Falling by the wayside

March? I haven't posted since March? Jeepers (mentally adds, singing, 'creepers, where'd ya get those peepers...'). Makes me wonder just what the hell I've been up to all this time. I'd write a bit of it out if I could remember any of it. Actually, I do, but much of it isn't that interesting, and a large part of the rest would be stressful ranting and raving about the political situation in my country. There have been a number of wonderful movies I've watched, or watched again. And there has been the garden, of course. As for the movies I've screened, there have been so many it would be a minor miracle if I could still name them all. The idea was to write them down here, making notes about each, but that project fell by the wayside.

A page from the Tyndale Bible.

Now there's a phrase I haven't used for awhile, "fell by the wayside". While it's meaning is readily apparent, the origin of the phrase may not be. It goes back to a 1526 translation of the Bible by William Tyndale. It was the first bible in English to be translated from Greek and Hebrew sources, and the first to hit the printing press. There had been an earlier version (the Wycliffe Bible) in Middle English in the late 1300's, but due to its use in a pre-Reformation movement, it was banned in 1409. By the late 1400's, owning one could bring the death penalty. But that's another story. The Tyndale translation, by the way, became a principal source for the King James version of the early 1600's. The "fell by the wayside" reference is from the Gospel of Luke, chapter 8, verses 5 thru 8. It occurs just after a mention of unclean spirits being cast out of Mary Magdalene and two other women, and concerns a farmer who went out to sow his seed. The sower was a bit sloppy, and some seed 'fell by the wayside'. In fact, a lot of it seemed to fall by the wayside. Only that seed which fell upon the 'good ground' was productive. Just after the teaching of this parable, the Teacher walked upon the waters, a pretty nifty act.

Now that I've wandered off onto this tangent, I'm no longer sure of where the heck I was headed. Was it to post a few pics from the garden? Or the chance to write mildly amusing commentary on making my own tomato paste, or the adventures of putting up copious amounts of fresh homemade pesto against the depravations of winter? (I used up the very last of last year's pesto a few days before starting this year's batches.) Or were the seeds a reference to all the movies I've watched lately? Or haven't watched?

A part of the larger garden at Solar Hill (which I help maintain) where my garden is located.
At the top of the photo is a bit of the playground for the Neighborhood Schoolhouse

More of the Solar Hill garden. Just off to the left are a large number of peonies, one of which can be seen here.
The Japanese dogwood was kind of spectacular this year; it demanded a photo.

A portion of my garden this past June.

Another part of my garden in mid to late Spring.
There's lots more, including other seasons. I'm considering starting a garden blog.

That last bit in the text above (the 'haven't watched' part) refers to an attempt to screen the RKO 'Hitler's Children' for one of my younger friends. While he's knowledgeable about independent movies from the late 1980's or so up to today, he's somewhat less aware of earlier movies. At any rate, my younger friend is going to be a first time daddy soon. He made his announcement via a Facebook post whose only content was a sound file that mystified a number of folks. It was the sound of the baby's heartbeat in the womb. Now, he's never seen any of the Nancy Drew movies, and thus has no associations what-so-ever for Bonita Granville, or, for that matter, with cowboy star Tim Holt, both of whom have the lead roles in the movie. So one night not long after the incidents in Charlottesville with tiki torch bearing American Nazis, white supremacists, and the follow up ravings of Donald Trump in the role of President of the United States, we settled in to watch this bit of lurid potboiler propaganda history.

The film starts out with a Nazi rally (above), and proceeds, via flashback narration, to a 1933 confrontation between American students in Germany, and a group of teenage male Nazis in training. A fight breaks out, during which wholesome Nazi Tim Holt holds onto the American's baseball bat, refusing to give it back. Plucky Bonita Granville looks him in the eye and suddenly exclaims, "Heil Hitler". When Holt's arm rises in automatic salute, she punches him in the stomach. When the German headmaster refuses to stop his charges from fighting, the American teacher (Kent Smith, giving a performance only slightly more lively than a cigar store Indian) simply yells out, "Achtung!", which causes the German boys to fall into line. If only it were that easy in real life. We then see a little bit of the school room education of the day:

Just after Tim Holt's praise for Hitler in the clip above, my young friend asked me to stop the movie. Under the current political climate, and being an expectant father, it was too much. His heart had started racing, and he was beginning to have a bit of a panic attack. We were only about 10 minutes into the film. Thinking back on it, it was probably a good thing we changed the picture. I'd have freaked out if I was an expectant parent, too. And I'm not just thinking of the scene in which a young mother to be hopes her birth is painful as a tribute to the Führer. This picture gets far more lurid and serious.

