Fini Bi Bi

Ed_bradley Ed Bradley died today – of leukemia.  He was not a usual man — not at all.  Good, funny, gifted, fierce, loving and decent, he was a gentleman to the core. For two political convention seasons in the 80s I was his CBS News floor producer.  In the midst of one of them, his mother had a stroke and was very ill in Philadelphia.  She wouldn’t let him miss work though – insisted that he be on the convention floor every night.  The convention was in New York , so Ed drove to Philadelphia after we were off the air each night, sleeping in a limo on the way to Philly – spending the night and morning with his mother and then returning in the limo the next day.  He was there for her — and for his work, as she insisted that he be.

If you saw him on 60 Minutes, interviewing Aretha Franklin in the kitchen with a dish towel over his shoulder, chopping while they talked, or jamming with Aaron Neville, you saw another, wonderful Ed — no pretense, no baloney.  And if you saw him with his godchildren – daughters of the wonderful Vertamae Grovesnor, you saw yet another part of this wonderful man.

Somehow though, when I read the CNN Alert just an hour ago — what I remembered at once was that night in 1975 when Saigon fell.  I was just back from maternity leave and alone on the overnight for the foreign desk at CBS.  As a long-time CBS correspondent in Vietnam, Ed was the last guy out — or just about.  What I can’t get out of my head is his account of walking down the deserted embassy hallway — where almost all the lights were out except one far down the hall — and his description of thinking of “the light at the end of the tunnel” — and then – as he signed off for the last time from Saigon – ending with the words of Saigon hookers “fini bi bi.”  I’m not sure I can describe the sensitivity and sadness of this report – but I do remember sending him an email “Ernie Pyle, move over.”

The thing is – he was at least as wonderful as he was gifted and as talented as he was dear. It’s just so sad to think of him gone and of such a miserable disease.  He’s leaving a beautiful legacy but that doesn’t make it OK.  Not at all.

WONDERFUL WILLIAM STYRON

Styron

In 1968 I was a volunteer in the Eugene McCarthy anti-war presidential campaign.  Most of the time I took care of the press, riding on the press bus and handling logistics for filing stories and getting to the plane on time.  Frequently, when celebrities were campaigning with the Senator they’d ride for a while on the press bus, so I got to meet some pretty amazing people, from Robert Lowell to Tony Randall to William Styron, who died this week.

Nat_turner_1I had just read The Confessions of Nat Turner, his 1967 Pulitzer Prize-winning book about a slave revolt in Virginia in 1831, which I had loved.  I knew of his close friendship with James Baldwin, whom I really admired, and imagined that the book was written partly as a cry for justice for his friend and other black Americans. (OK I was 20, what do you want?)  I sat down beside him on the bus and was able to let him know how much I admired him and his work.

The next day, literally, there was a horrible piece about the book and Styron’s “racism” in some lefty publication (can’t remember which one)  He walked down the aisle of the bus and dropped it in my lap – “see — see what they’re doing to me?” he said sadly.  I have never forgotten that day – the punishment he took for imagining the rage and longing for justice on the part of a charismatic slave — and the sweetness of the man himself.  Only later did I learn of his battles with depression.  I don’t know if it’s true that one must suffer for one’s art, but he certainly did.

Of course, people know him better for Sophie’s Choice and the Meryl Streep film — again about the unimaginable persecution of a minority.  I guess it’s no accident that his wife Rose was so closely tied to Amnesty International for so long.

Anyway I am thinking of him today — of his deep moral sense so well communicated in his work – and of the amazing privilege of knowing him, if only for a little while.

9/11 AND ART

Pattern_recognition One of my favorite books is William Gibson’s PATTERN RECOGNITION.  It’s the story of a "cool hunter" named Cayce Pollard .  Her job is to help worldwide companies evaluate their logos and design for "coolness ."  She’s a gypsy, finding Pilates studios in the cities she visits and completely engaging the reader (at least this one.)  Behind her quite remarkable self, however, lies her grief of the loss of her father in lower Manhattan on September 11.  It’s a shadow that haunts all the elegant activity, spectacular writing and remarkable plot lines that are part of any Gibson work.  Published in 2003, it was one of the early novels dealing with the horrors of that day in 2001.

