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First Sentences

“This was me when I was 10 years old. This was in 1980.” Marjane Satrapi, The Complete Persepolis.

“This is my favorite book in all the world, though I have never read it.” William Goldman, The Princess Bride: S. Morgenstern’s Classic Tale of True Love and High Adventure.

“’Is this the home of Tony Horwitz?’” Geraldine Brooks, Memorial Days.

“The year that Buttercup was born, the most beautiful woman in the world was a French scullery maid named Annette.” S. Morgenstern, The Princess Bride.

“Even now, nearly a century after her death, Marie Curie remains the only female scientist whom most people can name.” Dava Sobel, The Elements of Marie Curie: How the Glow of Radium Lit a Path for Women in Science.

“Fezzik chased the madman up the mountain, the madman who carried the most precious thing, for Fezzik, ever to be on earth, the kid herself, Buttercup’s Baby.” S. Morgenstern, Buttercup’s Baby: S. Morgenstern’s Glorious Examination of Courage Matched Against the Death of the Heart.

“I was performing since I was just a little boy.” Al Pacino, Sonny Boy.

“I must have died, the woman thought.” Dan Brown, The Secret of Secrets.

“On July 27, 1791, some four months after Alexander Hamilton and Federalist-dominated Congress passed ‘the Whiskey Tax,’ the frontier offered an organized response for the first time.” Brady J. Crytzer, The Whiskey Rebellion: A Distilled History of an American Crisis.

“Lucrezia is taking her seat at the long dining table, which is polished to a watery gleam and spread with dishes, inverted cups, a woven circlet of fir.” Margaret O’Farrell, The Marriage Portrait.

“The story begins with sheep.” John Butman & Simon Targett, New World, Inc.: The Making of America by England’s Merchant Adventurers.

“Lilacs, rain, a hint of bitter chocolate: Stella sniffed the air as she entered the small shop, enjoying the soft golden light that enfolded her.” Ruth Reichl, The Paris Novel.

“It looked like war.” Jon Meacham, American Lion: Andrew Jackson in the White House.

“The day Ruthie went missing, the blackflies seemed to be especially hungry.” Amanda Peters, The Berry Pickers.

“On January 21, 1989, the day after George H. W. Bush’s inauguration, David Duke, the former Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan, a neo-Nazi, and the head of an organization called the National Association for the Advancement of White People, finished first in an open primary for Louisiana’s eighty-first legislative district.” John Ganz, When the Clock Broke: Con Men, Conspiracists, and How America Cracked Up in the Early 1990s.

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Snippets

Charlie Kirk said, “George Floyd was a scumbag. Does that mean he deserved to die? No, of course not.” Replace “George Floyd” with “Charlie Kirk.” What would the outcry be?

Pete Hegseth wants “warriors” in this man’s army. Apparently, according to Hegseth, warriors don’t have beards. I watch Sunday football, and many of the players have quite luxurious facial growths. Apparently, at least according to Hegseth, I was wrong if I thought of them as manly men. They have beards. They are wusses. A tradition in the NHL is for players not to shave as long as they are in the playoffs. Once again, they are pansies, not warriors. Hegseth wants lethality in our armed forces. Nothing produced more deaths in our history than the Civil War. After hearing Hegseth, I don’t know how the North won with the bearded Ulysses S. Grant in charge. I thought he was a warrior, but apparently just another wuss. Maybe his side won because the Confederates had bearded Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson. Those two must have been really big pansies if they lost to Grant. Certainly, the fairy Custer, with his hair, could not be in Hegseth’s army. And in World War II, Bill Mauldin’s Willie and Joe, who were on the front lines for the entire war, were never clean shaven. If they were still around, they might like to know that they are not wanted in Hegseth’s army. So they can just go home.

In the wake of Kirk’s death, I ask, not for the first time, What is a Christian?

Perhaps if General Grant and General Eisenhower had spent less time on military strategy, tactics, and logistics and more on pullups, pushups, and sit-ups, the Civil War and World War II would have ended sooner. I wondered, too, if the generals who were flown from all four corners of the world to Virginia (at enormous expense, one might add) might have had better things to do than to sit in a lecture on sartorial issues and calisthenics.

At my new residence I am about to start a six-week course on the musical theater. The first week, we will study the seminal Oklahoma! When I watched a video of it, I realized that I knew most of the music, but I have no idea how. I have never seen a live production of the musical and only clips of the movie. When I was a boy, our family did not have a record player much less a hi-fi. We did have a radio, but I don’t believe I ever heard show tunes out of it. Still, I know much of the score. How do we learn the stuff we do?

Pete Hegseth seems not to want women in the armed forces. He certainly does not want transgender men. I wonder what his reaction would be to what Tony Horwitz relates in his Confederates in the Attic: Dispatches from the Unfinished Civil War (1998). As a result of an automobile accident in 1911, a union Civil War hero was discovered to be a woman. She was then sent to an insane asylum and forced to wear skirts, in which she was clumsy. She died as the result of a hip injury after a fall. Horwitz reports that at least 400 women disguised as men fought in the Civil War.

When I was eight or nine, the news was filled with UFO sightings. I wanted to spot one and spent much time in the backyard gazing upward. I was getting discouraged when one day as I looked over the Schneidermann house I saw what appeared to be a rotating, silvery disk. It came closer and hovered almost silently about fifty feet off the ground at the back of our property. A hatch slid open, and a creature came down on a beam of light. It got to the grass just outside the kohlrabi patch, but I could not discern any features. It was fully covered in hair. I could not tell if there was a head, or arms, or feet because of all the hair. But there was what appeared to be a hypodermic needle coming out of where the head might have been. Father must have seen the lights because he was standing just behind me. With my voice that had not broken, I asked, “What is that?” “My last-born son,” he intoned, “that is definitely a furry with the syringe on the top.”

