The mom of a friend of mine is marching in Washington today. I am proud of her, and her colleagues there and throughout the nation.
Peaceful protest is a pure American right, embedded in the First Amendment to the Constitution -- the right to assembly and petition. (The 18th-century phrase was "peaceably assemble and petition the Government for a redress of grievances.") Bless them in their bus loads, with their signs and banners. Bless them outside my state Capitol in Hartford, and throughout our country. Most of all, bless them for for their message that women's rights are real and serious.
One day after Donald Trump's inauguration as the nation's 45th President, I am curious to see how this most thin-skinned of leaders reacts to the undeniable (real, not"fake" news) fact that his statements and behavior have prompted a mass protest.
Will he take to Twitter (a phrase he has made popular)? Will he denounce the participants as un-American -- or just bitter, sore losers? Will he blame the media for covering this story? Will he seek to minimize the importance of this, spinning his own version of reality?
It is too much to hope, too much to ask for, that the brand new President -- who put his hand on two Bibles one day ago, who attended a prayer service in the soaring and inspiring National Cathedral this morning, even as protesters arrived -- would pause to reflect? Maybe even to ask, "What can I do to heal some of America's wounds? To make us more united?"
He doesn't even need to tell us about it. Just act like he understands that there are people -- women and men, children, too -- who are frightened about what his Presidency means for our nation and our values. He needn't agree, just listen.
In time, that would show that America already is great.
POST SCRIPT (one day later): I got my answer. Sarcasm, snarkiness, dismissiveness and (of course) inaccuracies in claiming that the marchers (or the vast majority of them, anyway) didn't vote.
Saturday, January 21, 2017
Monday, January 9, 2017
Liar, liar, pants on ... hey, does someone smell smoke?
Most of us learn, at an early age, what a lie is. We get called out and punished for telling lies. It's not a difficult philosophical concept.
We have even invented words and phrases to provide shadings around this stark word: "fib" (a small untruth, said knowingly but without intent to harm); "white lie" (a variant of "fib," perhaps said precisely to prevent hurt, as a response to the sexist and proverbial, "Does this dress make me look fat?").
But, on the big things -- Truth and Lies. It's a binary thing. We have nice, one-syllable words for them.
So, when the President-elect (soon to be the Chief we Hail) says something that:
(a) he knows is not the truth
(b) with intent to change reality
(c) and blame someone else
... what should we call that?
I am amazed that there is actually a debate about this.
The editor of The Wall Street Journal, an incredibly credible newspaper, says he prefers not to cast Trump's lies as, well, that word:
The editor, Gerard Baker, goes on to help us parse the fine journalistic and philosophical distinctions he and is staff struggle with here:
As in, when the President-elect is captured on camera saying something, then declaring he never said it.
As in, here.
Or, to be bipartisan, when President Clinton said, "I never had sexual relations with that woman, Ms. Lewinsky," when ... you know, stained blue dress and all. That was a lie. A horrible lie.
I am amazed at the lengths to which some will go to give Trump "a pass," "one more chance," "the benefit of the doubt."
He is soon to be our president. He was elected, according to our current system of selecting our top leader. If he feels like telling "whoppers of the first order," he has a large staff to fact-check before he opens his mouth or launches his Twitter account.
But if he "misspeaks" without checking the veracity of his facts -- or, better yet, is saying he did not do or say things that are on the record -- I think we know what to call that.
Trump is a liar, and he is getting away with it.
- "I didn't take my sister's dessert" (when I did) is a lie.
- "It will be sunny tomorrow" (when it is unexpectedly cloudy) is not.
We have even invented words and phrases to provide shadings around this stark word: "fib" (a small untruth, said knowingly but without intent to harm); "white lie" (a variant of "fib," perhaps said precisely to prevent hurt, as a response to the sexist and proverbial, "Does this dress make me look fat?").
But, on the big things -- Truth and Lies. It's a binary thing. We have nice, one-syllable words for them.
So, when the President-elect (soon to be the Chief we Hail) says something that:
(a) he knows is not the truth
(b) with intent to change reality
(c) and blame someone else
... what should we call that?
I am amazed that there is actually a debate about this.
The editor of The Wall Street Journal, an incredibly credible newspaper, says he prefers not to cast Trump's lies as, well, that word:
“I’d be careful about using the word ‘lie.’ ‘Lie’ implies much more than just saying something that’s false. It implies a deliberate intent to mislead.”Well, yeah. That kind of the point.
