Mafia Justice, Religion and Myths and Memories An Excerpt From My Journaling

I rather liked what I wrote in my journal yesterday -- I don't write everyday, but often enough -- so thought I'd share it with my readers (both of us).

Feeling a bit lost. A two hour afternoon nap will do that. It’s the day mostly shot. Could have watched a film. Read. Written. Didn’t need a walk or work out. Already had the former and it’s the off day for the latter. The old saw is that I needed the sleep. This is undeniable and I should it accept it and move on.

Accept it and move on. How often in my life have I needed to do that yet failed? Constantly. It’s not as easy as it sounds. Regrets are persistent naggers. Hovering around poking at the brain.

I read some years ago about the Italian mafia killing someone by putting him in a cage with a very large and hungry boar. The man didn’t stand a chance. Now that I think about it I can’t say for sure the the the boar was described as very large or even large. One assumes and sometimes accepts it as fact in later recollections.

We change our memories. Indeed our memories are not so much of actual events but of previous memories. We get things wrong a lot that way. There are many parts of my life that I’m shaky on. Things from my youth that I can’t be certain happened or at least not in the way I recall. The fact that I was high a lot of the time is no help. That’s one of the worst aspects of having been a practicing alcoholic: there are holes bored into your memories. In my early years of sobriety I recalled a lot that had been forgotten. Events, occasions, interactions that had been buried came flooding back. Some clear, others hazy. Many more memories remain inaccessible.

I know there was one person who I’d been friendly with who refused to speak me again after one night of debauchery. It was most definitely as a consequence of some things I said. I had — and not without reason — a lot of pent up resentment towards her. As it was I soon moved out of town. She subsequently died of cancer while still in her early forties, maybe late thirties. I’ve always felt bad about how things were left between us and especially about not knowing what in blue blazes I’d said.

I started this off with a memory of reading about a boar killing a man. Obviously a horrible death with terrifying last minutes on this planet. Likely the man had been a “snitch.” Criminals are rarely merciful in dealing death to those who they feel betrayed them. A garroting or a bullet in the brain is not enough. The victim must suffer. Imagine such a mentality. Imagine being in a line of work that requires one to torture people to death. I’ve read awful accounts of the manner in which Mexican drug gangs dispose of people. Many victims have done nothing to harm the gang. It makes one shiver to contemplate the level of evil that persists throughout the planet. The willingness to kill and torture without — seemingly — giving it a second thought. No remorse at all. I feel bad after a negative interaction, I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I…. Not worth thinking about.

A lot of torture over the centuries has been done in the name of religion. Tells you all you need to know about the impact religion has had on the world. Bad enough they put prohibitions on certain activities, that they’ve demanded a cult-like adherence to bizarre behaviors, strictures and codes, they also kill and maim those who don’t believe or believe else ways.

Religions appeal to people’s tribal nature. You get to be part of a group. They can provide structure, rules to live by and give meaning to life and explanations for eternal questions. This has been of great comfort to many over the millennia. It is undeniable that religions have helped many, providing succor, nurturing, support and guidance. But look at the damage too. Look at some of the ludicrous beliefs and practices that people have developed. 

Still it must be acknowledged that myths are important. Myths explain, give meaning, are part of folklore, oral traditions and belief systems. 

Myths often require heroes. We’re not supposed to meet our heroes. We’ll inevitably be disappointed. I suppose this is because people make the mistake of transforming their heroes into something non-human. It is the humanity of a hero that makes her or him compelling. Who wants a robot as a hero? You should hope your hero is human and thus fallible. Of course there are certain sins we can’t forgive. Some wrongs are so bad they have to knock a hero of their pedestal. A hero who rapes can’t be a hero anymore. But maybe one who committed adultery can be given a pass. Heroism, to turn a phrase, is in the eye of the beholder. 

I’ve also been thinking about how nice a full belly is. Not too full. Gluttony leads to the just punishment of a bellyache. Stopping when you’ve had enough is not always easy, but is always wise. Pity those without enough. Appreciate a good meal and don’t abuse the privilege by over indulging. Same with so much else. Spirits for one. Take it from one who knows.

Nice to have written again today. Always a blessing and this journal is to be commended for providing an important service.

Imagine if I Had Total Power Over the United States -- Never Mind, I've Done it For You

Ever wonder what would happen if I had all encompassing power over the governance of the United States (of America)? Wonder no more. Here’s a sampling of what I’d do.

* Eliminate the electoral college effective immediately. Presidential elections would be decided by the popular vote just as in civilized countries.

*Roe v. Wade would be added to the Constitution. A woman's right to choose would be sacrosanct. 

*Similarly, the right for gay people to marry would be added to the Constitution. Love is love.

