Factoring in Fear

Blogging for me began back in 2002. I occupied a cubicle in a soul-sucking job for a major disability insurer. Every minute I spent there was a minute I’d never recover. Fortunately, I didn’t invest  much energy into furthering Whitey’s corporate agenda and instead began planning my plan of exit.

A co-worker with topnotch design skills built a functional website at my behest. He never charged me a penny, either. The most important element of the site was that it including a blogging platform. As a writer looking to up my game and work on my craft, I was off to the races with a space to publish my own writing.

Since 2003, I’ve had several blogs including this one. My writing has been bylined in a host of print publications and online. I’ve hit the markers I set out for nearly 20 years ago.

Occasionally, I look back at something I wrote. The blog I maintained from 2004 until I launched this one in 2012, Words Matter, is still out there. Since I just completed rereading George Orwell’s dystopian classic, 1984, I was curious about what I might have picked up previously and perhaps noted somewhere.

Interestingly, these prior blog posts serve as a “trail of breadcrumbs” back to what I was thinking at the time. Just like in the present, I was concerned about the use of fear and hysteria (back in 2006) and also, the limbing of what is considered “proper” in what we are allowed to think and say. These are both central tenets to Orwell’s book that I’m amazed was written in 1949 and is still eerily relevant—just as if he’d written it last week.

In my blog post from 2006 at the Words Matter blog, I wrote this about fear:

Yesterday, while driving home from some appointments in Dover-Foxcroft, I was scanning the radio dial for something tolerable, or at least wouldn’t put me to sleep. For a five minute period, my better judgment took leave and I found myself listening to the demagoguery of Sean Hannity, during his afternoon exercise in right wing ideological indoctrination. This man is certifiably insane. His propaganda-laced tirades are lapped up eagerly by his brain-addled listeners, who subscribe to this kind of bigotry-infused and racist rhetoric. He was prattling on about the need for the U.S. to support their friends (in this case, Israel) in the battle against “Islamofascism,” a term invented by the haters on the right.

Fourteen years later, I could rewrite this, change a few names and terms and it would read this way to detail something that happened to me back in April. I haven’t looked back: Continue reading

Holding More Than One Idea (The Err of Caution)

What week of lockdown is this? I’ve lost track.

I hope everyone’s holding up, well. I’m guessing many are not. Actually, I know many aren’t.

My daytime job involves taking calls in a healthcare setting. Since early March, I’ve listened to people cry, melt down, and I’ve experienced and uncomfortable level of fear being projected my way for the past weeks and now, months. This has got to stop!

As a parent coping with the loss of a son, I’ve been struggling with the feeling of sliding back into that “deep dark hole” that’s taken me months to get to the lip of, and then, up into the light of living again. Why has this pandemic triggered these former emotions that were more painful than any human should be forced to endure? I’ve asked the question “why me?” so many times I can’t even come up with a reasonable guess.

I’m not sure why, but often following Mark’s death, I was so fucking angry. I simply wanted to hit someone or worse. Rather than acting out on this urge, I simply turned inward. I remember a former radio psychologist, Dr. Joy Brown, saying that depression was “anger turned inward.” I’d concur. I was so depressed that I contemplated suicide.

Picking up the guitar saved me nearly two years ago. I’ve played my old acoustic (or my newer electric) nearly every single day since August 2018. I’m amazed that two guitars (and a Vox amp) could have made such a difference, but they have. Still, the past 8 to 10 weeks have been difficult as hell, even playing and writing songs and performing via the interwebs. There’s only so much shit that even my guitars can deflect away.

When the Covid-19 outbreak ramped up, there were conflicting reports of its severity. Initially, some said that it wasn’t any worse than the common flu and that “people were overreacting.” Then, protocols were established as cases exploded, especially in the large, urban population centers like Boston, New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles.

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Stuck in a Nightmare

I came home from work on Wednesday. My guitar lesson was cancelled for the third successive week. Not to be deterred, I wrote “Stuck in a Nightmare” in the span of about 45 minutes. A few edits and I had a playable song be the evening.

The song touches on our current belief that staying at home and “sheltering in place” will somehow deliver a magic result. Somehow, we’ll avoid harm and in a few weeks (months?? years??) all will be well and we can go back to our lives of buying junk we don’t need.

The fear-fogging line is one I had to laugh about. Other than my sister, I’m the only other person that I know who has appropriated this excellent phrase that captures what the media does best.

I wrote a paean to Rachel Maddow late in 2019, but she’s become one of the biggest fear-foggers out there. As a result, I’ve stopped watching her show.

For me, who knows better than anyone (other than my wife), some things are beyond our control. In fact, Choice Theory is something I now understand and try to frame how I view the world. Yet, I see the disavowal of something that’s clear—we can only control ourselves. The other stuff we need to let go.

I’m still trying to find a way to up my fidelity on these home recordings. At some point, I’ll figure all this out. Maybe then, we’ll be released from “house arrest” and be allowed to go back to bars, clubs, and other venues and actually play real, live music again.

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Songs About Rachel

Someone who I considered a friend once told me I couldn’t play guitar.

