April 2020

WWC: A Time Unlike Any Other

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.”

― Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities, 1859

We all know why and how it’s the worst of times.

But, personally, we have been lucky enough to make it the best of times for Eleanor and me in Australia.

We left February 24 for a planned 30-day holiday and visit with dear pal Russell Porter who lives in Hobart, Tasmania (the island just south of the vast country of Australia.)

Good news is that Russell, who has had some extremely rough times physically, is as alive, funny, and optimistic as ever. We’ve been friends and colleagues for 20 years and he continues to be a source of inspiration for all who know him.

Who’d’ve Ever Thunk It?

Nobody could possibly have predicted how completely transformed the world would become in the 37 days we have been out of the USA. Certainly not us!

The new reality will be a turning point in everyone’s life. I especially think about the children whose thoughts and feelings will influence their whole lives in ways similar to what the Great Depression or World War II was for the two generations ahead of me.

Not being in the USA and experiencing it completely via TV, online and in visual and voice conversations with family and friends has been eye-opening. Australia and its people are simply wonderful. It’s just more civilized here…far less highly-charged. People are welcoming, decent to each other and universally helpful to strangers like us.

It’s remarkable to be able to relate openly to everyone, rather than picking and choosing people who share our political or social points of view. Practically no hostility is visible. Nobody seems to think they’re better than anyone else. So refreshing! And we’ve made some friends (mostly friends of friends) who are likely to be in our lives for the duration.

And did I mention how absolutely drop-dead beautiful it is everywhere we’ve been? The cities (Sydney, Melbourne, Hobart, Cairns, Port Douglas) are safe, non-violent and friendly. The tropical north in the area of the Great Barrier Reef (which is larger than Norway!) where we’ve been for more than two weeks, is especially beautiful. We’ve spent nearly every day on or near beaches, (15 of them and counting) snorkeling, and exploring tropical rain forests.

Of course, we are super-careful about washing, disinfecting, spacing and not touching anything, but the fear-factor doesn’t dominate life here. Within 600 miles of where we are, Cairns, a gorgeous harbor city with excellent medical service, there has been only one death and fewer than 300 cases…at least so far!

In all of Australia, as of today, there’ve been 4,707 confirmed cases and 20 have died from COVID-19 (almost all in big cities where the beaches and bars stayed open several days too long). Tens of thousands are tested every day.

But, bear in mind that the population density here is one of the lowest in the world: 2.66 people per square km. In the US, it’s 36 people per square km and in China, more than 2000 per square km. So, density is just one of the factors. Starting early, compliance, and good sense are the others. Plus, they have taken the precaution of closing the borders between all the states.

Beyond the Virus

Ernesto Cardenal, Nicaraguan poet and priest, dies at 95

One of my heroes, Ernesto Cardenal died this month. He was a Nicaraguan priest, poet, politician and role model. He was 95. He stood at the front of the battle for human rights and dignity for decades.

One lesson to be learned from his life is to never compromise with values of decency and love. Although he spent much of his life as a monk in spiritual solitude (on an isolated island in Nicaragua and in Kentucky with Thomas Merton), Cardenal had his finger and mind on the pulse of the world that extended far beyond his own physical place in it.

This is how Ricardo Blanco described Cardenal in his poetry blog:

“Ernesto Cardenal died on Sunday, March 1st, Saint David’s Day. Born into a privileged Nicaraguan family, Cardenal resisted tyrants and dictatorships throughout his life. He died bitterly opposed to the Ortega government in Nicaragua, that betrayal of the revolution which he had once fought for, acting as Minister of Culture in the first Sandinista government (1979-1987).

The last time Cardenal crossed my thoughts was after reading an interview of sorts in the Spanish Newspaper El País, in April last year, in which he claimed that he was unable even to comment on Nicaraguan politics: ‘No hay libertad para que yo diga algo, estamos en una dictadura.’ ‘I don’t have the liberty to say anything, we are in a dictatorship’.

