Current Affairs – Page 28 – Don't Gel Too Soon

FIVE YEARS IN IRAQ – A BIRTHDAY – AND MEMORIES OF VIETNAM

The amazing Queen of Spain, Erin Kotckei Vest, wrote yesterday about her son’s 5th birthday and the war in Iraq, realizing that our country has been at war for his entire life. It’s a moving and troubling meditation on the length and malignancy of this war. Take a look.

It was strange to read — someplace between echo and deja vu. My older son was born the night Cambodia fell; I went back to work at CBS News the night Saigon fell (foreign desk – overnight) and his younger brother was born 2 days after the Iran hostages were taken. We always knew how many days old he was because Walter Cronkite ended every newscast with "that’s the way it is, the xyz day American hostages have been held in Iran."

I remember nursing Josh during the horrible last days of the Vietnam war, when they were trying to get orphans out of the country. One evening at the very beginning of the effort, 78 kids died when their plane crashed. To this day I remember sitting in a chair, feeding this weeks-old child, watching the broken bodies of some else’s children flung around the crash site, and just dissolving.

I don’t know if it helps or hurts that this is not the first time; although in so many ways it is the worst. As horrible as the country was during Vietnam, we had our collective rage. As this picture shows, we also had the innocence that placed carnations
in the barrels of National Guard guns as they kept us at bay. And we had each other; the opposition to the war, while fractious and divided, essentially understood its unity and its shared issues. Because we’d had teach-ins and gone home and argued with our parents and had to face down counter-demonstrators at marches we had become somewhat tribal – which was bad in some ways but held us together.

The current administration, in my mind, has made it so much more painful to try to bring change; the worst part being that they should have learned enough from Vietnam not to do it this way!!! Not original but as I read Erin’s heartfelt post, about her son and about all those in her family serving or having served in Iraq I got angry all over again. Last time it was arrogance on the part of people like Robert McNamara, but they did not have a Vietnam to look back on and strive to avoid. They had the model of World War II, the post-war failures that led to the Soviet occupation of Eastern Europe for so long, the Marshall Plan and all the other "good wars" and American generosity that informed the very bad decisions they made. These guys today have had all Vietnam to instruct them and still did this to us.

That’s why this election is so important. If we had had decent leadership five years ago we might be funding decent learning disabilities programs and well-baby clinics and alternative energy research and, if necessary, wars we DO need to fight instead of burdened by a debt that could very well still be with us when Erin’s birthday boy is in college.

IS JOHN STEWART A POLITICAL KING (QUEEN) MAKER? DOES COMEDY RULE? SHOULD IT?

I used to run a television newscast for teenagers. It was tough to get them to pay much attention to the news, so one of the features I experimented with was "If you don’t know the news, you can’t get the jokes." Dennis Miller was doing Saturday Night Update then, and sadly, wouldn’t talk to us, so the idea failed. It wasn’t that original anyway; humor has always been part of American politics. But I wanted the kids to care more about it – and I thought that connecting news and cool comedy would help. I’m pretty sure I was right; political comedy is certainly a factor this year’s campaign. If you’re my age, you’re probably sitting there thinking "Hasn’t this woman ever heard of Mort Sahl? Yup. He’s just turned 80 and his political humor is as sharp as ever. But he didn’t have a daily "Daily Show" as a podium. Look at this:

I started thinking about this because this headline just appeared in the Media Bistro LA edition – which linked to this piece in the Washington Post. Comedy, at least this year, is an important factor in the campaign. Of course, Bill Clinton rebounded from one of his many backslides in 1992 with a saxophone-playing appearance on standup comedian and talk show host Arsenio Hall’s show. This clip, in fact, appeared on Channel One, the show I used to run!

That was the second time Clinton used nightly talk as a life preserver. After this disastrous keynote convention speech in 1988

Clinton went on the Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show and did the same thing. Not quite comedy but definitely popular culture. Carson had a unique impact, too. A wise Republican political consultant told me he could tell the mood of the country by listening to which jokes audiences responded to on The Tonight Show. So this year, despite all the fuss about Comedy Central, is not the first time that the worlds of entertainment and comedy have had more than a small role in choosing our leaders. And those are just in the past few elections. (OH, and don’t forget JibJab. )

We aren’t alone, of course. The 18th Century British cartoonist William Hogarth, is still taught in political propaganda classes. This one, The Times, is an example.