Of course, the reverberations of movies like 'Hitler's Children' into our own time should give us pause. We currently have an administration in power which excuses the outrages of the far right, pretending there were good people amongst them, condemning those on the left for their part in the violence (even though every report I saw or read stated that the 'antifa' crowd only resorted to violence when the Nazi types began charging at women, children, the clergy, and people with brown skin). Pictures that came out of the event were startling.

Is it live, or is it Memorex?

Today I turned 67 years old. My parents divorced when I was quite little; my mother was gone by the time I was 6 months old. My father, my brother, and I lived with my Aunt and Uncle in what had been my Grandfather's house. My Uncle had fought in WWII. When television came in, I wasn't allowed to have it on much after 5pm, when my Uncle got home. The noise and cacophony of tv shows with children's laughter, and especially sudden loud sounds, unnerved him and he would fly into rages. I won't dwell on it, or on what would now be easily recognizable as PTSD, except to say that I often felt terrorized as a child. The experiences I had in those years would come back to affect me later in life. As it turns out, I was diagnosed as having PTSD too. The stresses and coping mechanisms from those days got me through my first years on my own in the late 1960's, the Vietnam war protests, getting beat up because I had long hair, being beaten up and/or threatened for being perceived as gay, being shot in the head (not as serious as it sounds, except for the psyche - it was delivered via a pellet rifle after I was seen returning a European kiss on the cheek to a male friend returning to Germany. Still, the bullet lodged in my skull and they thought I might have some damage.) During my years managing bookstores in NYC, my assistant was from Pakistan. When the Ayatollah Khomeini returned to Iran, my assistant became agitated and predicted the rise of ultra conservative Islam. He was in New York studying to become an architect so he could build decent homes for the poor of his country. He told me flat out that with the rise of conservative Islam, he was concerned about returning home; he might be killed for becoming educated, and going to the United States. The best cashier I had was a gorgeous black woman from the Caribbean, with a lilt in her voice which would make most people smile. My warehouse manager, who was the guy I trained to run the science fiction section, was from Cuba. You get the idea; I had a lot of friends and co-workers who, if they were around today, might face deportation. The sad fact of the matter is that my country is rounding people up. Some have been deported, some are being held. Many on trumped up charges, or minor traffic style violations. Now a  movement is on to deport those who were brought here as children, who grew up here, and became part of the fabric of life here. Legal protections for transgender folk are being removed. Repealing the right of marriage for gay folks won't be far behind. The Trump Department of Justice has already insisted that gay folks are not entitled to job protections under federal anti-discrimination laws. Confrontations in the culture wars continue, and will, until decent normal everyday people start to riot. And what then? Well, perhaps that's why the Trump administration has 1.2 Billion dollars in the Federal budget for 'detainee beds'. I have been accused of having a decidedly liberal paranoia about this, but I could spend several hours writing out the reasons for such suspicions, and pointing out the similarities between the US today and Europe in the early 1930's. You're free to laugh at me if you want, I won't mind. But I will remind you that Nazis are on the march. In America. They may be carrying mass market torches, but that doesn't change the fact that they are there, marching, provoking, waiting. Their own leaders will tell you that an army is being built. We have a President who threatened violence from his supporters if he wasn't elected. His supporters threaten violence if he is removed from office. Go ahead and laugh some more. But remember the following image when the 'arrests' start. It was painted on a fence in California a few days after the Charlottesville events. And you'd better hope to hell everyone in your family is straight, and white. A lot of the seeds being sown aren't for flowers.

Well, that was fun.

"It's been how long since I posted?", he thought to himself. (Take that rules of punctuation.) Uh, oh. He's feeling a little surly today. Ah, yes, it's 'talk about yourself in the third person day'. Actually, I've no idea if such a day exists, but why shouldn't it? After a quick Google search, it turns out it does exist - every Third of March. Should'da known. As I look up I see that it is snowing to beat the band, although why anyone, or for that matter the snow, wants to beat the band is beyond me. (ba-dum dumb)

You'll have to excuse me, I've been cooped up a bit too long. (Internal struggle - overcoming urge to add picture of Gary Cooper.) That freakin' cold I had since just before Thanksgiving to about Christmas either came back again, or I got another one. Only this time, I went down for the count. I'm not the kind of guy who can lay in bed when I'm not feeling well. Usually, I get up, clean myself, up, read, watch tv, listen to music, etc. and keep things fairly quiet. This time I ended up in bed for three and a half days. And it wasn't like I was just lyin' there staring at the uneven place on the textured plaster ceiling - nope, I slept. Last Saturday (Jan, 23rd) I didn't even do my radio show.

