Thought we’d come a long way, baby, until I learned the ERA still hasn’t passed

The ERA is still not law of the land.  Let me rephrase that: The Equal Rights Amendment has never been passed into law.  Can anyone believe this in the year 2020, the 21st century, our most equalizing and open-minded time to date in American history, this era of modern reasonable women-can-work-any-job (except U.S. President)?  I’m … I’m … speechless.

Nevertheless.  Perhaps given our post-feminist society—where men can stay home and raise the kids, where same sex couples can marry and adopt children, where the wife may earn more than her husband and no one cares, where women can apply for any job and run businesses and corporations—we’ve all just settled down and assumed women had the same rights as men under U.S. law.  Isn’t sex discrimination illegal?  The Equal Rights Amendment, which dates back in similar proposed legislation to the 1920s, would ensure women shall have equal rights anywhere in the U.S.  Well, as the ERA’s most famous opponent Phyllis Shlafly would say, doesn’t the business world already provide this by now?  Everyone supports equal rights for women.  So why has the ERA been so damn hard to pass into law?  Ladies, follow the men.

And by men, I mean our worldwide male-dominated cultures and societies since the beginning of time, our man-centered religions and education, our ancient family structures that dictate men are providers and women bear the children while cooking and cleaning simultaneously.  With the realization that the ERA has remained in limbo for decades, we can clearly see this old worn-out sexist stereotype still exists among our equally old and worn-out congressmen and Mr. Man senators.  Maybe since 2018 with the largest number of women to date voted into U.S. Congress, the ERA soon will be the law it should have been (and many Americans thought it already was especially by now).

The ERA mystique

Somewhere between the saying credited to our nation’s sexiest feminist, Gloria Steinem, the one that goes “A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle,” and the equally deadpan depiction of marriage credited to the feminist movement’s founder Betty Friedan, that for women marriage is at best a “comfortable concentration camp,” lies the mystical entwinement of the sexes.  Men used to be oblivious to women feeling any other way than happy and content being married and having children and raising them and tutoring them and driving them to their activities and cooking and cleaning and grocery shopping and sewing and running household errands and managing the home and yards.  Whose life wouldn’t be fulfilled?     

In 1972, I proclaimed myself a women’s libber.  I was 10 years old and told everyone I knew.  Mom didn’t mind, probably cheered me on.  In my neighborhood, my mother was the only woman who worked.  She was a teacher.  She also grew up with nine brothers.  Shoot, Carol Burnett performed skits as a loud-mouthed bossy women’s libber on her comedy show every Saturday night.  Loretta Lynn sang The Pill, and I understood the sentiment: Women don’t want to be pregnant all their lives.  Cher and Streisand and every woman in show biz proclaimed they, too, were women’s libbers on the Mike Douglas and Merv Griffin shows every weekday afternoon.  Then there was TV’s Maude which Mom and I watched every Monday night.  A women’s libber was the thing to be.  We weren’t about to return to the old days of staying home with the children, not going to college, not having a career, not earning our own money, not feeling free.

Then something really strange happened in my family.  We started going to church.  Not just any church but a fundamentalist one.  To a young women’s libber, a gal who had drive and ambition and wasn’t gonna let a man hold me back, the cultural whiplash was mind blowing.  The church taught that women are to help and serve their husbands; their place in the home is to be a supportive silent adoring companion; they do, too, want to have children; they shouldn’t work or have a career if it interferes with the home and family.  And the church used a lot of Bible to prove this way of life, of coupling, of family, of God’s intention. 

But, I was a women’s libber.  I had all these goals and plans.  Getting married and having babies was not my priority at least until my late 20s or 30s.  In sermons, the women’s lib movement would come up as a deal with the devil to break up the family home.  What’s right is women should be married and should be mothers.  This was the 1970s, and divorce was becoming very common.  Were divorced women going against God if they worked, had to work, and maintain an apartment while raising their kid or kids?  They usually had custody.  The church had life figured out.  Women in that predicament should pray for a husband.  It was the only way she would be truly happy.

The church also taught that the National Organization for Women was anti-God and run by a bunch of lesbians.  (Like that even mattered.)  Feminists have no place in God’s church.  Wow wee.  This was gonna be a personal problem for little ol’ me, Ms. Independent.     

Needless to say, the church supported Ronald Reagan in the 1980 election, initiating the Reagan Revolution to return to a 1950s’ America of which I only knew from black-and-white TV reruns.  As a young adult woman, I split and went to a secular college where the female professors were indeed feminists, and the older sisters enlightened us young women and men about how far back and how deeply entrenched the male hierarchy reached, even brainwashing females into living lives that were not their own.   That was all I needed to hear.  Live your own life.  Speak your own mind.  Think for yourself.  I was restored to my women’s libber mindset.  That was the real me.  Still is.

Take it from here

The push to pass the ERA in the 1970s was the subject of a TV series called Mrs. America, with the theme song from the disco era, A Fifth of Beethoven, instead of the women’s movement’s actual theme song during the early ’70s, I am Woman.  Guess that song couldn’t have been modernized by one of today’s female artists.  Each episode focused on the most famous women who came to national prominence during the ERA fight, especially anti-feminist Phyllis Schlafly.  She I remember.  Conservatives and fundamentalists would have supported her wholeheartedly.  Good woman, dutiful wife and together homemaker, at her heart she was just as much a women’s libber as the rest of us.  She was blessed with help supervising her six kids and cooking and housecleaning.  Mrs. Schlafly (and you better have called her that) went around the nation speaking against the ERA, claiming the amendment would destroy the family unit and the very fabric of American society.  She linked the ERA and feminism to an ungodly communistic socialistic revolution that would make men and women totally equal (asexual?), where gender roles would be blurred, men would raise children, more women would not have children, and young women would be drafted to fight wars alongside men.  None of this was the language or intent of the ERA, which premise is about equal pay for equal work and equal opportunity for jobs—something everyone believes in 2020, and we have for decades.

Mrs. Schlafly was a formidable opponent and had millions of supporters especially from the Moral Majority.  The ’70s feminists were unprepared for the America I knew, mindsets that for women uphold traditional family values no matter what the circumstances like death of a husband, abuse or divorce.  This is the America, and it’s most of the country, that Reagan knew and so does Trump.  Mrs. Schlafly’s final book, released after her death, called on conservatives to consider supporting Trump.  This enormous gap between traditionalists and feminists somehow continues to exist today no matter how … laughable.  Many marriages end in divorce.  Many women have children without marriage.  Many men are OK with it.  The law had to get involved to make deadbeat dads pay child support.  The Reagan Revolution did one thing to tilt Americans toward accepting feminist ideals, however: Most women had to start working because the economy was so bad.  The Leave it to Beaver family was in the past, and every woman (and man) in American knew it.

After all these decades, time in which I grew from a tomboy to a career woman to an aging though wiser female, the ERA may get a federal vote after the 2020 election if a Democrat is elected President and more Democrats are elected to the U.S. Senate.  As it stands now, the current Senate has no intention of even entertaining the thought of passing the silly old ERA given all the nation’s other problems.  But Americans, women and men, and our society have changed, permanently and at least for half of us for the better.  There’s no putting Jeannie back in her bottle.

International Federation of Journalists honors slain, assaulted reporters (for reporting news some people don’t want the world to know)

More than 1,000 journalists have been killed since 2009.  Last year the most dangerous country for journalists was not somewhere in the Middle East but right in our own hemisphere: Mexico with 10 intentional murders of reporters.  The International Federation of Journalists, based in Belgium, has been keeping tabs of journalists killed on the job or for being a reporter.  Annually the IFJ presents a public document called Roll Call, honoring and naming all working media people killed because of their profession.

During 2019 there were 49 deaths of media personnel “killed for reporting on abuse of power, corruption and crime,” according to the IFJ report.  Some journalists were killed among the crowds when a terrorist bomb exploded.  Many of the deceased journalists were targeted for reporting the news of nations in political and social turmoil, last year involving 18 countries.  Latin America had the highest death toll with 18 killings.

The IFJ also keeps tabs on escalating violence against journalists which last year was more than a hundred substantiated cases and dozens of harassment and media interference.  One positive outcome in the report was the recent guilty verdict for the 2009 deaths of 32 journalists during the Philippines’ Mindanao massacre.

A few of the journalists murdered in 2019—including targeted attacks, bomb attacks and crossfire—were:

Lyra McKee, 29, shot while covering riots at the Creggan housing estate in Londonderry, Northern Ireland, by a gunman shooting at police;

Norma Sarabia Garduza, who covered violence in Huimanguillo, a city in Tabasco, Mexico, shot by two men on a motorbike after she arrived home.  Because of threats, she had no longer included her byline on articles;

Hodan Nalayeh, 43, Somali journalist killed by a suicide attack.

Of the 49 journalists and media personnel killed last year, 18 were in the Americas. In Mexico journalists were killed on Feb. 2, Feb. 11, Feb. 20, May 2, May 16, June 11, July 30, Aug. 2 and Aug. 24.

The rest of the global figures were:

12 in Asia & the Pacific

9 in Africa

8 in the Arab world and Middle East

2 in Europe.

“Across the globe, media workers are killed, jailed and harassed simply for exercising their rights to free expression as enshrined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, to inform the public,” according to IFJ’s Roll Call.  In Europe alone last year, the IFJ investigated 137 “serious violations of press freedom including nearly 80 cases of violations of the safety and physical integrity of journalists.”  Most of the European scenarios were in France (the yellow vest protests) and Spain (the Catalan uprising).