There have been several since then, as well as, in the past year, three movies including Oliver Stone’s World Trade Center.  IMDB lists 11 altogether, not counting Stone’s new film.  Apparently, at least to those I know who’ve seen them, several of these films are pretty good.

Emperor Last night I finished a book saved, in its last chapters, by that terrible time.  THE EMPEROR’S CHILDREN, by Claire Messud, got spectacular reviews — front page in the Sunday Times Book Review — and sounded great.  What it is is a kind of lesser BONFIRE OF THE VANITIES about lefties living on the West Side (the Beresford is on the cover — not too subtle, right?), their offspring and several other 30-somethings who went to Brown.  The whole point of its 431 pages is to reveal the phony side of the lives of the politically correct with their Central Park West apartments, their kids – haunted by parental successes they can’t match, and the rest of the crew ten years out of college and aimless.  It’s all OK – but not great.  Then, in the middle of a serious act of betrayal by Grand Old Man liberal and a friend of his daughter, two planes hit the World Trade Center — right outside the window of her apartment.  Everything that felt so false for all those pages is rendered just as superficial as we thought it was.

I’m not sure it’s enough for me – maybe if I hadn’t lived 20 years on that very West Side and admired many of those people myself – all the while realizing that maybe many of them weren’t who I wanted them to be, it would make more sense.  I’m not sure why the book irritated me so and maybe that makes it better than I’m telling you it is – but it’s in my head and it’s making me mad.  Can someone else can help me figure out why?

PATTI SMITH, CBGB AND AN OBSERVANT LIFE

Cbgb I’ve never been to CBGB OMFUG.  Why do I care about a punk music club whose entrance was always spattered with graffiti and most of whose musical appearances were by people I knew almost nothing about — except Bruce Springsteen [he wrote this with Patti Smith] , Patti Smith [two favorites: People Have the Power, Peaceable Kingdom], Joan Jett [I Love Rock and Roll] and a few others? (I don’t t know the lore all that well – but it always seemed to me that women really got a crack at center stage at CBGB.)  I think it was just nice to see it there – waving its fist in the air.  It has closed – maybe to reopen, maybe not – and I’m just kind of sad to see it losing its lease to what some have called "the suburbification of Manhattan." 

Patti Smith, whom I had the honor to meet at last year’s Media Reform conference in St. Louis, was a real CBGB heroine and I felt, meeting her, a deep connection.  We’re the same age.  She’s a heartbreakingly honest person who lost her husband way too soon (and wrote People Have the Power partly at his instigation) — a mom and a singular human soul.  The music she made was remarkably articulate (she is a poet after all) and inspiring.  I’ve linked above to two of my favorites — one of which, People Have the Power, was an anthem of the Vote for Change election tour in 2004.

So what do the final days of a gritty music club where I never went have to do with my life as an observant Jew?  Believe it or not – plenty.  Both of them were fascinating universes I always observed from the outside and wondered about.  Both stood for making one’s own way to truth.  That search has taken me, for some reason I’m still grappling with, to the Orthodox Jewish community  where I’ve found a home and spirit that brings a new kind of meaning to my life. 

At my last big birthday I complained to a friend about my age and her response was "but you’re completely reborn in this new life – you’re not old AT ALL!"  In some ways she’s right.  I certainly feel that there’s a universe I’m traveling through that’s new, moving, inspiring and mysterious.  Sometimes though it’s also a pain.  For the past several weeks, from Rosh Hashanah (the New Year) to the end of Simchas Torah (Ending the annual, week-by-week reading of the Torah: the five books of Moses – Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy and beginning again) the holidays consumed days of time: in synagogue, inviting guests to meals and going to meals at friends, building and dismantling a sukkah and observing the prohibition on driving and work.  Since this year many of these days fell on weekends it meant NO catching up on work on Sundays and no farmer’s market. (two weird examples, I admit.) Since it’s the end of tomato season that last was sad though not critical to the future of the human race or my household.  Even so, all these small requirements, which I try to follow since I’ve made this commitment, can consume time and tax serenity and spirituality.  I’ve come to love the prohibition on the Sabbath and enjoy the quiet days reading, taking walks, visiting, napping and sharing ideas.  But the surrender to and acceptance of all these rules is a peculiar experience and I grapple with it daily.  Even so, the quest, like that of the young rebels who put CBGB on the map, is a great adventure – and the learning is exhilarating.