*The District of Columbia would get two senators. The same as Wyoming which has a smaller population than DC.

*The federal minimum wage would be raised to $17.50 an hour. No more serfdom.

*All three of Donald Trump’s Supreme Court appointees, along with the corrupt Clarence Thomas, would be removed from the court and replaced by progressive judges.

*Federal election day would be a national holiday. There would be same day registration.  The John R. Lewis Voting Rights Advancement Act of 2023 would be put into law. 

*Citizens United would be struck down. Corporations are not people.

*Donald Trump would be forever banned from holding public office and would be held without bail pending trials.

*All student loans would be forgiven.

*The military budget would be reduced by five per cent for the coming fiscal year and an additional five per cent the following the year and yet another five per cent for the year after that.

*The IRS code will raise individual tax rates for billionaires and equalize taxes on capital gains and labor income so work isn’t taxed more than wealth. 

*Billionaires will pay a wealth tax, and tax loopholes that permit the rich to stash profits in tax havens will be eliminated.

*To reduce tax haven abuse and the offshoring of corporate profits, corporations will pay the same tax rate on their foreign profits as on their domestic profits, and all large multinational corporations will pay a global minimum tax rate.

*The following people will be removed from their current offices and permanently banned from running for office: Ron DeSantis, Josh Hawley, Ted Cruz, Mitch McConnell, Lindsay Graham, Kristi Noem, Tommy Tuberville and Greg Abbott.

*Anyone running for president, vice president or the senate will have to pass basic tests before their name can be placed on the ballot. These tests will judge their cognitive abilities, understanding of basic economics, U.S. History and the Constitution.

*All gerrymandered congressional districts would be, for lack of a better term, ungerrymandered.

*Federal prisons will transition into rehabilitation centers and away from being over-crowded, over-heated, halls of torture where people are brutalized and raped. Ownership and administration of prisons will be solely in the hands of the government.

*There will be vastly increased government subsidies for all forms of public transportation making it cheaper, more reliable and more energy efficient.

*Salaries for all teachers and staff (excluding administrators) will be increased by ten per cent.

*School funding will be increased commensurate with the earlier mooted reduction in military spending.

*Sweeping gun control legislation will be passed. Assault rifles will be banned. Background checks for the purchase of any gun will be required. Anyone wishing to buy a gun will have to pass a safety test.

*Possession of marijuana by anyone 18 or older shall be legal in all 50 states and the District of Columbia.

*All non-violent drug offenders will be released from prison.

*Universal health care for all. No one pays a dime to a doctor whether for an annual check-up or open heart surgery.

*Money bail will be eliminated for misdemeanors and nonviolent felonies. The accused are either freed without restrictions while their case plays out, or released under certain conditions like electronic monitoring.

*Inasmuch as sex between consenting adults is legal and paying a person for services rendered is legal, prostitution will be legal.

*Stricter anti-trust laws will be passed. Huge corporations such as Amazon, Walmart and the bigger fast food chains will be most effected. There will be renaissance of Mom and Pop stores, small farms and locally-owned businesses.

*The problems of the homeless will be addressed as if it is a national crisis (it is). Mental health facilities, rehab centers, housing, jobs and guaranteed incomes will be made available. Compassion not the cudgel.

*At every level of baseball from little league to the majors, the designated hitter will no longer be employed with the sole exception of all-star games.

*College football will be restored to what it looked like thirty years ago. Regional conferences will return. Traditional rivalries will be restored. Past bowl affiliations will return. There will be no “playoffs" but a vote at the end of the bowl season to see which two teams play for the national title. Also, all kick-off times will be announced a month before the start of the season and no team shall be required to start more than one Saturday home game per season after 6:00 PM local time.

The Awkward Beauty of Taxi Driver

I watched Taxi Driver again on Saturday. I’ve now seen it at least a dozen times, probably closer to sixteen. 

It’s an awkward watch. Uncomfortable. Squirming, you feel like looking away at times. Yet compelling. You can’t take your eyes off it.

Just watch Travis Bickle (Robert Deniro) take Betsy (Cybill Shepherd) on a date to a porn theater. Oh dear. For that matter any scene between the two of them is a tough go. Even when — maybe especially — she’s not seen because it’s a phone conversation. We watch Travis at a payphone in a lobby apologizing for their awful date, asking — begging — for a second date. Thankfully Scorsese spares us after awhile by eventually directing the camera down an empty hallway. We still have to listen but we’re at least spared watching the unctuous, fawning excessively strange cab driver pleading his case.

These are the worst of it but Bickle’s “social” interactions with everyone else are a hard watch. The man’s not right (rather the whole point of the film). We wonder what’ll he say, what’ll he do next. Even after a dozen viewings that question persists as if somehow this time it could be different. 