The interviewer then asks Cardenal: What, for you, in the current state of affairs, is a revolution? To which he replies, unobligingly: ‘Why are you asking me? Go look in a dictionary. I’ve already written about it in The Lost Revolution. Why repeat things, I have nothing to say, I don’t want to . . ‘

I met Cardenal a couple of times, in Nicaragua, and translated a few of his poems for the magazine Poetry Wales. He was a man who didn’t seem to much care for all the attention he received. He was mentored by the English mystic Thomas Merton as a young man in the Trappist Abbey of Gethsemani, in Kentucky, and he might well have preferred the quiet life of the literary monk to that of the famous revolutionary priest that he became.

One of the poems I translated for Poetry Wales is available below. I translated this poem a decade ago, but haven’t published them before now.”

LIKE EMPTY BEER CANS

My days have been like empty beer cans
and stubbed-out cigarette ends.

My life has passed me by like the figures who appear and disappear on a television screen.

Like cars passing by at speed along the roads
with girls laughing and music from the radio . . .

And beauty was as transient as the models of those cars
and the fleeting hits that blasted from the radios
and were forgotten.

And nothing is left of those days,
nothing, besides the empty cans and stubbed-out dog-ends,
smiles on washed-out photos, torn coupons,
and the sawdust with which, at dawn,
they swept out the bars.

In this poem, perhaps my favorite of Cardenal’s, written in 1965 after the death of Marilyn Monroe, he offers a prayer that the iconic star, and all who live absurd lives, might find mercy before God. It’s absolutely on my wavelength because of his insight into fame, media and the effects on your personality of having your own life conflict with the screen-life the public (and you yourself) perceives. That’s what I’ve been calling MEDIA BURN for almost 50 years!

Oración por Marilyn Monroe
Ernesto Cardenal

Lord
Receive this girl known around the world by the
name Marilyn Monroe
although that was not her real name
(but You know her real name, that of the little orphan girl violated at age 9 and the little store clerk who at 16 had wanted to kill herself)
and who now presents herself before You
without any makeup
without her Press Agent
without photographers and

without signing autographs,
alone as an astronaut facing the night of space.

She dreamt as a girl of being naked in a church
(as reported by Time)
before a prostrated crowd, with heads to the ground
and she had to walk on tiptoes so as not to tread on the heads.
You know our dreams better than the psychiatrists.
Church, home, cave, are the security of the mother’s breast
But also something more than that…
The heads are those of her fans, it is clear
(the mass of heads in the darkness beneath the stream of light)

But the temple is not the studios of 20th Century-Fox.
The temple – of marble and gold – is the temple of her body
in which the Son of Man with a whip in hand
drives out the 20th Century-Fox flesh merchants
who made Your house of prayer a den of thieves.

Lord
In this world of sins and radioactivity
You will not blame a little store clerk only.
Like all shop girls she dreamt of being a film star.
And her dream was reality (but the reality of Technicolor).
She did nothing but act according to the script that we gave her — That of our own lives — And it was an absurd script.
Forgive her, Lord, and forgive us
for our 20th Century, for this Colossal Super-Production on which all of us have worked.

She was hungry for love and we offered her tranquilizers.
For her sadness, as we are not saints,
Psychoanalysis was recommended to her.
Remember, Lord, her growing fear of the camera
and her hatred of makeup – insisting on fresh makeup for each scene –
and how the horror kept building in her
and her late arrivals at the studio became more frequent.

Like every shop girl
she dreamt of being a film star.
And her life was unreal like a dream that a psychiatrist
interprets and archives.

Her romances were a kiss with closed eyes
yet when she opened her eyes
she discovered that she was under spotlights
and they turned off the spotlights!
and they take down the two walls of the setup
(it was a movie set)
while the Director walks away with his notebook
because the scene was shot.
Or like a yacht trip, a kiss in Singapore, a dance in Rio,
The reception at the mansion of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor viewed in the miserable little living room
of an apartment.

The movie ended without the final kiss.
The found her dead in her bed with the phone in her hand
And the detectives didn’t know who she was going to call.
She was like someone who had dialed the number of the single friendly voice and had only heard the voice of a recording that told her: WRONG NUMBER
Or like someone who had been wounded by gangsters
reaching for the disconnected telephone.

Lord
whoever it might have been that she was going to call
and didn’t call (and perhaps it wasn’t anyone
or it was Someone whose number isn’t in the Los Angeles Directory)
You answer the phone!