The editor, Gerard Baker, goes on to help us parse the fine journalistic and philosophical distinctions he and is staff struggle with here:
"To accuse someone of lying is to impute a willful, deliberate attempt to deceive. It says he knowingly used a misrepresentation of the facts to mislead for his own purposes."Then:
"Now, I may believe that many of the things Mr. Trump has said in the past year are whoppers of the first order."And, because he is a powerful man running for (arguably) the most powerful post in the entire world, we need to be dainty about whether to call these first-order whoppers -- which any intelligent person could disprove -- what they are: lies?
As in, when the President-elect is captured on camera saying something, then declaring he never said it.
As in, here.
Or, to be bipartisan, when President Clinton said, "I never had sexual relations with that woman, Ms. Lewinsky," when ... you know, stained blue dress and all. That was a lie. A horrible lie.
I am amazed at the lengths to which some will go to give Trump "a pass," "one more chance," "the benefit of the doubt."
He is soon to be our president. He was elected, according to our current system of selecting our top leader. If he feels like telling "whoppers of the first order," he has a large staff to fact-check before he opens his mouth or launches his Twitter account.
But if he "misspeaks" without checking the veracity of his facts -- or, better yet, is saying he did not do or say things that are on the record -- I think we know what to call that.
Trump is a liar, and he is getting away with it.
Wednesday, January 4, 2017
"K" is for Kind
"I often worry the world is an unkind place for my child."
Survey says: 70% of parents and 86% of teachers often worry about this.
That's the result of a survey done by Sesame Workshop. I am not sure whether this falls under the category of "shocking" or "no-brainer." (I read this in USA Today while in the airport, and I'm reminded of the famous survey headline decades ago in that paper: "Men, women: We're still different.")
After the appalling presidential campaign of 2016, in which voters in key states (note: not "the majority of voters") decided it was perfectly acceptable -- laudable, in fact -- to elect a president who said some absolutely unkind things, is it any wonder that we worry about raising our children in a world that lacks basic kindness?
To quote from the Workshop:
I'm not saying that all disagreement is bad, and I'm not unaware that the history of political discourse is replete with examples of boorish (or worse) behavior and expression. And, yes, when it comes to setting a poor example for our next generations, you simply cannot excuse the Commander in Chief lying about engaging in sex with an intern.
But it's not too outlandish to wonder whether we've crossed some new threshold here when it comes to modeling acceptable speech and action. Teachers I have spoken with say they've noticed an increase in student behavior that once would have provokes outrage. Now, it simply inspires chagrin.
Survey says: 70% of parents and 86% of teachers often worry about this.
That's the result of a survey done by Sesame Workshop. I am not sure whether this falls under the category of "shocking" or "no-brainer." (I read this in USA Today while in the airport, and I'm reminded of the famous survey headline decades ago in that paper: "Men, women: We're still different.")
After the appalling presidential campaign of 2016, in which voters in key states (note: not "the majority of voters") decided it was perfectly acceptable -- laudable, in fact -- to elect a president who said some absolutely unkind things, is it any wonder that we worry about raising our children in a world that lacks basic kindness?
To quote from the Workshop:
We chose to shine the spotlight on kindness because we have noticed an increasing number of news stories on anger, fear, bullying, and violence, as well as an overall sense of negativity permeating social discourse. We read research indicating that narcissism is on the rise, empathy is on the decline ...Anyone who's surprised, please raise your hands.
I'm not saying that all disagreement is bad, and I'm not unaware that the history of political discourse is replete with examples of boorish (or worse) behavior and expression. And, yes, when it comes to setting a poor example for our next generations, you simply cannot excuse the Commander in Chief lying about engaging in sex with an intern.
But it's not too outlandish to wonder whether we've crossed some new threshold here when it comes to modeling acceptable speech and action. Teachers I have spoken with say they've noticed an increase in student behavior that once would have provokes outrage. Now, it simply inspires chagrin.
Tuesday, January 3, 2017
Is healthcare a right?
That's the question the editor of Modern Healthcare poses in this editorial.
It's a key point as the GOP Congress, which takes office today, has vowed to undo the Affordable Care Act, aka Obamacare, as Act 1.
The editorial does a good job of tracking the modern history of government actions regarding the health of its citizens, starting with FDR's 1945 State of the Union speech, in which he outlined a "bill of rights for Americans" in the post World War II nation.
There followed Medicare and Medicaid in the mid-'60s (healthcare is a right for the poor and elderly), EMTALA in 1986 (emergency care and childbirth at hospitals that receive federal funds are rights) and CHIP in 1997 (healthcare coverage is a right for children).
Can you find these rights in the Constitution or the Bill of Rights? Not exactly. (There is that pesky and well-crafted line in the Declaration of Independence about "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" but that's fairly nebulous, and not a governing document).
Is healthcare a privilege? A business? A duty of the government on behalf of its populace, or a benefit for those who can afford it? The fundamental question, really, is: What sort of nation does America aspire to be?
