He Marched Up Italy to Defeat Hitler: Now He Just Needed a ‘Lift’

“I’ve had a wonderful life,” Andy told me over the phone as I stood hours after our encounter in front of a CVS several days ago. The circumstances that led to this meeting and its afterglow is the magic movies produce about two unlikely travelers: George Bailey and an angel named Clarence.

A strip mall featuring a drug store with cars whizzing by is not the picturesque setting of a Frank Capra film, but on this December day, it will have to do. I was taking my long walk for exercise in my little town of Encinitas—just north of San Diego. I mention this because my truck was left at home, a good 30 minutes away by foot, as I briskly passed the front door of the local drugstore.

I spotted an elderly man leaning against a brick column. He was holding a small bag in his hand and keeping an eagle eye on the maze that was the parking lot. What made him stand out to me was his cap. It was a dark blue U.S. Army hat with gold letters that spelled out WWII, and beneath those poignant letters was a series of colors that seemed to indicate to me that this man was highly decorated. I walked right past him—keeping my pace and then suddenly I stopped. Could I walk past a man like this when it was apparent that he was looking for someone?

I did an about-face and asked him if I could be of help.

“Well, I’m waiting for my Lyft,” he said with a confused look shadowing his face.

“Oh. I see. Well, um, what kinda car are you looking for, Sir?”

He turned towards me and said, “Well, I’m not sure.” He wore an oversized winter coat—the puffy type that seemed to blanket him. Underneath the unzipped coat was his white tee-shirt tucked into his blue jeans. The ensemble was connected with suspenders that gripped the pants and seemed to hold this gentleman together. He remarked, “They should be here by now. So, I am getting concerned,” he said as he gazed back at the sea of cars.

“Ah, well, do you have your phone?” I asked.

He smiled and replied, “What does a 95 year old man need a phone for?” he said with a twinkle in his eye—really, I am not making this up.

“Well…how did you call….”

He interrupted me, as he fished for a yellow card. “Well, see, I call this number here on this card, and a Lyft driver is supposed to come and pick me up—that’s the plan, anyway.”

“Oh, okay, well, I can call the number again if you think they are not coming,” as I take the card from his hand.

“Oh, that would be great. Just tell the lady who answers that ‘Andy is still waiting to be picked up’ okay?”

I dial the number and the receptionist says something about a retirement home, but it is hard to hear since a giant delivery truck roars by at that instant. I hit the ‘speaker icon’ so my newfound pal Andy can hear her, too. He speaks into the phone: “Hello. Hello. Is this Bea? It’s Andy. They haven’t come yet … my Lyft person … No … I am at the CVS.”

Confusion ensues and the woman apologizes and explains that the driver is waiting for us.

“Where?” Andy asks patiently and politely.

“At the CVS…he is looking for you. He is in a silver Montero,” she explains. We gaze over the horizon of jammed cars, but no silver 

Montero do we spy. Andy counters, “Well, we’ll keep lookin.”

I thank the woman and decide I need to wait with Andy until he is picked up. So, we start a conversation that would stick with me—a dialogue that would take me back in time.

“Well, Andy, I see you were in the Army—your hat says 1941-1945.”

“Yes, yes. I am sure glad I wore this cap today, that might be why you stopped to help me, I bet.”

“Well, I guess that’s probably true. I’m a retired teacher and I spent a good amount of time dealing with WWII.”

“Oh, you heard about the 34^th Infantry Division? We were the group that walked up the boot of Italy from the south of the Anzio beachhead up to the Alps of Switzerland.”

“No, I didn’t ….”

Andy points to my cell phone. “Look it up on your computer, you’ll see what I mean.”

I input the information in a Google search while Andy explains, 

“See, I enlisted at 18 and they sent me to Northern Africa and then we crossed the sea to Italy….” He looked down at my phone. “Yep, that is it. That was our insignia—the Red Bull…I was a part of “The March of the Red Bulls.”

“Andy, that is amazing. My Uncle Pete Buscemi was in the Anzio campaign, too. Did you know him?”

“Hmm. Nope. Doesn’t ring a bell, but—hey, do you think that this Lyft fella is at the wrong CVS?”

It’s been 10 minutes since the last call so I redial, get transferred and then get disconnected. By now, poor Andy has been standing for 20 minutes leaning, stooped over, against the same column. There are no chairs. “Andy, I’m gonna call again, but let me find you something to sit on.” I can tell he is fatiguing. I look all around and enter the store, but not a chair is to be found. When I step back outside, a woman, dressed as an elf comes down the walkway with an iron chair that she grabbed from the bakery up the way.

“I saw you two and thought that this would help,” she says as merrily as any elf would. We thank her profusely, and I finally reconnect with the receptionist and explain our predicament.

“The driver is at the CVS on 456 Encinitas…” I cut her off when I look behind me and realize this store’s address is 129.