Who is this Bickle character? Start with Cary Grant in, let’s say, The Philadelphia Story as C.K. Dexter Haven (although you could use a score of other Grant characters). Then travel to the opposite end of the universe. Reverse up and down. Bickle is the antithesis of a glib, charming raconteur. He is every stilted moment we’ve ever had — doubled. He is that acquaintance we’e embarrassed for while we watch him ask that out-of-his-league woman for a date. Bickle is every awkward silence we’ve ever been in, ever social malaprop we’ve committed, every wrong thing we’ve said at the wrong time. He’s when we forget to zip up after taking a quick leak. 

But he’s so much more. He’s a lethal killer. A killing machine. A dangerous menace. A blight upon society. Travis Bickle has no place in society polite or otherwise. A ticking time bomb. Sure it all works out for him in the end but he’s back out there and the world may not be so lucky next time. He may not be spotted seconds before shooting a candidate. It might not be gangsters and pimps he slaughters given a second chance. We don’t think he’s “reformed” do we? I think not.

Oh yes, this Bickle fellow is a product of society. We made him. A lot of those who walk among us are lumps of clay ultimately formed by the voices, and the actions and the people around them. Look at Trump supporters. They spent years as empty vessels ready for just the right (wrong) moment and leader to fashion them into MAGA zealots. Bickle, the lonely figure had no core of beliefs, no philosophy. As an ex-Marine, he’s trained to follow. What to do when there are no leaders around? He's not a reader, not a connoisseur of any of the arts, not attuned to politics (he supports a candidate without really knowing his position on the issues). He has no religion or philosophy. No education (he says “some, here and there”). He is malleable. The harsh, the ugly realities of society combine with his own psychosis, his pathological loneliness to form him into an angry, twisted man. One who’s heavily armed. When trying to choose a gun to buy he opts for “all of them.”

Yes, it’s true and correct that he wants to save a young hooker. Good intentions. He hates the wrongness of a twelve-year-old being a victim of human trafficking. He can’t let it stand. Travis to the rescue. The right impulse. But it leads to vigilante justice. It also comes after his foiled plot to kill a presidential candidate. There’s a lot going on in that man’s head but it has no structure, no basis in ethics or morality. It is wild and untamed. Might kill an innocent man or a gangster. Awkward. 

I get more out of Taxi Driver with each viewing. Despite how it can make me feel at times. There’s the jazz soundtrack that is so mournful and portentous of a lonely, ugly ride through New York’s meaner streets seen through the eyes of one it’s meaner denizens. I don’t “like” the music, but the film would be sorely lacking without it.

There is of DeNiro in one of those performance that transcends “acting” and is closer to embodying. It’s a role — like Bogart as Fred Dobbs in Treasure of the Sierra Madre or Paul Newman as the titular character in Hud — that is more than memorable or iconic. It is part of the legacy of motion pictures.

Taxi Driver is very watchable because of DeNiro, Jodie Foster, Peter Boyle and the rest of the cast (including Scorsese’s own cameo). Viewers are also drawn to the exquisite cinemaphotography and the brilliant coloring of the climactic bloodbath. It’s a masterclass of directing by Scorsese and one of cinema’s greatest achievements. All this despite being really awkward. I mean seriously.

The Best Years in Films, Many From the Seventies and One Quite Recent

Stalker (1979) a great film from a great year

I'm happy to say that 2023 was a great year in films. At least for me. My five favorite films of the year were all worthy of the number one spot — even in an exceptional year. (See my top ten.) The next three would have normally found themselves among the top three or four and the last two, plus a couple in my honorable mentions would have been among the top five in most years. This was easily the best year for new releases in this century (albeit one that is only 24 years old) and exceeds any single year from the ‘90s or ‘80s. 

This got me thinking about how 2023 ranked among the great years in films. I naturally started my investigation by looking at the Seventies which has produced an amazing number of great films -- as I've detailed on this blog before. It was no surprise that I found a few years that bested 2023. There were five other years from different decades that stood out, two of them consecutive ones. So here are my twelve favorite years in films, with those films that I consider “great” listed.

1975 Barry Lyndon, Dog Day Afternoon, The Man Who Would be King, Mirror, Nashville, Three Days of the Condor, Jaws, Shampoo, Love and Death, The Passenger, Picnic at Hanging Rock. 

1979 Manhattan, Stalker, Tess, Apocalypse Now, The Marriage of Maria Braun, Being There, Breaking Away, My Brilliant Career.

1974 Chinatown, Godfather 2, A Woman Under the Influence, California Split, The Conversation, The Parallax View, Ali: Fear Eats the Soul.

