Recently, while channel surfing, I was struck by the number of haunted house reality shows on TV. Four cable networks feature such programming: Syfy, Travel, Bravo, and Animal Planet all have their versions. Some weekends, these shows are played as a “marathons,” making me wonder, is every house in America haunted? I’ve expressed my own views on the supernatural elsewhere, and I don’t doubt the sincerity of most of these claims. I find it significant that so many people have had paranormal encounters, and I’d like to make some observations.
Although each network has a unique perspective, these shows are formulaic. The “disturbances” are first noticed by women, children, and pets, usually in that order. The women who report such incidents tend to be single or second wives. Children and animals are perceived to be in danger, and the husband always discounts the wife’s claims, at least, at first. Eventually an “expert” is called in. The experts are often students (in the case of Syfy, plumbers), and are intense, earnest, and likable. They seem to be well-meaning, and in reality TV, that’s a nice change from the inhabitants of New Jersey. The ghost hunters have all kinds of gadgets and devices, and attempt to find scientific proof of the phenomenon. Cameras are and voice recorders are installed, temperatures are measured. Often a medium or psychic is called, and if a phantom or other presence is detected, it is because someone was murdered on the premises. Sometimes an Indian battle was fought nearby, and other times spirits don’t seem to know they are dead. Some manifestations require the efforts of a priest, clergy, or shaman.
Supernatural claims have a long history in this country. The two most influential cases were Salem, Massachusetts in the 1690’s, and Hydesville, New York, in 1848. In Salem, young girls claimed to be bothered by witches. 19 people died as a result of these accusations; one of the children later recanted. The Hydesville incident is less well-known, but just as influential. In 1848, 3 sisters claimed to communicate with the ghost of a murdered man, a man who was killed in their house. The Fox sisters became celebrities, and some see this incident as the beginning of 19th century Spiritualism in America. One of the girls later recanted, and still later, recanted her recantation. In both Salem and Hydesville, the claimants were intelligent, educated girls, who may have been thwarted in their ambitions by the repressive climate of the times in which they lived. My great-great-great grandfather, Eber Howe, was a Spiritualist, as were his son and grand-daughter. American Spiritualism was linked to liberal causes, and Spiritualists supported Abolition, women’s suffrage, and Temperance.
Again, let me state that I don’t doubt the sincerity of those who claim supernatural visitation, and I don’t doubt that there are such things. I believe in God, so I’m not a skeptic. I’m also open to the possibility I am wrong about my beliefs. I am struck by the similarity, the formula, of these ghostly claims. The afflicted women usually say, “I knew something was wrong,” and then “Something didn’t want me here.” This strikes me as sad, and it reminds me of the confined, restricted girls of Salem and Hydesville. Are some conflating the paranormal with loveless marriages, or social conditions? Why are malevolent spirits murder victims, or unhappy native peoples? There are always claims of the proverbial ancient Indian burial ground.
America was founded on the violence of genocide. Do some haunting victims reflect a collective, residual guilt for what was done to the original inhabitants of this land? If there are indeed Indian spirits, they have every right to be angry. In the case of murder victims, isn’t it significant that America is one of the most violent countries in the world? We can talk about sex in this country much easier than we can discuss our proclivity for violent death. We are the world’s military, we make the bombs, we kill 30,000 of our own every year with legal handguns. The recent shooting of a Jewish congresswoman is but the latest in a long list of gun crimes. We spend more than every other country in the world combined on our war machine. We incarcerate more people numerically and per capita than any other country, and those we imprison are usually ethnic minorities.
Is America haunted? Maybe. Maybe every other house in the country is haunted. Maybe 2nd wives in unhappy marriages are targeted by the supernatural. But one thing I suspect is, if our country isn’t haunted, it probably should be.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Chaldean Christians in Iraq and the U.S.
“Write about us, write about the Chaldeans.” I don’t normally get requests for my blog, but I owe something to my Chaldean friend, S, who asked me to write about them, and his family. It is from this gracious man and his family that I have learned a little about Iraq, the country my country has invaded and occupied.
Chaldeans are Eastern-rite Christians who have lived in the Middle East for about two thousand years. They live mainly in northern Iraq and Baghdad; the area in northern Iraq they occupy is called the Nineveh Plain. Some Chaldeans live in Iran and Syria, but most are Iraqi. The origins of the Chaldeans are disputed. They claim descent from the Assyrians, and believe they are the direct descendants of Babylon. Some historians and ethnographers disagree. Chaldeans do not consider themselves to be Arab, but Arabs, by contrast, claim them as a sub-group. They speak a distinct language, Syriac or Aramaic. This is an ancient Semitic language that predates Arabic, Hebrew and Ethiopian. Chaldean is spoken by some Jews who previously lived in Iraq, and is similar to biblical Aramaic. In Mel Gibson’s Jew-hating sadistic movie about the crucifixion, the actors spoke Chaldean.
The Chaldeans are affiliated with the Roman Catholic Church, but they have their own patriarch, who is considered to be a cardinal by the Vatican. Chaldean priests can marry, but if they aspire to be bishops or rise higher in the ranks they must remain celibate. Chaldean Catholics separated from the Eastern Orthodox Church in the remote past; their affiliation with Rome has been historically inconsistent.
Chaldeans who lived in Iraq before the U.S. invasion numbered about one and a half million; now there are probably fewer than 400,000. Since the 2003 invasion, Chaldeans have been targeted by extremists in Iraq. The two worst massacres occurred in 2008 and 2010, but they have been victims of violence since 2003. In 2008 in Mosul, once a city with a large number of Chaldean Christians, 14 were murdered, and two thousand families were forced to flee in 10 days. On October 31st of this year, terrorists stormed Our Lady of Salvation Catholic Church in Baghdad. During a ten hour siege, 60 people were killed, including two priests, one of whom was slain on the altar. More than 80 were wounded.
Extremists who murder Chaldean Christians claim it is retribution for the alleged kidnapping of a young Muslim girl by the Coptic Church in Egypt. That is a specious claim; Chaldeans aren’t Coptic, and have no control over what happens in another country. The real reason Iraqi Christians are murdered seems to be this: America is perceived as a Christian country, and Iraqi Christians are presumed to be in collaboration with the U.S. Frustrated Iraqis can’t come to America and kill their invaders, so Chaldeans serve as proxy Americans, no matter what their politics are.
This recent massacre provoked outrage in expat communities throughout the world. In Oakland and San Diego, Chaldean protesters marched, and urged the United States government to do something to protect the rights of minorities in Iraq. In Oakland, one marcher carried a sign that said “We miss Saddam.” Under Saddam, Chaldeans were not persecuted; in fact, Tarek Aziz was Chaldean, as was a famous Iraqui soccer player. Chaldeans faced some political discrimination in Saddam’s Iraq, and perhaps social isolation. They were not, however, murdered, or massacred in their churches.
