School vacation trip with Ramon: Ramon and left the ladies behind and flew to SLC, Utah to visit family and ski, then took Amtrak over the Sierras in a snow storm to San Francisco for more family visits and kicking around one the great cities of the world (Mission nightlife, North Beach Italian restaurants, Alcatraz, cable cars) before flying back to N.H. with a stop-over in Las Vegas where we played the slots in the airport.

Learning that my Dad’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis was incorrect – After a year of sadly watching my dad fade from life, unable to converse, barely able to walk, and certainly not take care of himself, I was able to witness a small miracle and see him come back to walking with a cane, talking with his grandchildren and doing more for himself than he had for a long time. What his physicians thought was Alzheimer’s turned out to be Normal Pressure Hydrocephalus (NPH), a condition that can be alleviated through surgery.

The wedding of Carolyn and Nigel Lifsey – My niece Carolyn got married in a beautiful ceremony in Ashland, MA. and four generations of Grahams, Oakes, Lifseys, and others partied to the wee hours.

East coast family car trip – In August the four of us piled into the Saab wagon and headed for Philly, Gettysburg, D.C., Mount Vernon, Springfield, N.J. (All car trips in America should include a Springfield.) We connected with old friends and immersed ourselves in America’s history. We felt the earthquake in D.C., outran hurricane Irene on the way home through Vermont, and survived the slings and arrows of 10 days on the road with a 3yr old.

Playing in Redhouse – After years of playing solo and in small acoustic groupings, I finally got the rock band I always wanted. My friends Mark, Rocco, Jim, and I are rocking the small clubs around the Upper Valley of VT. and NH. getting people to dance and have fun.

Chameleon Anti-folk reunion in NYC – After about 20 years in the wilderness, several of the early members of New York City’s Anti-folk scene got together for a hoot at Sidewalk Cafe the modern home the genre.

Working with good people at Dartmouth Mathematics – The Math Department at Dartmouth College provides me with part-time employment as their Computer Systems Manager. The people there are smart and friendly and care about the world.

Being part of the love at 8 Market Street.

If Ron Paul’s ideas and positions were actually held up to the light in a serious way, he would quickly fade back into the corner of radical wackos from which he emerged. But for some reason it’s too difficult for the press to hold him accountable for economic and foreign policy positions that have  proved over and over by past experience to be utter failures (see: gold standard, isolationism).

So instead of trying to find a way to call Ron Paul a racist, which whether or not it’s true is almost impossible to prove and only serves to diminish the press, why not call him a former medical doctor who knows just enough about economics and international relations to make him sound smart around people who know nothing about those subjects.  That’s a fact that’s much easier to prove.

Update: My original impression of this issue was based on Paul’s claim that he didn’t write the newsletters that were thick with racial bigotry.  The following from SLATE contradicts his claim. Back in the ’90s Paul was happy to claim authorship of the newsletters.  So the guy probably is or was a racist.

I’m not wringing my hands over it though.  If the crazies want to support Ron Paul, let them.  Perhaps it will encourage the less crazy to take a harder look at the people they choose to support.  I believe that racial hatred is a current that runs strong throughout the Republican party.  I don’t think all or even most Republicans are racist but I think their leaders are cunning in their use of language so as to awaken the race-based fears of their constituents without being overtly racist.  It’s not necessarily a bad thing that this side of the GOP meets the light of day.

Kuleoland is a place under the United States where people only die of old age. There are no wars. People who are bad go to jail for ten years and attend classes that teach how to be good people. Everything is held together by the mystical power of peace.

–Ramon Graham ]]> http://www.blue-bottle.com/notes/?feed=rss2&p=445 0 http://www.blue-bottle.com/notes/?p=443 http://www.blue-bottle.com/notes/?p=443#comments Tue, 06 Dec 2011 02:01:52 +0000 handyman http://www.blue-bottle.com/notes/?p=443

Thank You Mary @ Chameleon NYC 1990

In the early days of Anti-Folk (some 25 years ago!) Lach and his band of misfit songwriters were bounced around the East Village from one storefront to another trying to express the impossible. Whatever memories the participants have of those days are most likely dead wrong, but some of the music that was written then has refused to die and demands to be heard again on Saturday December 10th at the Sidewalk Cafe when early Anti-folk denizens Ray Brown, James Graham, Dave Keener, Mark Humble, and Thank You Mary take the stage to both reminisce and share their latest creations.

Let’s look at this idea of “success.”

