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         For the Past couple of years I have been using a cane.  I am an old white guy, but I can’t help that (even though I realize that old white guys are not very popular these days).   As a matter of fact, by today’s standards, I am a very old white guy, which gives me license to use that cane as an alternative to falling because we old guys of any color are prone to take a tumble…and the old gals, too.  Falling is not a trivial event for old guys.  Two of my closest friends, both old guys, have died from falls.  According to the CDC the annual death rate from falls among those age 65 or above is 64 per 100,000.  For those of us 85 and over that number is increasing by 4% each year.  Falls are now the leading cause of accidental death in us old people in addition to massive numbers of debilitating injuries.  I have fallen a couple of times in the past year, but fortunately have escaped serious injury.  

           That leaves me with little doubt that my cane has saved my life on multiple occasions by preventing me from falling, and since I very much like being alive and able to ambulate on my own, there is little wonder that I feel great affection for my cane.  However, it serves a secondary, but no less important function.  It facilitates love.  My use of a cane has changed my relationships with my fellow humans in a very positive way.  As an old, retired shrink, I am accustomed to observing other people while monitoring my own feelings, and I can attest to the fact that you are noticed when using a cane.  I have been amazed at how often people will open a door or stand aside and motion me to move on ahead of them when in a line.  If you appear to struggle a bit getting out of a chair, they frequently offer to give you a hand. 

           In my case becoming an old guy sneaked up on me, and I guess I was in denial for I had become rather gimpy before I finally relented and purchased a cane.  There was also an unwillingness to accept help from strangers and a tinge of resentment for I am not only an old guy but consider myself to be a tough old guy!  Who in the hell did they think they were by judging me to be a helpless old goat? 

Could Caring Explain How Human Beings’ Dominated the Planet? Is it in our DNA?

Then one day I had a serendipitous experience in of all places a mall parking lot.  With the help of my cane, I was attempting to pry myself from my car (which is always a struggle since my car is low to the ground) when a guy showed up asking if he could help.  He quickly unstuck my foot and offered his arm to lift me out.  I looked up to thank him and noted a look of what seemed genuine concern when he asked if I was OK.  I was overwhelmed with a feeling of gratitude that this guy had gone out of his way to help me simply because he cared.  I had a sense that he also felt good about the experience.  I was left with a life changing insight (we shrinks like to use that word), as it suddenly occurred to me that without this type of interaction we humans would never have been able to survive let alone dominate the planet. 

Who would have volunteered to help kill a mastodon if he didn’t think his buddies cared enough to cover his back?  A few thousand years later, we are now even more dependent upon others in order to survive the vicissitudes of modern life in a complex society.  We have evolved to the extent that concern for our brethren has become a part of us and is encoded in our DNA.  In that vein, I found it interesting that in a study of recipients of the Carnegie Medal for Bravery, all reported they acted upon impulse without thought of the consequences. Check out the article and videos here.

Human Connection Saves Lives

It has also become an important factor in our emotional and mental health.  The feeling of being unloved was at the heart of many of my patients’ troubles often leading to poor self-esteem, depression, and unhealthy relationships, even anger and violence, but even worse is the conviction that one is unlovable which may result in the hopelessness we associate with suicidal behavior.  I find it interesting that many of the mass killings we witness are perpetrated by males who are characterized as “loners” (i.e., those, who for whatever reason, feel alienated).  It has been shown that total isolation for even a few weeks may result in psychotic decompensation even in apparently healthy individuals.  Politicians are only successful when they convince voters that they care about them. 

Soldiers who have been in combat often demand to be sent back into battle with their former comrades because of their concern for them, and that killing enemies is necessary to protect their buddies.  We learned from the debacle of the Romanian babies born in orphanages behind the iron curtain that children cannot thrive in an atmosphere without personal loving interaction.  We even have empathy for those poor souls more than a thousand miles away in the Ukraine.  However, these are only a few of the myriad ways that caring about each other enters virtually every aspect of our lives.  Furthermore, they provide evidence that such interactions are not only pleasurable but essential for our well-being and to life itself.

Love. Lust. And Caring.

Love is an oft used word which is used and at times misused to describe feelings of affection.  Poets, philosophers, theologians, musicians, artists, and shrinks of all stripes have long been attempting to define it.  They categorize it according to the initial stimulus which precipitated the feeling.  For example, one would not equate lust with love unless it was accompanied by a feeling of affection i.e. caring for more than just the person’s body.   Nevertheless, it is often lust that gets the potential lover’s attention.  As he investigates further, he may find other things he likes, and the courtship begins which is his attempt to demonstrate that he is loveable.  If he is successful, they fall down the rabbit hole together and live happily ever after (excuse me for using only one gender for any combination may apply).  The lovers have learned to enjoy and consequently value each other’s company.  In other words, they care about each other. 