Please understand, I’m not saying Saddam was a great guy. He wasn’t. But by cavalierly invading Iraq, a country that was no threat to our national security, we have opened up a hornet’s nest. African countries still haven’t recovered from a century of imperialism; civil war and genocide are rampant there. It looks like this will be Iraq’s fate as well. Our imperial adventure has caused the collapse of a country and an entire culture.
In 2003, the U.S. government apparently foresaw the problems they were creating for Iraqi Christians, and proposed the creation of the Nineveh Plan Administration, a semi-autonomous, self-governing area for Chaldeans, somewhat like the structure that exists for the Kurds in the north. As of yet, this remains a vague idea on someone’s desk. Prime Minister al Maliki says he is committed to protecting Chaldeans, but he has so many other problems. Iraq’s government is unstable.
Chaldean Christians are left in an untenable position: stay behind in Iraq and risk violence, or try to come to the country that has wrecked their homeland. If you come to America, good luck finding a job. Credentials don’t easily transfer; Iraqi doctors cannot practice medicine in the U.S. Those who have fled were forced to leave their homes and personal property behind, so they arrive poor.
San Diego currently has the largest population of ex-patriate Chaldeans outside of Michigan. How, I wonder, do Iraqi refugees like my friend S cope? What must it be like to have to immigrate to the country that has caused all his problems? What will happen to the thousands of Chaldeans who can’t leave? For every refugee that makes it out alive, tens of thousands are left behind, or remain in refugee camps in Jordan and Lebanon. Thousands live as undocumented workers all over the world.
It would be nice to end this posting on an upbeat note. For Chaldeans, and for most other Iraqis, there is no happy ending in sight.
Chaldeans are Eastern-rite Christians who have lived in the Middle East for about two thousand years. They live mainly in northern Iraq and Baghdad; the area in northern Iraq they occupy is called the Nineveh Plain. Some Chaldeans live in Iran and Syria, but most are Iraqi. The origins of the Chaldeans are disputed. They claim descent from the Assyrians, and believe they are the direct descendants of Babylon. Some historians and ethnographers disagree. Chaldeans do not consider themselves to be Arab, but Arabs, by contrast, claim them as a sub-group. They speak a distinct language, Syriac or Aramaic. This is an ancient Semitic language that predates Arabic, Hebrew and Ethiopian. Chaldean is spoken by some Jews who previously lived in Iraq, and is similar to biblical Aramaic. In Mel Gibson’s Jew-hating sadistic movie about the crucifixion, the actors spoke Chaldean.
The Chaldeans are affiliated with the Roman Catholic Church, but they have their own patriarch, who is considered to be a cardinal by the Vatican. Chaldean priests can marry, but if they aspire to be bishops or rise higher in the ranks they must remain celibate. Chaldean Catholics separated from the Eastern Orthodox Church in the remote past; their affiliation with Rome has been historically inconsistent.
Chaldeans who lived in Iraq before the U.S. invasion numbered about one and a half million; now there are probably fewer than 400,000. Since the 2003 invasion, Chaldeans have been targeted by extremists in Iraq. The two worst massacres occurred in 2008 and 2010, but they have been victims of violence since 2003. In 2008 in Mosul, once a city with a large number of Chaldean Christians, 14 were murdered, and two thousand families were forced to flee in 10 days. On October 31st of this year, terrorists stormed Our Lady of Salvation Catholic Church in Baghdad. During a ten hour siege, 60 people were killed, including two priests, one of whom was slain on the altar. More than 80 were wounded.
Extremists who murder Chaldean Christians claim it is retribution for the alleged kidnapping of a young Muslim girl by the Coptic Church in Egypt. That is a specious claim; Chaldeans aren’t Coptic, and have no control over what happens in another country. The real reason Iraqi Christians are murdered seems to be this: America is perceived as a Christian country, and Iraqi Christians are presumed to be in collaboration with the U.S. Frustrated Iraqis can’t come to America and kill their invaders, so Chaldeans serve as proxy Americans, no matter what their politics are.
This recent massacre provoked outrage in expat communities throughout the world. In Oakland and San Diego, Chaldean protesters marched, and urged the United States government to do something to protect the rights of minorities in Iraq. In Oakland, one marcher carried a sign that said “We miss Saddam.” Under Saddam, Chaldeans were not persecuted; in fact, Tarek Aziz was Chaldean, as was a famous Iraqui soccer player. Chaldeans faced some political discrimination in Saddam’s Iraq, and perhaps social isolation. They were not, however, murdered, or massacred in their churches.
Please understand, I’m not saying Saddam was a great guy. He wasn’t. But by cavalierly invading Iraq, a country that was no threat to our national security, we have opened up a hornet’s nest. African countries still haven’t recovered from a century of imperialism; civil war and genocide are rampant there. It looks like this will be Iraq’s fate as well. Our imperial adventure has caused the collapse of a country and an entire culture.
In 2003, the U.S. government apparently foresaw the problems they were creating for Iraqi Christians, and proposed the creation of the Nineveh Plan Administration, a semi-autonomous, self-governing area for Chaldeans, somewhat like the structure that exists for the Kurds in the north. As of yet, this remains a vague idea on someone’s desk. Prime Minister al Maliki says he is committed to protecting Chaldeans, but he has so many other problems. Iraq’s government is unstable.
Chaldean Christians are left in an untenable position: stay behind in Iraq and risk violence, or try to come to the country that has wrecked their homeland. If you come to America, good luck finding a job. Credentials don’t easily transfer; Iraqi doctors cannot practice medicine in the U.S. Those who have fled were forced to leave their homes and personal property behind, so they arrive poor.
San Diego currently has the largest population of ex-patriate Chaldeans outside of Michigan. How, I wonder, do Iraqi refugees like my friend S cope? What must it be like to have to immigrate to the country that has caused all his problems? What will happen to the thousands of Chaldeans who can’t leave? For every refugee that makes it out alive, tens of thousands are left behind, or remain in refugee camps in Jordan and Lebanon. Thousands live as undocumented workers all over the world.
It would be nice to end this posting on an upbeat note. For Chaldeans, and for most other Iraqis, there is no happy ending in sight.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
The Popes Against the Jews
David Kertzer’s 2001 book, The Popes Against the Jews is well-researched and readable. It’s not for the faint-hearted; it reminds me of Daniel Goldhagen’s 1996 blockbuster, Hitler’s Willing Executioners, which I was never able to finish. Kertzer, the author of The Kidnapping of Edgardo Mortara, took advantage of the access he was granted to the Vatican’s secret archives in 1999. The Pope had just finished an internal investigation of the Vatican’s role in the Holocaust, and--- surprise, surprise--- concluded the Catholic church had no guilt or complicity in the slaughter of the Jews. The Vatican insisted its objections to Judaism were based on religious principle, and not on racial anti-Semitism. As Kertzer points out, this is a distinction that is hard to sustain. It’s the “hate the sin, love the sinner argument” that always rings hollow. Yes, the Vatican concluded, it approved and promoted articles in Catholic newspapers opposing the Jewish religion, but they never incited violence. When a thousand years of insisting that Jews remain locked in the ghetto, and that Jews regularly murder Christian children at Passover, a climate of genocide is created.
