explored that territory first.

That doesn’t mean that I’m going to change my mind and listen to any of these forms more often, because I still am drawn to the that type of music that has a variety of rhythms, key changes, and numerous variations of chords and progressions that dazzle my senses. I often listen to the bass in a jazz combo just to enjoy the counterpoint. (There was a South American guitar duo years ago with a name something like “Dos Trabajadores” that would blow me away with the point and counterpoint between the two.)

Of course, any musician or music lover will point out that music itself is a story telling form. An extreme example of musical story telling was outlined in one of the unique books of Bruce Chatwin when he narrated how the aborigines of Australia sang songs that were oral maps of the routes that they took in their nomadic wandering. The melodies, rhythms, and other musical characteristics painted the rocks, mountains, streams, and other geographic places just as completely in the songs for their aborigine listeners as a graphic map would explain it for us.

Classical music has many pieces that are unquestionably storytelling. “Peter and the Wolf”, for example, a favorite musical piece for children, or the “The Merry Pranks of Till Eulenspiegel”, for another. Mussorgsky’s epic “Night on Bald Mountain” is a vivid  musical tale for anyone who has ever experienced a storm in the mountains. “The Four Seasons” by Vivaldi is a favorite of many for its evocative themes. “The 1812 Overture” with its cannons and bells is still another storytelling masterpiece, as is Grieg’s “Going Home” Largo from “The New World Symphony” , which calls to mind a poignant journey home for anyone who hears it.

On a lighter note who can hear a piece by Leroy Anderson such as “The Typewriter”, “Syncopated Clock”, or “Sleigh Ride” and not smile with delight at the musical story.

I first heard Ira Gershwin’s “Slaughter on Tenth Avenue” and “Rhapsody in Blue”, at a Jewish summer camp run by Josh and Leah Lieberman,  prominent Broadway Producer’s at the time, near Sturbridge and thought I had died and gone to musical heaven, “An American in Paris” by Gershwin is another glorious story telling piece.

Who can hear Ferde Grofe’s “Grand Canyon Suite” with its clip-clopping, whinnying, and hee-hawing, without visualizing that ride down the canyon side?

Okay, okay, it’s obvious I like my story telling more profound than most modern music. Like everyone else , however, I have my soft spots— ballads that are witty, emotional or evocative. Frank Sinatra’s “It’s 2 o’clock, Joe…” is a wonderful saloon tune to hear late on a melancholy night-”Give me one for my baby, and one more for the road. That long, long, long road.” Sing it, Frank!

Some of the tunes by Antony Newley, like “Send in the Clowns”, are storytelling tunes with some philosophic echoes. In fact that type of music called “caberet songs”, not necessarily from the musical “Cabaret”, although there are several songs from that witty, satirical show that fill the bill, is a type of musical storytelling that I enjoy.

I guess the message of this post is that I have a new found respect for music I usually deplore because I recognize that these forms wouldn’t be so popular if they didn’t strike some chords in the minds and hearts of many people. Every type of story telling has its audience and many of them enrich our lives.

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To The Sea…

” The sea lies all about us…for all returns at last to the sea,…to Oceanus, the ocean river, like the ever flowing stream of time, the beginning and the end.”   Rachel Carson

“All the rivers flow into the sea; yet the sea is not full.”                     Ecclesiastes

“They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters.”   Psalms

“I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky, and all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by…and a gray mist on the sea’s face and a gray dawn breaking…”                                             From “Sea Fever” by John Masefield

Growing up in New England so close to the sea that fogs often drifted across our little farm with the scent of seaweed and deep oceans I  was drawn, as soon as I could read, to books about the sea. Just a few miles east were the towns of New Bedford and Gloucester, famous for launching “wooden ships and iron men” around the world for whales, spices, and other trade.

When I was a boy the Grand Banks were still great fisheries and the markets each morning were full of fresh fish such as cod, halibut and flounder, caught just a few hours earlier in the nearby sea.

New England farmsteads and estates frequently had auctions at which, from the attics and barns, would emerge harpoons  and many strange objects from far off places that some seafaring ancestors had brought back from their voyages.

So I read everything about the sea I could find from Rafael Sabbatini’s swashbuckling tales, through Conrad, London, and Melville, to Richard Henry Dana’s “Two Years Before the Mast” which brought to my vivid imagination the hardships of the sea with seawater pouring through leaking hatches into the soaked bedding of weary sailors trying to get some fitful sleep after fighting wind and water high in the rigging with “one hand for the ship and one hand for your life”.

In later years I rediscovered the delights and perils of the sea with such books as Sir Frances Chichester’s ” Gypsy Moth IV” which is the story of this elderly crusty, cranky, old buzzard’s record breaking single-sailing voyage around the world, including his near capsizing in the “roaring forties”. I particularly enjoyed his description of bringing several flats of garlic aboard, not only for scurvy, but because sailing alone he could eat all the garlic he desired. In his pictures in the book he had one heart-stopping shot of a 100′ wave following close behind as he sailed eastward around the “Horn”.

Another book about the sea that I enjoyed was “The Perfect Storm”. After reading that book I made sure to visit Gloucester once again to absorb the unique atmosphere of that unique sea town.

I have lived close to the sea in Monterey (California), San Francisco, Santa Monica, Culver City, and the creme-de la-creme of beach towns- Manhattan Beach- but only Monterey had that special mystique of a true sea town especially in the late 1950′s when the remnants of Cannery Row were still there.