“Journalists have the right to work in safety, especially in conflict zones,” according to the IFJ Roll Call, “and failure to do so deprives societies of access to reliable information about events affecting their lives and undermines their ability to contribute to end the conflict.”

For more information, check the IFJ’s website at http://www.ifj.org.

Mental health and mental illness go hand in hand in family and work relations

Truly there would be a reason to go mad were it not for music.

                                                                                 Tchaikovsky

Still homebound during the pandemic, to pass the time I’ve been watching movies about mental illness … then I realized May is Mental Health Month.  A couple of thought-provoking movies I studied were Grey Gardens and Mad to be Normal.  As a woman growing older and realizing the inevitable decline, I’ve avoided the original Grey Gardens documentary about a once wealthy elderly mother and her middle-aged daughter living together in poverty and filth yet within the confines of their once splendid beachfront home in the cozy enclave of East Hampton, New York.

So, I watched the more interesting narrative film version Grey Gardens, starring Jessica Lange as Big Edie and Drew Barrymore as Little Edie.  The transformation by hair and body makeup of the two women is shockingly realistic.  Then there’s their phenomenal acting.  The famous reversal-of-fortune saga made international news in the early 1970s because the women are kin to Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis.  Big Edie is the nickname for Edith Bouvier Beale, a beloved aunt of the former First Lady.  Big Edie was the sister of Jackie’s father.  Little Edie was an older cousin of Jackie. 

The interesting storyline features Big Edie’s flamboyant parties at her Grey Gardens estate in the 1930s.  Her husband, a New York businessman, argues with his spoiled wife about the times in which they are living, an economic depression.  He had to cut his staff including house servants, yet Big Edie parties on, maintaining the center of attention with a pianist on hand and her adequate singing and dancing.  Her talent was not important, just her need to entertain, a trait her daughter inherited.  The two sing and soft shoe Tea for Two to delight party guests.  When Mr. Beale divorces his wife, she is left with a financial pittance.  A decade later, her grown sons beg her to sell the house and property and move to Florida, which delights Little Edie, who has been living alone with her mother for years.  Nothing doing, Big Edie is emphatic about never leaving Grey Gardens. 

Years go by.  The home is dilapidated and the women unkempt.  They allow numerous cats to reside inside and do not fight off raccoons who leave trails of dookie logs throughout the house.  Their phone, electricity and water have been shut off.  The city condemned the property.  The grocer refused deliveries until they pay their account.  Still, Big and Little Edie stay day after day, night after night, decade after decade.  They live mainly in a bedroom quarters with two twin beds.  We are left to imagine life in a run-down house with no water or lights, no food except cat chow, no refrigeration: just the fresh ocean breeze and the calm constant rhythm of waves against the shore.  When a news photographer comes out to sneak a story, the women welcome him inside.  They want the world to see how they live.  The photo spread goes worldwide.  Then Jackie O shows up.  [The real story is her sister showed up after the photos and a headline implying Jackie O lives it up while her destitute family lives in squalor.]  Jackie almost throws up from the smell when entering the home.  The Edies offer her paté and tea which she refuses.  Little Edie is jealous about how her younger cousin’s life turned out so fabulously, jet setting with the rich and famous.  The next day, a work crew tows off the junked car, removes weathered furniture and ruined rugs despite elderly Big Edie’s angry protests, and slaps fresh paint on the walls.  Still the house is in horrible shape though maybe smells better but for a while.  Months later a documentary crew asks Big and Little Edie permission to film their lives in Grey Gardens.  The film directors obviously wanted to portray the tragedy of two aging destitute women who cannot maintain their home and how society should help people in such dire predicaments.  At the home viewing, Little Edie is so proud to have been a part of what she called a work of art while Big Edie smiles and is satisfied with the product.  She dies a couple years later and only then does Little Edie leave Grey Gardens to perform a nightclub act in Greenwich Village.  She refused to sell Grey Gardens unless the new owner vowed never to demolish the home.

Watching Grey Gardens, either the documentary or the Lange/Barrymore movie, the issue of mental illness comes to mind.  Millions of viewers ponder how anyone can live in such squalor and stay for decades.  No water, electricity, phone, money, food.  How?  Why?  Recently the women, both deceased, have been studied in retrospect with psychologists theorizing they may have had Asperger’s syndrome.  That would explain how they could continue to remain in a dilapidated home without essentials—and never realize or mind the stench.  Asperger’s is a unique mental condition in that there are various levels for functioning within society and alone.  Sometimes individuals with Asperger’s do not react the same way as a majority of people, a society, would to circumstances or conditions, even to other people’s facial expressions of sorrow, pain, happiness or anger.  That stubborn streak to remain in an inhabitable home come hell or high water, the putrid odor, unsanitary bathroom, no medical care, little food, allowing wild animals and too many cats to live indoors.  They never sought help or repeatedly sought help.  They refused a viable solution by their closest family.  The two women spoke of being ‘in love’ with Grey Gardens.  And they never saw their beloved home as the dangerous place it had become especially to them, the only two people in the world who wanted to remain in their estate by the sea.

Unlocking a troubled mind

In Mad to be Normal, I learned of psychologist R.D. Laing and his unconventional lifestyle and highly controversial therapies.  In the 1960s his book, The Divided Self: An Existential Study in Sanity and Madness, was considered required reading along with On the Road by hipsters and Baby Boomers.  Laing’s premise was that the mentally ill should not be controlled by drugs or shock treatment (very common prior to a few key 1970s’ movies instigating societal change in compassionate treatment for the chronically disobedient or the suicidal and depressed).  He suggested the mentally ill should not be turned into ‘us’ but allowed to live and participate in society on their own terms.  Mental illness is a personal, individual condition—and nothing more.  He would believe the state of one’s mental faculties is a private affair and certainly not to be determined by society.

But.

There is the issue of violence.  And that’s society’s concern, someone who is a danger to himself and/or others.  Not so with Laing, as the movie biopic featured life in his East London hangout for anyone with mental illness along the catatonic, neurotic, schizophrenic and psychotic realms.  Anyone was welcome.  Each housemate had his or her own bedroom with a door they could open and close or lock.  They were free to roam outside alone and into the public. 

Laing also was keen on using LSD to treat schizophrenia.  Our own psychiatric establishment used LSD in the pre-illegal daze of the 1950s and early ’60s especially in Beverly Hills.  Laing dosed himself along with clients and took numerous trips into the inner recesses of his mind.  Those who’ve experimented with LSD swear it opens their consciousness.  In 1966 LSD became illegal as a dangerous narcotic.

In exploring mental health, I have read and re-read the book The Sociopath Next Door by Martha Stout.  Dr. Stout, a Harvard psychologist, wrote the book so the public would know how to determine if someone is a sociopath and how to avoid them.  She presented several real-life stories about the common attitudes and behaviors of sociopaths, even asserting a large number of the U.S. population may very well be sociopaths, as many as one in five Americans.  It’s that common.  Other societies have few citizens who are sociopaths, the author claimed, linking the statistic to older and ancient civilizations who’ve learned to rely on and trust their fellow man and not care so much about ‘getting ahead’ or ‘getting mine’ as our capitalistic foundation promotes to survive and thrive.  Ours is an individualistic society.  We do glorify the wealthy entrepreneur and celebrity.  It is kinda sick when you think about it, and the fascination starts in childhood and lasts throughout adulthood until some wisdom about the grand scheme of things kicks in.

The book was written to help people deal with a sociopath in work, family or romantic relationships.  Criminologists and psychologists deem sociopathy as incurable.  As I read about individuals who were sociopaths, in incidents told to the psychiatrist by family and former employees who’d been hurt by them, I realized similar traits in a few of my former bosses: pitting one employee against another and then sitting back to watch the fight or fallout; the coldness; the aloofness; the unpredictable disposition, one moment wildly angry then the next rational and calm.  An unstable personality is the first clue of a potential conflict, that person who says one thing and does another, someone who is not a straight shooter.

Recently I researched how to work with someone with mental illness, whether a sociopath or a diagnosed condition requiring medication and psychotherapy.  What I found is: It’s our problem not theirs.  People who believe themselves to have sound mental health must deal with real mental issues every day.

The book recommends several measures employees and others can take to avoid being sucked into a sociopath’s mind game.  One is simply quit the job or leave the relationship.  Another is to avoid sharing information about yourself because what the sociopath wants to know most of all is our greatest fear.  And for me that fear came true, and the sociopath bosses knew it, sensed it, without me saying a word.  Despite miserable employee-boss relations, I kept returning to work, fell on my sword when criticized, worked harder, arrived earlier, stayed later, never missed a day.  A good sociopath could figure out what really mattered to me: my job.  So the jobs were abruptly taken from me.  I was shown the door, kicked to the curb.  Fortunately, the majority of my past employers have been kind and … emotionally stable.  No mind games, no sudden immediate closed-door conferences to discuss presumed or alleged misdeeds, and no bouts of extreme anger and bullying followed by a honeymoon phase of appreciation and work-related praise.