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Back to the College

(A Guest Post by the Spouse)

The spouse and I have recently moved to a continuing care retirement community. It’s located in a rather magnificent old building that looks like the library of a university campus. Apartments spread out from the main building, and the grounds are extensive with fountains and plazas and an arboretum. It reminds me of a well-tended high school or a small college campus. But it’s more than just the architecture that is reminiscent of school.

It’s also the students…I mean the residents. We are a smallish class of about 250. We live in the dorms…rather nice apartments with full kitchens, and we meet each other in the halls going to and from “class.” Today in the morning, for example, there was political science, but this afternoon there is home economics (we’re learning to knit). Tomorrow I have swimming first thing in the morning. (Ugh! I hate morning gym class.) Wednesday is art. The teacher is excellent, but I’m pulling a C in that class. Thursday, English (book club). Friday, French conversation.

After all these activities we meet in the dining room for dinner, though a lot of people like to eat in their dorm rooms. Lots of socializing goes on in the dining room. Topics that have come up in class are often on the agenda. Conversation at dinner often finds its way to talk of children and grandchildren, oh, and health. We are all pretty fit (given all those swimming and yoga classes), but we still have a full panoply of “issues.”

There’s not a lot of gossip (or maybe I’m just not in on it), but I have noticed that John and Marie are often together, as are Liz and Bob. I think they must be considered “an item.” I have seen other couples holding hands (!). There are nerds and jocks, musicians and artists. It’s an eclectic bunch.

We are all pretty style conscious…at least in the shoe department. It appears that high heels for the girls are not comme il faut. Walking shoes — preferably slip-in Skechers — are the order of the day. We walk a lot (the campus is extensive), so comfortable shoes are a necessity. No one would dare break that convention.

So after all these years, the spouse and I find ourselves back in school. It’s a new experience, and it takes some getting used to.

Sorry. Gotta run. I’m a little behind on my English assignment.

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Three Modern Free Speech Issues

I was asked by a leader of a current events discussion group to comment on some present free speech issues. I briefly commented on several.

1 . The first is the issue of self-censorship by media and other entities because of a concern about retributive governmental actions. Jimmy Kimmel is a prime example. Following the assassination of Charlie Kirk, Kimmel made comments on his late-night show, which were not disrespectful of TurningPointUSA leader, but included some misinformation regarding the political affiliation of the killer. Brendan Carr, the Trump-appointed Chair of the Federal Communications Commission (FCC), responded by saying: “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. These companies [Kimmel’s employers] can find ways to change conduct and take action, frankly, on Kimmel, or there’s going to be additional work for the FCC ahead.”

Kimmel was promptly suspended by ABC, a subsidiary of Disney. It was certainly reasonable for Disney to think it was being threatened by the Chair of the FCC. Over-the-air networks like ABC require licenses from the FCC. Moreover, two companies owning affiliates that air ABC programs were negotiating a merger that needed to be approved by the FCC. They could see the FCC Chair’s statement as a threat to that approval.

Though seemingly unrelated to free speech, these (not so) veiled threats have a direct impact on free speech. Sometimes even without a threat free speech is affected because of potential government action. We saw this dynamic in action with the $16 million settlement by Paramount Global (owner of CBS) of the Trump lawsuits against CBS. At the time of the settlement with Trump, Paramount had an $8 billion merger on the table that required government approval. What does this have to do with free speech, one might ask. Answer: Media companies (no company) should not be required to cave to the petulant posturing of a president in order to secure government approval for their business. And yet, Paramount Global felt, no doubt, that it had no choice but to cave to the political caprices of the president.

Perhaps there has always been a concern that free speech would result in government retribution. But it is more concerning now. First, the open vindictiveness of president Trump has changed things. In addition, the playing field has changed dramatically because the Supreme Court is consciously allowing the president more power that increases the possibility and feasibility of presidential retribution. Here’s how: Agencies like the FCC or the Federal Trade Commission or the Securities and Exchange Commission were meant to be independent of the president. Ninety years ago, the Supreme Court held that commissioners on such agencies could not be removed at the whim of the president, but only “for cause.” The Supreme Court has not officially overruled that precedent, but it effectively has done so. The Supreme Court has now allowed Trump to “temporarily” remove commissioners while litigation goes on about whether the removals have been lawful. It is expected that the 1930s precedent will be formally overruled this year. In other words, the previously independent agencies will no longer be independent but must answer directly to the president. Thus, companies who need agency approval for something will naturally be concerned that they will be punished for actions that displease Trump. This is affecting free speech in ways it was not before.

An aside: Might conservatives have a point in the Jimmy Kimmel affair? Four over-the-air late- night hosts use the public airwaves: Stephen Colbert, Jimmy Fallon, Seth Myers, and Jimmy Kimmel. All can be characterized as anti-Trump. What if all were the comedy equivalent of Fox News? How would liberals react?

2. The second is another, non-Kimmel free-speech issue occurring in the aftermath of Charlie Kirk’s assassination.

A recent newspaper article states that over 145 people have been fired or disciplined by their employers for comments about Charlie Kirk. These data are from public records, but there may be many more that haven’t been reported. Often the comments have been innocuous. For example, an employee of a public university commented on her private Facebook page, “If you think Charlie Kirk was a wonderful person, we can’t be friends.” She also said that she believed in the Resurrection and was praying for his soul. She was fired for these comments.