Andy looks at me with that I told you so attitude. And we respectfully ask for another driver to come pick Andy up. Now it will be a person in a black car—that’s all we could make out with all the noise around us.

As we wait…and wait, another woman named Jenn asks about us because it is apparent something is wrong and we explain the situation. She hopes our ride comes soon. While we wait, I introduce myself to Andy and explain that I am Italian. “Do you speak it?” he asks me. I don’t but Andy does. He also speaks Romanian—and other romance languages, too. “It was important because I could speak to the people as we travelled past cities that the Nazis had abandoned. Oh, I could tell you stories….”

By now Jenn is done shopping, and we are still out there. She asks where Andy lives, but he is far from her destination. Apologetically, she explains that she has to get home or she would drive him. Andy asks if she has a pen, and after fishing through a purse that held two pens that didn’t work, she finally finds a Sharpie. Andy asks me to write down my phone number on his yellow card. Jenn exits and I again call Andy’s service.

“Okay, Sir, I am so sorry. The other driver cancelled so I am calling now for another one. Hold the line, okay.” It’s been at least 30 minutes, and in all this, time Andy has never once lost his charm or patience. “The new driver is 7 minutes away, his name is Pedro and he has a Silverado truck.”

Finally, Pedro pulls up. I help Andy into the truck which sits high. Andy and I embrace and I look at Pedro, a strapping young man, and say to him, “Andy is a veteran of WWII. We sure appreciate the lift.” Pedro nods and shakes Andy’s hand and looks at me and says, “I’m in the service, too. You’re in good hands, Sir.” And as they drive off, I feel both relieved and euphoric. I realize those forty minutes I spent with Andy is what the spirit of the holidays is all about. But it wasn’t over.

When my phone rang as I was walking with my wife into Barnes and Noble, I noticed the caller was unknown. I had a feeling…yes, it was Andy.

“Hello, is this Bob?”

And thus began another long chat with Andy. In the time it took for my wife to investigate the new books she wished to tackle for the holiday season, Andy told me many stories that were as fresh to him today as they were 70 years ago. His division was liberating Rome. He explored the city and came upon the Museum of Romanian History – the Accademia di Romania. When he got there, in the basement of the building hiding in a cluster of forty or so refugees, he discovered men and women of Romanian descent. When they saw a fully armed soldier, they were frightened. He quelled their fear by speaking their language. Immediate relief crossed their faces, and one of the elders turned to him and asked, “Do all Americans speak Romanian?”

Andy chuckled as he told the story to me. Of course, he told them no; however, he assured them that the Americans had chased what was left of the pro-Nazi army out of Rome; they were free to come out from hiding. Joy spread across their faces, and I could not contain the smile on mine as I stood next to the section labeled historical fiction. Here I was listening to a man who made history. I knew at that moment that Andy’s story would be circling my mind, just waiting for a time when I could land it on my laptop and send it out to the world.

Andy had other tales to tell, but he sensed I need to go. I assured him that I would reach out to him before too long. That’s when he told me that he was grateful for my help and that he felt he lived a charmed life.

I chimed in that I felt the same way. I’ve been married to the love of my life for 34 years and taught high school for 32 years. My adult children make me burst with pride—however, on a day like today, when I met a living American hero, I felt so proud to be an American myself.

Andy said one more thing before we ended our talk: “You know, Bob, I never told you my birthday, did I?  …it’s Christmas Day.” 

Of course it was. It will be his 95^th.

And somewhere in the bookstore, I thought I heard the bells that ring each time angels earn their wings.

Robert Pacilio

Encinitas, California

Mr. Pacilio was the San Diego County “Teacher of the Year for 1998 and the author of several novels. 

The House Divided: By Whom? Lincoln knew what endangered America: civil uprising. Enter Russia.

The Republican Party made its name by claiming to so hate communism that Ronald Reagan became the icon of his generation when he declared, “Tear this wall down” in Berlin. Well, the wall fell, as did the Soviet Union’s control over satellite states. With that Russia became a second rate power.

Enter Putin. Max Boot, whose family escaped the grips of communism, recently penned an excellent article spelling out, in great detail, the Putin led attack on United States, and his slow steady march into Ukraine. If you’ve missed this, I recommend reading his Washington Post essay dated December 4^th titled, “The Republicans have become the party of Russia. This makes me sick.”

The point I wish to make is that Putin has now compromised American government at its highest levels, from the President, to the Senate, and to the minority members of the House of Representatives. As of this writing, it is unclear whether the Supreme Court has also faced this incursion (the decision on appearing when subpoenas are ordered and the withholding of tax returns and presidential communications [i.e. the actual transcript of Trump’s phone call asking for ‘a favor’] will tell the American people where the Court stands on the version of an attempt at an imperial presidency.