Dr. Laing is right about how we all need to rethink dealing with the mentally ill.  They are a small segment of our population, even fewer who pose a real danger to us.  But we’re frightened.  We’re not psychologists, and we don’t want to deal with another person’s mental illness.  But the research I’ve done proves one thing: When it comes to the mentally ill, we are the ones with the problem.  We are the ones who must figure out some way to deal with another person who does not fit into our idea of normal.  The mentally ill are ill and therefore in need of not necessarily our help but our understanding.  Everyone is different.  Everyone has a unique backstory, sometimes blocked due to severe emotional pain if ever remembered.  The best we can do is remain calm, cool and collected and maintain our own sanity.

Pandemic overblown by wealthy powers & national media’s nothing-but-coronavirus coverage

April 2020 will go down in history as one extremely long painful monotonous nightmare—more so in places like New York City than all the thousands of cities and locales elsewhere in the vast territory of the United States of America, but for all of us the worst financial crisis of our lifetimes.  Why?  Why did everybody have to stay home and either work online or not work at all?  Health experts predicted a deadly pandemic for which American hospitals and cities were unprepared.  By year’s end 2019, all eyes were on China’s clandestine handling of the fast-spreading COVID-19 or the novel coronavirus.  Americans thought mistakenly that it couldn’t happen here.  The entire U.S. economy shut down to save some lives and prevent for the most part big-city hospitals from being overrun with the latest contagion?  That is exactly what ended up happening—except without all the drama across the nation, just in NYC and similar huge metropolises, congested American cities like the ones we’re used to watching in TV dramas.

President Donald Trump, in a total about-face given his usual response to zig while government zags, ultimately decided to go with ‘the science’ and agreed to the slow down and eventual shut down of every aspect of American work in commerce, education and government save ‘essential’ services.  Notice all those in power—including corporations who pay for the daily TV ads promoting how we still need to eat restaurant meals or how our isolation has brought us together through the internet and our devices (not a single reference to old-fashioned phone calls)—perceive a month or two of personal lost income as no big deal, even the President.  They have the resources to survive a financial setback.  But not the American people, the vast majority living paycheck to paycheck, every dollar relied upon to balance a monthly budget of mortgage or rent, groceries, medications, insurance, utilities, bills and life’s incidentals.   

And the President thinks Americans who finally started protesting at their state capitols and city halls have cabin fever?  No, sir, they are people millionaires and billionaires do not understand.  Americans actually want to pay their bills.  Their greatest fear is losing their home, cars and everything.  The stay-home-stay-safe mandate was the worst mistake made by government at all levels.  Americans were not asked what they thought, if they were willing to risk their health and their families if they continued working during a pandemic. Americans would have answered, “Hell, yeah!  Let’s do it!  Anything to earn a paycheck.”  Hospital administrators and virus scientists sounded the alarm of a pandemic that potentially could kill millions of Americans and make tens of millions sick.  But that is not what happened, and it is not what is going to happen.  We see that now.

Along for the ride

The mass media went along with presenting the practical advice and educated assumptions from medical science circles to practice common-sense health guidelines to avoid the coronavirus (stay home, wash hands, avoid crowds).  In spotlighting what the medical experts have to say about avoiding this illness, cable and even local TV have presented nothing but coronavirus news 24-hours-a-day.  Fine for the first two weeks but then overkill and by now unnecessary.  Just today one of the top cable news networks included a non-coronavirus news story, this one about a missing woman.  Life, the good and bad, did not stop just because of a pandemic.  But to hear the media tell it, it did.  The national news, made up of professional journalists, have covered every angle, the same angles, of the pandemic ad nauseum.

But one angle the big-time media missed goes along with their failure to predict Donald Trump would win the presidency.  This time they missed the American workers’ perspective during a pandemic, which is not an uncommon health crisis, not our first rodeo.  Americans want to go back to work, go back to earning money.  Hell, they never wanted to stop working.  Americans did not want to stay home to avoid getting sick or perchance infect their loved ones or others.  If asked, they would do anything to keep a job: work six feet apart, wear masks, permit temperature checks, go directly home after work, even accept a lower wage and shorter hours especially if temporary.  By now a couple hundred million Americans are realizing their rights were trampled even if temporarily and with the best of intentions.  The lawsuits will come as America is the most litigious nation in the world.  People will sue over their child’s missed education, their family’s missed income and inability to pay bills, even their misdiagnoses whether positive or negative coronavirus or their other infections and ailments sidelined due to the red alert for COVID-19.

Hindsight is 20/20.  While a world-class nation like Sweden carried on sans panic by allowing citizens to choose sheltering at home or continue working during the pandemic, the USA was caught pants down with no pandemic preparation (sorely lacking abundant medical supplies, respiratory equipment and emergency field hospitals).  No, instead, for some convoluted reason, our nation chose the worst-case scenario to close the entire economy, half of which is from small businesses, and send out billions of dollars in stimulus checks and business loans.  Why?  Why was the greatest, strongest, most prosperous nation on earth caught off guard and ill-prepared to carry on during another pandemic?  The national media and talking heads covered that already.  And it doesn’t help for President Trump to lead daily briefings on the pandemic with antagonistic quips to national reporters there to cover it.

We got it.  We’re in heap big trouble.  We’re reminded every day on the news and online.  Tens of millions of American workers have applied for unemployment because their jobs aren’t coming back.  Some financial experts predict an economic depression.  Many small businesses are closed for good not because of the pandemic but because of how government handled the pandemic: convincing everyone to stay home for the sake of their loved ones and forcing everyone to stop the spread.

Well, the daily numbers indicate a job well done, best that could be expected, much better actually.  This pandemic is mild compared to the Spanish flu of 1918 which took the lives of 50 million worldwide and in the U.S. less than one million dead.  Even a hundred years ago, Americans during that pandemic had to wear masks to avoid contracting the flu.  That was fair.  And they kept working, too.  Maybe the spread and death were high because everyone continued working.  Times were so different then.  People didn’t need much.  Probably everybody had no health insurance.  Life was less complex.  And there was no flu vaccine, still today only used by less than half the U.S. population.

Compared to today, it’s not why but how, with all our collective intelligence in this 21st century high tech age, did we go off the rails in dealing with a pandemic?  It’s bat crazy from the top down.  And that is what all the protests are about.  Americans are not foolish or stupid about health, new viruses and pandemics.  If you’re gonna survive in this country, hell on the planet, you take chances every day.  The Swedes understand about building a tolerance to a new virus, that life is survival of the fittest and some will die but not everyone, not the majority.  Americans are willing to do whatever it takes to work and apparently to just survive.  The way this turned out is why so many Americans, 70 percent without a college education, are suspicious of the highly educated and distrustful of the government.  Lots of lessons here all the way around.

American Pop Music tells our story, from revolution to capitalism & always homage to God

Living the American life can be bittersweet, like that song Everybody’s Talkin’ from the movie Midnight Cowboy.   An upbeat tempo yet somber tone sets an ironic theme of stubborn optimism to which every American can relate: personal aspirations despite countless setbacks and heedless freedom to wonder around this great land in hopes of finding a better life or at least a better view.  Now with the pandemic and governmental mandates to stay home, without pay, we’re dealing with a very bitter experience—the worst time ever according to Willie Nelson (who grew up in the Depression Era).  To pass the time, I thought about American influence especially during the 20th century in music, movies and pop culture.  Being a child of pop music, a religious listener of Top 40 radio back in the day, I formulated a list of what I consider our country’s most ‘American’ songs: not patriotic but songs reflecting the American experience in all our truest intentions, shortcomings and slow-to-realize social evolutions.  The list starts with the American Revolutionary War and ends with a Taylor Swift song.  The list was revised and edited until compiled into an entertaining assortment, well to me.  Too, American pop music—expressed throughout the recent centuries in folk, gospel, blues, country, jazz and rock idioms—not only reveals our collective story but also amplifies our best and worst characteristics: a warring inclination; willingness to die for liberty; and most assuredly fight in print and vocal protest for the right to pursue personal happiness, to live our own lives, and right or wrong to love the very ones who make our hearts sing.

18th Century/American Revolutionary War Era

Johnny Has Gone for a Soldier was an old Irish song, Siul A Ruin.  Best accompanied by a dulcimer, with a timbre reminiscent of the Old World, and sung in an ethereal soprano voice, the beautiful morose lament pierces the heart with plain lyrics telling of an earlier age when womenfolk remained behind during war while anticipating the loss of their beloved soldier:

“I’d sell my clock.  I’d sell my reel.

  Likewise, I’d sell my spinning wheel

  to buy my love a sword of steel.

  Johnny has gone for a soldier.”

Amazing Grace, written in 1772 by John Newton, known in his day as a drunkard and slave trader, the spiritually profound lyrics were inspired after he survived a violent storm at sea.  Amidst the dangerous turmoil, Newton, not particularly religious though raised a Puritan, called on the Almighty for divine intervention, to save his life and everyone on board.  Miraculously, the storm passed with no harm to crew or vessel.  This universal song of faith and humble acceptance of God’s grace has been performed so often, its status has risen to American anthem.  The lyrics weren’t set to music until decades later, using the British tune New Britain.  From the opening stanza, “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound,” the song declares a personal revelation of God’s patient love and enduring companionship despite our human faults and failings:

“I once was lost but now am found,

 was blind but now I see.”