I have never taken a long sea voyage although I have taken several week long cruises which, except for a week on a “Windjammer”, were pretty tame. I have been on the sea, however, for many hours, fishing, diving, sailing (30 to 40′ sailboats usually to Catalina or in the Caribbean off Martinique) and motoring in everything from dories and dinghies to a luxuriously converted ex-coast guard crash boat, off of Santa Barbara on a visit to oil drilling rigs. One of the most unique boats I have enjoyed was a 110′ Trimaran dive boat in the BVIs. Very plush with lots of wine and rum after diving plus gourmet cooking.

Having a rich imagination , however, I have often pictured myself leaning on the aft rail of a fully-rigged sailing ship bobbing and weaving in a heavy sea on a foggy night! As I write this I can hear distinctly the shrill calls of the gulls and the mournful hooting of the fog horns.(In my imagination, obviously, I’m 400 miles from the western sea.) On one journey, through Rhode Island to Cape Cod in my teenage years, the mournful tune of the fog horns inspired me to write a ballad to my then heart-throb, Madeleine, a tune I have long forgotten except for the first few notes.

In one of Louis L’Amours yarns he mentions the finding of a Phoenician coin in a cave in New England in either New Hampshire or Vermont. That seemed to me to be a little far fetched at the time I read it but recent discoveries around the world are shaking scientific theories about the history of sea voyages and making that discovery more plausible.

Recent finds in Crete reported by National Geographic,  and others, indicates sailors came to that island over 130,000 years ago and perhaps much earlier. Discoveries in Indonesia and Australia show that even homo erectus may have crossed the sea over 100,000 years ago, and it may be as much as 700,000 years ago.

There is plenty of evidence that the ancient Egyptians sailed to “Punt”, now believed to be Somalia, at least 4000 years B.C., or 6,000 years ago. There is considerable evidence that the Phoenicians sailed extensively through the Mediterranean and beyond for well over 1000 years before they were conquered  by the ancient Romans.

When you consider the many constant winds known to blow around the seas, the capricious storms that often blow for weeks that have frequently blown ships way off course, and the strong rotating currents such as the Gulf Stream or the Japanese Current, it would not be surprising to find that primitive people traveled much farther than previously believed.

When I read sea yarns and then sit out on my deck musing I sometimes think of the many men lost at sea—some quickly in a storm or wreck upon a reef— others slowly drifting in a de-masted ship dying of hunger or thirst. Sea town cemeteries have many graveyards with names of lost sailors, but sometimes not their bodies.

I then also think of the many women and their children all around the world who have waited in vain for their men to return from the sea. In New England and in old England there are special decks on the sides of the roofs of sea town houses which are called “widows walks” because women have walked them day after day, and night after night, watching for their men to return from the sea.

Coleridge in one of his poems-perhaps ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” wrote” “Alone, alone, all, all alone, alone on a wide, wide sea”, which describes such a fate all too well.

There are, of course, many adventurers who dare the sea to do its worst. In the book, “The Soul of a New Machine”, the author, Tracy Kidder, describes  the horrific hardships of racing yachts as , unbelievably, an easy respite for a computer whiz compared to building a new computer. Former British politician Edward Heath described ocean racing as follows: “Ocean racing is like standing under a cold shower in a howling gale tearing up ten-pound notes.”

History is full of stories about a special breed of sailors; those who went to sea to fight at sea. In ancient times shipbuilders would mount special rams of wood or metal below the water line so that the oarsman could pull the ships into ramming and sinking their foes. I shrink in horror to think of what happened to those oarsman when a another passing vessel crashed into the oars and snapped those lethal heavy oars into the hapless rowers bodies.

Even worse was the infamous use of “Greek fire”, an inflammable mixture of chemicals that burst instantly into a very hot fire somewhat like napalm today. ( the exact components of “Greek fire” have not been recorded for modern historians.) It’s hard to imagine anything worse than a fire at sea, miles from land.

Later on, in the great sea battles between European nations, or against pirates, one can certainly imagine the terror of a seaman in a ship standing across from another ship while both are firing cannon load after cannon load at the other. Some of those loads were of links of chain that tore through bodies. Sometimes the cannons, lurching back after being fired, broke the restraints and careened backward through the ship and the sailors standing haplessly nearby. I am no longer able to read those old sea yarns because I can imagine the carnage all too well.

Modern sea warfare as recently as WWII had the terrible images and stories about the tons of hapless merchantmen sunk in the North Sea by the sea-wolves called U-boats. A fabulous German movie entitled “Das Boot”, describes in detail the terror, in contrast, of the men in the submarines being hunted by war boats such as destroyers above them.

Let us turn now to more pleasant thoughts about some more peaceful folk who enjoy the sea. People who live by the sea often live healthier, longer lives than the rest of us because they  enjoy fresh air and wind and plenty of fresh sea food. Sir James Frazer described it as follows : ” Dwellers by the sea cannot fail to be impressed by the sight of its ceaseless ebb and flow, and are apt…to trace a subtle relation, a secret harmony, between its tides, and the life of man.”

The sea— romantic, awe-inspiring,  beautiful, ferocious, full of mystery yet, and full of life. There is one aspect of enjoyment of the sea that I have not dwelt on that gives so much pleasure to so many—walking by the sea. This can be best described in the onomatopoeia of Matthew Arnold: “Listen! you hear the grating roar of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling, at their return, up on the high strand, begin, and cease, and then again begin, with tremulous cadence slow, and bring the eternal note of sadness in.”

To the sea, to the sea, to the wondrous sea….

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