Oh I know, I haven’t written in a while. All I can say is that it’s been a long year. But here I am back, just like the proverbial bad penny.

See the kid in the photo? Yes, that’s Anon back in the fall of 1952. I look smug, don’t I? ‘All the way with Adlai.’ There have been times in my life when I’ve felt as if I were the herald of lost causes.

Not long ago, I asked a friend who he was going to vote for president. He said that he wasn’t going to vote for Hillary Clinton, “I just don’t like her.” I replied that you don’t have to ‘like’ the candidate you’re voting for – you just have to know that he or she can do the job and do it well.

Since then, I’ve been thinking about why I’m so sanguine about politics and politicians. I suppose it goes back to the evening of the 14th of July 1960. Well, let me set this up for you.

It’s the afternoon of the 10th of July and we’re headed down to the Los Angeles airport. Governor Stevenson is due to arrive any minute. He is going to fight the upstart Senator from Massachusetts. The ‘we’ is my aunt, my mother and I. We join a group of people waiting on the tarmac of the far runway off of Imperial Boulevard. We park and join a small group of people. Teresa Wright is cheerleading the group and we try to decide to sing “Happy Days are Here Again,” or “The Gang’s All Here,” when the Governor arrives. Someone complains about the “what the hell do we care,” in the latter so it’s decided that we’ll go with “Happy Days are Here Again.”
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This graphic was with an article in the New York Times on 17 January (click on the link for a better view). I hardly know what to say after studying it. We were warned almost ½ a century ago by President Eisenhower about the pitfalls and folly of letting the military-industrial complex grow larger. We now work to feed the beast. What is criminal is what we could do to improve life in our country (and the world) if we didn’t feed this beast.

True, this graph is about the cost of the war in Iraq, but Iraq is merely a manifestation of the iron grip that the military-industrial has on our economy, our lives, and our very souls. It isn’t that we could have funded universal health care, or universal preschool, or ensure our security by enacting all of the 9/11 Commission’s recommendations, or conquering cancer, or immunize all of the children of the world against childhood diseases: we could have done it all and have a chunk of change left over. (more…)

It’s the end of another annus horribilis. Not for Anon, personally, though I will admit to a certain amount of melancholy. But, the rest of the world didn’t fare as well as even I did. There’s really no need to tick off the list; we all know where the problems are and continue to be. From Iraq to Afghanistan, from Dafur to Somalia, from Ukraine to the rest of the ‘Stans; the list just goes on and on.

At home, there’s the loss of habeus corpus and the general mucking about with the first 10 amendments to the Consitution, aka: the Bill o’ Rights. Evidently, Rights must be abrogated in order to preserve them (this goes along with the military philosophy used in Vietnam: you have to burn the village in order to save the village). As we search for the enemy, we can now look in the mirror to find him. For our fragile experiment of representational democracy it is ‘the darkest part of the longest night,’ and it’s time for clear-eyed honesty when looking into our souls for answers. (more…)

Let me set the scene: it’s a brisk spring day in Paris. The HB and I are at the Museé d’Orsay. For many reasons, it’s our favourite museum. It’s more than the contents, though that can’t be beat. It has an incredible collection of modern art especially the Impressionists.

It’s more than the structure: it was a railway station that has been converted magically into a light-filled ode to art. It’s impossible to describe the feeling of entering the building. Its long central hall has rooms filled with treasures off to each side. At the far end there is an exhibit for the child in each of us: miniatures of the great buildings of Paris, including a cut-away of the Paris Opera. The best though is the exhibit in the floor under glass of the Opera district of Paris with Haussmann’s boulevards in their full glory. Adults react to this model in reverential awe. Children always get it right, they start walking all over the glass. They treat this Lilliputian Paris as the fun thing it’s meant to be.

It’s more than the ambience: from the huge railway clocks to the wonderful restaurants, it’s a welcoming palace of art. There is one restaurant, on the quay-side of the museum; that is moderately priced and serves excellent food. This is where my story begins.

We had a wonderful meal. I had an outstanding Potage Crecy (a creamy carrot soup). We were well-sated when we strolled back out to the museum. Then, nature called. “Need to ‘spend a penny’” I said. HB and I aimed for the loo. These particular conveniences were located down a narrow hall and across from one another. (more…)

Well, Halloween is over and it’s time for La Dia de los Muertos. The Day of the Dead isn’t the same as Halloween. It was a harvest festival for the Aztecs, but the Catholic padres insisted on shoehorning it into the church calendar.

In conquering the new world, when the Church couldn’t eradicate a ‘pagan’ ritual they would co-opt it. Thus, La Dia de los Muertos is now celebrated the first 2 days in November. This coincides with All Souls and All Saints days.

The Mezoamericans didn’t fear death the way the Spaniards did. The Spaniards couldn’t wrap their brains around this concept. Of course if one isn’t afraid of death, then the Church loses a lot of its clout. (more…)