19th Century

Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child is perhaps the most poignant of all African-American spirituals, songs by slaves.  This song reportedly was first performed in concert in 1870 according to gospel music archives.  The song also sets the format for traditional blues lyrics, repeating a line two or three times then adding a lyrical twist at the end:

“Sometimes I feel like a motherless child.

  Sometimes I feel like a motherless child.

  Sometimes I feel like a motherless child

  a long way from home, a long way from home.”

The song resonates today as the feelings are universal.  Though the lyrics directly refer to a people taken from their Mother Homeland and plopped into a strange land of unknown language, culture, clothing, music and religion—a place where no one loved and cared for them—the song is relatable to anyone who feels orphaned or out of place.

Wabash Cannonball, originally The Great Rock Island Route, is a traditional American folk song dating back to the 1880s.  The song’s history is said to have come from the hobo community, stragglers who jumped trains to ride from town to town.  The upbeat tempo expresses American freedom and the newfound excitement of speed, which would become an impressive attribute defining our country during the 20th century:

“From the great Atlantic Ocean to the wide Pacific shore,

 from the queen of flowing mountains to the south belt by the shore,

 she’s mighty tall and handsome and known quite well by all.

 She’s a modern combination called the Wabash Cannonball.”

Early 20th Century

Will the Circle Be Unbroken?, made popular in the 1920s by the Carter Family recording and radio play, was written as a Christian hymn in 1907 by Ada R. Habershon and Charles H. Gabriel.  The Carters rewrote the lyrics for a tear-jerking funeral song: 

“I was standing by my window

 on one cold and cloudy day

 when I saw the hearse come rolling

 for to carry my mother away.

 Will the circle be unbroken

 by and by, Lord, by and by?

 There’s a better home a-waitin’

 in the sky, Lord, in the sky.”

The hymn’s original lyrics spoke of the entire family in time reaching eternity, completing the family’s transition from the physical world to the spiritual hereafter.  But the Carter rendition is more profound and implies a family remains encircled and together even if one member or more are deceased.  The family circle remains unbroken.  The hymn is pure American in its Christian roots and certainty of a better life in the hereafter.

Solace, Scott Joplin’s most beautiful piano rag, is distinctively Spanish influenced.  Written in 1909, the instrumental piece uniquely features a tango beat.  The piece was used in the 1970s’ movie The Sting.  Joplin was an American original, hard working to his own detriment, and as a musical genius intended to combine musical elements from other cultures.  Sit back and relax sometime by listening to this piece, a bridge between Old West saloons and a turn-of-the-century craze called Ragtime.

God Bless America was written by prolific American songwriter Irving Berlin in 1918 to commemorate the end of ‘the war to end all wars.’  The song was revised and recorded again in 1938 as America soon would embark on another world war.  The song is a prayer, purely American in calling on divine guidance and protection specifically for America as a country:

“God, bless America, land that I love.

  Stand beside her and guide her

  through the night with the light from above.”

This Little Light of Mine seems a typical African-American spiritual, given its blues lyric format.  But it was written as a children’s song in the 1920s by Harry Dixon Loes.  Ever since, it continues to be performed in churches and elementary schools around the world.  What makes the song uniquely American is lyrics that relay self confidence, an individual’s assurance that is based in the spiritual.  The song, sung in first person, implies all God’s children possess a unique talent symbolized as an inner light radiating intelligence and value:

“This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.”

Rhapsody in Blue: The fabulous New York composer George Gershwin performed this brilliant musical tribute, combining jazz and modern American classical elements, in 1924, having written it as a last-minute instrumental composition.  Beginning with a swirling clarinet solo, the symbolism is not lost as the optimistic American who awakens to a brand new day.  Stretching to life and full of pride and purpose, he is soon joined by the rest of the population represented by the orchestra and then catapulted to work by strategic cymbal crashes.  Then Gershwin himself improvises on piano assorted syncopated and dazzling melodic phrases.  The famous finale represents day’s end, with the working American proud of occupational duty and livelihood, tired but content, and ready for well-deserved rest, awaiting dreams of even bigger endeavors.

Blue Skies by Irving Berlin came out in 1926.  The song is overflowing with optimism due to newfound love.  Yet it was penned by someone who suffered dark depression and low self esteem.  Unbelievable.  The work itself is classic American in that its creator is a humble man producing voluminous work and never letting on to his solitary sadness and insecurity:

“Blue skies smiling at me.  Nothing but blue skies do I see.

  … Blue days, all of them gone.  Nothing but blue skies from now on.”

Wildwood Flower was recorded with acoustic guitar in 1928 by the Carter Family.  The tune and lyrics were derivative of another lesser known song, but the Carters’ guitar-playing style, melodic riff with harmony simultaneously, sets it apart as an American folk stylistic masterpiece.  The lyrics tell of a gal wearing colorful flowers in her hair to attract suitors at a dance.  Eventually she settles for a mate who will neglect her as she ages, leaving her feeling like a faded flower still alive in the wild but unappreciated and overlooked.  The upbeat clap-along tempo carrying a song of rue is typical of the American expectation to keep a-goin’ even if heartbroken and unhappy.

Happy Days are Here Again: The originally peppy ditty, chosen by President Franklin Roosevelt as his campaign theme song, was somehow a hit at the beginning of America’s Great Depression.  The song was popularized in 1930 in a movie called Chasing Rainbows.  The upbeat tempo and lyrics ooze American optimism.  Then again, Roosevelt was wealthy and financially secure:

“Happy days are here again!
 The skies above are blue again!

 Let us sing a song of cheer again!

 Happy days are here again!”

Don’t Fence Me In, a Cole Porter and Bob Fletcher song written in 1934, was based on another similar song and reworked by the duo to the familiar hit melding cowboy Westerns with pop orchestra music.  The song inspired a movie or vice versa and represents the American pursuit and longing for land and spacious sky:

“Oh, give me land, lots of land, and the starry skies above.

  Don’t fence me in.

  Let me ride through the wide-open country that I love.

  Don’t fence me in.

  Let me be by myself in the evening breeze

  and listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees.

  Send me off forever, but I ask you please

  don’t fence me in.”

Sing, Sing, Sing (With a Swing), recorded in 1936 featuring the savage drumming of none other than Gene Krupa, must’ve created a generation gap between fainting Ragtime elders and the energized youth who would be known as Bobby soxers.  Add the growling brass and swirling winds, this Louis Prima tune recorded to fame by the Benny Goodman Orchestra best typifies a new untamed generation of Americans.  The song was first performed by Goodman’s Orchestra at Carnegie Hall as the finale of the premiere Big Band music concert, a music style found highly objectionable by the snooty concert board.  Stressing the off beat, the piece obviously puts front and center elements of African drumming, which would influence the next American generation’s musical taste, rock ’n’ roll. 

Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy, written by Don Raye and Hughie Prince for the hilarious 1941 Abbott & Costello movie Buck Privates, is a WWII song representing the American attitude that says ‘I’ll do my duty, but I’m gonna have a lot of fun, too.’  GIs frequented canteens to swing dance and jitterbug the night away with lovely gals.  Archival photos and film clips leave the impression young Americans danced throughout the war.  There were dances to raise funds, dances to reinvigorate soldiers, and dances just to socialize and maybe meet prospective sweethearts.  And all that dancing to Big Band music, the greatest music America ever created.  The young Andrew Sisters’ lush harmonies poured over tight lyrics in a brisk tempo catapulted the swingin’ song to the top of the pop charts, number six on a list ranking the most influential songs of the 20th century:

“He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way.

  He had a boogie style that no one else could play.

  He was the top man at his craft.

  But then his number came up, and he was gone with the draft.

  He’s in the army now, a-blowin’ reveille.

  He’s the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B.”

Mid 20th Century

I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry, by country & Western icon Hank Williams in 1949, was the B side of an uptempo tune typically preferred in those days by jukebox crowds.  But Williams’ sobering poetic lament became a natural American hit, aptly depicting the sights and sounds realized in solitude.  The singer says he’s so lonesome he could cry, yet he doesn’t—very American: 

“Did you ever see a robin weep

  When leaves begin to die?

  Like me, he’s lost the will to live.

  I’m so lonesome I could cry.”

This Land is Your Land: Just another hit song that tells the world our love affair with our country’s breathtaking and diverse terrain.  Penned by Depression folk hero Woody Guthrie in 1940, this standard American folk song was not recorded until 1951.  The entertainer and singer/songwriter had said he was inspired as an Okie hobo arriving in New York City.  Because of Guthrie’s leftist sympathies, the song may still be thought as subversive with secret meanings supporting socialism or communism.  But nevertheless, the song, sung in every school child concert, expresses the majestic land called America is perhaps the apple of God’s eye and intended for anyone to reside and enjoy, as the refrain goes, “This land was made for you and me.”

Rock ‘n’ Roll Music: By one of the genre’s pioneers, Chuck Berry, this song was an anthem and instant smash, earning it the prestigious title of ‘Oldie but a Goodie’: “It’s got a back beat, you can’t lose it.”  The song brings together country & Western flavor with a hard-driving rhythm & Blues beat.  Rock music may have been born in the 1950s, but the beat and spirit particularly in this song would continue to influence countless bands and steer Americans into a new direction when it came to what would be considered pop music.  

