pre November 2018
Featuring...
August 20, 2020
muse-letter \’myüz-‘le-tər noun
1: a personal message, inspired by a muse of one's own creation, addressed to a person or organization, in the course of which, the sender becomes absorbed in thought; especially turning something over in the mind meditatively and often inconclusively.
2: a letter from a poet, or one who envisions oneself as such, in which he or she “muses” on that which is perceived to be news, or newsworthy, usually in some ironic or absurd way.
pre November 2018
Remainder of the site under reconstruction
Matching Bookends of Monthly Quote(s)
“I would never judge a book by its cover.
The spines however, are a different story”
--- Grant Snider
“First a shout out to those books
with the most impressive spines.
Inserted signals announcing
to the world where we are
coming from.”
---Ron Vazzano
Getting Reacquainted With My Bookcase
published April 2020; purchased June 2020
At 75: A Recounting
Three years ago, it was all fun and games. How divisible my age was by so many different numbers. As in, “this is my 4th 18th birthday.” And then a tad catty, I’d checked to see what celebrities might be sharing this point in my shelf life. But now, it’s getting serious.
Somehow, “this is my 3rd 25th birthday” doesn’t hold the same sense of whimsy. And it still looks old. To paraphrase that classic Senator Edward Dirksen line again, “A decade here, a decade there, and pretty soon we’re talking about real age.”
I could go a couple of ways with this. Curl up into a fetal position muttering clichés about “where did the time go” and write, or rewrite, a poem about it. Or... glory in this particular breadth of time in which I've lived. One which, arguably, has contained the most dynamic and life-changing occurrences--- not all positive for sure--- in the history of humankind. I decided on both. Starting with the glorying, and ending with a sort of bittersweet lamentation at the conclusion of this MuseLetter, by way of an updated poem originally written 20 years ago. When I was just a kid of 55.
With list-making and delving into numbers being in my DNA, I decided to make one with 75 “items.” The equivalent of one per each year of my life (cute). The criteria for inclusion?
That which has shaped our view of the world, or of ourselves in some manner.
Be it politically, professionally, ergonomically, socially, or familial.
A mix that includes one-off events, the birth of movements and causes, inventions, discoveries, life-prolonging advances. Or even that which has greatly simplified everyday tasks.
We have been the beneficiaries of complicated systems developed by brilliant people. But also there are what I call, the "Duh Discoveries." A simple disposable ballpoint pen would have seemed a pretty radical implement during the renaissance. Even da Vinci would have been impressed. Though a couple of centuries later, John Hancock undoubtedly would have scoffed.
Chuckle if you will, but the ballpoint pen is going to make my list. Maybe because in my parochial grade school days, the nuns forbade its use. It was still relatively new on the scene, and the thinking was it would promote quick and sloppy penmanship. Only a fountain pen was allowed! And only blue-black ink!
Moving on...is the umbrella of "Technology" one item? I think not. Each breakthrough is separate and distinct in its own way. It was not inevitable that the PC would spawn the internet, video games, Google, shopping online, the cell phone, etc. Therefore each is listed separately. And as for the cell phone, it borders on the miraculous, becoming virtually an extension of our very being.
While much we've experienced has been for the good and enhanced our lives, we’ve had our share of tragedies. All eras do. Though it seems ours have been in a variety of ways unparalleled.
The bombing of the World Trade Center was something, literally, unimaginable. “Suicide hijackers” wasn’t even in our playbook. Unlike most worst case scenarios, this one actually came to pass.
Yet, hasn’t every generation, every era, every century, felt that they had their “miracles?” Or highly unlikely profound events? Or moving past their share of obsolescent buggy whips? That their time, was Miller time? It takes a bit of hubris (which I’ve already demonstrated I possess), to think our slot in the time continuum is any more special than any that proceeded.
What would it have been like to have been around during the completion of the First Transcontinental Railroad? The advent of the lightbulb? How about the arrival of the automobile? Or the first flight at Kitty Hawk in 1903? And wow, wasn’t that Civil War something!
Or if instead of 1945 when I was born, what might have been the buzz in the dyslexic year 1495? (“Hey, I just heard that Pope Alexander made his 18 year old son Cesare, a Cardinal.” Speaking of hubris. True.) Ah, but did they have ballpoint pens?