Go listen to People Have the Power whether this post makes sense or not.  It will make you happy on a Monday – although that’s easier here today since it’s the third amazingly gorgeous fall day in a row – with leaves turning and leaf smells beginning to fill the air.  Which, I just realized, takes us right back to faith and gratitude for the world’s beauty when it shows up.    

CHARMED, I’M SURE

Charmed2_1   I work at home much of the time.  Usually I watch C-SPAN.  But I tripped over a show called CHARMED (more) that most of you probably already know and I find that I’m … well…charmed by it.  In case you’re as clueless as I was, it’s a long-running Aaron Spelling (no surprise there) series about three sisters who learn that they’re witches — good witches of course — and not only good witches but the official CHARMED ONES.  Apparently the power of sisters radically increases the power of witch-hood.  Anyone with sisters could have told you that.

The longest running series with female leads, the show ran for 8 years and is now in multiple reruns on TNT, which is where I found them.  They’re gorgeous, smart, sensible and dedicated to vanquishing evil and saving the world.  Just like the rest of us, right?  They love each other, they grow, learn, fall in love, have children, and fight demons with their powers — all at the same time. 

I don’t know what it is.  I have two sisters and we love each other and used to have sister power hugs every holiday when we were all together and now, with all of us over 50, still love each other and our sister power even through its occasional glitches and frayed moments.  I love women — always have- and get what it is about us all that’s so wonderful.  But none of that explains my affection for a television show about women younger than my sons and their do-gooding, loving, thrilling, gorgeous lives.  I’m more of a West Wing/Six Feet Under/Sopranos kind of girl.  Go figure.

I don’t think I’m going to try.  Any time great, brave, committed, generous women are out saving the world – whether they’re Amy, Lauren and Maxine, Cagney and Lacey, CJ, Donna, Abbey and Amy, or Rose, Georgina, Lady Marjory and Mrs. Bridges, it’s a cause for celebration.  So that’s what I’m doing.  Celebrating the charm of the Charmed Ones and glad that they keep me company once in a while.

Spirit, Sukkot and Love

I’m in the middle of considerable chaos.  If you’re an observant Jew you spend this week eating all your meals in something called a Sukkah.  It’s a sort of four-walled canvas room with a roof made of branches or corn husks or bamboo because you have to be able to see the stars at night from inside.  The idea is to remember the Jews wandering the desert living in "booths."  It sounds so weird it’s hard to explain but it’s also lovely and romantic and a great way to have company in the crisp autumn lunches and evenings.  It’s all lit with sparkly white lights (like Christmas decorations) and great fun.

The chaos comes from the cooking and planning.  I had a big lunch last Saturday and because it was the Sabbath had to cook it all in advance. It was damp and chilly but fortunately someone had lent me a crock pot so I put the soup on low just before the Sabbath started on Friday night and it was still hot for lunch on Saturday.  One of my guests was a vegetarian so I also made salmon, tabouli, eggplant casserole and salad.  A friend brought brownies and I made banana bread.  But it took FOREVER and learning how to arrange everything to serve outside added to the stress.  Everyone loved it but I was exhausted. 

One friend of mine does 16 people at a time (I had 11 counting us) and I’m damned if I know how.  I am still learning how to do all this -especially in a kosher kitchen.  The food DOES matter – it’s a sign of respect both to God and the holiday and to those who have entertained us so graciously as we made our way into all this so I get great satisfaction once the chaos has subsided but it’s tough along the way.  I am blessed in having friends to guide me and answer stupid questions like "can I use a "meat" infusion blender and still serve fish?"  Kosher niceties…

The funny thing is that the life we’re building now, around religious observance, sukkahs, fasts and prayers, builds a community that feels like the first real one since our days in the peace movement.  The goals are strangely similar too, a better world, better selves and great, common goals. 
I guess part of all this is the deep loss I have felt as those feeling dissipated in our days since the Civil Rights and Anti-War movements.  How amazing that the route back to them goes through the oldest of pathways.