Christmastime is Here: America believes in Christmas and has contributed to the world’s collection especially in the 20th century.  But this 1965 classic from A Charlie Brown Christmas TV special is eloquent though somber, combining elements of jazz piano, brush drumming and beatnik bass.  Written by Lee Mendelson and jazz pianist Vince Guaraldi, the lyrics are as breathtaking as the melody, and at this moment in time not directly related to biblical passage, though the animated show’s storyline is.  The song presents a universal appeal, as mere children ponder if the loving and giving spirit of the holiday season could last throughout the year:

“Christmastime is here, happiness and cheer,

  fun for all that children call their favorite time of year.

  Snowflakes in the air.  Carols everywhere,

  olden times and ancient rhymes of love and dreams to share.”

What a Wonderful World, uniquely sang by beloved American jazz entertainer Louis Armstrong, was written by Bob Thiele and George David Weiss.  The song was a quick hit in Great Britain in 1967 but slow charting on American radio.  A throwback to the standard orchestrated American Pop style, Weiss wrote the lyrics specifically to bring the races together, and he wanted Armstrong to sing the song.  Like a jazzy lullaby, the lyrics are carefully crafted to convey optimism, hope and spiritual purpose—traits of American songs that first touch the heart before the mind fully comprehends and respects the message:

“I see skies of blue, clouds of white,

  the bright blessed day and the dark sacred night,

  and I think to myself, ‘What a wonderful world.’”

And When I Die is an uplifting declaration by influential ’60s’ singer/songwriter Laura Nyro.  In the spirit of a raucous minstrel style, her message may have been considered sacrilegious.  She expresses acceptance of the cycle of death and life while asserting no fear of dying.  The song is a sample of the changing attitudes of post-war Americans who by the 1960s were willing to split from traditional Christian teachings and beliefs, even the belief in God.  The song was recorded in 1966 by Peter, Paul & Mary but in 1968 became a major hit for the rock-jazz hybrid band Blood, Sweat & Tears.  And When I Die was a personal favorite of consummate 20th century American entertainer Sammy Davis, Jr.:

“And when I die, and when I’m dead, dead and gone,

  there’ll be one child born and a world to carry on, to carry on.”

My Way became a major late-career hit for America’s most famous crooner Frank Sinatra.  The lyrics were by songwriter Paul Anka who used the melody from a beautiful instrumental tune known in Europe.  Recorded in 1969, the life-affirming ode was an instant hit and remains interestingly enough a staple in the funeral biz.  The song is a good example of American sentiment that wants no one to grieve their death, though the song’s commentary could apply to the end of a romantic relationship.  The lyrics are stoic yet tender.  With no apologies, the lyrics convey one’s satisfaction and responsibility of life’s path and individual choices good and bad:

“Yes, there were times, I’m sure you knew

  when I bit off more than I could chew.

  But through it all, when there was doubt,

  I ate it up and spit it out.

  I faced it all, and I stood tall

  and did it my way.”

Rose Garden, written by Joe South (Games People Play) and recorded in the late 1960s by a few notable artists before country singer Lynn Anderson took it to the top of the cross-over charts in 1970, presents in an upbeat tempo, as Americans like, a hard life lesson: practicality beats sentimentality.

“I beg your pardon.  I never promised you a rose garden.

  Along with the sunshine, there’s gotta be a little rain sometime.”

Me and Bobby McGee, Kris Kristofferson and Fred Foster’s ode to freedom in having nothing but your jeans, was recorded in the late 1960s by several country artists.  But rock star Janis Joplin would take the song to number one in 1971, her version released to radio after her death.  What makes the song American is an expressed stubborn streak, a don’t-give-a-damn attitude that no one can look down on people who are poor, homeless and rootless:

“Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.”

Late 20th Century

Take This Job and Shove It, written by country music outlaw David Allan Coe and sung by Johnny Paycheck, was a huge hit in 1977.  What song could be more blue-collar American?  A sentiment felt by the working man who may not be in control but is willing to say ‘to hell with it’ and go for broke rather than work one more day for The Man in a meaningless job.  Sweet freedom!  Oh, and the song was number one on the charts:

“Take this job and shove it.

  I ain’t working here no more.

  My woman done left and took all the reasons

  I was working for.

  You better not try to stand in my way

  ’cause I’m walkin’ out the door.

  Take this job and shove it.

  I ain’t working here no more.”

I Will Survive, by American songwriters Freddie Perren and Dino Fekaris, exemplifies the disco era and was a first-time hit for singer Gloria Gaynor in 1978.  The over-the-top production begins in rubato like a sad ballad but then switches to a joyful dancing celebration and assurance of surviving not only heartbreak but the loneliness and fear of an uncertain future sans romantic love.  The song is about emotional strength.  Americans know they’ll survive anything.  Most of us don’t want no pity party:

“I will survive.

 As long as I know how to love, I know I’ll stay alive.”

Material Girl, by Peter Brown and Robert Rans, was a 1984 super hit by Madonna who took the music world by storm and ruled the decade.  The song is an excellent example of America at the time, overindulging in material things.  But the song’s video storyline culminates with the singer preferring romance with a simple man of little means.  Yeah, right:

“They can beg and they can plead.  But they can’t see the light

  ’cause the boy with the cold hard cash is always Mister Right.”

One Moment in Time was an anthem and pop hit for Whitney Houston, an American singer who arguably possessed the greatest voice of the 20th century.  The song was written by Albert Hammond and John Bettis for the 1988 Olympics.  Told in first person, the song is about going after your dream, a common theme in America, one that requires courage and belief in oneself:

“I want one moment in time when I’m more than I thought I could be,

  when all of my dreams are a heartbeat away, and the answers are all up to me.”

Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) by Billie Joe Armstrong, lead singer of the alternative rock band Green Day in 1997, returns to an unadorned acoustic sound of guitar accompaniment and male vocal solo enhanced later with a small string orchestra to elevate the song’s message.  The song contrasted the usually loud metal band (American Idiot) and may have been written sarcastically, playing on the phrase ‘good riddance.’  Even so, the song expresses American life in phases, looking back one last time in fondness before moving on to the next stage.  To the rest of the world, the ability to move on in life is our most notable American characteristic:

“Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road,

  time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go.

  So make the best of this test, and don’t ask why.

  It’s not a question but a lesson learned in time.

  It’s something unpredictable but in the end is right.

  I hope you had the time of your life.”     

21st Century

Where is the Love?, by pop rap troupe Black Eyed Peas, presents a host of messages in rapidly rapped verses countered by a smoothly sung chorus repeatedly asking “Where is the love?”  The 2003 song was a collaboration written by group front man will.i.am along with apl.de.ap, Taboo, Justin Timberlake, Ron Fair, Printz Board, Michael Fratantuno, George Pajon, Fiona Davies M. Fratantuno and J. Curtis.  The song presents concerns and suspicions about American government from the FBI to the CIA, terrorist organizations including gangs and the KKK.  Subsequent verses call on parents to teach their children instead of letting them grow up on their own and even shames adults for letting kids watch movies with adult content.  It is a moralistic message, something for which America is well known:

“People killin’.  People dyin.’

  Children hurt, and you hear them cryin.’

  Can you practice what you preach?
  Would you turn the other cheek?

  Father, father, father, help us.

  Send some guidance from above

  ’cause people got me, got me questionin’

  ‘Where is the love?’”

Shake It Off is a fantastic recent smash pop song (and video) by Taylor Swift, recorded in 2014.  Swift wrote the lyrics with songwriters Max Martin and Shellback.  Thinking about herself as a celebrity and how she is often cast in the gossip tabloids, Swift’s lyrical comments indicates the need to carry a sense of humor when others speak unkindly, cruelly and even falsely about you.  It is an American ideal to maintain a sense of humor about oneself and not worry about what others think and say about us, individually and as a nation:

“I go on too many dates, but I can’t make ’em stay.

 At least that’s what people say, mmm, mmm.  That’s what people say, mmm, mmm.

 But I keep cruisin’, can’t stop, won’t stop moving.

 It’s like I got this music in my mind sayin’ it’s gonna be all right.

 ’Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play.

 And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate.

 Baby, I’m just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake.

 I shake it off.  Shake it off!”

Class of 2020’s pomp deflated by circumstances

Dear Class of 2020:

We who came before you, who donned the cap and gown for a long anticipated commencement as high school graduates, sincerely feel so sorry you may not share the time-honored rite of passage and official welcome into the adult world.  But we are living in the worst health times imagined.  Yet your generation is tech-savvy and used to logging on to the world and maybe not too keen anyway with posting photos and video of you and your class mates in graduation regalia smiling huddled together one last time.  Perhaps being more worldly than we were at 18, a graduation ceremony may be ‘old school’ or jejune.  We older graduates are sincerely saddened by the unfortunate and unexpected turn of events in world health that ruined your senior year.

Some of my generation posted on Facebook our high school senior portraits, the ones for the all-important school yearbook: a heavy faux leather tome of black-and-white snapshots, clubs and organization group shots, candids of students mugging the camera or engaged in studious work and stage performances, and the pages of individual portraits that in the future we would look back on and fondly reminisce.  By now we realize how very young we were, babes compared to our image in the mirror today. 

My suburban high school boasted around 600 graduates.  We waited during the humidity of late May in a four-hour ceremony at the former Texas Stadium as each of us walked across the stage to formally receive a diploma.  The graduation ceremony meant a lot to me because I had spent my entire school years in the same town and knew a fourth to half of the class pretty well.  Through the decades, I’ve attended class reunions marking 10, 20, 30 and next year 40 years.  Most of my classmates are grandparents now, many retired, some living far away and surprisingly never returning to congregate with our dwindling numbers come reunion time.  And some classmates are deceased.