The Pope, historically, was a political as well as a religious ruler. By the mid-19th century, the land the Pope ruled was greatly diminished, consisting chiefly of Rome and central Italy. The Vatican opposed Italian unification because it had to cede political authority. Italian unification was complete by the end of the 1860’s, but the Pope refused to recognize the fact until 60 years later. The Vatican had its own police force, spies, and soldiers. The Pope controlled the Jewish community with an iron fist. Jews were forced to wear special clothing, including a gold star. They were locked into the ghetto, or Jewish quarter, at night. The Roman ghetto was small and impoverished. Jews were forbidden from employing Christians, and the Vatican discouraged Christians from any contact with Jews. Jewish children who were secretly baptized without their parents’ knowledge were forcibly removed from their Jewish parents, and raised by priests. Kertzer’s previous book, The Kidnapping of Edgardo Mortara details just such a case.
Like all superannuated entities, the Vatican resented its loss of power. It found a convenient scapegoat for its ire, the Jews. The Popes, by and large, were incensed by the liberation of the Jews that occurred when Italy was unified. Through its network of newspapers and periodicals, the Vatican waged war on the Jews. Apparently most priests and Popes actually believed the Talmud commanded Jews to murder Christians. Papal-approved newspapers regularly printed incendiary articles accusing the liberated Jews of murdering Christian children at Passover. In fact, the eastern European folktale of the vampire was blended with a heavy dose of anti-Semitism, since it was believed Jews drained the blood of Christians to put in matzo.
The history of European Jews doesn’t have a happy ending. The two Popes who reigned during the fascist regimes of Hitler and Mussolini, Pius XI and Pius XII, had no objection to the harsh anti-Jewish laws imposed by the new political order. Few are aware that Italy enacted the same racial purity laws as Germany; Italian Jews weren’t deported for execution, though, until Mussolini died and Hitler took over northern Italy. The only real complaint the Vatican had with fascism was that new political bodies had co-opted its pet project of anti-Semitism.
There were, of course, Catholics of good will who opposed the Vatican’s relentless persecution of Jews. Archbishops in England and America refused to print some of the Vatican’s most scurrilous anti-Jewish polemics, and urged the Popes to moderate their anti-Jewish attitude.
In California, the Catholic church has recently joined forces with the Mormon church to fight the political liberation of gays. The language used by the church is exactly the same as its anti-Semitic rhetoric. The church hates the sin of homosexuality, but doesn’t condone violence against the gay community. Of course, when there is anti-gay violence, the church resorts to the same old “blame the victim” meme. When pogroms occurred in eastern Europe, the Vatican refused to condemn them, insisting that Jews shouldn’t be surprised when their behavior resulted in murder. Gays shouldn’t be surprised at anti-gay violence, they provoke it by being so open.
As America, and the world, enters a period of what may be prolonged economic hardship, xenophobia and racism have again surfaced. Gays, who have some political liberation, could easily be the next target. Currently it’s Latinos and Muslims who are the victimized; there’s no reason to believe that gays and even Jews could be next. Kertzer’s work is invaluable, reminding us of the human tendency to scapegoat the minorities. The old line of “hate the sin but love the sinner” never ends well.
The Pope, historically, was a political as well as a religious ruler. By the mid-19th century, the land the Pope ruled was greatly diminished, consisting chiefly of Rome and central Italy. The Vatican opposed Italian unification because it had to cede political authority. Italian unification was complete by the end of the 1860’s, but the Pope refused to recognize the fact until 60 years later. The Vatican had its own police force, spies, and soldiers. The Pope controlled the Jewish community with an iron fist. Jews were forced to wear special clothing, including a gold star. They were locked into the ghetto, or Jewish quarter, at night. The Roman ghetto was small and impoverished. Jews were forbidden from employing Christians, and the Vatican discouraged Christians from any contact with Jews. Jewish children who were secretly baptized without their parents’ knowledge were forcibly removed from their Jewish parents, and raised by priests. Kertzer’s previous book, The Kidnapping of Edgardo Mortara details just such a case.
Like all superannuated entities, the Vatican resented its loss of power. It found a convenient scapegoat for its ire, the Jews. The Popes, by and large, were incensed by the liberation of the Jews that occurred when Italy was unified. Through its network of newspapers and periodicals, the Vatican waged war on the Jews. Apparently most priests and Popes actually believed the Talmud commanded Jews to murder Christians. Papal-approved newspapers regularly printed incendiary articles accusing the liberated Jews of murdering Christian children at Passover. In fact, the eastern European folktale of the vampire was blended with a heavy dose of anti-Semitism, since it was believed Jews drained the blood of Christians to put in matzo.
The history of European Jews doesn’t have a happy ending. The two Popes who reigned during the fascist regimes of Hitler and Mussolini, Pius XI and Pius XII, had no objection to the harsh anti-Jewish laws imposed by the new political order. Few are aware that Italy enacted the same racial purity laws as Germany; Italian Jews weren’t deported for execution, though, until Mussolini died and Hitler took over northern Italy. The only real complaint the Vatican had with fascism was that new political bodies had co-opted its pet project of anti-Semitism.
There were, of course, Catholics of good will who opposed the Vatican’s relentless persecution of Jews. Archbishops in England and America refused to print some of the Vatican’s most scurrilous anti-Jewish polemics, and urged the Popes to moderate their anti-Jewish attitude.
In California, the Catholic church has recently joined forces with the Mormon church to fight the political liberation of gays. The language used by the church is exactly the same as its anti-Semitic rhetoric. The church hates the sin of homosexuality, but doesn’t condone violence against the gay community. Of course, when there is anti-gay violence, the church resorts to the same old “blame the victim” meme. When pogroms occurred in eastern Europe, the Vatican refused to condemn them, insisting that Jews shouldn’t be surprised when their behavior resulted in murder. Gays shouldn’t be surprised at anti-gay violence, they provoke it by being so open.
As America, and the world, enters a period of what may be prolonged economic hardship, xenophobia and racism have again surfaced. Gays, who have some political liberation, could easily be the next target. Currently it’s Latinos and Muslims who are the victimized; there’s no reason to believe that gays and even Jews could be next. Kertzer’s work is invaluable, reminding us of the human tendency to scapegoat the minorities. The old line of “hate the sin but love the sinner” never ends well.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta 2010
Last week was not a good one for us middle-aged lefties. So, I’ll quit obsessing about politics and turn to something happier. The hot air balloon festival in Albuquerque, the first week of October 2010, was phenomenal. The Balloon Fiesta began in the 1970’s. Albuquerque has great weather for hot air balloons at both sunrise and sunset in the fall. There is a weather pattern called the “Albuquerque box.” This means that balloons will rise, float in more or less a square or rectangular pattern, and return to where they left from. Hot air balloons are difficult to navigate, and normally a balloon lands wherever it can--- whenever it runs out of fuel. Because of the Albuquerque box, pilots need not worry about having an expensive chase crew to find them wherever they land.