Let’s be honest. Every United States investigative agency has confirmed it was the Russians that hacked into and interfered with the 2016 election. Those same agencies confirm that it is still going on right now. They confirm that the Ukraine not only had nothing to do with the elections, but, in fact, that is part of the Russian strategy—to convince some naïve politicians that “It wasn’t us…it was this weak democratically elected Ukrainian government is to blame!” It is a farce when you think about it.

And that is exactly my point. Far too many are not thinking about it—or even paying attention. Let’s test my theory: are people aware that even the loyal Republican Lindsey Graham admitted as much on December 3rd?  Graham said he is "’1,000% confident’ that Russia, not Ukraine, meddled in the 2016 US presidential election, breaking from President Donald Trump and others in his party who have pushed the discredited conspiracy theory.” CNN reported the widely spread headline from his mouth—not ‘fake news.’

My guess is that people don’t know, don’t care, and are too busy shopping for the holidays to realize what is being stolen from them as they click away on Amazon Prime. What is under attack? The vote of the people, by the people, for the people. That’s what.

Let’s connect the dots…again for those not paying attention. Mr. Trump in Helsinki in July 2016: "President Putin says it's not Russia. I don't see any reason why it would be." However, the BBC reported that same day: “US intelligence agencies concluded in 2016 that Russia was behind an effort to tip the scale of the US election against Hillary Clinton, with a state-authorized campaign of cyber attacks and fake news stories planted on social media.”

The impeachment of this president is not about his character flaws, his bankrupt businesses, his lawsuits, the woman whom he has assaulted—no; it is about one simple thing. He and his administration have allowed foreign interference in United States elections, and the fact that the minority of House Republicans are ignoring this and calling the investigation a “witchhunt’ and a “scam” is exactly what Mr. Putin would dream of—the great ‘Beacon of Freedom’ has been flickering.

I cannot imagine what Ronald Reagan would say now.

And what of the US Senate? Senator McConnell will have a trial and the results are pre-ordained. There is little chance that 67 senators will vote to impeach a Mr. Trump, who on live television, exclaims that China should investigate the Bidens. Fortunately, USA Today reported on 10/8/19, “China has reportedly rejected President Donald Trump's request to investigate Democratic presidential candidate Joe Biden, with officials saying the country doesn't want to get involved in U.S. domestic politics.” Isn’t that quaint. They will steal our patients, but they draw the line on our elections.

As for Russia, Mr. Trump before he became president, rallied his fans challenging “Russia, if you’re listening….” He hoped Putin would find Hilary’s emails [note: they didn’t.]

Oh, but the Professor Jonathan Turley, who testified before the House Committee as the lone opinion that there is just not enough evidence yet to impeach Mr. Trump. Turley felt that until witnesses, who Trump has banned from testifying [Pompeo, Bolton, Mulvaney] come before the House, then there is just not enough “first hand” evidence of guilt.*

Enter the Supreme Court. It could take over a year for this to be decided—if the Court ever compels them to testify due to “executive privilege” [which did not happen in Watergate]. Naturally, by then, another election would assaulted by foreign intervention.

And that is exactly the strategy of a “House Divided.” I pray that it never comes to that.

Post-script: This is the very same Professor Turley who thought there was enough evidence to impeach President Clinton for the Monica Lewinsky perjury. [Clinton was censured, not removed from office. A fitting result for a President who had improperly, immorally conducted himself, but did not break his oath of office.]

We Need a Teaching Force!

This revised essay has become far more imperative now that the most recent study has been done on teacher experience. The study concluded that in 1988 a typical teacher had 15 years of experience; today that number has been reduced to 3 years!

In many ways teaching is a relay race as one generation of teachers passes the baton to the next. The faster the baton is passed the faster the mentor teacher can get the young protégé ‘up to speed.’

A lot has been made by my Baby Boomer colleagues that we were the first generation (“post the Korean War,”) that embraced teaching as a ‘lifestyle choice’. And with that push, the commitment to excellence and innovation in teaching evolved. No doubt, the children of the Baby Boom made an impact on the lives of new ‘g-g-g-generations’ who fell under their wing.

I had the pleasure of teaching dozens of would-be-teachers who are alumni of my English classes, and I emphasized that they bring something every teacher must have when they walk into a classroom — compassion. Each has had to run hard and fast, often facing hurdles that our generation did not have to leap.

Unfortunately, factors besides the many hoops that these young people have to jump just to get the teaching profession. The financial cost/ benefit of teaching is laughable. Students leave college with, not a money on their back, but rather, a King Kong. “Student loan debt in the U.S. reached another all-time high of $1.4 trillion in the first quarter (Q1) of 2019, according to Experian data. That’s an increase of 116% in 10 years and represents one of the country’s most significant and widespread financial burdens to date.”

As for a typical Bachelor Of Arts degree, students rack up $16,000 of debt. That does not count the year that it takes to earn a teaching degree — time that often requires a student to work without any pay (or work in the evenings to survive). 