When I look at pictures of myself way back then, the age you are now, I hardly recognize that young gal.  I had not become who and what I am today, though at 18 I thought I knew myself well.  I was a responsible teen, always working one place or another, my senior year writing as a reporter for the city newspaper along with features for the school paper and leading production of our school’s annual literary journal called Scribunt.  That last year of schooling, I took shorthand and the required government class, both hard courses for me.  I took a class in research techniques and the required English IV.  That year I also had quit band to join choir.  I already decided to go to college to study music (because I thought I knew everything about journalism).  Actually, journalism had become all engrossing my last year in high school.  What I remember about my senior year is a blur of activity and no sleep.  I was busy all the time: writing and rewriting by hand then typing long and involved feature stories while either staying late after school or at home writing into the wee hours of the morning in the still dark silence.  That’s quite an impressive memory actually and a solitary one.  

If there is one impression I’d like to leave with the Class of 2020, it is this: We do not know where life will take us, so enjoy the ride.  This strange and sudden time in history is shared with everyone on earth.  Your generation already is used to online studies and homework, so maybe having to stay home is not so grueling.  It’s just that the fun and camaraderie of the senior year has been taken away unexpectedly.  It’s as if you’re already a high school graduate, quietly online with little fanfare.  Your senior portraits may have been printed prior to beginning this final year of school.  Maybe the senior ring and graduation notices were ordered months ago, too.  Wear the ring, and mail the notices announcing the set date.  You still graduate, having been given the worst situation but proving resolve to follow through to completion.  Congratulations!   

Many of you may want to journey on with your education through college or other endeavors, some of you probably already taking college courses to save time and money.  Very impressive and something else of which to be proud.  College was very important to me, and I was determined to go.  What I did not know back then is how higher education would mold me into a more responsible adult but also change me into a different person, the type of individual I would become today.  My worldview was challenged.  At first, I didn’t like it.  A lot of my classmates didn’t either, being talked down to by professors, learning big new words every day, having to study all over again science and math and writing and literature and history.  Didn’t we know this stuff already?  The answer was NO.  We came into college knowing nothing or very little.  So, don’t let that bully you into quitting or from even attempting college if that is your dream.

One early morning in August 1981, I drove off to college and though unintended spent the entire decade in East Texas, then a few years later ended up returning to the region twice as a newspaper reporter.  The college experience challenged my beliefs, which were a mass of assumptions and prejudices gathered in childhood.  High school education was a primer for the intense, mind altering and unsettling studies, revelations and epiphanies that come with college research and trial-and-error learning.  The whole experience was maturing, young adult years spent on evolving empathy for other people and cultures, and also dealing with anger in religious teachings and societal intolerance that always lead to bigotry and discrimination.  At age 18, I thought I would always be the same person, think the same, believe the same.  But education is like a jackhammer rudely busting up cemented preconceptions.  Learning takes place when the student has changed.

The other thought I’d like to leave with the Class of 2020 is: This precarious time in which you find yourselves starting to really live is not the end of the world.  I came from a community of impressionable people who believed in the 1970s we were living in the End Times, the Last Days they were called.  This was before the sudden and mysterious HIV/AIDS epidemic that came and stayed and remained a headliner every day during the 1980s.  Why did we believe 1979 then 1980 then 1981 were the Last Days—beats me.  There were prophecies about the alignment of the planets in 1979 (which I would later learn is a cycle).  Among my people, there was a lot of satisfaction every time Middle Eastern nations like Israel and Egypt worked toward peace because we believed the Bible warns every time nations cry “Peace!  Peace!” there will be sudden destruction (as if we should give up on peace in the world).  There was a pop Christian suspicion during the 1970s over scan labels, printed in futuristic computer font of vertical lines and a long list of numbers.  The labels were placed on every grocery item and clothing price tag and then all manner of merchandise as cash registers were converted to computers (which read the unified printed scan codes).  There were preachers and televangelists citing the Bible for prophecies somehow meant just for the 20th century: references to the wounded beast (believed to be Pope John Paul II once he was shot), one-world government and currency (large businesses were pushing workers into direct deposit to save time and labor printing checks), the Mark of the Beast (once thought to be required Social Security number then the merchandise scan tags, now microchips required in pets and perhaps humans this century), and all the earthquakes in diverse places (earthquakes and enormous natural disasters have always occurred on the planet; we’re more aware of them because of fast-paced news).  When AIDS came along, the End Timers felt victorious and disgusted with the afflicted, ill and dying.  The rationale was nothing more than evil incarnate. 

Because I was young, I believed what I had been taught.  I clinged to it for I knew nothing else.  Living in the End Times made me feel special.  After a few years, however, especially during my all-important senior year, I thought it unfair that I had to be living in the End Times.  I had my whole life ahead but wouldn’t get to be 20, 30, 40.  God!  Older generations for hundreds and thousands of years got to have fun as young adults.  Why not me, I pondered.

When the student is ready, the teacher will come.  That is Buddhist wisdom.  Asian religions do not believe in a Big Bang theory or an End of Days.  They believe the cosmos is eternal, no beginning and no end.  And I didn’t start exploring world philosophies until after I graduated college. When you truly join the world of adults, you are free to determine your own beliefs and to think for yourself.  You’ll do a lot more thinking and questioning and a lot less talking and asserting.  Our beliefs change and evolve as well as our minds, worldview, direction, passions and essentially our entire life.

In conclusion, rest assured Class of 2020: You will live through this time.  Go forth and enjoy your young adult years!  Your senior year is more special by a pandemic that disrupted life on earth.  There are many viruses, some more deadly than others.  They come and go, but each virus must run its course.  If we humans are to survive, we have to learn about this latest one and figure out a way to prevent it or control its spread.

You also have been the generation of Americans who grew up with perpetual war.  Know now that war is not forever, that governments cannot maintain war financially and more importantly humans cannot maintain a state of war emotionally, psychologically, and yes spiritually.  Our nature as human beings is to love, to get along, to understand and respect our differences, and to live in peace.  The many generations who’ve come before you and me learned these lessons, too, and so will you.  Take your time in life.  Don’t stop learning, and always validate your information sources.  Listen first.  Think second.  Speak and debate third.  And throughout life’s journey, celebrate each moment … which indeed is a graduation from the past.

Our moment of quiet desperation, shared with just everyone else in the world

Listen.  We’re all afraid.  Not of the virus so much or even death but of financial ruin.  How are we supposed to pay the bills?  Millions have been laid off, hopefully most with a promise of returning to their jobs in the glorious aftermath—a month, now two, perhaps three, by midsummer …  The only people who are comfortable coasting through this universal economic disaster are the ones with guaranteed monthly income like retirees, the independently wealthy, and the top brass who have the gall to tell the American people to stay home, don’t go to work or school, work online if you can (while figuring a way to pay the bills).  See, they’d never tell us that last part because they are so far removed from the common man, they have no idea the fear of unpaid bills and loss of home, auto, food, furniture and a mountain of other obligations can drive some people to extreme counter reaction.

Listen.  What’s been asked of us—to live without income for a few months while bills mount; to risk homelessness; to break the economy—it’s just too much.  A real war would be preferable.  At least it comes with combat pay.  Two trillion dollars, an obscene amount, somehow will not be enough to tide over American families for more than one month.  Why can’t they understand that?  Many if not most of the American people would prefer to take their chances and keep working their ‘nonessential’ jobs if it means food on the table, money in the bank and a roof over their heads.  But we’re not allowed that option, because the new virus with no vaccine or cure is so contagious plus our nation of plenty lacks hospitals, medical equipment, beds and trained health professionals to care for the projected hundreds of thousands who soon will get deathly ill.

Listen.  Hear that?  Do you sense it?  Prayers! Voiced and silent, with and without tears.  In every language.  Every person around the world is praying simultaneously for divine intervention, a cure, a quick solution.  Americans are notoriously impatient.  But we’re resourceful, too, and will figure out various means to survive: moving, dropping expenses, begging, borrowing, whatever we gotta do.  Pride has no place in hard times. We’ll find our individual resilience and collective dogged determination to get through this crisis.  Overnight we have been forced to rely on one another, family, friends, neighbors, and our government local and state and federal. The government really has done all it can do to help us.  We have been aware of an insurmountable budget deficit for a long, long time.  We’ve needed to toughen up.  Stiff upper lip.  Come on, now. Crying time’s over.  Re-arrange, reshuffle, toss in the air.

Listen.  What’s the worst they can do?  Kick us out of our homes?  Courts are closed and backlogged for months.  Besides, the President has declared no evictions during this pandemic.  Will they cut off the electricity for lights, gas for heat, water for bathing and life itself, internet in order to work at home and for necessary communication?  Maybe but doubtful.  In the age of social media, cutting power and water from tens of millions of American families unable to pay the bills would be a corporate and municipal public relations disaster.  And if they do cut us off, let us reclaim the intestinal fortitude of our backwoods ancestry who built this country.  Portable toilets if we have to.  Bread, water and canned food if that’s all we can scrounge up.  Candles and matches and flashlights to see at night.  Tents and towels for shelter.  Live along rivers, lakes and creeks if need be.  When there’s a will, there’s a way.  Besides the hard times are supposed to be temporary, extremely temporary.  Sleep on it, sleep in shifts, and ask for help: Salvation Army, major churches, food pantries and all the other nonprofits providing sustenance and relief.  The TV ads proclaim “We’re all in this together.”  Let ’em prove it.      