1940 His Girl Friday, Foreign Correspondent, Grapes of Wrath, The Great McGinty, The Shop Around the Corner, The Great Dictator, The Philadelphia Story, The Long Voyage Home, The Letter.

1957 The Seventh Seal, Nights of Cabiria, Sweet Smell of Success, Bridge on the River Kwai, The Cranes are Flying, Witness for the Prosecution, Paths of Glory.

1972 The Godfather, Cabaret, The New Land, Aguirre, The Wrath of God, Cries & Whispers, The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie, Play it Again, Sam, What’s Up Doc?

2023 Fallen Leaves, Oppenheimer, Godland, Zone of Interest, All of Us Strangers, May December, Poor Things. 

1973 Amarcord, The Last Detail, The Exorcist, Serpico, The Friends of Eddie Coyle, Badlands, Paper Moon, The Spirit of the Beehive.

1971 The Last Picture Show, A Clockwork Orange, The Emigrants, McCabe and Mrs. Miller, Bananas, The French Connection, Mon Oncle Antoine, Walkabout.

1962 L’eclisse, Cleo Form 5 to 7, Vivre sa vie, The Exterminating Angel, Jules et Jim, Knife in the Water, Shoot the Piano Player, Mamma Roma, Ivan's Childhood. 

1939 Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Midnight, Stagecoach, Ninotchka, The Roaring Twenties, Destry Rides Again, Young Mr. Lincoln.

1946 It's A Wonderful Life, The Big Sleep, Notorious, Cluny Brown, My Darling Clementine, Paisan, The Killers, Shoeshine.

When Dirty Fingernails Cost Me a Marriage and Other Memories and Reflections

When I was in kindergarten I proposed to Stephanie Muller. She turned me down because my fingernails were dirty. Many years later I heard that Stephanie was a heroin addict. Years after that I was in a teaching credential program with her brother and from him learned that Stephanie was not only clean but working in a program in which recovering addicts helped people knew to recovery. Admirable. 

Stephanie’s brother (whose name I’ve forgotten) invited my wife and I over to his house for dinner. We had a nice time with him and his wife, who I somehow remember was a nurse, but we’d finished in the credential program and moved on. I’ve not seen or heard from him since that dinner. I suppose they waited for a reciprocal invitation but I quickly forgot about him and got busy with getting sober, my teaching career and my wife’s pregnancy, all of which happened soon after the dinner. Evidently I liked John but not enough to maintain contact with him.

I remember nothing about Stephanie other than the very early crush and the rejection and don’t remember much more about her brother other than he shared my fondness for foreign beer though he swore he’d never been drunk. I thought it odd that anyone who liked beer so much had never had one too many. Indeed I still find it strange though I’ve never doubted the veracity of his claim. Mind you there’s a lot about the lives of “normal” people that those of us in recovery find strange.

I recently thought of a woman who was in my large circle of friends in the late seventies when I was a hot shot reporter and a bon vivant. She was neither particularly attractive, nor accomplished, nor especially witty nor especially anything other than really, really nice. She always seemed to just be there. Everyone liked her but she never had a boyfriend and didn’t seem to be especially close to anyone. One night I was in my cups (as was generally the case back then) and it occurred to me that what she needed was a lover. I figured I would be doing her a favor by offering my services. Mind you, I was far more delicate and tactful in suggesting she avail herself of my body than it may seem to the reader. My offer was that we have a physical relationship with the understanding that it could develop beyond that ( I had no expectations that it would, for in those days I was averse to the very notion of committing myself to one woman). I was stunned — no, I really was — when she turned me down. So stunned that I repeated my proposition reasoning that she must not have heard me correctly. She again said thanks, but no thanks. Well I never. Life went on in our circle. Later she had a very brief fling with an eligible bachelor who by his own account to me, was merely using her. I rather think this story reflects poorly on men.

I’ve admitted on this blog that I was a cad (and perhaps a bounder) as a young man. I am not proud of this, though I’m not really ashamed either. Maybe I should feel terrible about the way I behaved toward women but what would be the point? I’ve spent enough time in self-flagellation over past misdeeds. Yes, I used women. I was callous. But I never harassed a woman or assaulted one. I suppose it sounds like I’m excusing myself in a boys-will-be-boys sort of way. But the truth is that I was no different than most men of my generation and far better than the majority.

More than that though I was a victim of a sometimes hellacious childhood with a schizophrenic mother. I was raised in a sexist environment, aggravated by my participation in the male-dominated environs of sports and I was a practicing alcoholic. Considering all this I wasn’t all that awful. (I guess not being all that awful is damning myself with faint praise.)