All the firings of employees for their comments while not on the job raise free speech issues, but not all raise First Amendment issues.  The First Amendment applies only when the government does something that limits speech. Thus, it comes into play when a public employer disciplines public employees for their speech. However, there are few legal restraints on private employers who often can fire for any reason.

But something new is also operating in this arena. Online armies are scanning for social media comments to get people fired. Those who have made comments critical of Kirk are often doxed and flooded with ugly and threatening messages scaring them and others into silence. The online scrollers want to punish and prevent speech they don’t like.

While the private firings and the doxxing may not raise First Amendment concerns, they do raise important free speech concerns. We need more discussion of how free workers should be to express their views while not on the job, and, further, how to prevent some of the terrible excesses of social media and the internet.

3. The new Pentagon leadership says it will require credentialed journalists at the military headquarters to sign a pledge to refrain from reporting information that has not been authorized for release — including unclassified information. Reporters, in effect, can publish only press releases. Journalists who don’t abide by the policy risk losing credentials that provide access to the Pentagon.

I asked a friend who had been a media attorney whether he knew of similar past directives. He says this appears to be unprecedented.

He did point out that this administration (and others) have cut off reporters who published stuff the president didn’t like. (Witness the AP and the “Gulf of America” controversy). But these restrictions on free speech were relatively mild. They only limited the access of individual reporters. They were not a blanket restriction on what can be reported.

The Hegseth directive for the first time tries to make those covering the Pentagon into something like state media. You may publish only what the government authorizes. We have not had this Pravda-like restriction before. If it stands up in court, it would be a titanic and dangerous change in how the government, the press, and the people interact with each other.

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My Amish Amigos

Summer ends. My stay in Northeast Pennsylvania also ends. And so also ends my weekly interactions with Amish people.

I did not meet an Amish person until I was into my sixth or seventh decade. I believe there are Amish in Wisconsin but not where I grew up. None were at my college nor in the cities where I lived. And while parts of Pennsylvania have concentrations of Amish, they did not live in the parts of the state where we have a summer home.

After we had the summer house for several years, an Amish family started a weekly market in a Methodist church parking lot down the hill from us. It was a godsend. Summer is not summer without good, fresh, ripe tomatoes and corn, and that was not always easily available to us. Farm country is twenty miles north of our home and twenty-five miles south, but that’s too far to go for a good tomato. The land around us is hilly and rocky. We see no farms—no peapods or grazing Jerseys. There are no farm stands, and the desired corn and tomatoes were often hard to find. Until the Amish came.

At the beginning, an Amish man was in charge. After a while, I started chatting with him each week. I learned that he and the girls who accepted payments were part of the same family who lived on a farm about 120 miles west. Over time, our brief conversations expanded from the weather and the ripeness of the produce to something slightly more personal. He learned that I had been a lawyer, and I learned that besides farming he did construction. Up to this point, my Amish knowledge had been that they dressed in nineteenth century farm clothes and that their religion forbade them from having electricity in their homes. Of course, they could not drive cars and got around by horse and buggy. When the Amish man told me he did construction, my image was of muscle-powered saws and hand-cranked drills, but my acquaintance lit up when he told me how much he enjoyed using tools powered by compressed air.

My Amish knowledge expanded further, to my surprise, during a six-month Florida stay near Sarasota. I was startled by seeing a boy and girl walking near the waterfront in what I took to be Amish garb. Then in various parts of town, I saw several men with beards and suspenders and women in long dresses and distinctive head coverings that signaled Amish. In driving around town, a mile or two from the Gulf, I found an enclave of modest houses on narrow streets with families in Amish attire getting around on three-wheel bikes. This was an Amish settlement. These Amish came each winter on big buses and stayed until it was planting time up north.

Sarasota had several places that proclaimed themselves Amish restaurants. They had good comfort food. The pie was always outstanding. When I left one of them, I stopped in the gift shop. I found a rack of paperbacks, many of which had a heavily clothed, attractive young woman on the cover. I read the back cover of one and found that it was a romance about Amish young people. This was not my usual reading, but I bought a few.

The prose was repetitive and at about the eighth-grade level. The characterizations were simple. The stories were pleasant with love winning out without clothes being shed. I have since learned that in some publishing circles these are called Bonnet Rippers. They are not written by the Amish, but by evangelical Christians who claim to have Amish friends who helped them understand the Amish culture. The Amish, I am told, are mystified by these romances and do not buy them. However, a lot of other people do. One source said that the top three writers of Amish romances have sold over 24 million books (!).

I enjoyed the romances because I felt that I learned something about the Amish culture even though, I am told, the books often get the Amish theology wrong. My limited knowledge of Amish life expanded five years ago when Amos, who was then sixteen, started coming to the market along with his sister Annie. (Trying to learn more, I also read Steven M. Nolt, A History of the Amish.) Almost every time we meet, Amos and I chat. We laugh frequently often as a result of making fun of each other. Early on, he asked where I lived. I said that while I had a summer home in Pennsylvania, I had lived in Brooklyn for a long time. “City slicker,” he said with a smile. I asked if he had ever been to a city. He said only the outskirts and mentioned some New Jersey suburbs. Even so, he was quite sure that he did not like cities: “Too much hustle and bustle. Too much activity. Too much rushing.” One time, I told him I was going to a Yankees game the following week. He had never seen a baseball stadium. He could not comprehend that 45,000 people were going to be in one location, but he proudly said that he had been to a gathering of hundreds when he attended a horse auction in Harrisburg the previous winter.

I soon learned that there was not an Amish religion. While all Amish shunned aspects of modern life such as electricity in the homes, did not drive motor vehicles, and wore plain clothes, many practices differed by congregation, which are small, often no more than a few dozen people. Some, for example, but not all could have a telephone booth on their property, but no one could have a phone in the house.