Once these teachers are placed in the classroom, they have a terrible turnover rate. 50% of them quit after five years. And that number is even more striking when one considers how few are even taking the plunge (understandably) to go into the profession.

Once then are past the five year mark the National Average for teacher salaries is abysmal. As of August of 2019: “Nationwide, the average public school teacher salary for the 2017–2018 school year was $60,483, according to data from the Department of Education’s National Center for Education Statistics.” What a statistic like this does not indicate is that opening salaries are often as low as $45,000 (Oklahoma, South Dakota and Arizona where shortages are dire); these averages do not take into account how many years it takes to move up to just the average. 

As for ‘keeping up with inflation’ as they say in New Jersey — “For get about it.” According to the Washington Post in 2018: “…some states seeing big drops in average salaries. Colorado, for example, which is having a serious teacher shortage, saw a 15 percent decline in average teachers salaries from 1969–2017….”. That amounts to a Rocky Mountain low.

What to do what to do? First, on the agenda is the removal of a Trump administration that abhors public schools. Education Secretary Betsy DeVos, whose only qualification for this post was being a rich donor to Trump’s campaign, said recently: “Government has never made anything better or cheaper. more effective or more efficient. And nowhere is that more true than latest in education.” 

This statement is a gut punch to all those great public colleges, schools, and the teachers and professors that sacrifice less pay for more fulfillment. Of course, she speaks from absolutely no peresonal experience either as a teacher or having her children attend even one day in a public school. Trump and Co. have no vested interest in anything ‘public.’ 

Next, America needs to invest in its children and those teachers. Study after study concludes the same thing: the teacher is the single most important factor that creates success in a classroom. Not the computer. Not the textbook. Not the online impersonal technology. All those things are just the tools of the trade. It is the teacher that is the artist, the motivator, the counselor, the leader and the coach — sometimes all those jobs on a Thursday. 181 days a year. And America wants it done on the cheap…but not for much longer.

To add insult to injury, many thousands of teachers signed up for a program that asked for a ten year commitment, and after that commitment ended, they would have their debt forgiven. Scores of reports are indicating that the federal government is now reneging on the deal. Talk about getting screwed and being disgusted by an administration that shows utter disrespect to these public servants.

Yes, the climate crisis is the most existential issue the world faces, but without this nation’s new generation of children becoming educated and literate, this nation, dare I say the leader of the free world, will continue to be bamboozled by those foolish enough to perpetuate the idea that the global warming is a hoax. Our children will have to have the critical thinking skills and work effort, not to mention grit, that it will take to sift through the disinformation and disregard for the facts — pure and simple.

This will take time and political courage. The votes it will take to raise taxes or make cutbacks in the military industrial economy may cost political careers. It is not the moon or mars we should be shooting for with the insane Space Force — not today, not for the next decade. It’s a Teaching Force that this nation needs right now ASAP. 

So here’s to the runners, those noble teachers, who grab the baton and head to the finish line — even though it is more a marathon than a sprint. We owe tem more than our gratitude. 

ps. I am always willing, like many, many of my retired colleagues to jump in and make a ‘guest appearance.’ All they need to do is ask.

It’s Still the Same Old Story: Isolationism and Trump

From time to time, I reflect back on America’s involvement in WWII. Raging across Europe and Northern Africa, Hitler’s Nazi forces were making a mockery of the idea that a treaty would assuage the fanatical German leader. It all seems like some distant memory for some or perhaps a trailer for a new movie ready for a 3D cinema near you.

But really, it is quite black and white. Literally. The film Casablanca comes to the forefront when I considerate as a clarion call for America to wake up from its slumber and realize that millions of lives had been and would be lost without our intervention. I spent many years teaching the subtle (and not so subtle) aspects of the film; however, today one particular question keeps running through my mind.

A jaded businessman, Signor Ferrari asks Rick Blaine, the embodiment of America’s idea that one does not stick one’s neck out for anyone: Ferrari asks:

“My dear Rick, when will you realize that in this world today isolationism is no longer a practical policy?”

Rick Blaine’s response then was that the problems of the world are not his concern. He is a businessman. Of course, we know (or should know) how the film ends: Blaine and company decide that the self-centered problems of “three little people don’t add up to a hill of beans in this crazy world.” Thus, he sacrifices love security to personally jump back into the fight…and this time America and the Free World wins.

My dear readers, it is time we joined the fight. Isolationism, whether it is cloaked in words like Brexit, nationalism, Trumpism, or “build that wall,” are today’s rallying cry from a small, but dangerous tribe of people so concerned with their own self interests, their own wallets, their own view of what an American should look like, whom they should love and what god they pray to, that they cannot fathom a larger cause — “a stronger together” force of will.

Isolationism did not begin with Donald Trump and it will not end with his administration. It is not a red or blue state, either. Intolerance cloaks itself in every religion, race, and creed. And the coward seeks refuge in the ‘castle walls’ built to keep out all those who threaten that entitled way of life.