This year there were about 600 balloons that participated. It brings in millions of dollars from tourists who flock to the event. It’s difficult to find a hotel room the first week of October, when the fiesta takes place. The balloons launch at sunrise, about 7:00 a.m. Getting out to watch them launch in the northeast heights is tricky. This year, for instance, friends who left their house at 5:30 a.m. were still stuck in traffic 2 hours later, and missed the launch. Even some people who bought tickets for the park and ride program missed out—this year had some unexpected logistical problems.
It’s really something to see the balloons all rise at once. Because there are so many, the launches are staggered, and it takes about an hour for all of them to get up in the air. You can see them from almost anywhere in the city. And if you think that all balloons are more or less round, you’d be mistaken. Increasingly they are in unusual shapes, from beer bottles to bees. The bees are incredibly popular: this year there were 3 bee balloons launched: mom and dad and a little one. On the ground, the most interesting and popular chase crew is dressed like Jedi warriors from Star Wars. I’m not up on the terminology, but some are good guys and some are bad guys—they are dressed in white costumes as well as black ones.
If you are lucky enough to go to Albuquerque during the Fiesta, there are a lot of other things going on at the same time. The Greek Orthodox Church has its annual Greek festival the first weekend of October. It was well-attended, and the food wasn’t bad. There are bigger Greek festivals in other cities, but if you’ve never gone to one, this one is a good start.
Don’t miss the Arts and Crafts Festival that is held near the balloon launching area. There is wonderful Native American art in New Mexico, but you won’t find any great art at this festival. It’s kitschy in a wonderful way. The artist that I was most taken with is R.C. Ramey, a Melungeon potter who had a great collection of hand-fired rabbis and other Judaica. I hope this promising potter, based in Arizona, keeps working.
And now for the food. When you are in New Mexico, the real question is: “red or green?” Chili, of course. You must try authentic New Mexico food, which you can get at almost any restaurant. I’ll recommend a few. If you are like me, and can’t make up your mind about anything, ask for both red and green. The red has a rich flavor, and is usually nice and spicy, but don’t miss the green either. Near Old Town, eat at Duran’s Pharmacy café. Duran’s is a pharmacy that has a lunch counter—be sure to try the homemade blue corn tortillas. Sadie’s has two locations, one in the heights and one in the valley. It may have the best New Mexico food in town. If you are downtown, try Cecilia’s—it’s like visiting the Hispanic family you wished you had! If you’re in the heights, you might try Eloy’s New Mexico café. Friends tell me that El Pinto is one of the finest restaurants in town. I’ve never been, but it’s where President Obama ate the week before I got to town.
If you want a steakhouse, then the place to go is Vernon’s. New Mexico beef is yummy. Vernon’s is a concept restaurant, with the gimmick of being a 1930’s speakeasy. There is no sign out front, and you must know the password to be admitted. (When you make your reservation, they give you the day’s password. And yes, you must have a reservation—it’s packed.) It is quite dark inside, and there is live music. And now for the disclaimer: the chef there is the neighbor boy I walked to school with for years. The food is excellent, but, sadly, there’s no green chili. Try the chopped salad--- it’s a meal in itself. The portions are more than ample, and if you have supper there you won’t need to eat again for a week. I had the scallops, which were fresh and tasty.
Finally, when you visit the lovely campus of the University of New Mexico (be sure to see the WPA era murals in Zimmerman library), eat at the Frontier Café on Central Avenue. Everyone in the state eats there. The food is delish, reasonable, but the reason to go there is for the people watching. You’ll see real cowboys, Native Americans, Hispanos, and students. It offers a cross-section of the most interesting people in this fascinating state. When I was there, we saw a cowboy with a loaded pistol in his belt, students, senior citizens, and various and sundry aging hippies.
I love Albuquerque, and any excuse to go there, and visit with my old childhood friends, is great. From Vivian Vance to my neighbor here, everyone says Albuquerque people are the friendliest—it’s a good middle class city. Santa Fe is OK, but too pretentious for my liking. Go to Taos if you want history. But by all means, see the Hot Air Balloon Fiesta, the first weekend in October, and eat as much red and green chili as you can!
This year there were about 600 balloons that participated. It brings in millions of dollars from tourists who flock to the event. It’s difficult to find a hotel room the first week of October, when the fiesta takes place. The balloons launch at sunrise, about 7:00 a.m. Getting out to watch them launch in the northeast heights is tricky. This year, for instance, friends who left their house at 5:30 a.m. were still stuck in traffic 2 hours later, and missed the launch. Even some people who bought tickets for the park and ride program missed out—this year had some unexpected logistical problems.
It’s really something to see the balloons all rise at once. Because there are so many, the launches are staggered, and it takes about an hour for all of them to get up in the air. You can see them from almost anywhere in the city. And if you think that all balloons are more or less round, you’d be mistaken. Increasingly they are in unusual shapes, from beer bottles to bees. The bees are incredibly popular: this year there were 3 bee balloons launched: mom and dad and a little one. On the ground, the most interesting and popular chase crew is dressed like Jedi warriors from Star Wars. I’m not up on the terminology, but some are good guys and some are bad guys—they are dressed in white costumes as well as black ones.
If you are lucky enough to go to Albuquerque during the Fiesta, there are a lot of other things going on at the same time. The Greek Orthodox Church has its annual Greek festival the first weekend of October. It was well-attended, and the food wasn’t bad. There are bigger Greek festivals in other cities, but if you’ve never gone to one, this one is a good start.
Don’t miss the Arts and Crafts Festival that is held near the balloon launching area. There is wonderful Native American art in New Mexico, but you won’t find any great art at this festival. It’s kitschy in a wonderful way. The artist that I was most taken with is R.C. Ramey, a Melungeon potter who had a great collection of hand-fired rabbis and other Judaica. I hope this promising potter, based in Arizona, keeps working.
And now for the food. When you are in New Mexico, the real question is: “red or green?” Chili, of course. You must try authentic New Mexico food, which you can get at almost any restaurant. I’ll recommend a few. If you are like me, and can’t make up your mind about anything, ask for both red and green. The red has a rich flavor, and is usually nice and spicy, but don’t miss the green either. Near Old Town, eat at Duran’s Pharmacy café. Duran’s is a pharmacy that has a lunch counter—be sure to try the homemade blue corn tortillas. Sadie’s has two locations, one in the heights and one in the valley. It may have the best New Mexico food in town. If you are downtown, try Cecilia’s—it’s like visiting the Hispanic family you wished you had! If you’re in the heights, you might try Eloy’s New Mexico café. Friends tell me that El Pinto is one of the finest restaurants in town. I’ve never been, but it’s where President Obama ate the week before I got to town.