Some events are singular; never to happen again. You can only land on the moon for the first time once (and where were you when that happened?). Others might have occurred before, but never in such a manner. Say, the JFK assassination in a “modern age.” Which was caught on camera by just one man, and in all its gruesomeness.
Just a few more notes that guided this OCD-ish project, before finally getting to the precious list.
I was going to begin with the end of WWII. But that would be stretching it as I was born five days after V-J Day. And of course, while I wasn’t around for the invention of the airplane, annoyingly, one of the Wright brothers did die in my lifetime (1948). Which adds another perspective on just how long a 75-year period can be, and what it can contain. Actually, it was a pretty big deal at the time. But no, this will not make the cut.
Of course, in the early days of life, one is hardly aware of the magnanimity surrounding one. I was three years-old when TV came on the scene, driven by a new entertainment phenomenon Texaco Star Theater, starring “Mr. Television," Milton Berle. I don't remember its debut of course, but I do remember that 10-inch screen. We watched the show religiously each Tuesday night for years, as some adult toyed with a rabbit-ears antenna to clear the snowfall that might suddenly appear for no apparent reason.
The list to follow, runs roughly in chronological order. Though indicated years in many cases are estimated and reflect a period of early stages. There is often a considerable gap between the development of an idea and public accessibility. The TV, which was first successfully demonstrated in 1927, is clearly an example.
Google was used only for date verification, and not to jar the memory of any event itself. That would be cheating. If something was so impactful and dynamic, it ought to be top-of-mind. Or at least, come to the forefront upon a bit of consideration. And it should be basically self-explanatory (save perhaps, for my ballpoint pen obsession).
I invite anyone to add to, or scratch off, anything on it. No doubt I’ve missed some. Or purposefully have left some off. Such as things that are clever, but don't go much beyond. Wheels on luggage (1987)? Ingenious! So soon? Only 5,500 years after the wheel had been invented? A convenience for sure, but it hasn’t significantly altered anything except more carry-on luggage, increasing the fights for space in the overhead bin. If I added that, I would have had to include the electric toothbrush. No, it didn’t make the cut. Nor, on a final note, did anything involving Bill Clinton. Who has a lot of baggage. And most of it, without wheels. Here goes.
The Semisesquicentennial of 1945-2020
"Life Imitating Art," and Jaws on Its Own
On more than a few occasions by now, the coronavirus in the summer of 2020, has drawn analogies to that summer phenomenon of 1975, Jaws. The headline of a piece in the Wall St. Journal was most literal: “Coronavirus as a Sequel to ‘Jaws”
I remember that summer of ‘75 well. I had spent most of it in Hertford North Carolina, home of Yankee Hall-of-Fame pitcher, Catfish Hunter. The town’s population of 2,023 could almost have fit into a phone booth (remember phone booths?). What I was doing in so remote a place so far out of my comfort zone, is too long and boring a story to tell. It was no day at the beach. And then again, it was. Nags Head.
Summer was traditionally a down time for movie releases. But a whopping 67 million---over 30% of the American population back then, --- would have seen Jaws by that summer’s end. It is the first to have ever achieved the status of, what has since become a key element of the major studios' annual film release strategy, the "Summer Blockbuster."
At the peak of Jaws fever, admittedly, there was some consternation when we'd drive down to Nags Head Beach 50 miles away. Along the way, there might be some jocular, but wary, references to the possible danger of ocean swimming. That ubiquitous poster and TV spots firmly planted in mind. Being from The City, the only sharks that we'd ever known, were of the “loan” variety.
No, no one in our little group was eaten by a shark or ever drew a nibble. For this really was not a summer of real sharks. Just one reel shark. A big brut mechanical one. Which would one day come to look rather ridiculous when seen “in the flesh,” as I have on various trips to Universal Studios theme park.
They say that "life imitates art" (first attributed to Oscar Wilde). In this case, virus-denial imitating shark-denial. It’s so obvious a comparison, that an alternative version of that vivid poster would be especially apropos. Especially with the recent dramatic COVID-19 spikes we've seen in “beachy” places like Florida and California.
Welcome to this summer's blockbuster of…
In Jaws, fictional Mayor Larry Vaugh (played by Murry Hamilton, the previously humiliated Mr. Robinson in The Graduate), downplays the further threat of the shark, and the human destruction it has already caused in its wake.