ATONEMENT, APOLOGIES, AMENDS

Tonight is the beginning of a very holy day in Judaism – the "shabbat of shabbats" – the day of atonement.  The saying goes "On Rosh Hashanah ( the New Year – last week) it is written, on Yom Kippur (tonight and tomorrow) it is sealed."  God inscribes us in the Book of Life for another year.

You ask to be forgiven for all your sins and turn to those in your life to apologize, not just to God.  You have to mean it.  We are told that God knows we are not perfect and seeks our pursuit of virtue and repentance from our failures in those pursuits.

I have to say until the past couple of years, when I’ve been involved in observant Judaism (yeah I grew up Reform) I never felt the impact of the day, really.  Now though, it is something I take fairly seriously — including fasting from sundown to sundown.  Tonight we have some families having pre-fast dinner at our house and then we will all walk to services together.  Three kids under two will be among them.  The presence of children really brings home the value in trying to live a good life.  They will be inheriting so much that is bad in this world that any move we can make toward virtue is a plus.

I haven’t really done the human to human apology as I should I don’t think.  I hope by next year – my third in this new life, I will be comfortable doing that.  I have however, tried to be honest within myself and move toward real efforts to behave ina better way.

I’ve written about this before but the other thing that fascinates me is the similarities between the 12 steps and observant Judiasim.  Again here, the steps include listing all one might have harmed and "trying to make amends to them all" unless an approach might do damage (I guess reveal secrets to others etc.)  On Yom Kippur we make the same approach to God. 

If I can get myself to feel that I’ve moved in that direction – I know I’m far from spiritually ready to carry out the whole journey – it will be a wonderful way to move through the new Jewish year, appreciate the beauty of the changing leaves and the silvery winter to come.  Shanah tovah. 

Burqas, Fareed Zakaria and Women’s Mags

So I meant to write about several OTHER things today but an exchange on a women’s media list in which I participate struck me. I love VOGUE. I used to say that I only read it in the beauty parlor but really I read it – period. I am now hoarding the NYT Sofia Coppola’s Paris fashion supplement to read this weekend. So I was fascinated by the fuss over Fareed Zakaria – whom my younger son totally admires and whose articulateness and cool perspectives also impress me- and his joke at a recent panel at the Council on Foreign Relations Here’s part of the Huffington Post post that started the conversation:

“Last week, Zakaria moderated a Council on Foreign Relations event featuring Afghan President Hamid Karzai, excerpts of which can be found here. Notably absent is an exchange that occurred during the question-and-answer period at the end, when Glamour journalist Shirley Velasquez stood to ask Karzai a question. After identifying herself as a Glamour reporter, Zakaria interrupted her, cracking: "Glamour? Blue burqa vs. black burqa?”

According to Velasquez, the audience erupted with laughter, and Karzai “laughed and said something about being grateful that finally an easy question was going to be asked.” He should have been so lucky: Velasquez came armed with a question about the deplorable treatment of women in Afghanistan, noting that the U.N. estimates that less than half of school-age girls are actually in school and a whopping 70% of married women in Afghanistan suffer from domestic abuse.   

Asked Velasquez: “My question, Mr. President is why have these conditions persisted and how is your government improving the lives of women” Oh, ho ho, blue burqa vs. black burqa? According to Velasquez, Karzai seemed taken off guard by the question and responded: “Your first problem is the source you’re using. The UN doesn’t know what they’re saying,” and quoted stats were “absolutely wrong” At this point, says Velasquez, Zakaria actually stepped in and warned Karzai, saying, “Be careful Mr. President. Remember you¹re on the record.”.  Way to facilitate the discourse, Fareed.

Karzai continued, maintaining that Afghanistan had “great respect” for its women, more than most other countries in the area. Wow, set that bar high.” You can read the whole post – and a transcript here.

I got kind of obsessed with the history of women’s magazines, which I knew to include publication of many serious and mature writers for much of the past century. Here’s what I said – and what I found in Wikipedia:.

