Tag: Musings

LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Noticing the first few lawn signs for a particular presidential hopeful the other day demanded a second look.

Yes, they were brand new. Sparkling. So who was endorsing him?

Nobody, apparently. Only his staff.

Years ago I learned to pay attention to just where the roadside signs were being planted. If they’re popping up on people’s lawns, you can assume some support for the candidate. But placed on public right of way or at intersections or uninhabited stretches of roadway, it’s only somebody doing a job. (In this case, the signs were in front of the parking lot of an abandoned church. So much for separation of church and state?)

Some of us have learned not to be fooled. And some of us have learned to seriously consider a candidate, based on the lawns where their names are appearing.

CAN ONE CANDIDATE REALLY DICTATE THE NEWS?

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

As we’ve noted, Donald Trump has a very thin skin. Add to that his obsession with, well, himself as he imagines himself, brooking no dissension. It’s said he dictates the position of television cameras at public events to enhance the likelihood of only flattering images.

And now that the New Hampshire Union Leader has endorsed Chris Christie in the Republican presidential primary, Trump is taking credit for getting the state’s largest newspaper dumped from participating in an upcoming debate in its home city. The ABC network, it appears, simply caved in to the candidate’s demands. (For the record, it’s not the first. Let’s hope, though, it’s the last.)

Perhaps as part of his shallow understanding of the workings of the public sphere, Trump apparently cannot separate the news gathering and reporting side of journalism from the opinions expressed in its editorial columns. Now, it seems, neither can ABC News, which puts its own credibility in question. More to the point, where does the network separate news from entertainment? Is it as soft and spineless as Trump just accused the American public of being?

Where’s the truth in all of Trump’s image-building? Who’s to separate the reality before us from an increasingly weird fiction? Is it going to be left to the legions of National Football League fans he’s just insulted? Or is the court jester really in line for his own coronation?

One way to take down a bully, as we recall, is for everyone to pile on together. So who will take the first move – and who will be second? After that, you can imagine what happens. Right?

WHY I’M MORE OR LESS IN FAVOR OF A BALANCED-BUDGET AMENDMENT

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Those of us on the peacemaking side of armaments debates have usually resisted calls that would require a balanced budget, usually because of our concerns about what would happen to the poor and oppressed during economic downturns. It’s not that we’re against a balanced budget, mind you – many of us would favor a budget surplus and reserves.

Curiously, however, those who have been most vocal in their demands for a constitutional amendment requiring a balanced federal budget have also proclaimed strong support for large military outlays.

Here’s their unintentional bind: Some historians and economists have noted that without the ability to borrow money, America would never have been able to enter into armed conflict. Perhaps that’s universally true among nations, not just mine.

If that’s the case, perhaps we have our lines tangled. Would a balanced-budget requirement have prevented the U.S. buildup in Vietnam as well as both wars in Iraq?

Remember, too, we were on track to eliminate the federal deficit before 9/11 overturned everything.

The war costs were, in effect, put on a national credit card the hawks were never willing to pay off.

Is this a game we’re willing to play – a kind of chicken? (No pun intended.)

The concept certainly thickens the plot, even before we get to name-calling.

WHAT GAME? WHAT TEAM?

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

A bit of news over coffee came as a question. “Did you know Bill Clinton was in town yesterday?”

No, I had no idea. Turns out it was an unannounced stop at his wife’s campaign headquarters about a mile from our house. Fire up the troops. Support the loyalists. Show some spirit. A smart move between appearances elsewhere in the state that day.

It’s also the sort of thing that can make the New Hampshire first-in-the-nation presidential primary a lively affair. You just might be greeted by one of the White House hopefuls in your favorite diner or convenience store. You just might ask a question that generates headlines. Or you might accept a campaign button or bumper sticker or sign up to help. It’s all face-to-face, even hand-to-hand connection. You get a real-life measure of the person.

Usually, we’re aflutter in action this close to the actual voting. At least Hillary and Bernie are in traditional mode, but the Republican side is utterly baffling. I’m still not seeing much in the way of ground action. Very few bumper stickers or lawn signs, for one thing. No downtown rallies with enthusiasts waving “totem poles” of posters. No canvassers going door to door, either. Just what’s going on? Where’s the enthusiasm? The real enthusiasm?

My guess is the managers think they can do it all with television clips, mailings, radio advertising, and the like. Things they can, uh, manage. No surprises. And nothing personal.

Think of watching a professional football or baseball game and noticing there are no fans in the stands. No cheering or booing, for that matter. It would be deadly dull. And then, a moment later, realizing there are no live figures on the field, either. It’s all for appearances. Now, to the ads. The endless ads. At some point, you need a product — the one you tuned in to view.

There are good reasons to play the actual games rather than rely on the stats (or, in the political realm, rely on surveys). Upsets and unpredictable flashes make the day. The mouth-running coach may be good for building anticipation, but the quiet, calculating rival may deflate all that pregame hype and bombast. So everyone shows up for the contest. Or that’s what I’d expect.

TURNING THE PAGE FOR ANOTHER ANNUAL RITUAL

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

Now that the Christmas season’s over, we’re getting out the seed catalogs. Gardeners know what this means. Traditionally, they start coming in the mail about now, although some seed companies have tried to jump the gun, just like the Christmas decorations and music that now proliferate around Halloween rather than Thanksgiving. No, don’t rush us. This is to be taken thoughtfully, leisurely. Now, in the depth of winter — especially when it’s bitterly cold and snowy in places like the one where we live — our imaginations fly off to springtime and high summer. We evaluate the new varieties we ordered last year to decide whether we’ll get more (if we used up all of last year’s packet) or we’ll try something different.