Although I don’t mean to equate my cane to lust, the cane does get people’s attention, and is the impetus to a brief but caring relationship, which I submit is the basic ingredient of love.  Most religions extol the virtue of loving each other, and it is true that to do so would solve many of the world’s problems.  To that end perhaps we should produce fewer guns and more canes.

P.S. Irony is alive and well at our house for in the midst of writing this elegant essay, I heard a loud scream and found Barb flat on the floor with a fractured wrist (the second time for that one), but she is doing well mow.  Obviously, she pays little heed to my admonitions to be careful and not fall.

Editors Note: Eshrink wrote this blog weeks ago and I have been derelict in my editing/posting duties. When I visited mom and dad last week after the my BIG 40th High School Reunion Weekend with Annette, I took mom to follow-up appointment from the fall she had 4 weeks ago. She is healing well and such a trooper!

December 8, 2018

Dear Yuletide Revelers:

Some of you may be surprised to learn that we are still alive and well (sort of). I feel confident that my post-holiday decorating back pain will subside in time for me to suffer a reoccurrence while taking the stuff down. We do grunt, groan, and complain although our aches and pains are not expected to be fatal.

Tradition dictates that Christmas letters are for bragging about the accomplishments of one’s progeny spiced with little known facts about their superior intellect, physical prowess, good looks, and monumental achievements. However, in the spirit of the season, I have decided to forego such descriptions in order to spare you the painful envy of comparisons with your own brood. Consequently, I will only list their current vocational activities as follows in order of their ages:

• Sue (Pete’s wife) continues in her heroic struggle to help severely disabled children.
• Peter remains the star sales representative for Siffron.
• Jim (Trudy’s husband) does contract engineering work for a chemical company.
• Trudy is now reaching for the top rung of the ladder with Allergan.
• Maggie, is the outstanding international marketing director for Hurco.
• The grandkids as you might expect are also “well above average”, Emma as dietician in a large hospital, Simon an executive at a burgeoning start-up company, Carter a basketball coach at his alma mater Stonehill, Caroline with an academic scholarship at Indiana University and Sofia a straight A student and outstanding gymnast.

Those of you who are readers of my blog (there must be someone who is) are already acquainted with the exploits of our newest family member, Floyd the wonder dog. You may recall that on a few occasions his zeal for exploration has led him to lower car windows in order to leap out. His desire to meet new people motivated him to successfully eluded us more than once (we are not so speedy anymore). During such forays he has managed to gain entrance to several off-limits facilities including an IHOP restaurant, a grocery store, our local hospital, and the narthex of our church where he was escorted out in a rather unchristian like manner. In all the other cases he was greeted warmly (he does have a sparkling personality).

Our Thanksgiving, which the family spent at Trudy’s house was marred by tragedy which involved Floyd and Lucy, Trudy’s 18 yearold cat. Lucy had seen better days, but was nevertheless affectionate and Trudy’s favorite. She was a feline version of Helen Keller i.e. both deaf and blind with a moth-eaten appearance which was at first glance a bit off putting. Nevertheless, she was loved dearly and Trudy had found it difficult to make a decision to have her euthanized. In order to avoid gruesome details, I can only say that Floyd resolved Trudy’s ambivalence. Trudy’s devastation was made even worse because she was fond of Floyd. Needless to say, Floyd, although forgiven is now persona non grata at Trudy’s house (she has another cat). I am convinced that Floyd’s motives were pure and that his was an act of merciful euthanasia. I refuse to accept the premise that Floyd’s loving demeanor is simply an act to cover his true identity as a sadistic murderer. Yet there is the unsolved mystery of the possum and squirrel carcasses which appeared on our doorstep months ago.

Ah, but I digress for this is “the season to be jolly”, and certainly not a time to focus on morbid subjects. To that end, I need to mention the annual Smith family vacation of 2018 which is now archived along with 20 some previous ones (there is some disagreement as to the exact number) and I am happy to report that all survived. This year we rented a very well-appointed log house in the mountains of West Virginia, which even came equipped with a barn cat and a dog of undetermined lineage named Marley. We were told that Marley was a strictly outdoor dog however; he seemed quite comfortable hanging out in the house with the gang.   This did present some logistical problems since Marley liked to swim in the pond.