Listen.

Breathe.  Feel.  Observe.  Hear.  Taste.  Touch.  Think.  Read.  Watch.  Work.  Rest.  Walk.

At this moment we’re alive, healthy and aware.  We’re in control more than we realize.  And listen, folks lose their homes every day.  Attachment comes with a price.  Embrace what really matters.

Listen.  This sudden empty time we’ve been given, it’s like a gift.  Isn’t that what we’ve wanted throughout our busy lives, week after week, year after year?  Time to watch children grow and learn and be part of the process.  Time to think.  Time to relax, sit outdoors and watch each day as nature blooms fresh with beauty, contently swaying gently in the breeze, happy just to be alive … again.  As we gaze upon nature, our thoughts turn inward.  Before the crash, were any of us really happy, rushing through the work week, feeling tired all the time, tense about money because there was never enough and now none?  Instead, we’re left with this priceless commodity, an unexpected intangible present because Someone somewhere thought we needed it now.  Soon enough, we’ll never have this gift again—time to change our lives for the better.

Birth of the 21st century starts by stay-at-home health mandate

Since we’re all mandated to home and communicating mostly by internet, we can easily see the future coming true this century as far as work, education, commerce, religion and major life events like weddings and funerals.  We are advised to keep to ourselves, wash our hands, leave our face alone and deal with this sudden turn of lifestyle and livelihoods.  And if we are the very lucky and not facing an occupational layoff, some of us are probably really liking telecommuting.  The freedom!  The cost savings in gas.  No more getting up early just to drive 20 or more miles in traffic to work in an office.  There are more positives than negatives.  In short, we are in the midst of a work and life revolution.  We knew it would happen this century.  So here we all are, thrust into a brave new world.

Novels like 1984, movies like 2001: A Space Odyssey and Sleeper and TV shows like Twilight Zone have filled our collective psyche with fantastic ideas about how human life could be in the future, namely the 21st century of which we have been living rather lackadaisically for 20 years.  One prognosticator foresees a great divide among the few wealthy and the masses of dire poverty with no more middle class; fundamentalist religions gain a stronghold as the masses will not pursue higher education which teaches the ability to think for oneself; and along with strict religion will be more authoritarian governments and the need to do away with free thinkers by executing teachers and writers.  Government and life worldwide will be dystopian.  And microchips will be the norm.  Cash and coins will have no place in a bank card society linked to a chip under the skin.  Sounds plausible, huh?  Iris scanning will replace biometric fingerprinting, and paper mills will go the way of the horse and buggy.

Here’s my take on predicting future life this century, even if I may not live long enough to see some of it come true:

Bidets replace the traditional American toilet: About time.  Toilet paper will go the way of film.  Though unintentional, Americans have revealed the need for an immediate conversion.  We’ll get used to it.  Those who use them already tell us we’ll prefer it.

The internet will be more like the public library: Everything online will be noted upfront as fiction or nonfiction prior to one reading or viewing.  No more messing with people’s minds, leaving people to ‘believe what they want to believe.’  Newspapers (certainly called something else soon enough) will be verifiable, substantiated fact-based journalism.  Opinions will be tagged as such.  No more mixing news with views.  Free speech will be tamed by the young generation or the next who tired of not knowing the truth.  The truth will prevail, though in nations whose leaders are not omnipotent.

Work at home online: We’ve been forced to get a taste of this, trying it out for a couple of months or longer.  When the virus blows over, perhaps most people will continue working from home.  Business owners already see how the old 20th century business model is impractical and unnecessary, and they’ll certainly want to continue reducing costs like office space, electricity, water/sewer, garage parking, taxes, etc.  New employees will train themselves if jobs are mostly online.  Factories will continue to pursue robotics, leaving more workers to figure out other ways to earn a living.  That $20,000 a year living payment proposed by Democratic Presidential candidate Andrew Yang is looking plausible now instead of unemployment benefits and for many eventually no money for months or years.

Online education: Students of all ages will learn online and at home or wherever they want like a park or coffee shop or group of friends.  They already are doing this, though constricted to home, and today’s elementary to high school and college students have been studying online for years even while in school.  Few teachers will be necessary, and only the most outstanding and charismatic with a natural gift to communicate with various age groups will succeed.  The days of classrooms, boredom, discipline issues, bullying, and school shootings will become a few chapters in the history of American education.

Goodbye brick & mortar buildings: Former malls, shopping centers, business buildings and skyscrapers will be converted to much-needed housing for low-income families to average earners and higher.  No more homeless. No more just and only building state-of-the-art condos for the well-to-do among us. In fact, realizing our communities nationwide need more hospitals, the buildings are ready to fill.

Home gardens and community farms:  Everyone will be encouraged to plant seeds to grow their own produce.  If they have land, they will be encouraged to grow larger crops.  More people will be vegetarians and turned off by the thought of eating meat.  That transition may be far into the 21st century when we’re all dead and gone.

Driverless cars:  Next year is projected for driverless trucks, the big rigs that haul heavy cargo and manufactured products stored in huge warehouses.  The auto industry has made clear their goals after electric cars, or during the ongoing conversion, will be self-driving automobiles perhaps as early as 2024.  That won’t make me no mind.  I prefer a computer-operated vehicle to an emotionally frazzled human driver any day, and I would bet on far less wrecks, injuries and deaths.  A computer can analyze dozens of situations simultaneously while our human brain operates at fullest capacity when performing one task at a time.

Home gyms: Exercising alone or in a virtual class will continue to be preferable, as we’ve already seen advertised during Christmas 2019, and gyms were first to be closed due to the coronavirus spread.

Personal safety cameras: Everyone will wear tiny cameras the size of jewelry, like cool fashionable ear clips and necklaces, that will keep them safe and digitally record danger such as assault, carjacking, robbery or murder.  Police will be able to digitally access the wearable cameras for clues to solve crimes.

Hologram computers, internet, keyboards: We’ve seen this advertised, so it’s here.  People like weightless, if not invisible, tech.

Bio chips for health records, credit, banking: Despite the biblical warning to beware the mark of the beast in your hand or forehead, the microchip is coming now.  We live in cities that require pets be chipped, a tiny metal or plastic bit just under the fur.  A computer wand reads the data.  At first, a change this controversial and creepy will be an option but within a generation or two will become the norm.  The wallet will go the way of the crapper.

Addiction cures: They’re already here.  You just need to ask about it.

Home healthcare replaces nursing facilities:  There isn’t a person who would prefer some way to care for our elderly incapacitated loved ones rather than place them in a nursing home.  Home healthcare will be a booming business with excellent wages and families in need subsidized by the government.  Nursing homes will be a thing of the past.  Future generations will not understand why Americans used to institutionalize their elderly and incapacitated loved ones.  For generations the issue has been severity of illness along with financial ability, which the latter will be resolved by the restructured government budget.

Robotic maids: This cannot happen soon enough.  They’ll be included with the sale of every home and other housing, even available for rental.

So, until the future comes and while we’re still stuck carrying on an old 20th century lifestyle, we can dream of possibilities.  Already we can order online anything (except toilet paper).  The internet has become our good friend.  We already rely on it, whether in the palm of our hands or carried around in a shoulder bag.  Humans easily adapt to change especially when we see the new method as beneficial, whether economical or not.  In the near future, the older generation of you and me will be suspicious at first—as is a natural human inclination.  But we can’t say we weren’t warned our entire lives.  Let us be gracious witnesses, eager participants remaining calm and optimistic during the changing of the guard.    

Bill Gates transcends earthly billionaire status to save an impoverished world

Wish that I were as intelligent as Bill Gates.  But like most humans, I do not share his acumen, the enviable and financially rewarding inclination toward mathematics, science, computer science and computer programming.  He reportedly reads 30 books a month.  He was a Harvard University drop out.  He was a teen-age geek.  And like all geniuses God blesses upon our planet from time to time, at a very young age Gates could see the future: Every home would have a computer, not a clunky metal box the size of a closet but something resembling a typewriter.  And lo his vision became our shared reality, by the 1980s and each year with tremendous improvements to today’s light-weight laptops and pads, not numbering one per home but several for each family member even little ones.  Foresightedness is a gift, and a highly intelligent human being knows exactly how and when to use it.

Today at age 64, Gates, the co-creator of Microsoft, is worth $96.3 billion. Throughout his lifetime, he’s often been listed as the richest man in the world.  But now he has fully separated himself from his tech biz to concentrate on far more important matters to billions of people living in poverty.  Bill and his wife, Melinda, formed an international nonprofit specifically to aid the plight of the poor in the world.  The Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation formed 20 years ago, according to the website, to “eradicate disease, poverty and hunger globally.”  The motto is: All Lives Have Equal Value, and the nonprofit’s premise: We are impatient optimists working to reduce inequality.