More importantly I’ve strived to be a better person. I raised two daughters — okay, my wife helped — and they are both strong feminists and able professionals and I’m proud of them beyond words. My wife can further vouch for my good behavior. 

I’ve always not just liked women but been fascinated by them. Endlessly so. Maybe the circumstances of my childhood contributed to this, particularly not having had a “real” mother and no sisters. Women I 've been with have often commented on how I seem to really appreciate them and on how loving I could be. Maybe I wasn’t so bad after all. 

How would I feel if one of my daughter’s came home with someone like me? If he resembled me in my twenties I’d be mortified. If he was more like me in my late thirties and beyond I’d embrace him.

So I’ve gotten on a bit of tangent in remembering my rejected marriage proposal and years later meeting my intended’s brother. A lot of people pass through our lives. This is especially so for teachers. I was thinking recently of a woman I had a brief fling with in 1979. I could neither conjure her name nor an image of what she looked like. I found this both frustrating and sad.  Life moves pretty fast as Ferris Bueller famously said. You meet someone, know them for a bit and one day is the last day you ever see them. Other people stick to you like a barnacle whether you want them or not. There is one person who was my teaching colleague for over twenty years. We were classroom neighbors for much of that time and were generally friendly and confided in one another though two epic blow outs marred our friendship. We stayed in touch for awhile after I left the school we worked at. But now I think of him with utter contempt. Some of things he said and did are unforgivable. He was clearly a badly damaged soul who had a gift for endearing himself to people, despite, for example, being a bigot. Yet if I saw him tomorrow I would greet him warmly and have a nice chat. It’s what you do in a polite society. 

I’ve met new people since I re-started at the school in San Francisco where I used to teach. There’s only one person still there from my previous tenure and one other person I know from another school. I’ve gotten to like some of my new colleagues. The school is shutting down in June and I won’t return to it after my wife and my vacation in May so I’ll only be associated with them for another seven weeks. 

People come and go. Some refuse to marry you on issues of hygiene, others say yes. Some people become life long friends, while other’s hurt you or you hurt them or you hurt each other. There are, I note, very few people who I’ve gotten to know well that I “hate.” One springs to mind — again from my halcyon days in the seventies. He was well liked by many but had a nasty disposition and for reasons I never understood or knew, was contemptuous of me to the extent that he made that clear before a large group of people one day. Not something you forget or forgive. As it happened I rarely saw him after that. He’s a very small exception to most people that I’ve gotten to know. 

Yeah, things generally work out okay. I don’t think Stephanie and I were a good match anyway.

That Damned Depression is Back, A Sufferer Reflects on the Malady

Not surprisingly, beginning a new decade in my life has not brought immediate changes. For example, depression still lurks and occasionally pounces. It has today. 

I don’t know why other than it does this. I’ve not found a cure. I can ease its symptoms and wait it out. But that’s the extent of my powers over it. I went to a women’s gymnastics meet today. That was fun. I’ll watch a film with the missus tonight. I’ll enjoy that. A trip to the gym will provide relief tomorrow. Just as will work on Monday. Writing right now is also helping. But these do no eradicate the pain and when I’m done with whatever activity -- there it is again. Like someone staring me in the face from a few feet away. Someone whose withering gaze I can’t avoid. I feel miserable.

I never had depression when I drank, although I did suffer hangovers which brought their own version of depression.

I was also oblivious to depression as a child. Couldn’t have imagined it. This despite the fact that I knew pain quite well as a consequence of my mother being mentally ill. That pain didn’t last long. I had too much else to do, to enjoy. I loved being a child. I was really very good at it. I struggled a bit with being a teenager (who doesn’t?). The transition into adulthood can be confusing. Particularly as our bodies are changing as are those of the people around us. Girls are becoming women. Obsessions take shape and not all of them are good. Drugs can complicate matters as they did for me. I was also coming to grips with the reality of my mother’s condition — and running from it at the same time.

Once I had a few months of college under my belt the drinking got serious and my mood was generally good. The early days of sobriety were good too because I knew that I’d taken a positive step in my life. They call it the pink cloud in AA and mine lasted a long time. Then I got busy with the beginning of my teaching career and being a father. It wasn’t until my daughters were grown and out of the house that depression had time to settle in and make my life — at times — miserable. I’ve tried a lot to combat it, including medications (no more of those, thank you) even an expensive procedure in which my brain was zapped. That worked for a few months. 

I’ve resigned myself to depression being a steady companion for the rest of my days although I’m still open to trying ways to eradicate it. You can’t just let it win but you've also get to be realistic about such things.