Nowhere is this isolationism more evident in the Trump Administration’s rejection of the Paris Climate Accords. The idea that global warming is a “hoax” perpetuated by the Chinese, or a conspiracy by the left wing/ socialists is just another version of sticking one’s head in the sand and pretending that the crisis will pass, as if it were just a tropical storm added by foul winds. Of course, only when the inevitable hurricane blasts apart Mar-a-Logo refuge, only then will a few see the rising tides in the seas. Naturally, those with enough money and power will retreat to the next country club fortress and blithely comment that “Isn’t it just a shame….”

The Brits are also realizing the senselessness of a knee jerk, nationalistic reaction to leaving the European Union. Tossing out the baby with the bathwater is the conundrum facing those politicians across the pond. Clearly, there are issues (like fishing the waters between the continent and Great Britain), but these are compromises that need to be addressed — not a reason to abandon ship.

Turning to the turmoil in the Middle East, some believe that a total withdrawal of United States military forces is overdue in the Middle East, despite the growing danger of unchecked (and far from dead) ISIS forces — extremists that all true Muslim sects decry. What ISIS has done to millions of innocent men, women and children is a 21st Century Holocaust. The New York Times on November third 2019 ran a special section in its Sunday magazine about the ISIS slaughters, so disturbing, was the loss of life, the maimed, raped, and the mentally tortured people who were shredded by these assassins that I had to avert my eyes to the grim photographs.

Our Special Forces, along with the Kurdish fighters led to the killing of one of ISIS’s leaders, but the Trump administration once again made American foreign policy look both foolish and cruel. By abandoning the Kurdish people, who had captured some of the worst of the ISIS fighters, and then allowing the Turkish forces to both destroy the Kurds with bombardment but, in the chaos, Turkey also free at least a thousand ISIS prisoners, who will undoubtedly matriculate back to Europe to again reap havoc and destruction. How many will forget that it was Trump’s unexplainable green light to Turkish attack that may be one of the most devastating blunders of Trump’s legacy.

Why did Trump isolate the Kurds by having our peacekeeping forces retreat (a decision military leaders there and in the States criticize)? No one really knows. Was Trump motivated to protect his hotel properties in Turkey? Was he looking for a way to further ingratin ate himself to Putin, who now holds the levers of control in northern Syria? What possible sense is there in this pullout? Was it a simple “What’s in it for me?” Another one of his “Why should I stick my neck out” moment?

No one wants ‘forever wars’; however, there is a reason we protect nations like South Korea. There is a reason we are the muscle and the money behind NATO. Why not just look out for our own interest? Here are but a few reasons: Crimea. Ukraine. North Korean aggression. Russian involvement in our political elections. And the simple fact that we must lead the world from the brink of ecological destruction. That’s why.

At one point in Casablanca, An agonized Humphrey Bogart as Rick Blaine says: “I bet they’re asleep in New York; I bet they’re asleep all over America.”Then he sips his whiskey and remembers the calendar just turned to December….1941.

Government Is Good - But Easily Taken for Granted

I’ve been spending considerable time thinking about the value we place on our American government, as well as the need to be an informed citizen of this great nation. Last month, I walked through the cities of Germany, Switzerland and Austria, and I could not help but be reminded how America saved the world from Hitler’s Holocaust. I was proud of the Greatest Generation, who waded onto the beaches of Normandy to save others from the tyranny of the Nazi onslaught.

With all the ‘Deep State’ conspiracy talk, the debates about ‘how much is too much’ government involvement, and complaints about taxation, I became motivated to answer a simple question that was asked by Rush Limbaugh: “With the exception of the military, I defy you to name one government program that has worked and alleviated the problem it was created to solve.” I discovered the answer by doing something Americans often don’t have time for — reading.

Many folks think they never needed government to do anything for them; after all, they pulled themselves up by their efforts with little help from Uncle Sam. Many view government as the enemy or as a bunch of bungling fools or as merely a greedy taxation machine…maybe all three.

So let me remind everyone of some of “Government’s Greatest Hits” — (and for brevity, these are just the Gold Standards). These results come from the research of Professor Douglas Amy, Professor of Politics at Mount Holyoke College. The good professor begins with this:

“What follows is a short list of some of the federal government’s greatest accomplishments. These are policy programs that have not only worked, but have been very successful and have greatly improved the quality of life of most Americans.

• Regulation of the Business Cycle. Until the financial crisis that began in 2008, most of us had forgotten how dependent we are on the federal government to prevent economic depressions. Since the 1930s, the government has used a variety of monetary and fiscal policies to limit the natural boom and bust cycles of the economy. Before government took on this responsibility, severe depressions were a routine and recurring problem in this country — occurring in 1819, 1837, 1857, 1873, 1893, 1907 and 1929. Thanks to government intervention, we have been able to avoid the enormous amount of human suffering caused by these massive economic meltdowns… By any measure, eliminating these depressions and this misery has been one of the greatest — and often unheralded — achievements of our federal government.