The home is the center not only of the family but also of worship. The Amish do not have church buildings. They worship in the houses of the faithful on a rotating basis. The homes are much more comfortable than I had first thought. Amos showed me pictures of his family’s property taken from a drone. It was a lovely farm with a modern looking house. Amos pointed to a window and said that it was his room, which he shared with his younger brother Ben, short for Benuel, a common Amish name. The house, which has indoor plumbing, was kept warm with a wood stove. The kitchen did not have electricity, but a modern oven and refrigerator were run off propane.

Of course, the Amish do not live a monkish life secluded from the world. They have many regular interactions with the “English,” their term for those who are not Amish. And, of course, they pick up stuff from the modern world as a result. Amos, for example, claims to know a lot of country songs. He does not have a radio, but he is driven to the market, a construction site, or elsewhere by an “English” driver. I asked when he rode in the truck whether he listened to the radio. Amos said that they were not supposed to, but then he paused, smiled, and said, “We leave it up to the driver.” I asked if he plugged his ears if the radio played, and Annie, his sister, laughed. Apparently country music predominates on the trips, and thus Amos’s song knowledge. I said that an Amish can’t sing country songs since they are all about how I got drunk last night, and my woman left me. Amos smiled. Sadie, another sister, laughed.      

Of course, to this English the Amish folkways often seem inconsistent and contradictory. For example, electricity is supposedly forbidden, but Amos uses battery-powered tools, and my market purchases are toted up on a calculator. They can’t drive a motor vehicle, but they can ride in them. Women do not have buttons but secure their clothes with pins while men button theirs. Amos cannot smoke a cigarette or pipe, but he can smoke a cigar. Amish have beards, but only after they are married. But, come to think of it, every religion I know has inconsistencies, contradictions, and hypocrisies.

The Amish may look dour and humorless, but I have found them to be charming and even impish people. (As I was paying for a green tomato at the weekly Amish market, I asked Annie, who collects the money, if she had ever eaten a fried green tomato. She hesitated but then replied, “Yes.” I said, “Just one?” She answered, “There are better foods.” “Like what?” I asked. “Just about anything,” she responded.)  This is remarkable for a group that regularly draws stares and snickers and misinformation. In my summer community, many say the market people are false Amish, or Famish. Some say this because the Amish don’t grow everything they sell. They are supposedly non-Amish hucksters, but these “English” are not very observant. Signs are always placed in front of bins saying “homegrown” or “local” often with even more specificity such as “Eastern shore.” To the even mildly attentive, there is no attempt to pass off bananas as an Amish product. These critics have no explanation as to why non-Amish would wear those heavy clothes on a hot July day and pretend to be Amish.

I have also been “authoritatively” told by several friends that those who run our weekly market can’t be Amish because they come in the produce-carrying truck driven by a non-Amish person. Perhaps, these “knowledgeable” people continue, they are Mennonites but definitely not Amish because Amish can’t ride in a motor vehicle. I told Amish Amos about these conversations. For one of the few times since I met him, he was speechless with open-mouthed bewilderment. I said, “I don’t know much about you guys, but many know even less.” He nodded.

I don’t know whether I will see Amos next year. His family runs a market five days a week, and he used to work at all of them. Now it is only ours. He works construction the other days. Perhaps next year it will be housebuilding all week. I do know that I will not be seeing his sister Nanny next year. She is getting married in October, and once wedded the young women no longer work at the markets. I asked Nanny how many are coming to her wedding. She replied, “400 are invited but probably not that many will come.” At first that number seemed large, but then I remembered meeting Barbie, short for Barbara, a few years ago. I asked if she was the sister of Annie, then the regular checkout person who, having married, is now gone. She said no, that she was a cousin. I asked how many cousins she had. Annie and she exchanged sly glances, almost blushing. It was clear that neither had a definitive answer or perhaps even a good estimate. Barbie then suggested that they had more than a hundred. Annie, I know, has eight siblings. The wedding and festivities, like church services, will be held in the family home.

I strongly hope that the Amish market will be back next year. I want those fresh tomatoes and corn. I hope that Amos will be back. I like him, and if he is not there, I suppose I will have to break in a new Amish friend.

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Don’t Let Them Shut Your Mouth

Responses to mass shootings have been predictable. Calls for better gun control go out, and conservatives respond: How dare you! You are terrible and callous for trying to make political points in this time of grief.

The conservative reaction to Charlie Kirk’s murder has been different: This particular “time of grief” is, apparently, the time to suppress and punish opponents and dissenters. Trump and his allies speak of plans to target liberal groups, monitor speech, and revoke visas. Government officials are considering criminal prosecutions of those who speak out against Kirkian and Trumpian policies. Officials threaten government actions against the media, teachers, school board members, and many others, and in advance of any actions by these people, have begun to shut down critics. Jimmy Kimmel is just the most famous of their targets. Some who want something from the government, such as approval of a merger, preemptively censor. Vigilantes have helped remove people who speak out from private jobs. (Notably, the MAGA folks did not seek the removal of a Fox News host who urged that the mentally ill homeless be given lethal injections. An apology was good enough.)

Not surprisingly, the movement to stifle opponents has been accompanied by misinformation, which in this case means lies or willful ignorance. It has been given as a fact that politically motivated murders primarily come out of leftist ideology. The fact is that study after study has shown that the majority of such killings have been by right-wingers. If we go back to 9/11, Islamic terrorists were responsible for the most political killings, but since then, according to the Cato Institute, the right-wing share of politically motivated terrorist murders have been 63 percent while the left-wing share has been 10 percent. (Cato says that the conservative killers have been “motivated by white supremacy, anti-abortion beliefs, involuntary celibacy [incels], and other right-wing ideologies.” This list should also include anti-LGBTQ ideology.) The Department of Justice had come to a similar conclusion, but you will have trouble finding that study since our government, which proclaims to be “the most transparent ever,” has removed the study from its website.