Thankfully panic and anxiety attacks are no longer plaguing me although I’m wise enough to still take precautions and take nothing for granted. Being hit by 200 megaton panic attacks  scars you for life. Such attacks, along with my mother’s condition, have been the worst things I’ve had to put up with in my life. The premature deaths of several friends has also been terrible. They were good people taken — at least statistically — too soon. Once they’re gone they don’t come back regardless of what your dreams tell you.

Yeah the depression is still here. Writing all this helped so there’s that. You take what you can get and you keep plugging away. There’s no point in laying down and giving up not matter what the goddamned depression tells you.

As a Landmark Birthday Approaches, I Ponder Life and Ask Questions

On Wednesday I’ll be celebrating my 70th birthday. Goodness me, I’m old now. 

I have accepted with grace all previous birthdays. I took bows for my 60th and even wrote a countdown to that day on this blog. Hell, 60 wasn’t even retirement age, I wasn’t even a  senior citizen yet. Now I’m a goddamned old man. Worse than that I’ve crept — run? galloped? hopped? — a lot closer to the end of my time here. How much longer do I have? Given that I live in the United States I could be gunned down tomorrow, if not later tonight (thanks NRA). Cars careen onto sidewalks, trees fall on pedestrians, sudden earthquakes send buildings tumbling down on passersby, alien invaders zap civilians with killer rays (okay that last one is a bit of a long shot). The point is there are zero guarantees as to how long we’re going to stick around. I had two of my healthier friends die of pancreatic cancer, not to mention a couple of students who weren’t even 21 when they died from other forms of cancer. On the plus side I’m healthy. I work out regularly, walk a lot in between and maintain a healthy diet. I’ve had nicks and bruises and colds and the flu but nothing serious in my first seven decades. My father lived a healthy 91 years before the toll of a freak fall claimed him a year later. My mother was 81 when she died which is remarkable given that she was mentally ill, smoked and had a mostly poor diet. My grandmothers stuck around for long lives but I’ve already far outlived both grandfathers. For that matter I’ve outlived one helluva lot of famous people. Just for starters: Jack Kerouac, John and Robert Kennedy, Malcolm X and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Adolph Hitler and Franklin D. Roosevelt, Abraham Lincoln, Michael Jackson, James Dean, Amelia Earhardt (presumably), Marilyn Monroe, John Lennon, Billie Holliday,  Napoleon and Sylvia Plath. The list, as they say, goes on.

I just googled “what percent of people live to be 70” and the first answer I saw was 43 which is a ten point increase over the beginning of this century. So I’m in the minority (if I make it to Wednesday). Nice accomplishment but let’s shoot for more. 

Seventy years. Do you realize how many times I’ve urinated? (Speaking of which, try counting the number of different places that you’ve peed, it’s impossible, there’s a lot). I guess no one really wants to contemplate how many times anyone else has taken a whizz. Jesus, how many tacos have I eaten? How many apples? How many gallons of water have I drank? Why aren’t there statistics on these kind of things that are readily available to us? Maybe in the future. What was the coldest day I’ve ever experienced? What was the hottest? How many different students have I taught? How many teachers have I had? How many sports events have I been to? Dear god that would be a very large number indeed. Basketball games alone. How about movies? How many have I seen? Which have I seen the most? I could name a score or more that I’ve watched over a dozen times like It’s A Wonderful Life, Duck Soup, Manhattan, Goodfellas, Christmas in Connecticut, Casablanca and more. How many hours have I spent staring at the TV (while it was on)? How many of those hours were wasted like when I watched Hogan’s Heroes re-runs when I was 18 years old and how many of those hours were well-spent like when I’ve watched Breaking Bad or Monty Python’s Flying Circus?  How many books have I read? (I’ve written five.) How many books have I started but never finished? How much time have I spent “on” a computer and how much of that time has been wasted and how much productive? How many miles have I walked? How many women have I — maybe I won’t go there in this post, besides I know that number. How many times have I stubbed my toe? How many airline miles have I flown? How many colds have I had? How much snot have I blown out of my nose? (Sorry about that one.) What’s the closet I came to dying? What famous person did I walk by but not notice? What famous person did I walk by before they were famous? What’s the closest I’ve been to a murder? How many children do I have? Wait, I know that one…two. I also know that I’ve only been married once and since I got it right that number can be etched in stone. How many hours of music have I listened to? How many different pairs of shoes have I owned? How much money have I spent? And how about a breakdown of how that money was spent. I can’t imagine how much I’ve spent on housing, clothes, restaurant tabs, booze when I was drinking, books, movies, sports events, high end call girls (the answer that one is zero). How many people (women, generally, I presume) have secretly loved me? How many people have hated me? (Besides school administrators.) How many of my former students remember me fondly?

