Great American Novels

I finally read The Great Gatsby. It was shorter than I expected it to be and I read it in less than a day.

A former friend (I have lots of these) who reads very little, was fond of referencing F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “Great American Novel,” like a talisman of sorts. It made her appear urbane and well-read—neither of these were actual qualities that she possesses.

I have been tutoring at a school where most of the students don’t care at all about academics. I wage futile battles with my charges to get them to put their phones down and do schoolwork, nightly.

I’ll refrain from being overly critical: the school is close and the pay is great for part-time work. It’s at night, too, so I have my days free to write and be creative. Oh, and there is the additional perk of having an old-fashioned library full of books like The Great Gatsby. None of the students ever take them down off the shelves and look them over, either. They’re too busy Snapchatting or playing with their phones.

Last Friday night, Turner Classic Movies ran the 1974 Robert Redford version of the movie adapted from Fitzgerald’s classic. Here’s some “inside Hollywood” for you about the film: the script for this 1974 big screen adaptation was actually re-written by Francis Ford Coppola, after the original script by Truman Capote was rejected by director Jack Clayton.

Coppola remembers that he spent weeks locking in a Paris hotel room, an ocean away from the hype attending his own breakout Hollywood tour-de-force, The Godfather. He told an interviewer that the “key to cracking the script” for him was simply reading Fitzgerald.

The movie turned out to be enjoyable. I vowed I’d finally get the book and read it.

Monday night, I found six copies of The Great Gatsby waiting for me at the end of the night. I planned to take it home and return it. I didn’t expect to read into the wee hours and then finish it the following day.

The novel still seems very relevant in terms of class and privilege. Despite technology taking over our lives, most humans are still basically the same shitty creatures they’ve been from time immemorial.

I’ll save the synopsis. They abound across the interwebs.

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Stealing Your Hamburgers

We’re living in a country where it seems like everything is broken and no one knows how to fix it. Hyperbolic? Yeah, a little bit. But, there’s a sheen of truth in that opening salvo, too.

Donald Trump ran on a slogan of “Make America Great Again.” MAGA speaks to an idea that we’re not what we once were, as a country. While I might disagree with President Trump and his prescriptions for “fixing what’s broken,” I can’t disagree that we’re not where we ought to be, either.

On Friday, MSNBC’s Chris Hayes went to the Bronx, the NYC borough represented by Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (she also represents parts of Queens, too). The town hall, taped in the afternoon, ran during Hayes’ usual 8:00 p.m. slot on the left-leaning cable news network popular with “lefties” like me.

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Fake Without a Foundation

I wonder what percentage of people could name perhaps two or three of the foundational elements of journalism? It’s probably safe to assume that the people who lob the pejorative “fake” at media professionals probably don’t know even one element. Interestingly, I learned that younger Americans are better than the oldsters at telling what’s true, and what’s not.

One of my journalistic heroes was Norm Fournier. He was the editor and jack-of-all-trades behind the small town newspaper in the place where I grew up. Fournier, I’m sure, could name all 10 elements of journalism and practiced them with regularity across the more than three decades he was the font of news in the place where he decided to plant his flag, where he’d made his own commitment to truth. This type of commitment is actually the first element of journalism, as determined by the American Press Institute.

A paper that practices the 10 essentials of journalism.

I was reading one of our local newspapers still covering the local beat this weekend. I thought of Fournier and some of the conversations he allowed me to have with him at the end of his life. Again I was reminded that newspapers still serve an important purpose. Not only are they committed to truth, but their loyalty is first and foremost to all the citizens. What does this mean? Well, at the core of this second element of journalism it means that journalists “must strive to put the public interest—and the truth—above their own self-interest or assumptions.” Continue reading

Presidential Girth and Finding a Healthy Weight

William Howard Taft was our largest president in terms of girth. It is rumored that he once got stuck in the White House bathtub, and if he didn’t, had a larger one installed. Taft’s BMI topped out at 42.3.

Donald Trump’s published weight a year ago was 239. If that’s an accurate weight, then his BMI would have been 29.9. This placed him well below Taft, and trailing other portly U.S. leaders, like Grover Cleveland (34.6), William McKinley (31.1), and Teddy Roosevelt (30.2). Bill Clinton, who it was said by his wife back in 1992 that her husband “loves to eat and he enjoys it,” had a BMI of 28.3 while president. During his first campaign, his weight ballooned 30 pounds, in part due to his penchant for Southern delicacies like ribs, potato salad, and sweet potato pie from Little Rock eateries Sims Bar-B-Q and Tex-Mex dishes made with lots of cheese, from Juanita’s, among others.

Interestingly, since he had his quadruple heart bypass surgery, the 42nd president is now mainly a plant-based vegan. If you’ve seen the former president, he looks great and is likely 30 to 40 pounds lighter than when he left office.

The current president (scowling) and other recent presidents at the George W. Bush funeral.