Speaking of my radio show, I've got a couple of them to catch up on posting here. So, let's get the first one out of the way right now with the show from Saturday January 9th, 2016. That program began with a tribute to Kitty Kallen, songbird with the bands of Jan Savitt, Jack Teagarden, Jimmy Dorsey, and Harry James. Ms. Kallen shuffled off the mortal coil on January the 7th. Then it was off to January 1945 as the Philco tuned in The Kraft Music Hall with Bing Crosby (and guests Spike Jones and His City Slickers!).



Between being constantly sick (all chest and up, thankfully), trying to keep the radio station going, trying to shop for food while in a muddle-daze, trying to find enough energy to cook a decent meal, you know - the usual suspects - I have to admit that I'm not getting a heck of a lot done. I have watched a couple of movies I had on the cable box DVR. The other night I watched the 1936 "Things to Come", with a script by H.G. Wells based on his own book. I last saw it in the early to mid 1970's. Made in England in 1936, the story starts with an all out world war in 1940, which more or less ends in the late 1960's with a new dark age and a plague; salvation arriving in the 1970's with the intervention of scientists and their "Wings Over the World" organization. By 2036, the populace begin to rebel against the more or less totalitarian technocracy that replaced the totalitarian society before it. It's the triumph of the luddites that gives rise to philosophical debate. That's a heck of a lot of oversimplification, but the subject is worth noting - let's face it, there just haven't been all that many movies that ruminate on the nature of war, good versus evil, the future of civilization, the nature of progress, and humankind's place in the universe. Besides, I find it wonderfully reassuring the cities of the future will be of art deco designs.

I have to make an admission here. It's been many years since I really gave myself anything much for Christmas. From my childhood years into my late 40's, I was an active film collector. I miss movies shown at a proper size. I like movies on tv well enough, but at the modern standard (?) of 32" or so they are still tv images. Certainly I watched many years of movies on a 19" screen growing up. But most movies are meant to be bigger than life, or at least bigger than a tv screen. So this past holiday, after scrimping and saving for quite awhile, I gave myself a cheap little video projector. It was one of those momentary "oh, hell, just do it" moments. And I'm very happy I did it. It's a tad awkward to use, as the method of projecting I prefer, down the length of my space, will give my own viewing a large and wonderful picture, but won't work very well for inviting guests over - due to the arraignment of the furniture they'll be far too close to the screen. My old motorized 5' screen is perfect for older movies with a more or less square shape (a ratio of 1.33:1). But it isn't big enough for the tv version of widescreen (16:9, which isn't the size of any widescreen process ever used). My 10 foot screen would be perfect for this, but at the moment it is in storage in a friend's barn. It will need a bit of sprucing up and possibly bleaching of the surface to make it useable, and even then that designation may be somewhat questionable. At the moment, I'm simply using a wall that is a light beige color, projected across the room so friends can sit and watch as well. Here's a pic of the widescreen image, shown in snowy day daylight (thin drapes closed, but still light enough to read a book or newspaper)(sorry about getting the fan blade in the picture). The image is roughly 6 feet long by 4 feet in height.

A scene from 'Jason and the Argonauts' in the tv version of widescreen.

Of course, this jump in technology will come with added costs. A standard DVD is of about the quality of older tv images. Over the last few years, I've grown quite accustomed to high def images. The projector isn't full high def (which would be 1080 pixels); that would have cost far more than I could afford. But it is the lower form of high def (720 pixels) and is pretty darn good, especially considering that it was priced quite a bit under $200.00. To be honest, I'm still surprised I spent that much money on myself. The problem is that movies recorded in 1080p high def via my cable box DVR are of excellent quality when projected - much better than DVD. Now I'm possessed of the idea that its time to go Blue Ray DVD, which is 1080p Hi Def. (I'm so old fashioned I prefer to own a copy of a favorite movie instead of paying per view.) That changeover is not likely to happen, and so far my DVDs look just fine. But the obsession has started.