In fact, the late lamented Mademoiselle – and other women’s mags, were outlets for great writers in the first half of the century – albeit often with male editors but editors who clearly thought women could appreciate good fiction and complicated ideas.

Most men today have no idea of the content and influence of these mags (and yes I know Betty Friedan used the change in focus in The Feminine Mystique but I still think we need to remember the proud tradition of these publications.) Even Vogue – the queen of the old fashion books – has always carried substantial content. Most readers enjoy both the fashion and the substance when it’s available. We just don’t feel the need to tell everyone “I only buy it for the interviews”

WIKIPEDIA:

MADEMOISELLE was an influential women’s Magazine published by Condé Nast Publications. Its historically notable contribution to literature was that it published short stories by noted authors such as Truman Capote, which other magazines did not.” Also, Sylvia Plath’s experiences during the summer of 1953 — as a guest editor at Mademoiselle in New York City and in deepening depression back home — provided the basis for The Bell Jar, her only Novel" One of the most influential artists of this century, Barbara Kruger Art director and image developer, creating works using Anchorage which was used in the magazine.

LADIES’ HOME JOURNAL first published February 16,1883 as a women’s supplement to the Tribune and Farmer. The following year it became an Independent publication. It was published by the Curtis Publishing Company and edited by Louisa Knapp until she was replaced by Edward William Bok" in 1919. He published the work of social reformers such as Jane Addams.

MCCALL’S was a monthly women’s magazine that enjoyed great popularity through much of the 20th century, peaking at a readership of six million in 1960. It published much fiction, including such authors as Willa Cather, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gelett Burgess, Ray Bradbury, Jack Finney, Anne Tyler and Tim O’Brien.

So did Zakaria overstep? I wonder how anyone can laugh over the humiliation of the burqa.  It’s almost physically painful to me to imagine.  And if you read What do you think?

Repentance, the New Year and Friends of Bill

If you’re Jewish this is a particularly important time of year.  We just celebrated Rosh Hashanah – the New Year – and now are in the ten days between the New Year and the Day of Atonement – Yom Kippur – the holiest day — the day of repentance.  It’s interesting to have an opportunity once a year to examine one’s life and seek improvement.  Where I grew up most people were Catholic and so I know a bit about Confession in those terms, but what we do is a bit different.  We must seek forgiveness from those we have harmed – and take responsibility for our sins.  It is our duty to give extra charity and to fast and to seek a better self beyond the confession of past transgressions.  If you take it seriously it’s a valuable exercise. 

I have been fascinated in my now three year adventure with a more religious lifestyle – to notice the similarities between Judaism and 12 Step programs.  I’m involved with Al-Anon – for people affected by the alcoholism of other – but here are some of the 12 Steps from AA – they are remarkably similar to redemption within faith:

4.   Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

5.   Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.

6.   Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.

7.   Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.

8.   Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.

9.   Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

10.  Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.

11.  Sought through prayer and meditation  to improve our conscious contact with God, as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.

I guess it makes sense – there’s a reason AA works and it’s probably got a lot to do with the same phenomena that enable us to find true penance on Yom Kippur or the other rituals of penance in other faiths.

Anyhow, it’s a beautiful fall day, I’m working on my penance and the privilege of a new year – and wish you all the pleasure of the autumn sunshine and a peaceful heart.

WEATHER REPORT

It’s Monday night – tomorrow summer is gone, gone, gone.  I used to hate the heat and DC humidity but somehow I’ve come to love it.  I think it’s partly because of the light summer breezes and the wonderful sound of the train that goes by near here just at dawn.  It’s whistle is so evocative wafting through the sunrise.  And in summer it seems even more romantic.  It’s gone now.. until next year.

Even so, there’s lots to look forward to – both good and challenging.  Good is knowing that once more the trees will be turning.  I live in a neighborhood in Northwest Washington with big old trees along every street and in fall the leaves are amazing.  Spring too because of all the azaleas and winter — but the fall looks good and smells good and reminds me of the first day of school.

This is not a filibuster about the weather – I’m just kind of mind-numb from the three-day weekend and many hours spent at the computer catching up on work for clients.  I’m sure entry into the first week of un-summer (I guess it isn’t fall yet even though it isn’t summer either) will pick up my brain again.