If you want a steakhouse, then the place to go is Vernon’s. New Mexico beef is yummy. Vernon’s is a concept restaurant, with the gimmick of being a 1930’s speakeasy. There is no sign out front, and you must know the password to be admitted. (When you make your reservation, they give you the day’s password. And yes, you must have a reservation—it’s packed.) It is quite dark inside, and there is live music. And now for the disclaimer: the chef there is the neighbor boy I walked to school with for years. The food is excellent, but, sadly, there’s no green chili. Try the chopped salad--- it’s a meal in itself. The portions are more than ample, and if you have supper there you won’t need to eat again for a week. I had the scallops, which were fresh and tasty.
Finally, when you visit the lovely campus of the University of New Mexico (be sure to see the WPA era murals in Zimmerman library), eat at the Frontier Café on Central Avenue. Everyone in the state eats there. The food is delish, reasonable, but the reason to go there is for the people watching. You’ll see real cowboys, Native Americans, Hispanos, and students. It offers a cross-section of the most interesting people in this fascinating state. When I was there, we saw a cowboy with a loaded pistol in his belt, students, senior citizens, and various and sundry aging hippies.
I love Albuquerque, and any excuse to go there, and visit with my old childhood friends, is great. From Vivian Vance to my neighbor here, everyone says Albuquerque people are the friendliest—it’s a good middle class city. Santa Fe is OK, but too pretentious for my liking. Go to Taos if you want history. But by all means, see the Hot Air Balloon Fiesta, the first weekend in October, and eat as much red and green chili as you can!
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Presbyterians and Palestinians
I’m not an especially religious man, but there have been times in my life when religion has been a comfort. Social pressures, friends, and a spiritual quest are reasons to attend services, as is family. My father was a Presbyterian minister, and half of my family is Presbyterian. My family is of Jewish descent, but few practiced that religion. Immigration patterns were one reason for this. By 1900, there was so much anti-Semitism in New York that Jews were forced to immigrate through Galveston. The Galveston Movement, as the phenomenon is called, tried to assimilate Jews by sending them to Texas. My ancestors made their way north from Texas to St. Louis, dropping their Judaism somewhere along the way. But while religious practices were neglected, some principles remained. Assimilationist Jews have a strong emphasis on education and ethics, for instance.
My great-great grandmother, living in Poland, found herself in danger from constant war. In the 19th century, Prussia (Germany) was on the move, annexing that poor country. Her family were bakers, and she spent considering time hiding in the huge ovens to escape the clutches of marauding soldiers. She was desperate to flee, and because there were quotas on Jewish immigration by 1880, she forged some Christian documents. Maybe it wasn’t admirable to deny her heritage, but she got away from the fighting.
In the past, my Jewish forebears found the Presbyterian church to be a safe place. Historically, Presbyterians placed emphasis on literacy, education, and ethics. It was a Protestant church that wasn’t too dogmatic. That has changed. In 1980, the northern Presbyterian church and the southern Presbyterian church merged. They had separated during the Civil War; the southern church had the reputation, deserved or not, of being conservative.
The first casualty of this merger was gays. In 1980, Presbyterians stopped ordaining gays and lesbians. Since that time, the Presbyterian church has waged continual war on gays. Currently, a retired Presbyterian minister is on trial by the church for marrying gay couples when it was legal in California. The whole idea of a church trial sounds medieval.
Liberal Presbyterians have found a group they can fight: Israeli Jews. In 2004, the General Assembly came close to recommending divestment from Israel, joining the B-D-S movement (Boycott, Divest, Sanctions). Last week, the church I have sometimes attended held a meeting on divestment. I understand that Palestinians have been horribly treated. A recent U.N. report concludes that Israelis have committed war crimes--- but so have Palestinians. There is enough blame for both sides in the Middle East conflict. This meeting was a gateway for anti-Semites to express their anti-Jewish views.
Being of Jewish descent and going to a church is a tight rope, a balancing act. Last year, I attended a large Methodist church in town where the pastor gave a strange anecdote about helping Jews. The Christian church has a guilty history of anti-Semitism, and it is still there.
Maybe I was a fool to think I could have anything to do with church. As a gay man who is half-Jewish, I feel most comfortable at Reform Jewish services or the Unitarian church. Sometimes I feel a little like Cher singing “Half-breed.” At times of economic distress, demagogues use race and religion to divide. You only have to consider the “show me your papers” law in Arizona, and the Islamophobia we are experiencing. But being on the outside, and being different can be a gift. Edward Said said it best: “Even if one is not an actual immigrant or expatriate, it is still possible to think as one, to imagine, and investigate in spite of barriers, and always to move away from the centralizing authorities towards the margins, where you see things that are usually lost on minds that have never travelled beyond the conventional and comfortable.”
My great-great grandmother, living in Poland, found herself in danger from constant war. In the 19th century, Prussia (Germany) was on the move, annexing that poor country. Her family were bakers, and she spent considering time hiding in the huge ovens to escape the clutches of marauding soldiers. She was desperate to flee, and because there were quotas on Jewish immigration by 1880, she forged some Christian documents. Maybe it wasn’t admirable to deny her heritage, but she got away from the fighting.
In the past, my Jewish forebears found the Presbyterian church to be a safe place. Historically, Presbyterians placed emphasis on literacy, education, and ethics. It was a Protestant church that wasn’t too dogmatic. That has changed. In 1980, the northern Presbyterian church and the southern Presbyterian church merged. They had separated during the Civil War; the southern church had the reputation, deserved or not, of being conservative.
The first casualty of this merger was gays. In 1980, Presbyterians stopped ordaining gays and lesbians. Since that time, the Presbyterian church has waged continual war on gays. Currently, a retired Presbyterian minister is on trial by the church for marrying gay couples when it was legal in California. The whole idea of a church trial sounds medieval.
Liberal Presbyterians have found a group they can fight: Israeli Jews. In 2004, the General Assembly came close to recommending divestment from Israel, joining the B-D-S movement (Boycott, Divest, Sanctions). Last week, the church I have sometimes attended held a meeting on divestment. I understand that Palestinians have been horribly treated. A recent U.N. report concludes that Israelis have committed war crimes--- but so have Palestinians. There is enough blame for both sides in the Middle East conflict. This meeting was a gateway for anti-Semites to express their anti-Jewish views.
Being of Jewish descent and going to a church is a tight rope, a balancing act. Last year, I attended a large Methodist church in town where the pastor gave a strange anecdote about helping Jews. The Christian church has a guilty history of anti-Semitism, and it is still there.