Now that the images are of a decent size, I find I'm watching movies again. It's not like watching half heartedly on tv while I play solitaire on the computer, and etc. I mean fully engaged watching. This has happened just in time. The political commercials on the television are depressingly overwrought. My sanity needs to avoid them. The Republican party is out of control. All of their advertising (one can't forget these are infomericals selling a packaged product) is set in an alternate world America as they sell fear - where there are nasty terrorists among us plotting their daily bombings and destruction of our homes. Look - is that one? Report them now. An America where affordable healthcare has caused a majority of the populace to lose their jobs and live in dire poverty. An America in which the President of the United States has betrayed the country, and where those running for the nomination in the opposing party aren't fit for office. This isn't a distillation of what's behind their ideas - they say these things. Boldly. They talk about carpet bombing, they talk about rebuilding our military (which is still the largest and best trained in the world) and going after the terrorists of ISIS, capturing those they can, and carting them off to the Guantanamo Bay detention camp for the rest of time, where we -will- learn what they know. The implication of torture is pretty hard to miss. Oh, yeah, they are all for constant electronic monitoring of the populace. Give up that freedom in order to save it.

This political situation was going to be the focus of today's post, but I find it overwhelming to even think about today, as this is the first day I am really starting to feel better and I have a lot of other stuff to catch up on. The sad thing is these candidate 'contenders' don't even realize that they will not really be in control. They rail against Vladmir Putin, as though he has any real power left. When he was rattling the sabers, friends of mine were quite concerned that he was going to start a war. Russia, like China, is now part of the world economy. The interdependencies of trade and commerce have moved the actuality of power to the corporations just as predicted. At present, they can't afford war. There is too much to lose, and not enough to gain. When war comes in the future, it will be over economic spheres of influence, over who controls what products, what information, what data. Wars over who controls what geographic areas are passe, they are old school. That world is rapidly fading away.  It's part of what makes the immigration debate in this country so ridiculous. Forget building walls on our borders. Forget "figuring out who they are before we let them in" - that is already being done. If these people manage to get one of themselves elected, I've no doubt that the walls will go up. The real question is whether they are there to keep the infidels out, or the unwashed populace in.

There's a lot more that's been bouncing back and forth, but I need to get doing other things.

My radio show of Saturday January 16th took note of the birthdays of Sophie Tucker (the Last of the Red Hot Mamas), trumpeter and bandleader Billy Butterfield, drummer and bandleader Gene Krupa, and promoter, lyricist, and music publisher Irving Mills.



As always, I hope anyone who listens in enjoys the show(s).

Thanksgiving 2015

Today is Thanksgiving Day here in America. It's an old tradition, one which goes back to at least the time of Henry the VIII. Here in the US, its origin is traced to the 1620's at Plymouth, Massachusetts. The Puritans and Pilgrims would have been familiar with the ideas of fasting and feasting in Thanks for all that God had given them. (The Canadian Thanksgiving goes back even further.) The story has it that the refugees from England shared a bountiful harvest with the Wampanoag Indians, without whose help they might not have survived.

These days, many people take great delight in skewering the story, labeling the arrival of people of white European ancestry as the purveyors of genocide against the native Americans.  Whenever a holiday rolls around, these folks can be counted upon to proclaim what they see as the truthful history behind the myth. Much of their revisionist history is as "full of it" as the stories they seek to debunk.

The myth of America was created over a long period of time. It was once a myth of hope, a light in the darkness. It's long been apparent that these tales weren't literal truth. The greatness of my country lay in the willingness of good people to go out and try to correct the wrongs in our land, to bring the dreams of equality, the chance to better one's self and family through education and hard work, to life for everyone.

These days, we are presented with candidates for the Presidency who talk about making America great again. The current frontrunner for the Republican nomination has advocated everything from requiring registration of all Muslims, to stating that we should use methods of torture such as waterboarding to defeat terrorists. After all, he noted, "they deserve it anyway". He has ridiculed the press who fact checked him (even mocking one respected reporter's disability), and urged the crowds at his events to beat up and eject those who disagree with him - although he has also mentioned protestor's actions as part of the attraction for his rallies - its entertainment value, after all.

It makes me wonder if he pays the protestors to be there.

Personally, I'll hang onto stories like the origin of the U.S. Thanksgiving - stories of cooperation between different races, breaking bread together, freedom and equality. They might not be true, but they are one hell of a goal. I can only hope that we can honor them, and work towards them before those of us who don't fit in are forced to have registration cards, or are taken off to the camps.

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Last Saturday's radio show played a couple of songs for Thanksgiving before the juke box got loaded up with nickels to celebrate the birthdays of Johnny Mercer and Hoagy Carmichael.



 

 

"You can't help that said the cat, we're all mad here..."

The world has gone mad again.