The difference today may be the ubiquitousness of any information that emerges; it’s not just in some elitist newspaper, it’s all over the place. It may also be the diminished influence of what used to be our respected news media. Young people (and others) turn to comedy not just because it’s arch, and fun, but because it’s less pretentious and heavy-handed, and treats audience members as co-conspirators rather than as a single passive body.

I worry that the deflation of our leaders that comes from the Comedy Central syndrome is as scary as it is useful. Americans like to believe; that’s part of the appeal of both Obama and McCain, I think. And it’s possible to believe without mindless acceptance. But if all, or most of one’s information emerges from the acerbic minds of comedy writers, does it undermine any capacity to follow a leader in what are truly perilous times?

Franklin Roosevelt, through his Fireside Chats and other communications with Americans, was able to bring the country along as war drew closer. Doris Kearns Goodwin, in NO ORDINARY TIME*, one of my favorite books, tells the story of one chat in particular. FDR asked Americans, in advance, to get a
map of the world and follow along as he described the current state of the war. Maps sold
out. And the Americans who had bought them sat there by the radio and followed as Roosevelt spoke. You don’t need comedy to inspire confidence when you have that kind of respect for your audience. I guess you could say that FDR was a kind of rock star who had built such a relationship with Americans during the Depression that he was in a different situation, but still, it’s a provocative example to place against 5 minute guest spots with Stewart or Colbert.

This has been long and a bit rambling because I’m trying to think it all out here – and I still don’t have an answer. I do think it’s going to be interesting to see how long this trend lasts — at least in this incarnation.

*go to the link and search inside under Fireside Chat and map and you will find the story (pg. 319)

BITCH IS THE NEW BLACK – WHAT DO WE THINK?

This is old now and all over the interweb PLUS all the feminist listservs that reach my mailbox. What’s the verdict? Funny? Post-Feminist? JUST funny? Too true to BE funny? Too funny to be true? Other? Check one (or more…)

IN JERUSALEM: A CHILD AT THE WALL AND OTHERS IN SCHOOL

We leave Jerusalem for the airport in two hours and I don’t even know if it’s worth going to sleep. It’s almost midnight here and and cab is coming at 2 AM. So much has happened that I’ve been too tired to write most of it down. I guess I’d better chronicle it somehow though.

This was one of my favorite moments of our trip. It’s almost dawn at the Kotel (Western Wall of the old Temple) and a young boy and his father prepare for morning prayers. This day is the first that he will "lay tefillin "– wear the special prayer objects on his arm and forehead to follow the commandments by placing reminders on the arm and "between thine eyes" – on his forehead. They’ve chosen to celebrate this very significant pre-Bar Mitzvah moment in the early morning – a sunrise service where the Amidah – a critical prayer – is recited just as the dawn arrives. A loving and very impressive family of four girls, two boys and two remarkable parents, they all joined to offer moral support and presence to someone they love as he takes this first step to what I guess you’d call "religious adulthood."

I know the photo is blurry but I don’t like to show faces of other people’s families — they deserve their privacy. I just want you to know how lovely it was. An animated and intelligent young man, his father at his side – his sisters, mom, cousins, friend – and a couple of us — watching him make his way. I told his mom, whom I very much admire, that it was a privilege to be there. Probably sounds like hogwash but it isn’t – watching all this take place as the sun rose to illuminate us all was a true blessing.

Of course we couldn’t watch everything because much of the ceremony took place on the "men’s side" of the mehitza (divider between men and women) where we weren’t allowed to be. We peeked through fence dividers though, so we did get to see a bit. I’ve been living a fairly observant, Orthodox life for a couple of years now, moving forward month by month, holiday by holiday, and I continue to be amazed at the levels of intolerance I manifested before I learned about observant life from the inside. Days like this one remind me of how much of the world we can’t judge without living it – or at least being willing to come along as others do. This day was a perfect example of that.

That same day, a cousin of the family at the Kotel invited me to visit the school her kids attend – K-8 – near the town of Efrat, on the grounds of a kibbutz called Rosh Tzurim.
Founded by an amazing woman named Noah Mandelbaum, it began as an effort to accommodate a single Downs child by mainstreaming him, along with a special teacher, in a "regular" classroom. It was so successful that within months she had 4, then 6, then finally, so many kids that she launched a school where such mainstreaming would be policy. This photo shows the school in action. There are many classrooms for Downs, autistic and other developmentally affected kids study alongside the rest of the class. I didn’t want to take photos there and distract them. In this nursery class is another phase of the program. The young woman whose back is to us is fairly seriously compromised but she is permanent staff in the classroom and is learning to be a preschool aide able to get a job and work outside the school. That smiling girl in the blue sweater is today’s "guest" – another child with serious developmental issues who will work in the classroom for the day. The program helps these young people find a place of their own in the world – and teach all the kids at Reshit School the value of every human person.