Suppose we divide the world into four camps: (1) the OWS protesters, (2) the titans of industry or the 1%, (3) the political class, or those in Washington entrusted with making policy and writing the laws that govern us, (4) the press, mainstream media, or the major television, radio, and print news outlets.

How might #4 define success?

Historically this camp has championed itself as the 4th estate. In the U.S. this fourth estate often sees itself as essential to the health our democracy by insuring an informed populace. My view of the press is fairly narrow because I don’t watch TV, and I only occasionally follow the radio news. I inform myself of the “news” mostly through the NY Times web site. I respect the NY Times and the journalists who gather the news for that site, and I would say that they are moderately successful at achieving “success” in informing the populace. Unfortunately, and perhaps unforgivably, they were utter failures at informing the populace on one of the major issues that has shaped our society for the past 10 years: the invasion of Iraq.

As for the rest of the main stream media, especially the more popular TV news outlets, the idea that they are contributing to the health of our democracy can only be seen as a joke. At best these outlets bombard us daily with policy arguments and polemics without any in-depth analysis. At their worst they serve as a mouthpiece for Corporations that want us to by their products. Watch 20 minutes of any morning news program and ask yourself seriously how it contributes to the health of our democracy.

How might #3 define success?

The U.S. Constitution clearly outlines what the political class should consider success. I would say, that in my lifetime (the last 50 years), the U.S. government has done OK at the task laid out for it. It’s provided for the common defense, insured domestic tranquility, more or less promoted the general welfare, and maintained the union. Justice has not been a complete failure but the success of its establishment can certainly be questioned. As for securing the blessings of liberty to ourselves, and especially our posterity, I’m afraid they are failing–largely due to the corrupt influence of the corporate lobby.

More recently, however, the political class has really proven itself inept at promoting the general welfare and maintaining the union. The dangerous games of brinkmanship that are being played by threatening to shut down the government, the funding of foreign wars through “supplemental” adjustments to the budget, and the failure to collect revenues to offset agreed upon spending have all contributed to a decline of the peoples’ trust in the government’s legitimacy.

How might #2 define success?

Certainly the 1% defines success as gaining wealth and power, and they have done this well. I think it’s fair, however, to lay some responsibility at their doorstep. In the past 30 years they have steadily shipped our manufacturing base overseas, they have failed to adjust to climate change, and they have brought our financial system to its knees, all while continuing to reward themselves and their immediate underlings with more and more wealth in the form of higher wages and bouses. Basically, their success has meant failure for American society.

So how DOES #1 define success?

The Occupy Wall Street movement has already been a success in my mind. It’s forced all of the other three to take notice of its existence. It’s spurred a dialog and it’s given voice to the frustrations of many of us who want to play by the rules and hope to provide a viable now and future for ourselves and our children. The very fact that there are so many disparate voices involved in the movement is evidence of its success.

Economic justice and a political system free of corruption is what I believe the protesters are demanding. Economic justice and honest government cannot be defined in a list of demands. They are both goals–always elusive yet something for which we should always be striving. Well-regulated capitalism with a strong social safety net has arguably provided the best road map towards economic justice. But that system has been steadfastly under attack for the last thirty years and the results of that assault have given rise to the current inequalities and resulting frustrations. Campaign finance reform was an attempt to step away from the corrupting influence of corporate money in our political system but that effort was served a serious blow by the Supreme Court in its decision in favor of Citizens United against the Federal Elections Commission.

The ruling class would love for the OWS movement to come up with a list of demands because then they would have something concrete to which they could bring all the weight of their power to destroy. I hope the General Assembly of the Occupy (your town) remains general and doesn’t get trapped in a web of specifics.

[Photographs courtesy of Jon Pack and WEBN-TV]

My siblings and I did what we could to offer support but overall things weren’t going well. Fortunately, my brother Peter was able to take the time to go with my parents to one of my dad’s neurology appointments to get a firsthand account from the doctor. We had suspicions about the neurologist. My mother had started complaining about him, and my brother and I needed to find out whether there was really something lacking with this guy or if maybe mom was displacing her unhappiness with the reality of an Alzheimer’s diagnosis.

Our suspicions turned out to be sound. The neurologist hadn’t attended well to my dad’s medical history and had failed to order the proper diagnostic tests to determine what was happening to my dad’s brain. It seemed this guy was coasting on the artifice of his vaunted position while failing to keep up with the changes in his profession. There’s cowardice in not letting go of an occupation you’re no longer qualified for. In the case of a physician, it’s a cowardice that becomes harmful. If you have confidence in your intuition, you can usually spot these bad actors in life and avoid them. After one meeting my brother was convinced that the neurologist who was charged with my dad’s care shouldn’t have been. Another neurologist was consulted, an MRI was ordered, and a new and somewhat hopeful diagnosis of Normal Pressure Hydrocephalus (NPH) was determined.