Americans don’t really see a lot of truly poor and destitute people especially children.  But the well-traveled Gates’ family has:  masses of humanity living in deplorable and inhumane conditions in Africa, India, Asia, South America and many other neglected places on the planet.  The Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation has spent billions of dollars to reduce infectious and chronic diseases in the world, most fates unknown to Americans and the fortunate First World inhabitants.  The couple is to be applauded, too, for seeking ways to improve America’s public schools.  Education is the key to a bright future individually and nationally, and no one realizes that more than Bill Gates.  His parents afforded him a good education, but they also understood his genius.  He was not like other kids.  He was way too smart, operating in the stratosphere, existing in another realm, so smart that he took to building electronics and computers in the family garage.  A genius like his was bound to get noticed and financial backing when the right idea came along.

As a young wealthy businessman, Gates came across as uncomfortable in the public.  He gave few interviews, seemed quiet, affable but studious.  He was driven, could be argumentative, and indeed had few friends who could match his level of super intelligence.  Perhaps he was so intent on making Microsoft a national name and international product, a worldwide necessity, because he was a bit lonely.  Genius is hard for us regular earthlings to understand.  We’re prone to be jealous: Why’s he so smart (instead of me)?

Even as one of the world’s wealthiest men, for years the wealthiest bachelor on the planet, Gates was not known to date much.  He married later than most but picked quite a mate.  Gates has said fatherhood taught him unexpected lessons, softened him when he wanted to teach his kids how to be fierce and shrewd in business and in life.  That was his formula for success.  But he learned to be human raising kids.  Business competition, nose to the grindstone, seriousness and watching who’s ahead of whom no longer mattered as much as it did during his young adult years.  Those heady traits and tools to success and money mean absolutely nothing to babies and little kids.  He learned a new perspective in life: What really matters is life itself.  The Gates’ children are now adults.  In recent years Bill and Melinda signed The Giving Pledge and have been joined by several of the world’s billionaires called upon by mega-billionaire Warren Buffet to leave more than half of their wealth to charity, even 99 percent of it.

Gates was always aware of his privilege.  He’s been a smart businessman, won and lost along the way, and now has completely severed himself from the company he founded.  No longer content to sit on the board, Gates is growing into another dimension of those who have lived the good life.  Not quite yet the elderly senior statesman, still with a lot of energy and vigor to work and accomplish monumental goals, he intends to be in the front lines of improving life on earth.  Portable toilets and vaccines readily available worldwide are just a couple of sanitary and disease-combating accomplishments Gates is ensuring all humanity has access.

So in our current state of coronavirus fear, the human masses, at least in America, have shown themselves to be the opposite of benevolent. Those who hoard toilet paper, sanitizer and food are not fooling anyone with the excuse of providing for their family.  There are countries in this world whose people do not use toilet paper or if they do use considerably less than Americans … for some reason.  Have we forgotten our own grandparents and great-grandparents didn’t use toilet paper either along with indoor toilets and all the mid-20th century sanitation we take for granted and can’t comprehend any other way when it comes to ‘doing what comes naturally?’  Shame on the hoarders, Americans who cannot deal with uncertainty.  They’d never make it in the Third World or the world of our not-so-distant ancestors.

In this digital Information Age, the very era Gates had a starring role, there exists the critical masses, the cynics, the non-fans, the ever-suspicious of the wealthy.  Someone like Bill Gates is far removed from his detractors, the majority of Americans who never will equate his financial success and revolutionary creations, his ideas that catapulted everyone on the planet ready or not into the digital age.  Gates is not like us regular people, easy to envy and anger and give up on presumed pipe dreams.  As certain as he was in the 1970s that everyone in the future would have a home computer, he knows that the misery of world poverty—the unsanitary living conditions, disease and starvation—can and will be solved.  Today Bill Gates has nothing but time on his hands coupled with 100 percent mental focus, not unlike the days of his youth when he was more like you and me yet destined for greatness, sparkling with imagination and innovation.

Since when did we let a little bug disrupt life on earth?

I’ve lived through a lot of scary health crises [AIDS & HIV, Ebola, and unpredictable flu strands not covered by the annual vaccine] … but nothing compares to the global mass hysteria over the coronavirus.  Constant mass media coverage has led millions of people to lose all reasonable perspective over this virus: canceling school, college and national conventions; two-week self quarantines; infected cruise ships docked at sea, guaranteeing the temporary illness to spread through recirculated air systems.  What is wrong with people, and I mean the people in charge?

Meanwhile, tens of thousands more Americans catch the flu, work with the flu, and yes some will die and have died from the flu—but the illness and deaths caused by the coronavirus is nowhere near the number hit by influenza.  According to statistics by the Center for Disease Control, this year’s flu deaths will be as many as 61,000 in the U.S. compared to coronavirus at 14 deaths so far.  Coronavirus deaths worldwide are at 3,460.  Let us take a moment to remind ourselves that the world is filled with billions and billions of people.  The number of coronavirus cases doubled one day in New York.  Still the U.S. has at this moment only 230 documented cases, mind you in a First World nation of some 325 million people.  The flu, on the other hand, infects 9 million to 45 million Americans every year.  Why?  Because we continue to go to work, church, grocery stores, movies, restaurants, parties and other gatherings throughout the two-week duration that produces lingering cough and mucus.  We usually won’t go out if we’re so nauseous we’re vomiting and/or have a fever.  Godspeed.

Symptoms of the flu and coronavirus are very similar and could just be a cold, which spreads like wildfire and yes can lead to bronchitis and pneumonia, walking pneumonia, and death for some, particularly the elderly and those with weakened immune systems.  Nothing new here.  But canceling life on the planet, remaining holed up in our apartments and homes till summer … wha?

Paranoid sickofrenic

Annual conventions are being canceled nationwide.  Routine flights are canceled to several parts of the world where coronavirus has been spreading.  No cancelations due to the flu.  While the media keeps an hourly tally on new coronavirus cases and related deaths in the U.S. and abroad, health officials have made clear there is no need to panic.  Then we find toilet paper and sanitizer along with face masks are in short supply in stores everywhere.  This is due to the virtual shutdown of China where the coronavirus was first detected and the government imposed brutal quarantine measures and halted manufacturing.  The world decided to follow suit in some aspects, at least with the knee-jerk emotional panic mode.

Repeatedly the public has been advised to wash, wash, wash our hands with soap and water while singing a short ditty like “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” in order to wash for 20 full seconds.  Americans have an inclination toward impatience.  We tend to rush through a lot of things.  Indeed we often are not very thorough especially with washing our hands or brushing our teeth.  So wash hands, use sanitizer, stop touching our faces, trash used tissues, and cough and sneeze into our arms instead of the air.  Seems rather Mickey Mouse, and by that I mean simple rules instilled in childhood to prevent the spread of cold or flu.

Most of the few who’ve contracted the coronavirus report mild symptoms, perhaps feeling better than with a bad cold or the real flu.  We’re told 80 percent who get coronavirus will have mild symptoms.  And this is problematic for those who want and need to work.  Our American motto is: Take over-the-counter meds and keep a-going.  But to really avoid spreading any contagious illness like a cold, flu and coronavirus, the best thing to do is avoid contact with people for awhile.  Rest is best.  It’s what the doctors say but not our bosses.  And people with coronavirus are supposed to stay home for two long weeks.  A vaccine for the coronavirus, a bug that will always be with us now, is a year away.

Amidst the business hysteria, the epic SXSW music festival in Austin was canceled, a $400 million loss.  California has declared a state of emergency.  New York has imposed school closures in areas where clusters of the coronavirus were detected.  All this in attempts to nip in the bud this single virus.

Maybe so, but Texas’ annual Kerrville Folk Festival is a go.  At the month-long Kerrville festival every May to June, thousands of folks from across the nation camp out beneath the stars, share outdoor toilets, strum guitars and open their mouths to sing songs.  Will it be a disastrous breeding ground for spreading coronavirus?  Remember, some people are simply carriers and will be asymptomatic, in other words unaware they have this bug.  But the Kerrville concert folks are likely trusting Mother Nature and the fresh air of the Texas Hill Country to prevent illness.  A folkie or a Kerrvert is made of tough stock, linking back to our American ancestors who worked with their hands before air conditioning made us soft and whiny.

Nation of weenies

My parents and their generation had almost every kind of childhood disease and lived to tell about it.  Their generation lived through polio.  My grandmother as a child caught yellow fever and lost all her hair.  Within a year, it grew back beautifully.  She also was bit by a brown recluse spider and lost a small hunk of flesh on her forearm.  Those were generations with grit, and their times were much more hazardous than ours, mostly due to modern medicine and vaccines. Yet the elders trusted natural remedies, one being to simply let the disease or illness run its course, and that oddly enough creates immunity.

For a nation that survived a couple of world wars, walked on the moon, and lived through every type of old and new disease including the gruesome Ebola virus lest we forget, how have we so easily panicked over a considerably mild virus and in so doing created a self-fulfilling prophecy of financial doom and gloom?  We’ve become a generation of helicopter parents, overprotecting children from any harm physical and emotional.  That control, in the guise of loving concern, may have backfired as the coronavirus continues to spread, not unlike any other bug.  I’d say more people who travel on cruise ships and airplanes suffer from a bout of gastritis than coronavirus.  But coronavirus is the cause celeb.  The only thing certain is there will be a new bug next year.  We have got to get a grip, practice good hygiene, and use our intelligence or as our foreparents called it ‘horse sense’ when it comes to a bug going ’round.  If we’re gonna live on this planet, we’re gonna get sick sometimes.  Going berserk over every new temporary flu-like illness has run its course.