In Jerks, many real-life mayors (not to mention of course, the president), have minimized the impact of the virus in a similar manner. Is there no end to the circus that America has become in trying to deal with this crisis? While we account for 24% of the world’s coronavirus deaths, we are only 4% of its population. And no one much mentions, nor seems taken aback or embarrassed by, that gross 6 to 1 ratio.
Mayor Vaughn’s callous dismissiveness in the face of economic and political considerations, brings to mind that of Governor Ron DeSantis of Florida. Who apparently sees seniors as expendable, and who, like Vaughn, wouldn’t even consider closing the beaches, while downplaying and greatly underestimating the potential extent of the virus.
There is another moment in Jaws, that is not about art imitating life, but in some coincidental time-shifting way, art overlapping with life.
Dressed all in black after attending her son’s funeral, a character named Mrs. Kintner, walks up to Police Chief Brody (played “broken-nosedly” well by Roy Scheider), lifts her veil and slaps him in the face. Then says: "You knew there was a shark out there, you knew it was dangerous, but you let people go swimming anyway. My boy is dead. I wanted you to know that."
It’s a powerful moment, played superbly by Lee Fierro. She was a resident, and adored acting teacher for over 40 years in Martha’s Vineyard (where the movie was shot). Ms. Fierro died this past April at age 91. Of? You guessed it. The coronavirus.
As to the merits of the movie itself? Or, art standing on its own? Beyond the initially surprising swim in an ocean of socio-political relevance and moral responsibility, Jaws retreats to the shore of what it was essentially born to be. A thriller. With a heavy dosage of high-seas adventure. The stuff of which B-movies are made. Save a moment, this time toward the end of the film, by the so-called “Indianapolis speech.” It's delivered by famed English Shakespearean actor Robert Shaw. It’s captivating. (Especially when you read that Shaw was so drunk the first time he uttered it, that it was unusable. He apologized and came back the next day, and nailed it in one take). His character, Quint, would soon be eaten by the shark. Which you could see it coming from a nautical mile away.
What then follows, are encounters between man and beast that defy logic and reality. So hyper and atypically aggressive is this shark (perhaps on crack cocaine?), in its repeated attacks at the boat carrying the three protagonists, (“We’re gonna’ need a bigger boat,” indeed), that it was fodder for many sketches on Saturday Night Live. And in the absence of the sophisticated technology that is now at the disposal of film makers, that mechanical shark now looks, well, mechanical.
Still, most rankings have Jaws well within the "Best 100 Films" ever made. How high on that list will vary greatly, depending on the source. Time Out had this to say, which I found to be interesting in that it was both in synch with, yet apart from, my own assessment: "...it took the popular movie thriller to another level, demonstrating that B-movie material could be executed with masterly skill."
As I'm concluding this piece, it was just announced that a woman in Maine was killed by a great white shark. It is the first such fatality in the history of the state. This following shark sightings at two Long Island beaches, which were promptly closed. Once again life imitating art. And once again, in a tragic manner.
BLUE EGG HAT CHAIR TRAIN
Those were the five words on the cognitive test I took almost three years ago (no joke), that I was asked to remember, and then repeat twenty minutes later. I was getting concerned about my short term memory, and thought it best to get it checked out.
The test was very hands on, and conducted by a PERSON. Not some high tech device. But WOMAN or MAN? I don’t recall. Nor whether the office took Medicare. And I had forgotten to recharge the battery on my iPhone, so I couldn’t use the CAMERA to take a picture of his or her name tag on the lab coat. In case, you know, for future reference. But I do remember, that that person was amazed! That 20 minutes later, I still remembered those five words they gave me to repeat. And in order! That person told me, that most people after that amount of time, would say something like Red… Chicken… Crown… Table… Bus.
I was so relieved, that when I got home, to unwind from the stress of the test, I thought I’d catch some of the Yankee game on TV. But forgot it was the middle of November. Or was it already December?
“That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;”
So wrote Shakespeare in Romeo and Juliette. But how could he have known that one day there would be a National Football League. And that a team within it, by another name which it assumed 87 years ago, could smell rotten. And not in the state of Denmark, but in Washington D.C. But finally, that team with that racist sobriquet, against its will, would be forced to change it.