Marley was also frequently visited by a German Shepherd neighbor who acted like a puppy even though he was about the size of Shetland pony, and sounded like one as he galloped through the house. In any event he seemed to like us well enough and became a permanent fixture while we were there. I initially called him Henry, but he soon became known by the less formal name Hank. He liked to join his buddy Marley in an occasional swim in the pond after which he neglected to clean the mud from his paws (I hope the owners never read this). To the kids’ credit (I know what you are thinking but they will always be kids to me) there was a final push to undo the damage and the place was left looking “as if it never even happened”.

As usual the time was much too short, but at this point finding even one week in which all could get together has become difficult. Last minute obligations eliminated Carter, and Maggie’s arrival was delayed 2 days as was Pete’s due to work pressures in both cases. The highlight of the week was undoubtedly white-water rafting from which I had graciously excused myself. Barb was able to check off one item from her bucket list as we spent a day at the Greenbriar, but the best time for me was simply sitting on the porch listening to the quiet which was only corrupted by a chorus of singing birds. I was disappointed to find the place well populated with functioning television sets, but was able to limit my addiction although; I did relapse on a couple of occasions. It seems even the boondocks are no longer safe from the ravages of Trump fatigue.

You have probably noticed that this letter violates the long-held Smith rule for brevity for which I apologize, but in case you made it this far please know that Barb and I wish you all the merriest of Christmases, or happiest of Hanukkahs and the best year of your life.