When I was young, I realized that we shouldn't think of evolution as something in the past. It seems clear that the human species is still evolving. Back then, I believed that we were on an upward progression. I no longer have any such certainty.

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The above was the start of a post I doubt will be finished. (It will join the pile of discards, where it will find much company.) Partly because I'm not feeling my best (nasty-ish cold running through the system), partly due to time constraints, partly because the writing of it is likely to make me scream at nothing in particular in order to vent building frustration and anger. To resume writing what I had in mind, I'd have to go back to Facebook or some other form of 'social media' to collect images and information. Blogs are social media, but they are different; one can take a little bit of word time to actually express (or attempt to express) one's thoughts or observations. Blogs also have to be sought out, or one has to click on a link. They aren't part of a scrolling feed.

The problem started with the terrorist attacks on Paris. People on Facebook immediately used a program which superimposed the French flag over their personal image icons. Other people immediately responded with links to blogs, mostly think pieces which declared why they wouldn't comment on the terrorist attack on Paris; where were the cries of outrage for the week's other terror attacks, they demanded to know? - those victims were passed by, not mentioned - not worthy - as Paris is a White city, not a place of brown skin people. Now, those posts had a bit of a point, but to post someone else's article about the terrorist attacks on Paris to demonstrate why one isn't posting about Paris is a kind of internet passive aggressive statement of extremely annoying and cloying condescending superiority - and some odd attempt to prove that the poster's heart bleeds for the world more than their ill-informed reader's.

Those posts began to get a response. The me-me posts proliferated. The news media and the video clip posters ran the same footage constantly. The news media did scrabble to send their top anchors or writers to Paris to find the woman who was standing three blocks away from the stadium who heard the bang of the bombs and grew fearful. (Okay, I made that up but the exaggeration isn't that big.)

Then the politicians began chiming in. As most folks who read this blog probably know, I live in Vermont. Our local tv and video news sources originate in one upstate minor city, or from Boston. Both cover the New Hampshire market, where the first primaries in our upcoming (one year away) Presidential contest will be held. We have been inundated with political advertising for months already. Most of the advertising has been for the Republican side, which seems intent on reversing any possible upward trend evolution might provide. They, and a seemingly large segment of the population, have centered on stopping any influx of Syrian refugees into the country (but they're okay if they are Christians). The issue has become a social media war. The images proliferate, with commentary which exposes the sad state of American language skills, the sad state of American education, media, news - oh, hell, the responses below (from people I know to be kind, decent folks) are as frightening as the terror attacks.

 

 

 

 

 

  

It's been a sorry, disgusting spectacle.

 

 

 

This doesn't seem to be particularly appropriate, but it makes as much sense as anything else this past week: Here's last Saturday's radio show. The show did start off with a comment, albeit musical, on the current events before paying birthday tributes to musician-conductor-composer Billy May, singer Jo Stafford, crooner Johnny Desmond (the "G.I. Sinatra"), one of the sadly forgotten early jazz men Eddie Condon, and the 'Father of the Blues' W. C. Handy. Handy was the subject of, and guest on, the show's featured broadcast - 'The Chamber Music Society of Lower Basin Street' of June the 14th, 1940.

 

 

 

As always, I hope any listeners enjoy the show. 

Armistice Day

Today, November 11th, used to be known as Armistice Day.

Many of my generation can recite the phrase... "on the 11th hour, on the 11th day, of the 11th month...". I occasionally wonder how many people know to what event that phrase refers? The thing is, the import and meaning of that day has changed.

An Armistice is defined as an agreement whereby warring parties end their armed engagments. The quote above refers to the end of fighting on the Western Front of The Great War, now known as World War One. November 11th, 1918 was the unofficial end to the war. The paperwork took awhile longer. It always does. Just between the agreement to end the fighting and the arrival of the fabled hour, another 3,000 soldiers were killed in battle. Thousands more were still to succumb to the remains of the conflict.

In both Great Britain and France, a day of remembrance for those who gave their lives in the service of their countries in the war was declared. It became customary to observe 2 minutes of reverent silence in their honor at the 11th hour on Armistice Day.

Part of the celebration in London

the celebration in Paris

 In the United States, something quite remarkable occurred. In 1919, President Woodrow Wilson declared November 11th be a commemoration of the Armistice; "To us in America, the reflections of Armistice Day will be filled with solemn pride in the heroism of those who died in the country’s service and with gratitude for the victory, both because of the thing from which it has freed us and because of the opportunity it has given America to show her sympathy with peace and justice in the councils of the nations…"

The key phrase is "sympathy with peace". Armistice Day was a celebration of Peace breaking out. It was intended as a day of reflection on the concept of peace and international co-operation.