It does not matter to the President, of course, that we have seen nothing indicating that Kirk’s shooter was influenced by any extreme leftist or even liberal group. Instead, all we know is that Tyler Robinson has said that his motivation was the hate spewed by Kirk.

Until a bullet pierced his neck, Charlie Kirk was not on my radar. I had seen his name and that of his organization, but I knew little besides that. Now I know more, and I am amazed by his sanctification. Charlie Kirk may have been a loving, open-minded person, motivated by a true desire to foster legitimate debate, and he was undoubtedly a charismatic entertainer. Nevertheless, his religious, societal, and political views, which carried undertones, at a minimum of racism, ethnic bias, misogyny, frivolity, and stupidity, furthered hate and closed the minds of others. For example, Kirk said that “Jewish dollars” were funding Marxist ideas in education and policy and contributing to opening the borders.” Kirk said: “If I see a Black pilot, I’m going to be like, ‘Boy, I hope he’s qualified.'” Kirk said: “We made a huge mistake when we passed the Civil Rights Act in the 1960s.” Kirk said: “I can’t stand the word empathy, actually. I think empathy is a made-up, new age term that — it does a lot of damage.” Kirk said about affirmative action and Joy Reid and Michelle Obama and Sheila Jackson Lee and Ketanji Brown Jackson: “Yeah, we know. You do not have the brain processing power to otherwise be taken really seriously. You had to go steal a white person’s slot to go be taken somewhat seriously.” (Snopes.com is the source for these quotations.) This, of course, is only a small sample of Kirk’s tendentious statements.

Charlie Kirk was not a deep thinker, but he did know how to make money. Siri tells me that he was worth $12 million—not bad for a 31-year-old community college dropout. How much did he profit from those rallies and other activities whose stated purpose was merely to advance the political dialog?

Conservatives have said that millions “celebrated” Kirk’s death. I know none of them, and I doubt that number is true. Confirming evidence has not been provided.  An anecdote, even two, is not proof. Many, however, have come forward to criticize Kirk’s “teachings.” I would not be surprised if there have been millions, even tens of millions, of them. I certainly hope so. The attempt to honor Kirk has coincided with efforts to suppress and punish such critics of Kirk–a strange legacy for someone who supposedly stood for free speech and debate. If his ideas were sound, they should be highlighted. If they were sound, they would only benefit from critics. What are the Kirk supporters afraid of?

In these dangerous moments, I am reminded of another time when a supposed political murder was used to justify the suppression and oppression of those designated as enemies. On November 7, 1938, the Polish Jew Herschel Grynszpan shot the Nazi diplomat Ernst vom Rath. Two days later vom Rath died. Almost immediately, a pogrom against Jews was launched as a response to the murder. That event is now known as Kristallnacht. The murder by one person was used to suppress and oppress tens of thousands of others. Sound familiar?

As in 1938, many are seizing upon the murder by one person of Charlie Kirk to lead to oppression and suppression. Truly patriotic Americans should respond.

Don’t let them shut your mouth.

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Snippets

I don’t know at what temperature my parents kept the childhood house, but I do remember that in winter, sheets, ironed by the mother, were very cold when I got between them at bedtime. I would lie as still as possible to warm the spot where I lay. I knew that if I moved, I would encounter those icy places that had not been warmed by my body. Even so, I never considered wearing socks to bed. That was just not done. Thus, my mortification when I had perhaps my only sleepover at John N.’s house. I walked across his room to the bed with my socks on. I was going to sit down and take them off, but before I got there, Johnny said authoritatively, “In this house, we don’t sleep with socks on.” I told him my intentions, which were true, but the protestation sounded lame even to me. That unjust shame has stayed with me ever since.

I have mocked the spouse many times for wearing socks to bed. But, in one of my many acts of marital devotion, I have always allowed her to warm her icy toes and heels on me. However, I have now seen stories, which must surely be fake, that wearing socks for sleeping is a good thing. Of more concern: there have been a few nights when my aging feet would not warm up under the covers, and I have had to put on socks to sleep. I have not yet said as a result, “Death Take Me Now,” but, really, this is totally unacceptable.

Perhaps it is still too early, but I would like to see a good study of the varying responses to the Covid pandemic, not just assertions by ideologues. States and localities differed in mask, social distancing, vaccination, and other requirements and practices. How did these correlate with outcomes such as hospitalizations and deaths? The rates of vaccinations varied. How much, if at all, did hospitalizations and deaths also vary? Different localities had different school policies. Have school test results varied in sync with the different policies? What side effects correlate with vaccinations? How frequent and severe are they? I would like good information on these topics, but it is sad but true, I don’t expect our present government to provide any.

Patrick McGee in his thought-provoking book, Apple in China: The Capture of the World’s Greatest Company (2025), explains how Apple became enmeshed in China. Apple did not outsource in a traditional sense. It did not simply contract with Chinese companies for a product or a service. Instead, Apple, obsessed with quality and efficiency, sent design engineers and product designers into Chinese suppliers’ facilities often inventing new production processes and designing new custom parts in the process. The Chinese gained new practical know-how that they now use for more than Apple products.

McGee’s book follows in the footsteps of Erich Schwartzell’s, Red Carpet: Hollywood, China, and the Global Battle for Cultural Supremacy (2022). Schwartzell documents how American filmmakers took things out of movies and put things in to satisfy the Chinese. The practices became so important and internalized that Americans were willing to change their product without being told to or being asked. Meanwhile, the Chinese film industry was being built and strengthened with America’s unwitting help.