Maybe I was a fool to think I could have anything to do with church. As a gay man who is half-Jewish, I feel most comfortable at Reform Jewish services or the Unitarian church. Sometimes I feel a little like Cher singing “Half-breed.” At times of economic distress, demagogues use race and religion to divide. You only have to consider the “show me your papers” law in Arizona, and the Islamophobia we are experiencing. But being on the outside, and being different can be a gift. Edward Said said it best: “Even if one is not an actual immigrant or expatriate, it is still possible to think as one, to imagine, and investigate in spite of barriers, and always to move away from the centralizing authorities towards the margins, where you see things that are usually lost on minds that have never travelled beyond the conventional and comfortable.”
Thursday, July 29, 2010
The Summer of Discontent
It’s been quite a summer. The BP oil spill, the pending confirmation of Elena Kagan, falling poll numbers for the president…. The approval rating of politicians in this country has plummeted. Most people, when asked, think the country is headed in the wrong direction. Why is this, and can anything be done? I believe there are 3 major problems in the country today.
First of all, for all its claims to the contrary, America has ceased in some important ways to be a democracy. What the public wants, they usually don’t get. The founding fathers wanted to temper democracy and keep us from the tyranny of the majority. Many Americans are racist: consider the approval of Arizona’s SB1070, the “show me your papers” law, which has been put on hold. Most Californians voted against gay marriage, due in no small part to the lies put forth by Mormons, Catholics, and fundamentalist Christians. And yet, the majority of Americans voted for Barack Obama. We want change, and many, maybe most, don’t believe we’ve gotten it. The entrenched powers of corporations are strong in this country. When you explain to people what single payer health care actually is, they want it. Yet Medicare for all was taken off the table. In some ways, “health care reform” has been a gift to the insurance industry. Campaign finance reform has been outlawed by a right wing supreme court, and now, corporations are actually “persons” and can spend limitless amounts on the candidate of their choice without disclosing their contributions. This isn’t the “change” people signed up for.
Second is the problem of economic disparity. The top 1% of the population is getting fabulously wealthy, due in no small part to the Bush tax cuts. When the Republicans take back the House, which they will, they will probably be able to pass an extension of these tax cuts. The wages of the poor and middle class are basically stagnant. America is the only industrialized nation with this disparity of wealth. The last time there was such a gap between rich and poor was in 1929, according to Robert Reich. We know how that ended.
The third and greatest problem the country faces is imperialism. It’s time to cease calling America a “super-power” and call it what it is: an empire. As in Rome, when a country becomes an empire democracy ends. Our infrastructure and schools are crumbling, but we are fighting 2 useless wars overseas, and we have over 750 military bases all over the world. The only product America manufactures is weapons. Any war being fought anywhere in the world is being fought with guns and bombs made in America. It is our only expertise--- the other jobs have been outsourced.
Imperialism, lack of democracy and economic disparity suit our corporate overlords. Profits are up up up. Fox News and the teabaggers are successful in pitting Americans against each other: it’s the classic divide and conquer approach. Whites are pitted against African Americans, immigrants are the great bugaboo. Why let people discuss actual issues, when you can make them hate each other? It’s a simple strategy, and it usually always works.
I believe the President Obama is a good man, and has integrity. I think he has been powerless in the face of the corporations and their extremely wealthy shareholders. He has worked for change, but it has not been possible. Meanwhile, he has been constantly undermined by racism, and strange questions about his birthplace and other such nonsense. He hasn’t tried to eliminate the empire and bring back democracy. Maybe it can’t be done.
First of all, for all its claims to the contrary, America has ceased in some important ways to be a democracy. What the public wants, they usually don’t get. The founding fathers wanted to temper democracy and keep us from the tyranny of the majority. Many Americans are racist: consider the approval of Arizona’s SB1070, the “show me your papers” law, which has been put on hold. Most Californians voted against gay marriage, due in no small part to the lies put forth by Mormons, Catholics, and fundamentalist Christians. And yet, the majority of Americans voted for Barack Obama. We want change, and many, maybe most, don’t believe we’ve gotten it. The entrenched powers of corporations are strong in this country. When you explain to people what single payer health care actually is, they want it. Yet Medicare for all was taken off the table. In some ways, “health care reform” has been a gift to the insurance industry. Campaign finance reform has been outlawed by a right wing supreme court, and now, corporations are actually “persons” and can spend limitless amounts on the candidate of their choice without disclosing their contributions. This isn’t the “change” people signed up for.
Second is the problem of economic disparity. The top 1% of the population is getting fabulously wealthy, due in no small part to the Bush tax cuts. When the Republicans take back the House, which they will, they will probably be able to pass an extension of these tax cuts. The wages of the poor and middle class are basically stagnant. America is the only industrialized nation with this disparity of wealth. The last time there was such a gap between rich and poor was in 1929, according to Robert Reich. We know how that ended.
The third and greatest problem the country faces is imperialism. It’s time to cease calling America a “super-power” and call it what it is: an empire. As in Rome, when a country becomes an empire democracy ends. Our infrastructure and schools are crumbling, but we are fighting 2 useless wars overseas, and we have over 750 military bases all over the world. The only product America manufactures is weapons. Any war being fought anywhere in the world is being fought with guns and bombs made in America. It is our only expertise--- the other jobs have been outsourced.
Imperialism, lack of democracy and economic disparity suit our corporate overlords. Profits are up up up. Fox News and the teabaggers are successful in pitting Americans against each other: it’s the classic divide and conquer approach. Whites are pitted against African Americans, immigrants are the great bugaboo. Why let people discuss actual issues, when you can make them hate each other? It’s a simple strategy, and it usually always works.
I believe the President Obama is a good man, and has integrity. I think he has been powerless in the face of the corporations and their extremely wealthy shareholders. He has worked for change, but it has not been possible. Meanwhile, he has been constantly undermined by racism, and strange questions about his birthplace and other such nonsense. He hasn’t tried to eliminate the empire and bring back democracy. Maybe it can’t be done.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Nebraska-- Part Deux
Each year, my family goes back to Nebraska. This year we went at Memorial Day. In addition to eating great food and visiting relatives, we went to the small cemetery in Table Rock where my ancestors are buried. My father and grandmother are buried there, great-grandparents, great-great grandparents, aunts and uncles all the way back to 1880. We planted begonias at my father’s grave, and geraniums at my grandparents’ tombstone. There are tall pine trees in the graveyard, and it’s shady and cool, even on hot days. It’s peaceful. I am comforted visiting the graves of my people. I will be buried next to my parents: about two years ago I bought a small granite marker with my name and birth date. At this point, more of my immediate family members are dead than alive, and I want to be with them when I am gone. I understand that strange “vampire” longing to lie in my native soil. The earth of Nebraska is my flesh, the trees are my bones, the cool creek is the blood that rushes through my veins.
Life and death are difficult topics. It’s hard to talk about deep things, and the longing I have for Nebraska is complicated. It’s a place of happy memories, and it’s tied to my family, my childhood, and the land itself. Years ago I heard a Nebraska artist say that Nebraska is pretty, not beautiful. It’s understated. I think I know what he meant. The landscape isn’t the drama of the Rockies. It’s the soothing calmness of green rolling hills, trees, and creeks. They say the Platte River is a mile wide but just a foot deep.
