"Everything nailed down is coming loose"

            "EVERYTHING   NAILED  DOWN  IS  COMING LOOSE"

      So lamented the angel Gabriel in the play, Green Pastures.
Looking down on all the chaotic and contentious conduct of mortals, he often implored the Almighty to let him blow his trumpet and put an end to the whole sorry mess of the human experiment.  Each time the Lawd instructed him, 'not yet'.
Hence the angel's lament.

    If Ecclesiastes is correct that 'there is nothing new under the sun',
Gabriel's observation foreshadowed many repetitions.  Fifty-two years ago (almost to this date), American scholar Marshall Fishwick wrote in The Saturday Review (6/29/63) about the "ever fluctuating formula of history".  He sought to identify 'changeless things' within that phenomenon. A year later, Bob Dylan wrote the anthem of the '60's, The Times They are a Changing. Then, of course, there followed 'Nam, assassinations, the pill, political upheavals, Woodstock and events forever associated with that era. 

    If there is a constant within the human story it is change.  And, CHANGE provokes an array of human reactions and responses (not necessarily the same thing. But that for another time.)  Things can seem to rock along with hardly a ripple for extended periods and then comes a tipping point and nothing is ever the same thereafter.

    The past two weeks rank among the more transitional in recent times. Predictably, voices and opinions across the political, religious and social  spectrum have either applauded or attacked. 

    Perhaps the 'tipping point' was the nine murders at the Charleston Bible Study. Despite what some pundits allege, this was not an attack on 'Religion' even given the venue in which it occurred.  Subsequent information makes clear that it was motivated by racial hatred.

    "Take down the flag" has been a significant aftermath.  Whatever else the 'Stars and Bars' may have meant in the 1860's (and to me as an academically trained historian, it was racial at its core even though many Confederate soldiers owned no slaves), since World War II the banner has become the symbol for opposition to civil rights.  Well overdue, politicians and other public figures have discovered the hurtfulness which that symbol carries for substantial numbers of the human race.

    Then this week in rapid succession, the Supreme Court of the United States  issued opinions on two polarizing subjects . . . 'Obamacare' and 'Same Sex Marriage'.  I think the word obfuscation aptly defines much of what has since occurred : "a practice that is used to intentionally make something more difficult to understand".  (This from the on-line dictionary Tech Target).  Honest differences of opinion are essential for a free society.  But, good grief, there has  been a lot of name-calling, holier-than- thou, and finger-pointing posturing, as well as just plain hypocrisy by many.

    In his book, The True Believer,  the late Eric Hoffer noted that "hatred is the most accessible and comprehensive of all unifying agents."  In hearing and reading much of the rhetoric of recent days, I am hard-pressed not to see much demonizing occurring. And, I have no doubt that electioneering 'speeches' and posturing raise the temperature.

    Unquestionably, throughout our relatively short history, citizens and residents of the United States of America have experienced a quality and quantity of life's gifts quite different from those known in other parts of the world.  Out of that grew the notion of "American Exceptionalism" . . . that somehow America was God's chosen and special place.  While I am grateful to have lived my life here and consider myself 'patriotic',  I still find such a notion of extra God-blessed-ness rather arrogant. Yet, there it is from many of those who say things such as 'God is going to get us' because of this or that decision.  Contrary to a lot of mis-interpretation, this country specifically was not founded as a 'Christian' nation.  I think it was H.L. Mencken who observed that "patriotism is the last refuge of the scoundrel"  --- hardly the same as implying that all patriots are rascals

    When I was in Graduate School for my History PhD, one course in particular sought to examine the currents and counter-currents of the American 1920's . . . a particularly "things coming loose" era. (My major professor, George Mowry, published an aptly title book of that time, Fords, Flappers and Fanatics.) Along with all the changes occurring in those years, Professor Miller also called attention to the many reactionary events.  Likening society to a "package", he adroitly noted that for many, "the looser the package, the greater the need to tie the strings tighter," implying 'nail them down'.

      Where, then, is there an 'anchor' in the midst of all this . . . without being either simplistic or Pollyanna-ish ?  We deceive ourselves if we deny that there is a 'force', a 'vested interest', call it what you might, that is Evil and deeply institutionally intertwined.
Something on the Internet caught my eye today: a tad overly optimistic but at least a good beginning: "We don't have to agree on anything to be kind to one another."  And, at least in many facets of life, "live and let live" does not mean 'selling out' of values.  Somethings are very much in the public interest or domain . . Racism being a huge one.  In other matters, somethings are just none of my (and perhaps your) business.