Some of the catalogs are simply gorgeous. Others, including our favorite, are black-and-white and photo-free. The descriptions are fun to read and have led us to delightful harvests.

One thing I know: we’ll be ordering a certain chard we tried last year. The one that doesn’t taste like beets. No, it’s much more like spinach and so much more reliable where we live. Just don’t ask me to reveal its name. We want to make sure the supplier doesn’t run out. It’s something that happens, you know. As I recall, last year it was a kind of early pea. And before that?

It’s all part of the ritual, I suppose. Along with the intricate maps of our garden my wife draws to determine just how to fit it all in.

ON THE TWELFTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

Contrary to the proclamations of many retailers in their countdown to December 25, today is the Twelfth Day of Christmas.

In many parts of the world, January 6, also known as the Feast of the Epiphany or Three Kings Day, is the day for unwrapping gifts and similar Christmas celebration. In our circle, it was time for a party where all the kids who had made gingerbread houses early in December would reunite, bringing their gaily decorated structures to be festively … smashed to pieces! Initially, I was aghast at this custom before learning that it’s real purpose was to liberate all the candy and frosting that had been used to decorate the little dwellings. There was also a cake with three almonds hidden away to determine that year’s Three Kings. Alas, the kids are all grown and the next round hasn’t yet appeared.

Thanks to my wife and her traditions, I’m among those who advocate observing Advent as a way of toning down the holiday stress and hysteria. The commonplace letdown is replaced by a slow easing into winter. Since our Christmas tree wasn’t even cut down and brought indoors till Christmas Eve, we’ll leave it up and decorated until Groundhog Day or later. It brightens those chilly mornings.

So here’s to the gifts of the three Magi.

THANKS VERSUS MERCI OR GRACIAS … AS ONE, TWO, OR THREE SYLLABLES

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 3 Comments

I’ve heard that English is the international language for air traffic control, even at the Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport (what happened to Orly?), because it’s shorter than the others. Spoken French, you see, is considered too slow for a jetliner’s pilots and the tower.

Wondering about that the other day, I looked at the multilingual instructions included with the supplies for our new shower-surround walls. Sure enough, the English was about 20 percent shorter than either the French or the Spanish.

Anyone else been pondering this efficiency issue? How do German or Russian, compare to English, for instance? Or Chinese or Japanese? Just for starters …

TRUMPETS OF THE COMING STORM

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

My title is drawn from a line in John Greenleaf Whittier’s “The Last Walk in Autumn, XXV,” which echoes “blow the trumpet” in Ezekiel 33:3 “and the watchman cried” of 2 Samuel 18:25, followed by “I saw a great tumult, but I knew not what it was” in verse 29.

There were thunders and lightnings,
and a thick cloud upon the mount,
and the voice of the trumpet exceeding loud;
so that all the people that was in the camp trembled.
– Exodus 19:17

We, too, live in a tumultuous time, but in the crush of news and entertainment, the trumpets are muted. Prophets are neglected, and analysts and vapid pundits hold forth in their stead. Perhaps the rappers are too angry or too monotonous to cut through. The wheels spin and spin without a destination.

For my part, acknowledging Whittier fits my own turns in this writing. While serious American poetry typically turns away from anything touching on religious faith or political awareness (the exceptions are telling), both have been central to my life. Like Whittier – and Whitman, a step removed – Quaker practice has shaped my vision and voice. Nor is true faith distanced from social conditions. Closer to home, Whittier was a frequent visitor to the room where I worship weekly, and his parents married from the bench where I sit. To read Whittier with any appreciation in today’s literary perspective, though, I find I must break the cloying monotony of his simple rhyme schemes – recasting the lines will usually do the trick. What I then find is a surprising freshness within each line, a much more vigorous reach than is typical for the period. We forget that Whittier is the springboard for Robert Frost and all who follow in that vein. We also forget that Whittier was essentially a topical poet, immersed in the political and economic struggles of his time. Even Snowbound, for all of its seeming nostalgia, is an acknowledgment of technological advance and its impact.

Here, then, begins my cry.

NEXT THING I KNEW

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

I dream of a kind of writing that approaches, well, dreaming. A narrative of free-floating, widely associative surrealism that’s richly informed by fomenting emotions.

So the other morning I was somewhere in the vicinity of what I report in my novella, With a Passing Freight Train of 119 Cars and Twin Cabooses, and having coffee with an ex-boss, maybe even at the same cafe frequented by John Wycliffe and Hieronymus Bosch in my book. We were too far from the ocean to be considering his sailboat, so we must have been discussing a story in the works. Or maybe politics or updating him on office gossip, now that he’s moved on.

Next thing I knew, we were joined by Jerry Seinfeld – as he was on the show, who knows what he looks like now – and an invisible stranger. Jerry started telling me that’s not how he would have constructed the scene under consideration in my new story.

“When it comes to going to the dentist,” he said, “I would make it as awful as I could. Everything has to go wrong.”

But that’s not how it happened, I want to reply. It’s not true – not true to the facts.

“So?” I can hear from his end. “Wouldn’t it be true to the dream? And much funnier?”

He’d have a point. I’m still thinking about it.

For the record, let me say – there are no scenes with dentists in my novels. And maybe just two or three poems with the hygienist.

Train 1~*~

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