• Public Health Programs. A variety of programs run by the National Institutes of Health, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, and state and local Public Health departments have greatly improved the health of most Americans. For example, the scourges of polio, cholera, and smallpox have been effectively eradicated from this country — a huge achievement. And vaccination programs have reduced by 95% our risks of contracting potentially debilitating diseases like hepatitis B, measles, mumps, tetanus, rubella, and diphtheria. Federal funds spent on buying and distributing these vaccines have saved countless lives and the billions of dollars it would cost to treat these illnesses.

• The Interstate Highway System. Started by the Eisenhower administration in the 1950s, this system now forms the backbone of long-distance travel and commerce in the United States…. Even some conservatives have been forced to admit the success of this building program, with George Will calling it “the most successful public works program in the history of the world.” It’s hard to imagine the U.S. without this interstate highway system, and this system would not exist at all if it weren’t for the government.

• Federal Deposit Insurance. Another government program we’ve taken totally for granted until recently is federal protection of our bank deposits…. The main reason we had no disastrous runs on banks (and money market funds) during the financial panic of 2008 was that government was there to guarantee those deposits.

• Social Security and Medicare. Without these two government programs, growing old would be hell for many Americans…. Social Security has cut the rate of poverty for the elderly by over half — from 29% in 1966 to 10% today. Not surprisingly, financial columnist Jane Bryant Quinn has described Social Security as ‘arguably the U.S. government’s greatest success. ’Medicare has also been incredibly successful. It has doubled the number of the elderly covered by health insurance, so that 99% now enjoy that benefit. Without this form of “socialized” medicine, 15 million of our neediest citizens would be going without many vital medical services and many would have to choose between food and medicine. Older Americans are now living 20% longer, thanks in part to this effective program. These two programs have done more than anything else to relieve the pain and suffering of our elderly population.

Okay. Those are just five of the largest programs that affect Americans’ pocketbooks. But is it true that overall the government has been successful? According to the Harvard study by Derek Bok, which compared the situation for Americans in the 1960’s to the 1990’s, after studying 75 indicators of government involvement, the study concluded:

During the past thirty-five years, our society has made substantial progress in most of the fields surveyed. In almost all of these advances, government actions have played a prominent role, whether it be in cleaning up the environment, expanding personal freedom, extending health care to the poor and elderly, reducing poverty, or increasing opportunities for women and minorities. Federal policies have clearly had a hand in America’s greatest domestic achievements…

As for those who believe government is the problem, not the solution, a rebuttal from Professor Douglas Amy, “But the basic point here is this: there is simply no credible support for the government bashers’ contention that most government activities are ineffective and that policies usually make things worse rather than better. Exactly the opposite is the case.”

Grover Norquist declared years ago: “My goal is to cut government in half in twenty-five years, to get it down to the size where we can drown it in the bathtub.”He and his ilk have been spending millions upon millions of dollars since the 1990’s to convince Americans to not trust their government, to despise certain politicians, to pledge to never raise taxes for any reason, to never regulate anything because they believe in ‘Let the buyer beware!’ (try doing that on an airplane without the FAA’s inspections). And sadly, the results are that conspiracy theories abound, and people are either suspicious of government or just apathetic in their role as being an active, informed citizen (they don’t even vote!). This essay is my humble attempt to encourage all to read and pay attention to how much our government does for the average citizen. No, government is not perfect, but this noble experiment has been and remains the beacon of freedom and “the land of hope and dreams.”

It is often those who are not yet affected by circumstances beyond their control, who roar the loudest that they want government out of their lives. However, when those people face debilitating disease, trauma, natural disaster, etc., they clamor for the forces of government to help them be it fire, flood, food quality, or water purity (to name but a few). I wonder how Norquist and Limbaugh will feel about government actions and global warming as the waters rise up and up and up.

Sources:

“Government is Good: An Unapologetic Defense of a Vital Institution”A web project of Douglas J. Amy, Professor of Politics at Mount Holyoke College

Derek Bok, The State of the Nation (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1996).

5 Timeless lessons on 4 Letter Words

Courtsey of Jan Schneider from  Upsplash  

Last week I was a visiting lecturer at Southwest Junior College, which is a stone’s throw from the Mexico’s border with San Diego. I was also visiting with the professor who was my former student when she was a mere freshman in my English class. Quite proud I was of her, you see, because she was in charge of guiding a group of 25 students transitioning to a four year university despite their challenging circumstances.

And what where those, you ask? Professor M (for privacy) wrote me about the class because as all good teachers know, one of the first rules in teaching is know your students. They were young folks 18–23, who slept on the floor of their cramped homes, crossed the US border to come to class, came from schools that had underperformed, were living on a shoe-string budget, but they were bright, caring and loyal to her. Professor M had me at would you come….