Welcome to the Washington Football Team. A generic placeholder of a name, until ownership can decide what to really call themselves. Which is known Mr. Shakespeare, as punting. But at least at last, the odor of that rotten “R” word will be gone.
To the resisting owner of the WFT, Dan Snyder: Sir, this not about you. Native Americans have been formally protesting for at least the last fifty years, against their historical mistreatment. Adjacent to Plymouth Rock, it’s even stated in brass and embedded in stone..
Then twenty years ago, in another form of protest, the National Congress of American Indians (NCAI), went so far as to employ an advertising agency to create a campaign that would highlight how offensive and racist sports team images and mascots can be, utilizing hypothetical comparisons. The point being rather blunt and obvious, to which this ad will attest. Ouch.
Seven years ago, once again, the issue came to the forefront. Specifically addressing that Washington team. I "wise-assingly" chimed in at the time (NOVEMBER, 2013 MUSE-LETTER ) wondering…
… if I do invite the Washington Name Pending to the Thanksgiving table, I’ve got to invite all those other Native American associated teams as well, no? With their questionable names and/or logos and all? Take the Cleveland Indians’ red-faced Chief Wahoo. Please. And is being called Brave or Warrior, a compliment or a racially driven stereotype?
But Dan Snyder stood firm. In an interview, he said that renaming the team would only occur over his dead body. “We’ll never change the name. NEVER---you can use all caps.”
He’s still alive. So what changed? A better question might be, what didn’t?
Protests around the murder of George Floyd and Black Lives Matter… many flags, statues, mascots and symbols now looked upon by a majority of Americans as being racist or celebrating racist history… Roger Goodell the NFL Commissioner, recently making this startling and unprecedented public admission:
“We, the National Football League, admit we were wrong for not listening to NFL players earlier and encourraging all to speak out and peacefully protest,”
Apology. What a concept.
Then came the final straw---more like a 2 x 4--- that broke the camel’s back. Economics. It always comes down to money, doesn’t it.
FedEX warned that it would remove its name from the stadium where the Washington Placeholders play, if the team name isn’t changed. Thereby pulling out of a $205 million rights deal, that was to run for six more years. Nike followed by stopping sale of all current “R” word merchandise. And Pepsi, another sponsor, apparently had been urging a change as well.
In football parlance, this is called a blitz. One that Snyder had to scramble to avoid lest he be thrown for a big loss. And it would be game over.
So what to call them going forward? Almost equally important, what should they look like and what image should they convey? Branding and optics have always been critical in conveying who you are and what you stand for. That's why Moses, nearing something like 110 years old, is lugging that heavy tablet upon descending from Mt. Sinai ("Careful, Mo"), rather than texting. So, I’d like to throw my helmet in the ring.
How about, in the face of Washington gridlock and polarization, affiliating the team with both political parties in some way. Perhaps using a facsimile of their respective symbols in a logo, as a sign of unity. Suggesting in effect, that Congressional members on The Hill ---Republicans with their elephant and the Democrats and their donkey---are playing on the same team.
Yes, there was once a baseball team called Washington Senators, with a large “W” on their uniforms and caps. So generic. This would be specific and unmistakable. Though I recognize it's never been done in quite this way. Branding private companies on sports uniforms is one thing. That Nike "swoosh" is ever present on the field of every sport. But branding party politics on a sports team, even though bi-partisan? To my knowledge that has never been done. Yet a lot of doings these days, had never been done.
A work in progress, and perhaps keeping the original burgundy and gold team colors, a “re-welcome” to the…
Fierce competitors, yet now joining forces to beat the bad guys (especially the archrival Dallas Cowboys). And you could flip flop the party symbols for alternate games or on alternate years. You know that would come up as an issue on the floor of the House. It’s a thought. Not to mention, a pipe dream. Blame it on the pandemic. And I can veritably feel an art director friend from our ad agency days, cringing from 3,000 miles away. "Stick to your list making."
finito
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At 75: A Recounting
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Bookish Quote(s) of the Month
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"Life Imitating Art,"
and Jaws on Its Own
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BLUE EGG HAT CHAIR TRAIN
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“That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;”
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I Keep a Journal in Lieu of Keepsakes
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