Soldiers on the Western Front celebrated

Those who think I am off the mark should look no further than the Congress of the United States, when it issued a resolution on Armistice Day in 1926 with the following words;

"Whereas it is fitting that the recurring anniversary of this date should be commemorated with thanksgiving and prayer and exercises designed to perpetuate peace through good will and mutual understanding between nations; and

Whereas the legislatures of twenty-seven of our States have already declared November 11 to be a legal holiday: Therefore be it Resolved by the Senate (the House of Representatives concurring), that the President of the United States is requested to issue a proclamation calling upon the officials to display the flag of the United States on all Government buildings on November 11 and inviting the people of the United States to observe the day in schools and churches, or other suitable places, with appropriate ceremonies of friendly relations with all other peoples."

London

In 1938, the U.S. Congress passed an Act which proclaimed the 11th of November a legal holiday: "a day to be dedicated to the cause of world peace and to be thereafter celebrated and known as 'Armistice Day'."^[

In 1954, not quite 10 years after the end of World War Two, the Congress of the United States changed the meaning of Armistice Day, basically by doing away with it. The President at the time, a member of the conservative Republican Party, was Dwight D. Eisenhower. He had previously been known to most of the world as the General whose careful planning helped defeat the fascists in Italy and Germany, ending the Second World War on the European continent, and freeing the world from the vile machinations of the Nazis. The idea for the change to honor all Veterans of all of the US wars came from a WWII veteran, who led a delegation to the Capitol to express the idea directly to the President, who had been a man of War. This occurred in the greater context of the Red Scare, the early days of the Cold War; the Army-McCarthy hearings were underway. It was around the same month that the words "Under God" were inserted into the Pledge of Allegiance - a recitation required of US school children while saluting the US flag. The Pledge became an official requirement in 1942, after the US was brought into WWII. It had become a contested practice as the clouds of war had gathered over Europe. There were teachers who refused to institute it and quit their profession rather than require the youth of the country to participate in what they regarded as militaristic training. It was originally written by an Admiral who had fought in the Mexican-American war as well as the Civil War. It was then revised by a Baptist minister with socialist leanings.

Americans in London joined the celebration

At any event, while it is fitting that the people who serve their country be honored, a day dedicated to thoughts of peace was turned into a day of commemoration of specifically military service, which in our own day has become, for various reasons, a flag waving celebration of 'warriors' and military service.

Lest we forget, when the bill to allow conscription was passed as we geared up, ummm, prepared for our possible involvement in WWII, there were warnings that we might never get rid of it. Had it not been for conscription, there would have been no standing army to send to Korea, nor to Vietnam. Soldiers of that era were not volunteers. The idea had been promoted that one owed four years of their life and their youth to the government of the geographic bit of space on which they were born.



celebrants in New York City

Now that we have a supposed 'volunteer' army, our military has become a chance for the underclass to get a leg up towards the "better" lifestyle depicted in the movies and on tv. There are many benefits. I have friends and family who served, and whose service was in army camps in Germany, or other non-combat areas. They were able to buy their homes through Federal assistance to veterans. They get healthcare, and a number of other benefits - depending on their geographical location to access them. They are among the first to fly the flag and point out that they "served", even though they never seem to recall the non-combat part. I don't begrudge them their benefits, even though some of them had no choice in the matter.

These days, after our National Guard was sent to war, after the non-traditional battles against Islamic foes, torture (not ours, theirs), beheadings, and other horrors, it seems as though those who served are honored every day, by specially advertised on television sales deals, special insurance rates - business gladly waving the flag for customers - and at sporting events in large Roman style Coliseums, er... sports arenas. As it turned out, these events have been bought and paid for by the government. They aren't about honoring the brave men and women who served, they are propaganda. Our television programs feature action adventures of specialized government units which used to serve those who serve us, but for several years now mostly fight terrorism, often by breaking the rules or fudging the rights of suspects. The excess military equipment from the Iraq war, the Afghanistan war, the Libyan war and etc. has become part of everyday life - given or sold to police departments in my country to preserve the peace - but from whom? A town not far from here, a bit larger than Brattleboro where I live, now has its own tank. Our police, often ex-military people, have a cowboy us versus them mentality. They do not shoot to disarm, they do not shoot to immobilize, they shoot to kill. We've just had the interesting spectacle of a female police officer being exonerated for killing an unarmed civilian. She couldn't see his hands, you see. She demanded that he show her his hands. He was lying face down on the ground. He moved his hands underneath his body. She was certain that he had a gun, so she shot him in the back. A new wrinkle in women warrior rights.