I am once again limiting my news consumption. Like the last time, I’m tired of the never-ending cycling of themes that have little or nothing to do with my life. Given that these days, journalism seems to be not much more than recycling presidential tweets, I’m really not interested in what these arbiters of truth tell me is “important.”

Not only am I limiting my exposure to the 24/7 news cycle, I’m also being much more intentional about the foods I am eating. As a result, I’ve dropped weight in a Clinton-esque manner. I am now down half of what the former president dropped after leaving office. Oh, I occasionally allow myself to “splurge” a bit, just like I do with political news.

The other day I heard that Mr. Trump was coming up on his annual appointment with his presidential physician. Not surprisingly (if you’ve paid attention to photos and his appearances on television), the president seems to have socked on a few pounds since he assumed his new home on Pennsylvania Avenue.

On Friday, he spent four hours at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center and had a check-up with Dr. Sean P. Conley, his physician. There were another 11 specialists taking part.

Conley put in writing that Trump is “in very good health and I anticipate he will remain so for the duration of his Presidency.” No word what his weight might have been. I’m sure it wasn’t 239 because on Thanksgiving, my weight was 236 and I’m the same height as the president. I’d say his weight’s considerably more than 239 these days, especially if you’ve been privy to a rash of unflattering photos of the prez, often on the golf course: he’s got a gut, and some have described him looking like a “tubby idiot.” That’s probably a little unkind, even if the president rarely shies away from mocking and making unflattering remarks about just about everyone else.

Weighing less than the president these days.

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Liar, Liar

As a child, I was taught that lying is wrong. Of course, many of my elders have invalidated what they said by their actions. However, truth-telling was central during my formative stages. No matter that the former adults in my life have suddenly reneged on everything moral and holy: I remain convinced that duplicity is bad: bad for relationships, bad for organizations, and certainly, bad when you are the president of the United States.

Donald Trump lies incessantly. The Washington Post, one of a host of newspapers that the president includes in his pantheon of “fake news” in a universe framed by obfuscation, compiled this list of “whoppers” told by the president as of the first of June. Anyone with a hold on reality knows that the number has certainly grown substantially over the past seven months.

The lying president.

Last night, I missed his address, which was another opportunity for the president to spread more misinformation about his so-called wall. It’s a shame that the networks allow him to get away with what is the equivalent of Cold War era propaganda. They did go to new lengths to mitigate what they knew would be “political theater.” Continue reading

Women Won’t Save Us

We are living through “the year of the woman.” Following the mid-term elections that delivered a female tsunami, naive believers have glommed onto the myth that depositing a wave of women on the steps of the capitol—simply assuming that swapping the gender of those who prop up our power structure will change everything. This is akin to believing in the magic of fairy dust.

Some of these “new” women actually believe that if they had been in power, bad things wouldn’t have happened. I say, “dream on.”

When I roll out of bed, I usually do my stretching in front of the television. I want my weather beamed from a 32-inch flat screen, not a phone sitting in my palm.

Before switching the channel to our local news affiliate, I caught the last five minutes of this morning’s MSNBC’s First Look. Their final segment had yet another variation of “the woman have arrived to save us” narrative that’s in vogue with lazy journalists.

Generally, I wouldn’t have paid much attention to the screenshot of a group of about a dozen women, but one name “jumped out” at me, identifying her photo. That would be Gina Raimondo, the new head of the Democratic Governors Association.

Yes, Raimondo is a woman. I’m also aware that men have done more than their fair share of damage to the planet. But she is not a woman I’m cheering for in her role leading an organization that’s “dedicated to electing Democratic governors and candidates.” Oh, glory!

Women in power suits, making plays for power.

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Doomed to Repitition

I’m a bit early on my post that touches on Veterans Day. For most, I think it’s become just another holiday on the calendar that some don’t have to go to work for.

Time as a unit of measure marches on. This passage—known to those who study it as “history”—is too often ignored. Worse, men (and women) who ought to know better, dismiss it as mere dates, names, and numbers.

We know the quote, attributed to George Santayana, about ignoring our past. People love to quote it, and yet, those very same people—often learned and well-educated in a formal sense—rarely take the time to read and ruminate on the foundation that our nation, our ideals, and our form of government rests upon.

Books like this one expand our understanding of the past.

I spent a portion of October reading a splendid book about the 1960s. Southern historian Frye Galliard’s, A Hard Rain: America in the 1960s, Our Decade of Hope, Possibility, and Innocence Lost, offers an expansive unfolding of the time and key figures and events that framed one of our country’s most significant, and equally tumultuous decades. It took Galliard, a gifted historian nearly 700 pages to create this historical snapshot. He easily could have gone on I’m sure, but even at that length, the book is longer than most people are willing to sit with, even something so significant. It’s really too bad because I thought it was readable in a way that longer, historical tomes are often, not.