Before I tell you the 5 lessons about 4 letter words, this preface will set the scene. I sat under the shade of a tree waiting for the class to begin and sitting next to me was a young lady whom I assumed was in the class. So I asked her if she recognized the song playing from the snack shack nearby. She said no. So I asked her if she heard of Stevie Wonder. No.

“But he is the famous singer who sang ‘You are the Sunshine of my life.’” Nope. Hmm. “Bruce Springsteen?” She shook her head politely (figuring this nice 63 year old man must be just lonely).

So I tried another tract: “The Beatles?” Ah ha! Eureka! She nodded. I worked my way back…or forward, even I was confused. “Madonna?” Again, a nod, as well as a smile. “Prince?” Yes. “Sting?” No.

So I was getting a gauge on the situation. This was going be a tough crowd for a guy with a CD player, a song and a Springsteen PowerPoint in his bag of tricks.

After a heartfelt introduction by Professor M, I asked all of the class if they ever even heard of Bruce Springsteen. No one had (except the lad who surreptitiously looked Springsteen on his laptop). “No worries,” I said, “we will get there soon enough.”

I explained that 4 letter words like f*%#; s&%#, etc. were tossed around casually nowadays even though there are 7 words one still cannot say on TV” (George Carlin: no way was I asking them about him). “But here are words that really do need to be expressed far more often, and if acted upon, would lead one to a happier life…and success along the way. Here goes:

KIND: “In my high school teaching days from 1977 until 2010, there were an awful lot of ‘dagger words’: bitch, faggot, asshole, …you know the roster. They are the stones we throw out of anger and frustration — or downright ignorance.” I reminded them that the people you meet who do a kind thing for you will be remembered — even honored. “And the ones that stuck that knife out and cut you or others; well, they will be lost or at least deposited into the bin of toxic waste.” These young folks seemed to radiate kindness already; perhaps because they had seen too many metaphoric knives thrust their way.

VOTE: “I know some of you can’t vote, or can’t yet vote. But when you are able to — please step up to the citizen’s stage and play your part in democracy. Too many folks have cynically become government atheists and forgotten that this four letter word is what makes the United States the beacon of freedom.” As I was speaking about voting I mentioned one simple word that had a visceral reaction from the entire class: Trump. The students seemed to freeze in front of me; as if simply mentioning his name was frightening. They gave me the feeling that they could be in danger if they made any movement — as if remaining invisible was the safest place to be. That image stayed with me for days.

GRIT: (I must tell my readers that these books etc. about grit are so late to the party because we teachers have known this decades before it became some authors’ Ah-ha Moment.) “I know you guys are up against some tough odds. Heck, I’m from Brooklyn. My folks never went to college. They lived paycheck to paycheck for years. I was not the brightest candle in the chandelier; after all, when the SAT test had a max score of 1600 — I settled in at 880. The motto written in bold letters above my door read: YOUR ‘I WILL’ IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOUR ‘IQ’. I failed at lots of stuff. I failed a test that would have awarded me $10,000 and a National Board Certification — by two points…and I heard the results I on my birthday (for literally cryin-out-loud). So I get it. GRIT makes you grab hold of the things that really matter. And BTW, I passed the test a year later.”

LOVE: The Beatles, remember them, (the students nod) had it right — “Love is all you need.” So if you are thinking of being a doctor, nurse, teacher, councilor, Lift driver…whatever the choice, if you do not find love, you are lost and no GPS will guide you there. When I was interviewed to be San Diego County’s “Teacher of the Year” I was asked this first question: what do you teach? My answer: INVISIBLE THINGS. The panel seemed confused. So I explained: ‘I teach kids about compassion, hate, love, tolerance — why Atticus Finch defends Tom Robinson; why Huck Finn loves a slave named Jim and why Jim loves Huck. These are the invisible things that matter. If one does not teach the answer to those questions, then what purpose do we have?”

HOPE: “You students are the legacy my generation leaves behind. Optimism may seem difficult for some of you. But there is a reason you are here, in this classroom, and a reason I am here, as well. Because, despite all the barriers and all the naysayers, we believe in our dreams. I’m going to play you a song and show you some of the pictures of the dreamers of the past and the present — from Jackie Robinson to Neil Armstrong to Lin-manuel Miranda to Taylor Swift. This is a song by that guy you all have never heard of and it’s called ‘The Land of Hopes and Dreams’.”

I pushed play and let Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band erupt within the walls of their classroom.

When I drove home, I had that feeling that I thought might have disappeared. It was a feeling that I made a difference today — with kids, albeit a bit older…but now wiser. I reminded myself on the 45 minute journey home, that what really matters in life is simply that you can be the sunshine of someone’s life — even if that someone has no idea who the person is who is singing that song.