More than the film and tech industry have tried to satisfy China. Many enterprises abide by Chinese censorship rules. For example, the NBA apologized when a team executive tweeted support for Hong Kong protesters who had been kicked out of an NBA exhibition game in China. A reporter was not allowed to ask the players how they felt about this. There are many more examples of U.S. companies kowtowing to the vast Chinese market, but these shall remain for another time.

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Weaponization

Trump is trying to fire Lisa Cook. Ironies and questions abound. And chutzpah.

Lisa Cook was confirmed by the Senate as a Governor of the Federal Reserve in 2022. The Fed is supposed to be independent of the President, and Governors can only be removed “for cause.” The provision does not define “cause” or who determines it or how.

Trump’s claimed cause? According to allegations from the Federal Housing Finance Agency director Bill Pulte, Cook committed mortgage fraud by claiming two different homes as her primary residence in 2021. Trump claims these allegations as the cause for firing. Questions abound. Can allegations be “cause”? Even if true, does this constitute cause if it is unrelated to Cook’s performance on the Fed? Is it cause, even if true, if the conduct occurred before her confirmation and was not considered disqualifying by the Senate? Many Senators surely were looking for reasons to prevent her from getting the position. Her confirmation vote was at first deadlocked at 50-50 with Vice President Kamala Harris casting the tiebreaking vote.

Some of the ironies. Or chutzpah. Trump claims the allegations by themselves constitute cause. This is from a man who has been convicted of fraud for falsifying business records to hide payments made to Stormy Daniels. She got hush money payments to keep her tryst with Trump out of the news during his first campaign. Moreover, Trump was found to have committed something closely akin to mortgage fraud in a separate civil suit. He set high values on properties when seeking loans and lower values on the same properties for tax purposes. These adjudications, not mere allegations, have not disqualified him from the presidency.

A different irony: Many Trumpistas labeled these New York legal actions as dangerous political persecutions. For example, a conservative pundit on a “news” channel said that it is dangerous when prosecutors target individuals, and New York prosecutors had campaigned on the promise to “get” Donald Trump. They had a point, but they are notably quiet about targeting now. Cook, of course, is being targeted by federal officials. Their concern is not mortgage fraud. Instead, Trump wants to control the Fed. In other settings–the Labor Statistics Bureau comes to mind–Trump has simply fired those who promulgate data that he dislikes. If he were able to fire Cook as easily, he would, but with the Fed he must find “cause,” but any cause will do.

There are several ways in which prosecutions occur. Most take place because a crime is committed, and law enforcement sets out to find the bad guys. If the purported criminals are caught, they are prosecuted. A convenience store is robbed; a person is murdered; or someone is assaulted. If there is an arrest, a prosecution follows.

What might be called investigatory prosecutions are different. The authorities have reasons to believe that a person has committed a crime which is not publicly evident—stock fraud or loan sharking, for example. The authorities investigate to see if indeed the crime was committed and to collect evidence for the prosecution of the stock fraud or loan sharking.

Targeted prosecutions are different. In a small number of instances, authorities determine that a person is “bad.” They investigate to find a crime that he has committed and prosecute him for that even though the crimes are not the ones the authorities were truly concerned about. In this setting a crime is not targeted; a person is. This happened to Al Capone a century ago. Prosecutors knew that Capone was a bootlegger who used unprecedented violence to protect and extend his operations. However, apparently because witnesses could not be found to testify to these activities, they could not prosecute him for those crimes. Instead, after an extensive investigation, Capone was prosecuted for income tax offenses. Prosecutors convinced a jury that Capone lived well beyond the means possible on the income he reported. Therefore, he must not be paying all the tax he owed. Thus, Capone went to prison not for murder or other violent crimes, but for income tax evasion.

Trump and his supporters claimed that legal actions in New York had targeted Trump. That seems to have been true. New York prosecutors, who are elected, had made campaign pledges to “get” Trump. The Trumpistas maintained that such targeting is dangerous. Is it? Trump in fact committed the illegal actions he was charged with, or so the adjudications showed. How, then, can the commentator claim that targeting an individual is dangerous?

A certain kind of moralist may simply say, “If he did the deed, punish indeed… let him bleed.” But let’s combine some theology with the law. If you are of the Original Sin disposition, we all do things that are wrong. And even if you don’t subscribe to Genesis, you might know that we have many, many laws with blurry boundaries. (Almost) all of us have committed illegal acts, but stealing a pencil from work, overstating a charitable deduction, or slapping an acquaintance is almost never prosecuted. Our justice system would be overwhelmed if it had to handle every violation of the law. However, if the authorities want to “get” someone, and they have enough resources to investigate that person thoroughly, they will almost always be able to bring some sort of criminal or civil prosecution. And, yes, that is a scary power.

The Trumpistas, however, no longer proclaim prosecutorial targeting as dangerous because they would then have to denounce Trump’s actions. Lisa Cook’s criminal referral is not an attempt to enforce mortgage fraud. It is an attempt to find a reason, any reason, to remove her as a Fed governor. The problem is not that she is a criminal. Her problem is that she has not bent to Trump’s will. Letitia James, NY State’s Attorney General, and Senator Adam Schiff are being investigated for mortgage fraud not as a deterrent for loan shenanigans, but because they have opposed Trump. This is clear when news reports tell us that right-wing Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton has listed three homes as primary residences. Yet he is not being investigated for mortgage fraud.

Prosecutors targeted Capone for his horrendous crimes. Trump and his supporters are now targeting people not for crimes they may have committed, but simply because they don’t kowtow to Trump and his demands.