This is Noah, the school’s founder. Surrounding her is part of the farm where every child – "normal" and otherwise, works each day – together. You can see the colors, the free-form murals – all the stuff that reminds me of schools we all dreamed of in the 60s. In many ways the tone of this school is similar – but this is a real "put your money where your mouth is" environment. Parents have to believe that the things their kids learn here are more important than super-competitive environments where the only standard is how far their children are from the next step on the ladder. Learning to be moral, caring human beings is an actual mission here.

The kids are pretty free (it’s kind of Summerhillish), across ability spectrum, and the curriculum is designed to allow each to learn in her own style at her own speed. When I asked Noah about kids like mine, who had needed and appreciated structure, knowing what was going to come next, her reply was startling in its good sense. Basically – and I’m paraphrasing here – the idea is that "for some kids, especially more intelligent ones, that may be true. But for kids with less ability it is especially important that they learn to live without an institutional structure every minute because the world doesn’t have that kind of structure – and the world is where they will have to live." By the way, after years of fighting with the educational establishment, Reshit has been designated a model and its efforts to mainstream all kinds of kids will be emulated in schools throughout the country.

I have more to write – about exploring ancient tunnels under old Jerusalem and more – but this is enough for now. I’ll try to have the rest in a day or two.

SHABBAT IN JERUSALEM – HATS – AND SHABBAT SHALOM

These two lovelies, Ruthie (R) and Naomi (L), run a wonderful hat shop on King George St. in Jerusalem (#14 if you want to stop by…) I met them last year and loved both the hats (if you live an observant life you wear a hat to services and many women wear them all or almost all the time) and the two of them. A women-owned, sister-run company, their shop is my favorite – partly because Ruthie works on the hats right there in front of us – but also because they are such a great story.

What better day than Shabbat to think about two wonderful women making us happy to wear our hats to shul? I took two friends with me when I went there this time and among us I think we bought five hats! Here’s mine:

A little stardust never hurt anyone, right? I really love it and am now going to have to demonstrate enormous discipline by waiting until spring to wear it. Let’s hear it for the girls, right? And Shabbat Shalom.

NOTE: this post was created Thursday night and set to be posted on Saturday morning. NO WORK on it was done on Shabbat.

AN ARTISTS’ COLONY, THE ORIGINAL HOLOCAUST MEMORIAL, THE CRAZY JERUSALEM MARKET AND 7 MILES ON MY PEDOMETER

This was a remarkable day. In the first place, according to my pedometer we’ve walked seven miles! Even more importantly, of course, was where we walked. Our first stop was an accident – wandering toward the Old City from our apartment we ended up in the lovely old neighborhood of Yemen Moshe. Symbolized by the windmill at the top of the hill upon which this old neighborhood is built, it has long been highly desirable and glamorous place to live – full of artists and intellectuals. Now there are also dozens of galleries and shops – but we just strolled around en route to the oldest parts of the city.
From there, we went into Old Jerusalem through the Zion Gate – a way we’d never been before, and explored the area around an old Armenian church, when suddenly we came upon this sign

At first we weren’t even sure it was for real — we’d certainly never heard of it and both of us are pretty well-schooled in Holocaust lore. As we drew closer, we were shocked to find a small entrance to an equally small courtyard offering the gateway to “The Chamber of the Holocaust” and this sign:

From there we moved into a small, cave-like room whose walls were covered with stone tablets, much like grave stones, dedicated to lost towns in the countries of the Shoah. Three rooms and an outdoor courtyard were covered with the “headstones” and all the rest of the exhibits were, old, faded, primitive and clearly created with love, outrage and very little money. Somehow, the very “scotch tape and cutouts” quality of the exhibits magnified the grief and determination of those who had created them. It was a remarkable moment in our day. Here are a couple more photos:

The “cave” with the headstones to lost cities and towns.

One of several walls of photo- graphs of lost souls. There are more, but this is enough. Lots of other things happened today but this is where I want to leave things. I’ll try one more post before Shabbat but if I don’t make it, I’ll catch us up on Saturday night.