I’m playing and over the last month, I’ve written four songs and three of them now sit up on SoundCloud. I don’t think he’s got anything out there I can listen to.

Canadian singer-songwriter and guitarist, Bruce Cockburn, has a line in “Lovers In a Dangerous Time” that goes, “got to kick at the darkness ’til it bleed daylight.” Playing guitar and writing for the instrument is me, kicking at the darkness that nearly swallowed me, nine months ago.

Sunday, I read an excellent feature by Amanda Hess in the New York Times Magazine, on Rachel Maddow. I’d highly recommend you take the time to go through it.

I’ve been a fan of Ms. Maddow, or simply “Rachel” as I call her when I speak about her to Mary or others that share similar views on the state of politics in America. On Monday, I came up with some lyrics in my head, while swimming prior to work. I jotted them down on a legal pad and when I returned home in the middle of the afternoon, I had a song.

Then, I had to come up with a chord progression and I had that completed by dinnertime. I played it for Mary when she came home.

Tonight, I decided to record “Rachel, Rachel” before going to bed.

That’s how I roll these days. And I appreciate former friends who motivate me to do things that they said I couldn’t do—like play guitar and write songs.

Mark on the other hand would tell me, “keep doing what you’re doing, dad.” I keep that thought close to my heart, always.

 

I Did Not Know That

Pride prompts us to think we know more than we do. Since there is no one who knows everything: most of us aren’t even close to being able to sort the important from the chaff in the world (and who could days, given the daily avalanche of information, the factual equivalent of white noise?).

Still, my thirst for knowledge and understanding continues. Occasionally, amazement and wonder accompany one of these runs down a rabbit hole. The end result is new information, and yet another reminder that I need to remain humble, because I know so little.

Thinking is hard work!!

With the change in another season comes colder days. I seem to have misplaced my zest for outdoor activities. The early fall bike rides I made along roads lined with brilliant foliage have been replaced. Now, you’re more likely to find me on the inside of the glass on those days that are even too cold for a brisk walk around the “loop.” That’s when I’m not standing in front of a classroom of young students, doing my best imitation of the JBE to keep them on-task. Thankfully, the Bath YMCA is close and I remain committed to my two-days-a-week in the pool.

Winter means I’m now spending time on my stationary bike again. The reward is that there is an uptick in podcast-listening. In addition to Rich Roll (someone I’ve mentioned before), I’ve added Chris Hayes and his excellent Why Is This Happening? Continue reading

Feelings Not Facts

After a welcome break from tutoring, I was back at for the first time in two weeks. I’m not sure why—maybe it was just that I’d gotten used to having my evenings back and under my own control—but I was exhausted when I rolled up on the cove around 9:45 Wednesday night.

When I get home after 2 ½ hours of trying to get 25 high school-age students to put down their cell phones and do some homework, I’ll often sit-up for an hour or so with a beer (sometimes a snack) and more often than not, I’ll watch The Last Word with Lawrence O’Donnell on MSNBC. Because I tune-in just prior to the 10:00 p.m. segue between hosts and shows, I’ve come to enjoy being there for the “hand-off” that takes place between the brilliant Rachel Maddow and O’Donnell, a savvy political veteran of DC’s internecine combat.

Wednesday night, though, for some odd reason, I switched on CNN. When I am home at night, I rarely miss Ms. Maddow’s special blend of research, commentary, and the way she weaves each evening’s storyline, coaxing viewers along for something other than the usual soundbite journalism that’s all-too-common in this post-factual era.

It’s unfortunate that the only two left-of-center news networks force us to choose: pitting Maddow against Chris Cuomo (over on CNN), and then, O’Donnell goes head-to-head against worthy rival, Don Lemon. What I often end up doing is channel-surfing between networks during commercials, which works at times.

Cuomo, in addition to being a journalist is also a licensed attorney. He draws on that  legal background to “make his case” in whatever story he’s covering on a given night. Wednesday night, it was President Trump, and how the Orange Menace opts for feelings over facts, time-and-time-again. This is nothing new to anyone who doesn’t source their information solely from TrumpTV (better know as, Fox News). But for the Kool-Aid crowd of Trump toadies, this is an interesting flip-flop. Continue reading

Let’s Hear It for the Working Class

[I’ve tried to refrain from politics on this blog. For the most part, I’ve stayed true to that end. However, sometimes something occurs that makes it impossible to remain silent. In fact, I’ve had to hold my tongue over and over since Paul LePage was elected governor. Yesterday was the final straw for me, when the governor made a comment so crude and offensive, and well beyond the pale of civil discourse, while attacking another elected official that I decided I had to weigh-in on the matter.–jb]

Standing with Troy Jackson, a logger, and a champion for Maine's working class.

Standing with Troy Jackson, a logger, and a champion for Maine’s working class.

I don’t know Troy Jackson personally. I had the good fortune to meet his son back in March, a young man who left the region and state like many of Maine’s best and brightest, but realized at some point that he had Aroostook County in his blood and came back to see what he might do to turn the tide and make a difference in rural Maine. I’m guessing the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree. Continue reading