As for our actual warriors, the Republicans in our government (them again!) have cut the budgets which provide for the care of our fighters, then blamed the Democratic government opposition for the lack of care while they wrap themselves in the flag. These Republicans, however, are a world away from anything President Eisenhower would recognize. Once they were a great party, now they are a bowdlerized version of that group, providing lap dog services to the wealthy and corporate elite.

Even though I was a child at the time, I remember President Eisenhower's farewell address. Because I was a child, I didn't understand all of it. But I remember his warning about something he called the "military industrial complex".

The phony cause known as the Iraq war ably served corporate interests, while destroying the minds and bodies of our youth. Those it served well included a company for which the then Vice-President had been Chief Executive Officer. That company earned billions, made more billions vanish into the desert sands of time, and provided services to our soldiers that included such niceties as providing drinking water which wasn't safe. They were but one of many such companies, and their crimes would takes days to list, but since they were making money there have been no trials, no convictions, no investigations, no nothing except their continuing to 'honor' those who serve. Some honor.

So please excuse me for not jumping on the online bandwagon and attempting to wave the flag higher and more ferociously than my friends and neighbors. I won't buy the special coffee that earns money for warriors. I won't buy any of the special products. I don't buy it at all. I'll take time to observe Armistice Day, and think about a time when peace broke out.

pax vobiscum

 

 

 

Four-twenty and so on and so forth...

Back in the 1970's, there was a group of teenage high school friends who were known as The Waldos. And it came to pass that they heard tell of a secret abandoned field of marijuana. It was determined that a search for this pot of gold might provide an efficacious result, so they determined to set out upon such task by congregating by a local statue at 4:20 in the PM. The meeting time became a slang term which eventually found its way into the general population. For many years now, April the 20th has been the date of "smoke ins", celebrations of stoner age culture, and protest marches seeking legalization of cannabis sativa and various things hemp.

Smoking pot used to be one of those things that was just there somewhere in the background of the culture, often found in the circles of hot jazz and swing musicians. Hemp had many uses and was an excellent (and renewable) source for making everything from paper to rope and clothing.

In 1917, a young man by the name of Harry Anslinger married the niece of Andrew Mellon. His connections helped him acquire employment from military and police organizations, traveling the world with a mission of shaping international drug polices. In 1929, he became an assistant commissioner in the US Bureau of Prohibition.  In 1930, he became the first commissioner of the U.S. Treasury Department's Federal Bureau of Narcotics, a position he held for 32 years, until 1962. He immediately began a campaign to destroy hemp as a feasible crop. Publisher William Randolph Hearst had invested heavily in the timber industry to support his newspaper chain. Hearst lost 800,000 acres of timberland to the Mexican Revolution, and needed to protect the rest of his investment. Hearst pushed the anti-hemp crusade. Both men hated Mexicans and African Americans; they began spreading the worst kind of lies and distortions to create negative stereotypes of our neighbors. They were soon joined by the Dupont company, which was about to release synthetics such as nylon. Pharmaceutical companies joined the fight. Hemp production had to go. Marijuana was portrayed as an evil, connected to the dastardly poor Mexican rabble. In 1937, a tax act was used to effectively prohibit hemp/pot. To pass it, Anslinger and Co. distorted and lied about the position of the American Medical Association. Their friends in Hollywood were pressed to join the crusade, and the "Reefer Madness" era began.

 

 

By July 1939, the local paper here in Vermont carried a few stories like this one:

 

 

From the late 1920's through to about 1939, jazz musicians created quite a few songs about the joys of pot smoking, the 'reefer man' and etc. Soon such recordings were outlawed, as was their use in the movies. For my radio show of April 18th, I played some of my collection of such songs.

Also in this week's radio show was a too short nod to the events which started late in the evening of... well, as a poet once put it, " 'Twas the 18th of April in '75, hardly a man is now alive who remembers that famous day and year." It's part of a poem we once knew as kids. It starts, "Listen my children and you shall hear, of the midnight ride of Paul Revere...."  The poet, Mr. Longfellow, writing close to 100 years after the fact got a lot of it wrong. An earlier poem by Mr. Emerson started:

 

By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood
And fired the shot heard round the world.

 

One of these days I should really get back to regular posting and tell that story. There's parts of it elsewhere in the blog, but suffice it to say that on April the 19th the colonists fought back and really did change the world.