Some of my happiest memories are visiting my grandparents’ farm. It is small: by the time I was born they were no longer to make a living from it. My grandfather was older, and it would have taken a large capital investment of expensive new farming equipment to make the small acreage profitable. In the 1960’s, many small family farms were abandoned, and agribusiness was born. The farm house was left standing for about 10 years after my grandparents moved to town. It was vandalized, and my grandmother’s collection of pink Depression glass, which she didn’t have room for in town, was all broken. Reluctantly they tore the house down. The old place was said to be haunted. As a child, it both thrilled and terrified me. There were old bookcases filled with old books, a few bedstands, and lots of small, worn out toys from all the children who had played there over the years. I would walk through the mostly empty rooms of the old place, and bring an old book or toy back to town when the visit was over.
In summer, my grandparents, along with my grandmother’s parents, would take picnics down to the creek near the farm. I was lucky enough to have my great-grandmother alive till I was 30; my great-grandfather passed when I was 8. My grandmother baked homemade bread, and packed sandwiches of summer sausage, the bread slathered with butter. They were delicious. I can still picture those picnics in my mind. We would ride together down the dirt road to the empty farm house, and park the car next to the creek. Then my grandmother or her mother would spread out a large blanket, and we would enjoy the feast she brought. What happy times, what blessed memories.
When we go to the farm now, I become melancholy. I think of those old times. I have regrets, and wish I had been more attentive to my older relatives. The only consolation I have is the thought that “without remorse there is no virtue.” That line, from a poem by Elena Rivera, consoles me with the thought that because I have regret, maybe at least I have become a slightly better person than I was then. Small comfort such selfish thoughts are.
This year the farm has been planted with wheat. For the last several years it has had acres of corn, but apparently that is less profitable. The nation’s food policy is a mess: crop subsidies favor large agribusiness. A few companies like Monsanto set the country’s policy, and are largely responsible for our obesity and poor health. The food that is the cheapest is the least nourishing and our consumption of corn and wheat is responsible for both our girth and diabetes. The farmer that plants the crops for my mother is a kind, good-hearted man. Most all the people in Nebraska are good and decent. They will gladly give directions if you are lost, are eager to engage in friendly small talk, and will always be helpful and generous. Yet the minute the conversation turns to politics, these good folks will spout nasty right wing talking point. Don’t even bother to ask what they think of President Obama. It wouldn’t be fit to print. Yet these same farmers see the mess created by Republican economic policies. But the smirking monkey George Bush did no wrong, and the Dems can do no right, even when they do the right thing. It’s hard to reconcile the kindness of these good farm folks with the ugly politics they spout.
Tom Frank’s book, “What’s the Matter With Kansas” offers an explanation of how and why good, decent people will eagerly vote for a corrupt party whose economic policies hurt them. Republicans have successfully used social issues like gays, guns and abortion as hot button topics that get otherwise sensible people to vote against their own pocketbooks. You see the same thing even in mainline churches. Conservatives use the issue of gays to divide and change religion. In my grandmother’s small American Baptist church, a new pastor came to town and tore her church in half over the issue of gays. Now, how many gay people actually live in Tecumseh, Nebraska, and just how exactly do gays pose a cataclysmic threat to the rest of the town? Please, please explain it. My grandmother stopped going to church, and never went back. She knew the brouhaha was ridiculous, a tool used to create a diversion from more pressing social issues.
After visiting the cemetery and the farm, I went with my mother to her ?th year high school reunion (she wouldn’t be happy if I told what decade it was). There were 24 in her high school class. The school was so small they hold all the reunions together. The oldest alumnus was from Table Rock High School Class of 1936. The event was held at the Table Rock Hotel, where the downstairs once housed the movie theatre. Unlike most banquets where you choose between leathery steak and tough chicken breast, the meal featured both meats, and both were delicious. There was an actual salad, not just a wedge of iceberg lettuce. There was fresh fruit. The cost was $11. The caterer was the same person who cooks the lunch at the senior center, where those well-fed oldsters can eat for $3. The conversation was fine as long as we stayed away from politics. One old geezer felt compelled to say how much he supported Arizona’s discriminatory SB1070. He had nothing to worry about, this old white guy driving a Buick.
There was an “illegal” immigrant scandal recently in the Nebraska state prison. It turns out they had been hiring undocumented Eastern Europeans as guards, and one was a drug-dealing kingpin. These immigrants, however, where white, so I guess that made it OK. People in rural Nebraska tend to look alike: big, tall, stocky, white, elderly. Nebraska is one place I can go to and feel young. I also feel elfin, as most folks tower over me and outweigh me by a hundred pounds. They are mostly blond, and it’s creepy being surrounded by giant Aryans. I have to confess that those Gerber blonde hair blue- eyed babies chill me to the bone. Yikes.
Mostly, Nebraska fills me with a sense of loss. I miss my loved ones who have passed on. My great-great grandparents moved to the state in 1871 to build a Utopian paradise. My great-grandfather was an officer in Nebraska’s Socialist party in the 1930. Those days are long gone, ended with the hysteria of the McCarthy years. Looking across the gentle, rolling hills, I feel a deeper loss. The state was founded on a forgotten crime. The land never belonged to the Europeans. It was stolen from the Indians. Abraham Lincoln, the sainted man, enacted the Homestead Act shortly before his assassination. It was believed that the native peoples didn’t deserve their land because they hadn’t developed it. Sure, they had lived there since time immemorial, but they hadn’t made any capital improvements. Where were their houses, factories, farms? And now the peaceful Ponca, the hunting Pawnee, the colorful Lakota are gone, all gone.
The prairie grass is mostly gone. When the native grasses were gone, the buffalo disappeared. The first nations were rounded up and exiled to Oklahoma and the Dakotas. Now the land is dotted with farms. You can see where the small farms are: they are surrounded by trees. There are few native trees in Nebraska, tree were brought in by the legendary Johnny Appleseed and other Europeans. The majority of the old farm houses are in disrepair, and the land is dotted with crumbling houses and barns. Small family farmers have left, replaced by factory farming and agribusiness. Sadly, too many have gone along with these changes, and even voted for the politicians that displaced this way of life.
In the last hundred years, two ways of life have left the prairie. The Indian nations were displaced by small family farms. Small family farms have been replaced by agribusiness. With a smile, we’ve voted for gangsters who have stolen the land yet again, diverting us from their crimes by telling us the real problem is gays and abortion. So we’re eating poisoned food, and spreading pesticides everywhere. But at least the gays and “illegal” immigrants have been put in their place, thank God. At this rate, all life will be gone from the prairies in the next hundred years.