Here’s just one preview though – of Jerusalem’s favorite market – Machene Yehuda. Good night for now.

MOVIES, AIRPLANES AND (ALMOST NOT) ARRIVING IN ISRAEL

Never a dull moment. After a relatively uneventful flight from Dulles to Frankfurt – even two movies I wanted to see (Michael Clayton and Gone Baby, Gone) we went to the Lufthansa desk to pick up our boarding passes for the Frankfurt-Tel Aviv leg of our trip. The airport was teeming despite the fact tat it was only 7AM. This is such a big transit point that flights come in from all over the world and you think nothing of passing women in abayas, Africans in full regalia, European speaking every language in the EU and of course Americans of every conceivable type. Even though the airport is in one of, if not THE major commercial cities of Europe, the variety is such that you don’t really think of yourself as being in Germany but sort of floating in some netherworld.

After waiting in a very long line, we finally reached the ticket agent, who took quite some time to pull up our information. This is very unusual in a German institution, especially Lufthansa, which is always completely efficient. Then we found our why. Rick’s passport expires August 11th. Today is February 18th – a week short of six months. Israeli security requires that a passport be valid for at east six months after scheduled arrival in Israel. He’s a week shy of that and we spent an anxious couple of hours in the Lufthansa business class lounge waiting to see what would happen. But when the flight was finally called, (and after we went through Secrurity causing a ruckus as my Macbook Air emerged to flounce its way through the Xray machine) we waltzed onto the plane with nary a question. Much ado about nothing — but given the German penchant for regulations and the Israeli attitude toward accommodation, it could have been otherwise.

Now we’re in Tel Aviv – back at the wonderful Nina Suites in the arty neighborhood of Neve Tzedek, and enjoying what I”m pretty sure is a nice funky neighborhood about to turn into the unaffordable Soho of Tel Aviv.

But we’re jet lagged and grubby and so now we’re going to sleep. But I’m leaving you with one extra photo – te kind you show to your kids in the “gee wiz” years They were de-icing the wing right outside our window as we waited to leave Frankfurt.

COOL, HUH?

LEAVIN’ ON A JET PLANE – ISRAEL AGAIN

Tomorrow – Sunday afternoon – we leave again for Israel. I’m amazed that we’re returning so soon and will be curious to see how it feels to be with a group instead of just the two of us. Last time was so perfect; that always makes me nervous – it’s not good to try to recreate perfection so we have to just allow this trip to evolve as its own.

We’re staying in a beautiful apartment in a great neighborhood and have great plans – I promise to keep you posted here.

DECLARE YOURSELF: VOTE. IT’S THE LEAST YOU CAN DO!

My good buddy Jenn Satterwhite posted this last week and although it’s a little nerdy, it’s kind of cute. At least it’s fun – especially if you’re my age and used to have to watch films like this for real. It comes from an organization called Declare Yourself. Aimed at 18-year-olds, it reaches out through these online PSAs and other tools to engage younger people in voting. Sponsors range from Yahoo to Clear Channel to Starbucks. I don’t know how they’re doing, but the videos are fun. There’s one here and more on the site. Enjoy yourself.

TIME PASSES: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO A LONG-TIME FRIEND

Saturday night we went to an 80th birthday party. It was for someone whose 43rd we’d also attended — a long time to know someone. He’s a wonderful man with a wonderful family, and you would know his name if I wrote it here – but it was his party not mine and somehow it feels intrusive to tell you who he is.

When I was first in the news business, he taught me a great deal. Ever courtly and generous, excellent at what he did, he shared so much of what he knew and felt about news, politics, government and life. With humor. And a gentle sense of irony. I wish I could communicate how thrilling it was to wander through the tunnels under the Senate, past the secret offices where senators met for gumbo and whiskey, around the corner called "coffin corner" because when the dead lay in state, the coffin had to be tipped vertically to get around the corner on its way to the Rotunda that was its destination — with this gifted man as my guide.

All his kids were at the party of course, along with their spouses and a ton of grandchildren. All four kids were younger than these grandkids when they attended our wedding. There were (very short and funny) speeches, lots of teasing, and not an ounce of pretense or artifice. Of course, the fact that all of them were so happy to see me after our long sojourn in California and year on separate paths, made me feel great. Even so, the great gift of this evening was that I didn’t even think of that until later. When you share so much of life, and work, affection and high regard with someone, you have the luxury of honoring them without obsessing about what it all means to you. That should tell you more about him than anything.