Tomorrow will be Veteran’s Day. This weekend, our ahistorical president, oblivious and ignorant to the symbolism and significance of the ending of World War I, performed like a petulant adult-child. This Orange Menace, who occupies our presidency, exhibited a truculence that was disrespectful to the country of France, his hosts, and he also was a sorry surrogate for Americans who remember the events of that horrible war, even if it was experienced during a long-ago history class in school. The president also demonstrated total disdain for the solemnity of Armistice Day, nor the memories of those who gave the ultimate sacrifice in a war where more than 16 million soldiers and civilians perished. It’s quite likely he didn’t even know what Armistice Day is. Continue reading

When Presidents Can’t Hear

Our demagogue-in-chief has landed in Pittsburgh, despite being asked by leaders of both the city and Jewish communities to stay away. He refused to heed their request.

My late son, Mark Baumer, said everything that needed to be said about our president, the day before he would be killed along a highway in rural Florida. I don’t have anything to add because Mark nailed it in foreshadowing who Trump would turn out to be as a leader, the day that our president was being sworn-in as the 45th president of the United States. To say he’s been divisive is understatement at its best.

I quote:

“We now officially have a president,” said Mark, “that does not believe in climate change. He wants the world to burn so he can profit. We have a president who hates women, who discriminates against women, who physically abuses women. We have a president who hates minorities, who wants to make minorities suffer. we have a president who hates disabled people, who doesn’t want to help people when they are in need. All he wants to do is profit. If you support this man, you do not support human life on this planet, plain and simple. You do not support the future of earth as a planet…”

I was reminded of this today, thinking about Textron coming to Maine, and this kind piece written by Steve Ahlquist the day after Mark was killed.

Rest in Power, Mark Baumer!

Medicare (for all)

We are slightly more than two weeks ‘til the midterms. Will the Democrats gain the House (and Senate), or will the Kavanaugh nomination drive Republicans to the polls in higher than usual numbers? Then, there are the myriad of issues sliding past the lips of candidates. One of them I’ve heard and care about is the term “Medicare for all.”

Despite continued opposition from almost every candidate on the right, Democrats recognize that voters do favor something more radical than President Obama’s plan for health insurance. While “Obamacare” is far from the ideal, all “the party of no” can come up with is continued cuts to Medicaid and even the specter that they’ll at some point gut Medicare.

If you look at polling, the landscape clearly shows that more than half of the country (and 70 percent of those polled who vote Democrat) want some form of single-payer healthcare, which is what Medicare is. More than half of America’s doctors also favor it. So why won’t our elected leaders do something about it?

I’ve written about passing my insurance exam and being licensed as a life/health agent in Maine. Last fall, I passed my CMS certification to sell Medicare. My first year representing Medicare Advantage plans found my sales to be minimal. But I was happy that I got to make this step forward as an agent. What I learned is that most people age 65 (or heading there fast) know little or nothing about Medicare. Worse, they don’t know how to maximize their healthcare benefit options. Continue reading

Falsehood and Deception

Most of us know, deep down, what’s wrong and what’s right. As we get older, we find all a myriad of mechanisms that we employ to begin lying to ourselves. Eventually, we find it difficult if not impossible to honor truth in our lives.

One avenue I could take in a post like this is to illustrate how American culture allows us to become comfortable with all the lies of omission we tell ourselves, without even touching on the other side of the coin—outright deception and peddling falsehood.

For years I’ve had a blog. On my blog I’ve invested effort and energy in writing regular posts ranging between 500 to 1,000 words, often topping 1,500 and even much longer pieces on a host of topics: American dysfunction, books, writing, politics, history, indie music, reinvention, religion—and lately, the fallout that accompanies tragedy, which is grief, loss, and mourning. I’ve always tried to write honestly, with conviction, and I’ve prided myself in writing things that could be verified and validated by fact. If not filled with factoids and research, they were rooted in personal experience.

Facebook has made it all-too-easy for people to denigrate fact-based dialogue. It’s the digital equivalent of spending an afternoon at the beach, building an ornate sand castle, and then, someone coming along and destroying it, and laughing in your face. Maybe even going, “na, na, na, na, na—I ruined your sand castle.” Far too many counter thoughtful writing with a few words, a couple of sentences, and then, purposely or because they lack the ability to think and reason, fail to follow along with even the simplest responses to their inanity. The poster child modeling this is now president of the United States.

For months, I’ve entertained “blowing up” my social media accounts, especially Facebook. But instead, I’ve persisted in trying to have reasoned dialogue with people who are unreasonable. Yes, I’ve used it to post links to my blog posts, but in truth, it hasn’t dramatically boosted my blog stats.

This afternoon, I’ve made the decision to step away from it.

I’m tired of the back and forth that never ends. I’m tired of the time it robs me of that would be better served reading, exercising, or doing something else—anything would be better, and make me feel less crappy than time spent on Zuckerberg’s bulldozer.

Done running from Zuckerberg’s bulldozer.

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