   Satchel

       

GETTING THERE IS HALF THE FUN . . ..

    "Getting there is half the fun", or so proclaimed a travel commercial of long ago.  I think I even remember seeing it posted on the MTA (Metropolitan Transit Authority . . . the Boston subway system) cars around 1960.  Even then, on that conveyance, I knew the slogan did not exactly fit.

Now, this really was a Fun Ride !
White Pass Railroad
Skagway, Alaska

   








  A friend once called this blog my  "3 M's".  "Mutterings" was included in the name because I realized that occasionally there would likely be things about which I might want to 'mutter', i.e., complain. 'Kvetch', if you prefer it in Yiddish.  And, while I do not consider myself a 'kvetcher' by nature, occasionally this dormant  side of my being comes to the fore.  So it was over the past couple of weeks when we went on our  second Alaskan cruise within the past three years.  This time, however, we opted to add several days on land and head North into Denali National Park.

       I do not consider myself a 'white-knuckle' flyer; still, flying  Economy class in a 'stump jumper' (as smaller aircraft are  sometime labelled) does not add to 'the fun'. At six feet in height, I am not 'large'; nor am I tiny.  When the dimensions for seats and the space between seats were determined, foremost in the designers minds was not the comfort of passengers of my stature and larger.  This discomfort has happened on previous trips; but this time, the image of sardines in a small can became vivid.  After the couple hours flight to Toronto, the 'real fun' began with the five hour jaunt to Vancouver.  I had remembered it as more like  10-12 hours, but a check of the itinerary corrected the 'fun' distortion.

     The time on the ship went well overall.   Upon disembarking, the 8+  hour bus ride to Denali added more  posterior challenges.  The next day, the six or  so hours on a bus 'safari' into the Park were mitigated by the beauty of Denali (Mt. McKinley) and the numerous wildlife sightings.  The most comfortable and spacious ride of the entire time was the four hour train ride back towards Anchorage.

Best ride of entire trip

 Even so, that journey required yet another couple of hours on a bus (only slightly larger than airplane seating accommodations).

     Now it was time to 'get home' and I did not realize how much 'fun' lay in store.  Perhaps there should be a prohibition of persons over seventy years of age riding the 'Red Eye', late night flights. Looking for a place in the overhead bins for our carry-ons, I missed but my wife overheard a Flight Attendant  say, "Get your hands off our stuff."  Perhaps not a good portent of things to come.
There were thirty-two and one-half rows of  seats; we were on Row 33 . . . just in front and across from the toilets and maybe five feet from the Flight attendants gathering area.  And, they gathered --- often, and not quietly.  There was little sleep during those six plus hours. 

    But the most 'fun' of the entire trip was still to come. When we reached Chicago, we learned from the family in front of us that their flight number  to our common destination differed from ours and that there were only a couple of minutes in departure times from a gate  different from ours. In that our flight had been booked several months  prior to theirs, we sought clarification from ticket agents.  The initial response was that indeed there were two nearly concurrent flights to Raleigh.  When I approached the ticket counter, the agent told me that she was about to begin the boarding for a flight and please come back in ten minutes.  When her task was completed and I returned to the counter, she told me that she couldn't assist me and to return when another agent arrived.  A check of the departure board provided no definitive clarification.  In the meantime, she and a couple of her co-workers stood at the station and seemingly enjoyed talking about how they had dealt with an obnoxious person on the previous flight,

    In time, another agent appeared to be setting up for the flight to Raleigh-Durham.  What transpired next was inexcusable.  Before I could even make my request for clarification, she launched into a condescending diatribe ("I'm not talking to you. I don't have to talk to you until one hour before the flight leaves. Check the departure board")  There was no one else there asking for her time and assistance.   Well, neither she nor any other agent was there until twenty-five minutes before boarding time. As of yet, we did not know the status of our flight, time, gate,when we could expect to be home, etc.  Again, she was surly. We learned that we were at the correct location when she tersely asked for my photo ID, then my wife's.  She muttered something to the effect that our original flight number was now  for a flight to Dallas. I never bothered to check that out. (Confirming that  small piece of data took about ten seconds.)When she took our I.D. cards prior to printing the boarding passes, she virtually slammed them down onto the desk.  Another passenger, after dealing with her, said to no one in particular,  "so much for customer service !"

Is this the part where we have 'Fun' ??

        For next year's vacation, I am lobbying for  camping in our backyard.  In that way, the only airborne entities of concern will be the mosquitoes.

     Satchel