And yes, that is scary.

Posted on by rjonakait

Snippets

Raw fish has had cultural significance in Japan. I highly recommend the documentary Jiro Dreams of Sushi, but sushi dreams have now spread. Little League World Series players were recently asked questions about their favorite athlete or their dream job. (Retirement was the best answer.) When favorite food was the topic, a surprising number from all over the world replied sushi. That certainly would not have been my answer when I was twelve. Recently I went to a Japanese-named restaurant touted for its sushi, and it was, indeed, very good. The sushi master (do you say sushi chef? Surely not sushi cook.) was named Jesus Hernandez. He hailed from a Mexican town famed for its traditional mole. Go figure.

In Death Comes for the Fat Man by Reginald Hill a character whose family emigrated to the UK after World War II says, “I am glad my family ended here, not the States. They have no rules over there, just laws.”

I am ahead of my time. For decades I have walked around with my shirt tucked in the front for about eight inches with the rest of garment flapping about me on the sides and back. Of course, this was just sloppiness. But I must have been attractive because now I see this look on models and high school and college kids. I am taking credit for the new fashion trend.

Sports seasons often overlap. At this moment, the football season is beginning while baseball still has a long way to go before the World Series. I am reminded of an overlap between the two sports that I encountered on an unusual trip. Phil and I had gone to grade and high school together and played on the same sports teams. In his thirties, Phil went to theological school and became ordained. When he became the minister of a church in the outer reaches of Queens in New York City, he called me. We invited him for Thanksgiving dinner a few times, and he and I got together several other times, but as he became settled in the church and got to know more people there, we drifted apart. Then one day he called and said that he had won a contest. The prize was a trip for two to travel to ballparks around the East Coast. He asked if I would go with him. The invitation was not particularly flattering. He didn’t want to ask anyone from his church because the contest’s sponsor was a beer company, and his (Dutch) Reformed Church frowned on alcohol. Phil continued that he had two brothers, and he did not want to choose between them. And, thus, the invitation descended to me. I accepted. Phil and I were together with about a dozen others from around the country and Canada for five or six days going to major league ballparks. It was great fun. One of our stops was to what then was called Jacobs Field in Cleveland. During the game we chatted with some young guys who were, shall we say, heavily into beer. They insisted again and again without too much slurring that we go to a bar with them near the stadium after the game. We went. I was surprised that upon entrance I saw a picture of Max McGee. And then I saw pictures of Bart Starr, Jerry Kramer, Willie Wood, and Ray Nitschke, all Green Bay Packer players from my youth. Packer memorabilia, mostly jerseys but also some cleats, covered the walls. I saw nothing about the hometown Cleveland Browns, who also had great teams, or any other. I was puzzled and asked one of our new friends about this. He looked at me as if he wanted to say, Duh, and then did say, “This is a Packers bar.” Apparently, that explained everything.

Posted on by rjonakait

Ava the Magnificent

Elizabeth McGovern, whose career spans a teen-age role in Robert Redford’s Ordinary People to Cora Crawley, the Countess of Grantham in Downton Abbey to the recordings of Sadie and the Hotheads, is on the New York stage in Ava: The Secret Conversations. The play, written by McGovern, is about the interplay between Ava Gardner and her would-be biographer Peter Evans, who was eventually dismissed by Gardner. After Evans’s death, his notes and tapes of his interviews with Gardner were published, and this book form the basis for Ava: The Secret Conversations. The play interests me because for a long time I had a fascination with Ava Gardner, or really with the Ava Gardner Museum.

The spouse and I have driven south from Brooklyn on I-95 many times heading to South Carolina, Georgia, or Florida. We always wanted to get at least five hundred miles in before stopping for the night. Smithfield, North Carolina, is the first town after that mark, and over the years we often found a nearby hotel for the night.

The first time, the spouse and I drove into town and found a surprisingly good restaurant. At other stops in or near Smithfield, I sought out that eating place again. The restaurant was memorable not only because the food was much better than I had expected in this town of ten thousand or so, but also because one time after we had left, we went to our car and found a host of barbecue rigs set up in an adjacent park. These were not your backyard Weber grills, but the kind that attached to the back of a truck. I had only before seen such monstrous grills and smokers on television.

I quickly learned that the next day was the annual Johnston County barbecue competition and that I was witnessing competitive pit masters. (I later saw a taste test of spiral hams on a cooking show. Johnston County Spiral Ham was considered by far the best.) The fifteen or twenty participants would smoke meat during the night, and their results would be judged the next morning. Many of them displayed trophies from previous competitions. I learned about a circuit that many of them traveled. The pit masters and tenders were friendly and talkative except for one man. He had nothing to say and bullied me away from what he was doing. He somehow thought I was going to steal his secrets. He eyed me as if I, the Brooklyn boy, was a spy for another participant.

I went to bed thinking that we might come the next day and taste the wares even though I am not much of a central North Carolina barbecue fan; I don’t like that vinegar base. It started pouring after midnight and was still coming down the next morning. I thought about how miserable the night must have been for all those nice but competitive people, and I decided to continue down the interstate without another visit to all those smokers.

Smithfield, however, always stuck in my mind primarily because going to and coming from the restaurant, I would see on a side road—I believe it was Third Street–the Ava Gardner Museum. The thought of a museum dedicated to the glamorous Ava Gardner in this dinky town amused me. I would joke about going there, but we only passed it in the evening when the museum was closed.

One trip south, however, had a different timing, and the spouse and I were going to pass Smithfield at noon. We decided to make the detour. The Ava Gardner Museum was now in a different location. It was on the main drag in a modern facility unlike its previous home in a slightly seedy building that had once been a house.