Bigger question: has it been worth it? Simple answer: God yes. Despite suffering from occasional depression being alive has been great fun. I had a marvelous time throughout my twenties and loved being a new father and for that matter an old one. Teaching has not been without its horrors but for the most part it’s great fun and I’m told I’m good enough at it. I’ve seen great athletes, great games, great teams, great moments. I’ve written some insightful, entertaining pieces and at least one book that a lot of people have enjoyed. I’ve enjoyed spending the last 39 years with the love of my life. Talk about luck! My children have made me enormously proud. I got to play sports and coach. I had some unforgettable moments in both roles including scoring the winning goal in my soccer team’s California state championship victory when I was 16. I’ve also met some truly interesting, funny, thoughtful, brilliant, unique people. It’s been a great ride. This despite the fact that I’ve made some horrible blunders and terrible decisions and done some incredibly stupid things. I have a lot to regret but so much more to celebrate.

I constantly fret about the inevitability and finality of death but know that it’s better to enjoy the one thing we have for sure: now. 

Now is okay. I’m doing fine. No need to rue the past nor worry about about the future. Not when there’s the present to enjoy. Not an original idea, I know, but worth remembering. Think I’ll do that.

The Distractions of the Internet and Those Darn Homophones -- All in One Post

Nothing is better at distracting a writer than the fucking internet. In many cases people do their writing on computers and looky here that’s one of the places where the internet can be found.

"I’m just going to" are the four most dangerous words in the world to a writer.

I’m just going to check my email.

I’m just going to check the scores.

I’m just going to check the weather.

I’m just going to see if I’ve had any responses to the comment I posted on that forum.

I’m just going to check the news.

I’m just going to see if my paycheck has been uploaded.

I’m just going to google that person whose name occurred to me for the first time in years.

The problem with “just going to check one thing” is that it often turns into several one things. And even if it doesn’t, checking one thing can eat up a lot of time. You check your email and find something you have to respond to. You check the scores and end up looking at highlights or reading about a game or checking the standings. You check the weather then check the next day’s and the day after that. You check that forum and find someone responded to your comment and you’ve got to respond to that plus you need to check all the other comments that have appeared since you last visited. You check the news naively believing that you just want to see what’s going on in that one situation but there are three or for other stories that you read about. You check your pay and find that it's not what you thought it would be and so you dig into that. You google that one person and that reminds you of someone else to google and that reminds of you still another person.

By the time your done dinner is ready or it’s time to go or you can’t put off that chore any longer. Your writing time is gone.

Some writers don’t do their work on a computer that’s connected to the internet. First problem: how many frickin’ computers do you think I have? Second problem: I’m constantly looking things up when I’m writing. The dictionary, the thesaurus, or something that will inform my writing. My last two novels are historical and I’m all about accuracy so am constantly having to look something up to make sure that event could have happened that day.

Discipline. That’s what it comes down to. I have a great deal of self-discipline (is self-discipline redundant?) when it comes to most things like eating, exercise, teaching and keeping up with chores, but the damned internet is a real siren. Ya know what else? It’s still feels new. I guess that’s a consequence of my being old. We’ve had the internet in the house for 25 years. For a lot of people that’t there whole life or most of their life. I was already in my forties when it came along. It seems indispensable now but I lived a lot of years without it.

Time flies is at once trite and quite true. My goodness smart phones have already been around for over fifteen years. I grew up in a time when if someone was caught staring at a phone they’d be considered a candidate for the booby hatch.

Who says booby hatch anymore? Or laughing academy? Or funny farm? Or nuthouse? We take mental illness far more seriously than when I was a kid. It’s odd that people would refer to it as the laughing academy given how depressing a place mental institutions are. I think that one of the signs of good mental health is being able to have a good chuckle. Of course it has to be at something funny. You find someone laughing at boiling water then….

At the end of the previous sentence I initially typed than. I had to think for a second whether I wanted then or than. You’d think I’d automatically know that one by now. It’s like weather or weather. Then there’s the whole site, cite and sight business. Sorting those can eat up a few seconds of writing time. I don’t usually hesitate with hole or whole. Maybe because their meanings are opposite. It’s and its can be vexing. They’re easy to miss. However I’m careful with their, there and they’re. The worst mistake with a homophone I ever saw was when I was subbing. An English teacher had written roll call (it’s role call). An English teacher! In a classroom! Not a good look.

I can't think of how to end this post. Sometimes that's an issue for me. Maybe I'll just type the end. There, that did it.

Make a Difference in the World AND Attend Lots of Meetings -- Be a Teacher

A Typical American classroom of today

Do you like going to meetings? Consider a career in education! 