Within a few short months of having a very dark vision of my dad’s future, today I saw that he’s been given a second lease on life. Now he can walk with a cane, carry on a conversation, and use the bathroom when he needs to. He doesn’t have much for a short term memory, but he can enjoy the moments as they unfold and those who love him can share those moments with him in a meaningful way.

Today I also paid a visit my old hometown of Monson Massachusetts, a pretty little New England town that two weeks ago was devastated by a tornado. I started to get a glimpse of the damage as I approached the town. I saw the top of a hill completely defoliated with twisted and barren tree trunks reaching towards the sky. And then another vista showed a swath of destroyed forest as if the Jolly Green Giant had set off across the countryside pushing a lawnmower.

I had seen pictures of the destruction but they only partly prepared me for the otherworldly scene that appeared in front of me. It was like nothing I had ever seen, and I almost decided not to go on into town, where I knew the damage was worse. Maybe I had seen enough. But I went on and drove through the neighborhoods that I remembered as a kid. I saw the flattened houses, the piles of wreckage with personal items dripping out the sides, the blue tarps covering holes in the roofs of the lucky ones. I saw a town center treeless and destroyed. The shaded avenues where I used to ride my bike to Little League were stark naked to the hot June sun. Along one stretch of road, not a single house stood so that I could not even conjure up its former state in my mind’s eye. The place wasn’t the same and never would be.

And yet, I was not so moved as I had feared—certainly not so much as when, immediately after the tornado had struck, I felt heartsick watching YouTube videos and browsing Facebook photos of the damage. Today was Sunday. Townsfolk were out working in their gardens if they still had them, continuing the cleanup of their property or, I imagined, off somewhere taking a Father’s Day break from all the work they had been doing as they tried to get their lives back on track.

I felt a bit voyeuristic driving around and surveying the damage along with what appeared to be other day-trippers. But it struck me that my feelings and my curiosity were insignificant measured against the scale of what had happened. The overwhelming reality was that a force of nature larger than anything we could make or do for ourselves had asserted itself. No different from the miracle of a rose blossom that unfolds itself to the sun, a tornado had passed over the land and sent a few thousand humans scurrying.

Earlier in the day, back at my parent’s condo, I sat with my dad on a front porch looking out to the blue sky that hung over the treetops lining a busy commercial strip about a quarter mile down a gentle slope. A breeze made it just cool enough that I missed wearing a sweatshirt. Neither of us had much to say. Perhaps the burden of old hurts and misunderstandings played a role in the silence, but I knew we were both glad to be there together, and we welcomed the happy distraction of my two-year old daughter Celia. She ran back and forth and collected stones that were warmed by the sun and put them into our cool hands.

As I started on the long drive back home I was reminded that life is simply a series of moments strung together. What we do with each one is what makes us who we are. Our past actions inform our present but the yesterday that tries to assert itself through the fog of memory is usually nothing more than a soiled photo under a pile of wreckage. You may go digging but you’ll always have to confront the power of the present moment and what you do with it.

(Thanks to Mark Johnson for the photos.)

You may choose
To not study war
Until it finds you

And the tea you offer
Is thrown back into your face

But in your awareness
You move
Ever so slightly to the left

And the tea
(Cooling as it passes) splashes

Onto the hands of the soldier at your back
Who thus awakens
And drops the gun

I think it best to be a fruit
a life of giving to those it suits
an apple would be a reasonable choice
in the spring my hopeful blossoms
might turn a farmer’s day to awesome
and give a sensitive poet voice

and when my drupe is round and ripe
(the semi-sweet tart and juicy type)
I’d do my best to lower my bough
and keep life’s pleasures within reach
to those awake to life’s beseech
enjoy! it’s here, it’s good, it’s now.

and when winter’s icy cold
finds my branches knarled and old
as a crystal blanket hides my boots
know a faint but beating heart
waits ready for another start
from within my warm and tender roots ]]> http://www.blue-bottle.com/notes/?feed=rss2&p=370 0 http://www.blue-bottle.com/notes/?p=363 http://www.blue-bottle.com/notes/?p=363#comments Tue, 12 Oct 2010 13:55:13 +0000 handyman http://www.blue-bottle.com/notes/?p=363