(Translation from Spanish by Alice C. Linsley)

Short Takes

A New Book:

Trade Biden for Cuomo?

I think Bill Maher said it first last week. Now, it is starting to gain traction, but of course, it’s not gonna happen. The nominating process, though screwy, will be done the way the DNC and the system has been set up. Period.

—–

“Does it take a virus to teach me how to live my life?”

-Australian Psychiatrist Dr Garett Leechman (Arendel Anglican College) on ABC-TV, Public in Australia, 03/30/20

—–

Don’t Diss the Charmin

Some time in ancient history (less than two weeks ago), this note came from my pal Al Devaney, Chicago based aggregator and golfer:

Stop me if I’ve already told you this…a neighbor in my building has finally explained the shortage of toilet paper around here. He said that every time somebody sneezes, at least 6 people nearby shit in their pants.

Confession

I wash my hands about 8-10 times a day.

And I do it for the prescribed 20 seconds. I’m the kind of guy who rarely makes it the full two minutes of the Oral B.

The only time I ever was this disciplined about washing the required two minutes was when Amy and David Newman’s very premature twins were in the neonatal intensive care unit for eight weeks in Anchorage, Alaska.

There was a big sign on the two washbasins just outside the sealed unit that said: “Wash your hands for at least two minutes and go all the way up to your elbows. Any germs could be disastrous to our babies.”

I believed it then and believe it now. That was 11 years ago and the girls made it with the devotion and love of their parents…and everyone who washed our hands.

What about the military?

The hundreds of thousands of active personnel have been seen mostly as partners with police and governments to enforce quarantines and isolation. The most sensible thing is to put down the guns and shift the battlefront to getting people and supplies where they are needed most. [I wrote this a couple days ago, before the 1000-bed floating hospital docked in New York.]

They need to use military cargo planes and helicopters to fight the biggest war since WWII. Inside the USA, of course. But, building, consolidating, transporting the crucial stuff that’s needed to flatten the curve and prevent more deaths. I have to believe that people in every country in the world could use these trained, mostly young and energetic, American service people.

It’s called The Service. It is the largest organization in the world. The idea is to serve the citizenry. Start domestically, but invade countries all over the world with testing equipment, masks, gloves, food, beds, tents, medical supplies, and whatever else is necessary.

I was in Honduras immediately after the worst hurricane ever to hit in Central America, Hurricane Mitch, 1998 which caused almost 20,000 fatalities. The US military stationed in bases in Honduras shifted to MEDRETE (Medical Readiness Training Exercises) and sent helicopters with medics and supplies to places that had been devastated by the storms and flooding. They were terrific and it was moving to see the commitment and skill they brought to helping people in serious need.

There’s unprecedented serious global need right now. How long will it take for the Pentagon to wage peace?

EMPLOYEE NOTICE

Due to the current financial situation caused by the slowdown in the economy, the Government has decided to implement a scheme to put workers of 50 years of age and above on early, mandatory retirement, thus creating jobs and reducing unemployment.

This scheme will be known as RAPE (Retire Aged People Early). Persons selected to be RAPED can apply to the Government to be considered for the SHAFT program (Special Help After Forced Termination).

Persons who have been RAPED and SHAFTED will be reviewed under the SCREW program (System Covering Retired-Early Workers).

A person may be RAPED once, SHAFTED twice and SCREWED as many times as the Government deems appropriate.

Persons who have been RAPED could get AIDS (Additional Income for Dependents & Spouse) or HERPES (Half Earnings for Retired Personnel Early Severance).

Obviously, persons who have AIDS or HERPES will not be SHAFTED or SCREWED any further by the Government.

Persons who are not RAPED and are staying on will receive as much SHIT (Special High Intensity Training) as possible. The Government has always prided itself on the amount of SHIT they give our citizens.

Should you feel that you do not receive enough SHIT, please bring this to the attention of your MP, who has been trained to give you all the SHIT you can handle.

Sincerely,
The Committee for Economic Value of Individual Lives (E.V.I.L.)

PS – Due to recent budget cuts and the current market conditions, the Light at the End of the Tunnel has been turned off.