With healthcare spending at $3.2 trillion in 2015, and set to account for 20 cents of every dollar of GDP, it's just plain silly to argue that it's not a major undertaking of our government. So, does government care whether its citizens are sick or well? Does it have a vested interest in ensuring people stay healthy -- and get better? That research and wellness programs make America's quality of life enviable? I sure hope so.
In any advanced society, healthcare is a right. If America aspires to greatness (or, as many seem to seek, greatness again), we need to realize that.
It's a key point as the GOP Congress, which takes office today, has vowed to undo the Affordable Care Act, aka Obamacare, as Act 1.
The editorial does a good job of tracking the modern history of government actions regarding the health of its citizens, starting with FDR's 1945 State of the Union speech, in which he outlined a "bill of rights for Americans" in the post World War II nation.
There followed Medicare and Medicaid in the mid-'60s (healthcare is a right for the poor and elderly), EMTALA in 1986 (emergency care and childbirth at hospitals that receive federal funds are rights) and CHIP in 1997 (healthcare coverage is a right for children).
Can you find these rights in the Constitution or the Bill of Rights? Not exactly. (There is that pesky and well-crafted line in the Declaration of Independence about "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" but that's fairly nebulous, and not a governing document).
Is healthcare a privilege? A business? A duty of the government on behalf of its populace, or a benefit for those who can afford it? The fundamental question, really, is: What sort of nation does America aspire to be?
With healthcare spending at $3.2 trillion in 2015, and set to account for 20 cents of every dollar of GDP, it's just plain silly to argue that it's not a major undertaking of our government. So, does government care whether its citizens are sick or well? Does it have a vested interest in ensuring people stay healthy -- and get better? That research and wellness programs make America's quality of life enviable? I sure hope so.
In any advanced society, healthcare is a right. If America aspires to greatness (or, as many seem to seek, greatness again), we need to realize that.
Monday, January 2, 2017
Born to read
I've never been a huge Bruce Springsteen fan. I've always enjoyed his music, and bought or listened to almost all of it -- first in vinyl, then CDs, then MP3s and now on Spotify. Even created a playlist or two. But I've only been to one of The Boss's concerts, and even that was as part of a charity fund-raiser.
Yet, for some reason, I really wanted to read "Born to Run," his autobiography. I asked for it as a Christmas present and Santa (my wife) wrapped it and presented it under the tree.
I am very much enjoying a few days of vacation now and just started reading it.
"You know," I remarked to said Santa after reading all of nine pages, "this guy can really write."
She gave me a look that said, "Ya think?"
Right.
I'm sure there will be many moments like this through 508 pages, but this riff at the end of Chapter One had me cheer and read it out loud:
And let the people respond: Amen!
Yet, for some reason, I really wanted to read "Born to Run," his autobiography. I asked for it as a Christmas present and Santa (my wife) wrapped it and presented it under the tree.
I am very much enjoying a few days of vacation now and just started reading it.
"You know," I remarked to said Santa after reading all of nine pages, "this guy can really write."
She gave me a look that said, "Ya think?"
Right.
I'm sure there will be many moments like this through 508 pages, but this riff at the end of Chapter One had me cheer and read it out loud:
Here we live in the shadow of the steeple, where the holy rubber meets the road, all crookedly blessed in God's mercy, in the heart-stopping, pants-dropping, race-riot-creating, oddball-hating, soul-shaking, love-and-far-making, heartbreaking town of Freehold, New Jersey.
Let the service begin.
And let the people respond: Amen!
Sunday, January 1, 2017
As 2017 dawns, a glimpse of journalism's future
Happy 2017!
I am not sure where the world is heading, but I think I am right now experiencing a glimpse into the future of journalism. And, let's face it, solid journalism is as important as ever.
I came across The New York Times' interactive year-in-review section.
The headline is, "The Year in Visual Stories and Graphics." It does not do justice to the work they have created and assembled here.
There is a "curated walk through the hallways of the newest Smithsonian museum," cellphone videos from a road trip in Syria, and the one that caught my eye on a not-too-groggy New Year's Day morning: "25 Songs that Tell Us Where Music is Going."
This is a fine example of how smart journalists can -- indeed, must -- integrate research, writing, visuals and audio in an attractive, intuitive package. It defines the overused expression, "immersive experience.
Like every newspaper, the venerable NYTimes has its challenges: declining circulation of what's now affectionately called the "legacy" (print) product, slagging advertising revenue and a fickle digital subscribership.
They're working hard at audience development, a term some call "stickiness" -- a strategy that goes well beyond "chasing clicks."