I work at an international language school in San Francisco. The other day a young co-worker of mine who only recently graduated from university told me that she was considering pursuing a career as a public school teacher. Knowing my background she asked if I would share my wisdom and experience with her — when time allowed which it hasn’t yet. I said I'd be glad to.

I’ve given teaching advice on this blog before, here’s a widely cited and beloved post in which I did just that and here’s a follow-up post that was also met with universal adulation. But that's not all! Yes, I gave more advice in this a third post on the topio.

But I’d like to add to those wisdom-laden posts with this: Be prepared to sit through one helluva lot of meetings.

By my last year as a public school teacher there were meetings every Wednesday. The first Wednesday of the month was reserved for staff meetings. Wednesday number two was set aside for department meetings. On the third Wednesday we were blessed with team meetings (a history, English, science and math teacher would have the same group of students). The final Wednesday was for district wide meetings, usually segregated by departments. If there were fifth Wednesdays in a month it would be filled one way or another with some sort of meeting. Hurrah!

Lunches were not exempt from meetings. Once a week we’d have a team meeting at lunch. Once a month we’d have a faculty senate meeting at lunch, unless there were some sort of crisis such as trouble in contract negotiations in which case there’d be extra faculty senate meetings.

Of course there was always the opportunity for (or should I say, risk of?) parent conferences (a form of meeting) that could be just before classes, right after classes, at lunch or — most dreaded of all — during one’s prep period.

There were also meetings with administrators. Perhaps a parent had lodged a complaint or it was your year to be evaluated. If the latter, that called for several meetings a year. You might be called in for other reasons too. Might? Hell, you would be. There was always something an administrator needed to see you about. 

You might also find yourself on a committee (never volunteer) which meant lord knows how many other meetings. If you were taking a turn as union rep that was easily a couple dozen extra meetings a year and if you were on a union committee there were maybe ten more.

Don’t forget emergency meetings. Schools are notorious for having emergencies so count on a least a couple.

Maybe you’re the social type and want to help plan staff parties for Christmas or the end of the school year. Groups that have meetings plan those things. 

How many meetings would you attend in a typical year? I refuse to count but having read this far you’ve got the idea.

The good news about being a public school teacher is that the actual teaching day is not all that long. Maybe 8:45 to 3:00 with a prep period and a lunch break. Having your work day end at three is a huge plus. Or so it would seem. Remember you might well have a meeting to attend. Maybe one at another school or at the district office. And if you're meeting-free there’s likely papers to grade and lessons to plan and copies to be made. You might also have to make a call to a parent (they’re never home). Speaking of parents, an angry one might come see you or an administrator might want to take issue with you or pass along a complaint. Sometimes students will come by for extra help or they too may have a bone to pick. You might even cross swords with a colleague or have your ear bent by one over one problem or another.

Some days you can get out of Dodge fairly quickly. You might be caught up with grading and planning. Cushy job. But the day is going to weigh on you. An incident with a student. A lesson that fell flat. A class that you lost control of. A complaint that was passed a long. Those things pray on your mind. You think about them while you’re dealing with issues outside of work. Dirty laundry is piling up. There’s a leak in the kitchen sink. You’ve quarreled with your significant other. Your mother is sick. There’s loud construction going on next door. You need to take the dog for a walk and he’s due to go to the vet and you're due to go to the dentist and shouldn’t your oil be changed? And what if you have kids? You’ve got to get them home, feed them, hear about their day, keep them away from the TV and help them with homework. At least your favorite show is on that night and you’ve started a mystery that you can read three pages of before sleep becomes irresistible. Meanwhile in the back of your mind is that class that couldn’t settle down and what the hell you’re going to do about James and his irate, unreasonable mother and that student who's lying to an administrator about what you said to her. Plus while today there were no meetings tomorrow you’ve got a parent coming in before class, a team meeting at lunch and a department meeting after school. What's more you’ve got to get ready for a sub the day after because you’re going to a one day professional development in another city and you’ve got to make special arrangements for childcare that day because you won’t get back home until after 5:00. Planning for a sub is a lot of work. And the day after the sub you hope they've left you a note detailing the day and that there are no big messes to clean up.

I didn’t mention professional developments, did I? Count on those too. Oh and if you’re a first-year teacher they’ve got extra meetings for you. It never stops. And say, did you sign the birthday card for the janitor? Lordy, I forgot IEPs (Individualized Education Programs) if you're a special ed teacher you'll have oodles of those and in general even MORE meetings. My oldest daughter is a special ed teacher. She spends a lot of time in meetings. Not what she signed up for but there it is.

Okay so I painted something of a bleak picture (but I didn’t exaggerate). How did I manage it for 20 years? Because despite it all teaching is fun, rewarding and gives you a rush that your college roommate who’s now an accountant can only imagine. 

Go for it!