I Just Saw Stars: Western Stars

Courtsey of Glen Carrie from Upsplash

I just walked out of a ‘movie house’ — as we used to say — and I saw stars; Western Stars that is, from Bruce Springsteen. It is hard to pin down exactly how to describe it. I suppose it is a spiritual symphony of horns, violins, drums, pianos, an accordion…and that gorgeous guitar I have never seen him play before. I guess the album and this live concert was literally about time. Buddy, can I relate.

Having taught English for 32 years, I found that one way I could nudge my students into an appreciation of literature and its powerful themes was to use songs, “a three minute record, baby” (as Springsteen reminds us in “No Retreat, No Surrender”). One particular Springsteen song from the 1980’s connected viscerally with my high school students: “The River.”

“The River” tells the story of young high school lovers whose passion leads to unexpected, let predictable consequences. Pregnancy, dropping out of school, a marriage of conscience, and the eventual regret these forlorn lovers feel would imprint on my high school students especially when the lovers eventually see their dreams fade away as deeply as the wrinkles that line their faces. It was a good lesson for seventeen- year olds…it is a lesson for us all.

“The River” may well have been one of the many songs in the Springsteen collection that propelled the new film Blinded by the Light; I don’t know for sure since Asbury Park is 3,000 miles from Encinitas, California where I pen this essay. But one thing I do know for sure: Bruce Springsteen has not lost his touch with his latest work: Western Stars.

Being authentic is one quality that writers understand to be essential. One either writes what one knows or seeks to find out that truth by going to the source. It boils down to understanding empathy and sympathy, and Springsteen’s thirteen songs have a little of both. They are told as vignettes with Springsteen’s raspy voice introducing each set of characters to come. 

In Western Stars, Springsteen’s stature as the poet laureate of his medium shines (pardon the pun Medium), and with the enthusiasm of a youthful orchestra behind his melodies and a enchanting barn as his backdrop, he touches a nerve in all of those willing to lend an ear.

And what, you ask does a (soon to be) seventy-year old Springsteen have to offer today? He has followed his Broadway life story chronicled from his autobiography Born to Run, with this album filled with characters facing their own mortality, and in many cases…all alone. These stories depict the evolution of Springsteen from a rollicking rocker to a wise sage, time travelling to those places west of the Mississippi where the wild Montana horses, the movie stars of Hollywood’s yesteryear, and San Bernardino truckers roam. Wherever he takes us, we remind ourselves of the pain and joy that comes with age.

Springsteen’s stories begin with a wandering “Hitchhiker” who seems content with riding shotgun and appreciating the lives of those who trust him enough to take him anywhere down the road. Far more somber is a lonely truck driver often loses track of where he is, who he is, and what loves he has left behind. He’s reduced to calling himself “The Wayfarer.”

All is not doom and gloom. “Tucson Train” is a redemption yarn, the story of a man who has worked through “the pills and the rain” in an effort to prove to his past lover that all was “not in vain.” He is going to prove to her that “a man can change” as he is waiting for her to arrive “on the 5:15.”

Perhaps the most intriguing tale is the album’s title track “Western Stars.” His aging storyteller finds himself no longer a bit player in the western movies of bygone days, but instead he’s milking the last of days of his B-star fame, doing commercials for Viagra. He knows all he is good for is retelling the old story of how he was shot by John Wayne to bar hounds willing to pick up his tab. 

Springsteen gives homage to the charros, the proud Mexican riders, who Springsteen’s narrator insists are his brothers who “cross the wire and bring the old ways with them.” It is a bittersweet melody that one is drawn to despite the fact that the old cowboy knows his only hope is that when he wakes up in the morning “his boots are still on.”

Springsteen charts the sunrises and sunsets, some somber but some miraculous as he crosses Montana, California and Arizona. The most upbeat sunset appears when he saddles up to “Sleepy Joe’s Café.” The surf guitar and the accordion get the locals who show up at sundown to dance and “flirt the night away,” putting their hard day’s work behind them for at least a few hours before beginning anew the cycle of “an honest day’s work.”

The quietest, most sober song is whispered by a guitar player who has come “into town with a pocketful of songs”: the town, Nashville. His mission to land a contract in Music City: a place that can turn a poet into a one man band. Unfortunately, “Somewhere North of Nashville” is where this poor soul realizes he “just didn’t do things right.” He’s just another broken record, freezing his ass off in his car, utterly lost.

It is an authentic, panoramic view from atop hills in Montana at all those times one “Chases Wild Horses” only to dream about catching one and someday and riding her as “her hair flashin’ in the blue” is beyond reach.; like a wild horse, he’ll never lasso or tame her — those days over and done.

These are not the songs I would teach to high school students. No. They are meant for those of us who have driven those El Caminos down Highway 5 for many a decade. When we were young, we were “Blinded by the Light” — nowadays, it’s time for us to look up to the night time stars that shine and take stock of who we are and what really matters in life.