It can't be easy, pulling together all this content (still a somewhat dirty word for traditional journalists) and creating an experience that is greater than the sum of its parts. For example, this piece on 25 songs caused me to rediscover Wilco after years. Then head back to the article to discover more. I'm still listening now.
That's all the content that's fit to share. Bravo, Times -- and happy New Year, old gray lady. I love your colorful dress.
I am not sure where the world is heading, but I think I am right now experiencing a glimpse into the future of journalism. And, let's face it, solid journalism is as important as ever.
I came across The New York Times' interactive year-in-review section.
The headline is, "The Year in Visual Stories and Graphics." It does not do justice to the work they have created and assembled here.
There is a "curated walk through the hallways of the newest Smithsonian museum," cellphone videos from a road trip in Syria, and the one that caught my eye on a not-too-groggy New Year's Day morning: "25 Songs that Tell Us Where Music is Going."
This is a fine example of how smart journalists can -- indeed, must -- integrate research, writing, visuals and audio in an attractive, intuitive package. It defines the overused expression, "immersive experience.
Like every newspaper, the venerable NYTimes has its challenges: declining circulation of what's now affectionately called the "legacy" (print) product, slagging advertising revenue and a fickle digital subscribership.
They're working hard at audience development, a term some call "stickiness" -- a strategy that goes well beyond "chasing clicks."
It can't be easy, pulling together all this content (still a somewhat dirty word for traditional journalists) and creating an experience that is greater than the sum of its parts. For example, this piece on 25 songs caused me to rediscover Wilco after years. Then head back to the article to discover more. I'm still listening now.
That's all the content that's fit to share. Bravo, Times -- and happy New Year, old gray lady. I love your colorful dress.
Saturday, December 31, 2016
Trouble never comes alone (Беда́ никогда́ не прихо́дит одна́)
For a long time, I thought it would be fun to learn Russian. It had some of the cool linguistic and social features I (thought I) liked: slightly unusual alphabet, interesting pronunciations, great literature, crazy history.
I never did get past buying a Russian-for-travelers paperback at a used bookstore. Why bother? The Cold War was over, the U.S.'s interests had turned to other evil empires -- and one, ISIS, that was especially scary because it is an idea and not a place. Better to learn Chinese, or Arabic.
I am wondering now if it's time to brush up on the Cyrillic alphabet. A new Cold War may be on the horizon.
U.S. intelligence agencies say Russian-backed cyberattacks interfered with our nation's tumultous presidential election. President Obama imposed a series of sanctions that, essentially, said Russian diplomats at two U.S. embassies were really no more than spies. President-Elect Trump sais we should just "get on with our lives," and called the Russian leader "very smart." Trump pledges to be more sympathetic to turning Russia from adversary to ally -- a pronouncement that has raised the eyebrows of even some Republicans and (wow) The Wall Street Journal (after an obligatory bashing of the current administration).
Is it time for a reprise of John LeCarre's character George Smiley?
If I ever do learn Russian (very doubtful), part of the joy will be learning some Russian expressions -- they are rich and wonderfully playful. With the looming presidency of Donald Trump in this dangerous world, I wonder if we will live through another Cold War. I wonder if we will survive it.
One of those great Russian expressions, sometimes loosely translated as "When it rains, it pours": Беда́ никогда́ не прихо́дит одна́.
Literally: Trouble never comes alone.
I never did get past buying a Russian-for-travelers paperback at a used bookstore. Why bother? The Cold War was over, the U.S.'s interests had turned to other evil empires -- and one, ISIS, that was especially scary because it is an idea and not a place. Better to learn Chinese, or Arabic.
I am wondering now if it's time to brush up on the Cyrillic alphabet. A new Cold War may be on the horizon.
U.S. intelligence agencies say Russian-backed cyberattacks interfered with our nation's tumultous presidential election. President Obama imposed a series of sanctions that, essentially, said Russian diplomats at two U.S. embassies were really no more than spies. President-Elect Trump sais we should just "get on with our lives," and called the Russian leader "very smart." Trump pledges to be more sympathetic to turning Russia from adversary to ally -- a pronouncement that has raised the eyebrows of even some Republicans and (wow) The Wall Street Journal (after an obligatory bashing of the current administration).
Is it time for a reprise of John LeCarre's character George Smiley?
If I ever do learn Russian (very doubtful), part of the joy will be learning some Russian expressions -- they are rich and wonderfully playful. With the looming presidency of Donald Trump in this dangerous world, I wonder if we will live through another Cold War. I wonder if we will survive it.
One of those great Russian expressions, sometimes loosely translated as "When it rains, it pours": Беда́ никогда́ не прихо́дит одна́.
Literally: Trouble never comes alone.
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