Life and death are difficult topics. It’s hard to talk about deep things, and the longing I have for Nebraska is complicated. It’s a place of happy memories, and it’s tied to my family, my childhood, and the land itself. Years ago I heard a Nebraska artist say that Nebraska is pretty, not beautiful. It’s understated. I think I know what he meant. The landscape isn’t the drama of the Rockies. It’s the soothing calmness of green rolling hills, trees, and creeks. They say the Platte River is a mile wide but just a foot deep.
Some of my happiest memories are visiting my grandparents’ farm. It is small: by the time I was born they were no longer to make a living from it. My grandfather was older, and it would have taken a large capital investment of expensive new farming equipment to make the small acreage profitable. In the 1960’s, many small family farms were abandoned, and agribusiness was born. The farm house was left standing for about 10 years after my grandparents moved to town. It was vandalized, and my grandmother’s collection of pink Depression glass, which she didn’t have room for in town, was all broken. Reluctantly they tore the house down. The old place was said to be haunted. As a child, it both thrilled and terrified me. There were old bookcases filled with old books, a few bedstands, and lots of small, worn out toys from all the children who had played there over the years. I would walk through the mostly empty rooms of the old place, and bring an old book or toy back to town when the visit was over.
In summer, my grandparents, along with my grandmother’s parents, would take picnics down to the creek near the farm. I was lucky enough to have my great-grandmother alive till I was 30; my great-grandfather passed when I was 8. My grandmother baked homemade bread, and packed sandwiches of summer sausage, the bread slathered with butter. They were delicious. I can still picture those picnics in my mind. We would ride together down the dirt road to the empty farm house, and park the car next to the creek. Then my grandmother or her mother would spread out a large blanket, and we would enjoy the feast she brought. What happy times, what blessed memories.
When we go to the farm now, I become melancholy. I think of those old times. I have regrets, and wish I had been more attentive to my older relatives. The only consolation I have is the thought that “without remorse there is no virtue.” That line, from a poem by Elena Rivera, consoles me with the thought that because I have regret, maybe at least I have become a slightly better person than I was then. Small comfort such selfish thoughts are.
This year the farm has been planted with wheat. For the last several years it has had acres of corn, but apparently that is less profitable. The nation’s food policy is a mess: crop subsidies favor large agribusiness. A few companies like Monsanto set the country’s policy, and are largely responsible for our obesity and poor health. The food that is the cheapest is the least nourishing and our consumption of corn and wheat is responsible for both our girth and diabetes. The farmer that plants the crops for my mother is a kind, good-hearted man. Most all the people in Nebraska are good and decent. They will gladly give directions if you are lost, are eager to engage in friendly small talk, and will always be helpful and generous. Yet the minute the conversation turns to politics, these good folks will spout nasty right wing talking point. Don’t even bother to ask what they think of President Obama. It wouldn’t be fit to print. Yet these same farmers see the mess created by Republican economic policies. But the smirking monkey George Bush did no wrong, and the Dems can do no right, even when they do the right thing. It’s hard to reconcile the kindness of these good farm folks with the ugly politics they spout.
Tom Frank’s book, “What’s the Matter With Kansas” offers an explanation of how and why good, decent people will eagerly vote for a corrupt party whose economic policies hurt them. Republicans have successfully used social issues like gays, guns and abortion as hot button topics that get otherwise sensible people to vote against their own pocketbooks. You see the same thing even in mainline churches. Conservatives use the issue of gays to divide and change religion. In my grandmother’s small American Baptist church, a new pastor came to town and tore her church in half over the issue of gays. Now, how many gay people actually live in Tecumseh, Nebraska, and just how exactly do gays pose a cataclysmic threat to the rest of the town? Please, please explain it. My grandmother stopped going to church, and never went back. She knew the brouhaha was ridiculous, a tool used to create a diversion from more pressing social issues.
After visiting the cemetery and the farm, I went with my mother to her ?th year high school reunion (she wouldn’t be happy if I told what decade it was). There were 24 in her high school class. The school was so small they hold all the reunions together. The oldest alumnus was from Table Rock High School Class of 1936. The event was held at the Table Rock Hotel, where the downstairs once housed the movie theatre. Unlike most banquets where you choose between leathery steak and tough chicken breast, the meal featured both meats, and both were delicious. There was an actual salad, not just a wedge of iceberg lettuce. There was fresh fruit. The cost was $11. The caterer was the same person who cooks the lunch at the senior center, where those well-fed oldsters can eat for $3. The conversation was fine as long as we stayed away from politics. One old geezer felt compelled to say how much he supported Arizona’s discriminatory SB1070. He had nothing to worry about, this old white guy driving a Buick.
There was an “illegal” immigrant scandal recently in the Nebraska state prison. It turns out they had been hiring undocumented Eastern Europeans as guards, and one was a drug-dealing kingpin. These immigrants, however, where white, so I guess that made it OK. People in rural Nebraska tend to look alike: big, tall, stocky, white, elderly. Nebraska is one place I can go to and feel young. I also feel elfin, as most folks tower over me and outweigh me by a hundred pounds. They are mostly blond, and it’s creepy being surrounded by giant Aryans. I have to confess that those Gerber blonde hair blue- eyed babies chill me to the bone. Yikes.
Mostly, Nebraska fills me with a sense of loss. I miss my loved ones who have passed on. My great-great grandparents moved to the state in 1871 to build a Utopian paradise. My great-grandfather was an officer in Nebraska’s Socialist party in the 1930. Those days are long gone, ended with the hysteria of the McCarthy years. Looking across the gentle, rolling hills, I feel a deeper loss. The state was founded on a forgotten crime. The land never belonged to the Europeans. It was stolen from the Indians. Abraham Lincoln, the sainted man, enacted the Homestead Act shortly before his assassination. It was believed that the native peoples didn’t deserve their land because they hadn’t developed it. Sure, they had lived there since time immemorial, but they hadn’t made any capital improvements. Where were their houses, factories, farms? And now the peaceful Ponca, the hunting Pawnee, the colorful Lakota are gone, all gone.
The prairie grass is mostly gone. When the native grasses were gone, the buffalo disappeared. The first nations were rounded up and exiled to Oklahoma and the Dakotas. Now the land is dotted with farms. You can see where the small farms are: they are surrounded by trees. There are few native trees in Nebraska, tree were brought in by the legendary Johnny Appleseed and other Europeans. The majority of the old farm houses are in disrepair, and the land is dotted with crumbling houses and barns. Small family farmers have left, replaced by factory farming and agribusiness. Sadly, too many have gone along with these changes, and even voted for the politicians that displaced this way of life.
In the last hundred years, two ways of life have left the prairie. The Indian nations were displaced by small family farms. Small family farms have been replaced by agribusiness. With a smile, we’ve voted for gangsters who have stolen the land yet again, diverting us from their crimes by telling us the real problem is gays and abortion. So we’re eating poisoned food, and spreading pesticides everywhere. But at least the gays and “illegal” immigrants have been put in their place, thank God. At this rate, all life will be gone from the prairies in the next hundred years.
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