The museum itself was carefully and tastefully laid out with well-written, informative placards accompanying the displays of letters, posters, photographs, and costumes. I was never an Ava Gardner fan and knew little about her other than she had a striking face, a beautiful body, and had been married to both Mickey Rooney and Frank Sinatra, who remained a devoted friend even after their divorce. I learned that she had also been married to Artie Shaw, the clarinetist and bandleader. I only knew of Shaw because he was an amusing guest on late night talk shows, often talking about his many wives, and, at least according to him, his many more girlfriends. It was only because of these TV appearances that I recognized Shaw as I entered a New York Appellate Division courtroom one day to argue a case. I was given to understand that he was there to hear an argument about litigation stemming from one of his divorces. True to his image, Shaw was surrounded by stunning women. (I have no memory of what case I was arguing, but I’m pretty sure that it did not involve any beauties.)

From what I learned at the Ava Gardner Museum, Shaw tried to improve twenty-five-year-old Gardner’s education in their year-long marriage, and as a result she took English courses at a Los Angeles college. This made me think about the trajectory of her life as I learned it at the museum.

She was born near Smithfield in 1922 to farmers who lost their property when Ava was young. Her mother then ran boarding houses. Her father died when Ava was fifteen. This was a poor family in depressed times. I wondered how many outdoor toilets she had used, and whether she had been behind a horse in a cart more often than in a car. I would not have been surprised that when she graduated from high school she had never been in an elevator or through a revolving door.

Gardner attended a local college for a year studying to be a secretary. During that summer, she visited her sister, who somehow had made it to New York. The story then goes that she had her picture taken there, which was displayed in the window of a photographic studio. People noticed. Soon she had a screen test in New York. MGM signed her to a contract, and at the age of nineteen, she moved from little Smithfield to glamorous Hollywood.

Within a decade she was one of the screen’s major stars. Besides her husbands, she had a long-time relationship with Howard Hughes and was a close friend with Gregory Peck. Later in her life, she moved to Madrid where she knew Ernest Hemingway and had Juan Peron as a neighbor. At least according to the museum, however, she never forgot Smithfield and came back even after she had achieved international fame. She is buried in Johnston County.

Yours truly cannot think about Ava Gardner without thinking about her body. The Ava Gardner Museum in Smithfield, North Carolina, displayed costumes from several of her movies, and the placard near one said that she was 5’6’’ tall and wore size six shoes. The dress indicated nothing more than an average bust size, but the waist of one gown was remarkably small. It seemed to define the term “wasp-waisted.” The card said that the dress measured eighteen inches at the waist. That might certainly explain why her breasts appeared bigger on the screen than the dresses indicated.

She did have an hourglass figure, but I still could not imagine a grown woman with that small a waist. That led me later to Google and found websites listing measurements of Hollywood stars. (How they know these things I do not know.) One site says she wore a size eight shoe and a size six dress and had measurements of 36-24-37 inches. Another site takes an inch off her waist and says she was 36-23-37, but that her bra size was 34B. (I don’t really understand these things, but doesn’t that contradict that 36-inch measurement?) Looking at her photographs and the clips of her in movies, however, I realized it did not matter what her sizes were. She was a completely beautiful woman. (I clicked on a recent popup on my computer for the 15 most gorgeous women, and there she was.)

I am not sure that I could have named a single movie Ava Gardner was in before going into the Museum. She appeared in none of the movies I would have listed as my favorites, and I have little concept of her acting ability. I now seem to have some memory of her from the iconic film noir, The Killers, which made her a star and launched Burt Lancaster’s career. I may watch that again, and I might see The Night of the Iguana, which also starred Richard Burton and Deborah Kerr. I have heard that it is good. The posters in the museum indicated, however, that she was in many movies with some of the most famous actors and actresses.

The visit to the Ava Gardner Museum made me think not only about her but about the museum itself. It made sense that it was near her birthplace in Smithfield, but I found it unlikely that the town or county had spent the money to collect all those memorabilia or to produce the film about her that was being shown in the museum. I thought that the origins of the museum must be due to someone’s obsession. The strange novel, The Museum of Innocence, by Orhan Pamuk, the Turkish writer who won the Nobel Prize, came to mind. In that novel, the protagonist Kemal starts collecting objects that relate to his obsessive love of an unattainable woman. He eventually creates the Museum of Innocence from this compulsive collection. And to my surprise, I found that the novel had a reference to the Ava Gardner Museum.

I did not have to wonder long about the obsession that was the origin of the museum. The Ava Gardner Museum itself told me that the museum originated in the collection of one Tom Banks, who had met Gardner when he was twelve and she was eighteen and in her only year of college. The adolescent boys teased the college girls, and one day Ava chased Tom and gave him a kiss. (If I had met Ava Gardner when I was twelve and she was eighteen, there is a good chance I, too, would have been obsessed with her for the rest of my life. And perhaps I still would not have washed the kissed cheek.) He, not surprisingly, noticed when she did not return for her second year and then saw a newspaper article about her Hollywood contract. He immediately started collecting all the memorabilia he could find about her, and later, after he was a psychologist, he even bought Gardner’s childhood home, the site of the first museum. He started a part-time Ava Gardner Museum, and after he died his wife, who apparently joined her husband in collecting anything related to Ava Gardner, donated the collection to Smithfield.

Whatever obsession I had with Ava Gardner was sated by my visit to the Ava Gardner Museum. Even so, I would like to see Elizabeth McGovern in Ava: The Secret Conversations, but it has a limited New York run, and I will be out of the City until after the production has departed for other cities. If any of you have seen it, however, let me know what you think.