 

It was another fight that was the underpinning of the rest of the radio show. It was April, 1945. President Roosevelt had died (see last week's show post). The Allies were descending on Berlin. Here in Brattleboro, it was time to start the yearly Victory Garden. On the radio the night of April 21st, the Victory Parade of Spotlight Bands featured Johnny Long and His Orchestra....

 

The organization which registers and tracks the breeding of Holsteins is located in Brattleboro.

  

 

 

 

  

As always, I hope anyone who listens enjoys the show.

     

Time to change your underwear

As I write, it is April the 1st. March and its winds of folklorish legend have theoretically passed. The weather report suggests that by the end of the week, the temperature could rise to 60 degrees fahreneight. Much of the winter's snow has already melted, exposing  patches of ground large enough to easily spot this morning's frost. It was really a delight to have a good old fashioned snowy winter again. There have been some years recently in which I was already photographing daffodils and jonquils by this date. As it happens, I'm old enough to remember when such warmth was unexpected and a fairly rare event, as it was in Ticino in 1959 in this report from the venerable Beeb.



When I prepare one of my radio shows, I spend as much time as possible listening to old radio shows from which I might take an excerpt. Such clips are intended to illuminate the times from which the featured big band broadcast originates. Last Saturday's show centered on March 31st, 1946, and a broadcast from the New Meadowbrook in Los Angeles by Gene Krupa and His Orchestra.

From the time I was a baby until a month before my 9th birthday, we shared what had been my grandfather's house with my uncle and aunt. My uncle had fought in the Second World War. He never talked about it. It seems to me that most folks of that era didn't talk about it. The war was a job they had to do, a sacrifice that had to be made. It was over, and time to get back to the everyday business of living and dying.

The men and women who had gone overseas returned to find that the home they had fought for had changed. They returned to a world of shortages, which was to be expected. But there was also great unrest. The Labor Unions were calling strike after strike, and it could be difficult to find work. There was an acute shortage of housing, and what was available was overpriced. When England withdrew its troops form Iran as specified in the terms of a treaty, Russia did not. The War had not brought peace. In many of the March and early April 1946 radio shows I listened to, a recurring theme centered on the world spinning out of control - again. Thanks to the presence in every home of a radio, news stories were everywhere. The lead characters in both the comedies and the dramas all felt overwhelmed by the all too present world. All people really wanted was to be left alone. In peace.

I am a news junkie, always have been. I like to keep up on what's happening, what's going on, what's new, what's old, what's in, what's out, what.... and there's the rub. These days, it's just "what?". In capitals  "WHAT?".

There was one segment I prepared for last Saturday's show that I ended up not using for various reasons, including its length. It was an excerpt from a 'Songs by Sinatra' broadcast. In it, there was a recreation of a scene from a short subject which had just won an Academy Award. There were boys fighting, picking on one fellow who was 'different'. Sinatra broke up the fight, and noted that it was Un-American.  We had just fought a war - did you care about who dropped the bomb on the Japs, he asked? Or that we won? He noted that as a nation, we had come together, all races working together. Discrimination didn't have a place here in America, no sir-ee. The lesson was followed by the song, "The House I Live In".



Along with all the other news, local, national, and international which I wish I hadn't heard this past week, was the curious case of a law to protect religious rights in one of our states. Many states have instituted such laws or are in the process of adopting them. Religious liberties are being threatened, they say. People should not be required to do things which violate the precepts of their religion, they say. The particular legislation which hit the fan this time was signed into law by the governor of a state in a private closed door ceremony. In the photograph of the signing, several prominent anti-gay rights advocates can be clearly seen. The bill was quite clearly passed to allow businesses and corporations (which are defined as 'people') the right to refuse their services to others based on a religious objection. When the backlash started, as events planned in that state began being cancelled, the governor went on a media offensive tour, proclaiming that we all simply misunderstood the nature of the bill. You know, governor, I think we get it.

In California, a 'citizen's initiative' by a lawyer will make to the ballot. It will allow citizens to shoot and kill gay people on sight if the state doesn't put them to death first. Now, we all know this kind of nonsense doesn't have a chance of happening, said the people of Germany on November 8th, 1938. The question I have is why these stories are getting so much coverage. Is the intent to ferret out prejudice and bring us all together in the house we live in? To shock and get ratings? To distract us from something else that is going on? To reinforce the beliefs of the similar minded? Yeah, I understand the desire to be left alone, to putter around doing my own thing, to get back to the ordinary process of living and dying.

As always, I hope anyone who listens enjoys the show.