Love to all

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last night, I completed reading a book of horrors by Craig Unger which easily surpasses the novels of Stephen King in scariness. It is titled HOUSE OF TRUMP, HOUSE OF PUTIN. Unger chronicles the rise of Putin arm and arm with the Russian mafia who were rewarded with vast sums of riches to become the world’s richest and most famous oligarchs. He likewise explains how the collapse of the Soviet Union allowed unemployed highly trained KGB operatives to become international criminals with the blessing of their comrade in arms, Putin. Privatization of the country’s businesses allowed him to pass out the country’s assets to his KGB buddies. In return they were to engage in traditional information gathering, but also make themselves available to provide disinformation with the goal of fomenting chaos and confusion throughout the world. They were also valuable as assassins who were able to squelch dissent in the good old-fashioned KGB manner.
HOW TO GET IT BACK
According to Unger, Putin was obsessed with returning Russia to a position of world power, but the breakup of the union left his country in a weakened condition. His solution was to develop a strategy of infiltration of other governments and make use of the limited resources remaining to gain influence abroad and weaken or even destroy alliances which were not friendly to Russia. The purchase of such influence was expensive, but Putin preferred investing in his plan than in his people. He also had available a cadre of thugs with considerable expertise in the art of turning enemies into assets by other means such as setting them up for blackmail. They had also become expert in assessing individual weaknesses and vulnerabilities. Although not averse to using tried and tested Stalinist tactics to gain and remain in power, Putin’s genius lay in his recognition early on as to the value of the internet to sow seeds of discontent inexpensively.
FRIEND OF THE FAMILY?
The author writes extensively of Donald Trump’s connections to criminal elements and of his father whom he alleges had made use of organized criminal elements in order to bypass building regulations. However; it could be that such connections were merely accepted as the cost of doing business during a time when the Italian mafia exerted a lot of control over unions and local politicians. Early in his career, Donald is said to have become dependent upon the services of Roy Cohn, who had gained fame as Joe McCarthy’s right-hand man in the communist witch-hunt (where else have I heard that term?) of the 1950s, and for coercing Ethel Rosenberg’s brother into falsely testifying in her trial, which resulted in her execution in the electric chair (not one of the U.S. Halls of Justice’s finest hours). He also was the consigliere for the Gambinos and Genoveses, New York’s most prominent crime families. Additionally, the author reports that Trump’s current spokesperson, Kelly Ann Conway is said to be the granddaughter of a known mafioso. Although one should not be punished for the sins of one’s father or grandfather, one can’t help but wonder as to her views on law and order. Trump is not accused of criminal activities in this book; however, as has been said many times: “if you sleep with dogs you risk having fleas.”
IT’S NO GOOD IF YOU CAN’T SPEND IT
As the oligarchs created by Putin continued to rip off their homeland, they faced a dilemma regarding what to do with all of that money. Their economy was unstable; they wished to launder their money, preferring the dollar to the ruble. Both real estate and gambling were good venues for such activities and many of these dudes became Donald Trump’s best customers, spending millions of dollars on the purchase of his lavish apartments, including many in Trump tower, and his Trump World Tower. Trump’s Taj Mahal casino was fined $477,700 for violations of the bank secrecy act, but the records have been scrubbed as to the details of this case. It is presumed in the book that the casino’s lax oversight encouraged money laundering.
UNINTENDED CONSEQUENCES RUN AMOCK
As presented in the book, the origins of the invasion of the US by the Russian mafia is a good example of the maxim that “no good deed goes unpunished.”  During the cold war, immigration rules were relaxed for Russian Jews due to reports of their harsh treatment and incarceration. This provided an opportunity for the Russian government to unload its worst and most violent criminals from their gulags. All the prisoners needed to do to be released and go to America was make a quick conversion to Judaism. Most of the emigres settled in New York’s Brighton Beach, an area very familiar to Trump since his father had real-estate interests there. The Russians of Brighton Beach quickly gained a reputation for outdoing the Italian mafia in violent criminal activities. They eventually became organized, and with the help of Putin’s oligarchs, organized and were able to operate internationally with a variety of talents including: murder, robbery, money laundering, extortion, prostitution, gun smuggling, human trafficking, and drugs. They also put some of their ill-gotten gains to good use with bribes to government officials in countries around the world.
KREMLIN TO THE RESCUE
Whatever had been Trump’s prior relationships to the Russians, they were solidified when they came to his aide following the bankruptcies of his Atlantic City casino businesses. Although he is said to have actually benefited financially from the bankruptcies by giving himself an enormous salary while his investors were stiffed, he had residual debt and banks would no longer finance his proposed ventures. Russia’s state-owned bank came forward with loan guarantees and he was back in business. There are also suspicions as to his knowledge of or even involvement in the money laundering by the Russians. However; Putin’s support would not end there, for according to our intelligence agencies, the Russians were heavily involved in attempts to further Trump’s political career with all manner of extremely sophisticated computer programs, which allowed them to send millions of personalized bits of misinformation to voters.
BEST BUDDIES
Trump has made it clear both in rhetoric and actions that he wants not only detente but friendship with Putin. He has stated on several occasions that friendship with Putin is a “good thing,” but some of us ask “good for whom?” Most would agree that Putin is a slick dude. While Bush looked in his eyes and judged his soul to be in the right place, he was already planning a program to eliminate dissent and political opponents the KGB way. I recall one person (wish I could remember his name) who said in response to Bush’s analysis: “Putin doesn’t have a soul, he’s KGB.”
HOW TO STIR UP FIGHTS
It is no secret that Putin laments the loss of neighboring countries with the dissolution of the Soviet Republic, and it is not a giant leap to suggest he would like to have them all back under his control. His major impediment to reaching that goal (obviously) is NATO due to its overwhelming military and economic prowess. The book lays out evidence that his stable of super-hackers have been busy not only working on our elections, but extending their “divide and conquer” strategy to other parts of the world, most notably Europe. Some believe that the Brexit problem, now threatening the cohesion of the European union was engineered by Putin’s digital army. Russia’s involvement in the Syrian Civil War has contributed to the refugee crisis in Europe, which has resulted in squabbling between European nations and an increase in nationalistic sentiment.
It is well documented that the divisiveness we now see in the U.S. is more severe than at any time since the Civil War. As a child of both the Great Depression and World War II, I grew up in a time when camaraderie was the norm. There was dissent, but it lacked the vitriol which we now hear daily. Now adolescent school yard bickering often replaces respectful debate. Character assassinations, which in past generations could precipitate challenges to a duel, are now accepted as the norm. There are even death threats toward those with differing political views. The racism which had been tamped down in the 1960s and ’70s has once again reared its ugly head.
WHY DO I WATCH THIS CRAP?
Yesterday, I was glued to the TV in spite of my revulsion. The senate Judicial Committee was convened to evaluate and confirm a candidate for the Supreme Court. Republicans had announced they would do all in their power to secure Kavanaugh’s appointment while democrats had admitted they would do everything they could to prevent it. Such decisions had been made long before the convening of the session. As we all know the Supreme Court was designed as the one institution in government that is to be totally apolitical. To further that aim such appointments were required to be approved by the entire senate, and to last a lifetime. All this was to insulate them from political pressure. Yet, here we were watching a political food fight with accusations, insults, and temper tantrums. This August body deliberated with all the decorum of a mud wrestling match. Ah, but I digress for it was my original intention to stick to a review of the book; although yesterday’s charade was an even more obvious example of how our politicians play into Putin’s hand by accentuating our differences.
DON’T YOU JUST LOVE IT WHEN A PLAN COMES TOGETHER?
As a matter of fact, Mr. Putin must be very happy with the progress he has made in disrupting alliances both here and throughout the world, thereby loosening the bonds that have limited his military adventurism. Whether unwittingly or deliberate our President’s policies have dove-tailed quite nicely with Putin’s game plan. POTUS has systematically insulted most of our friends and allies. He has whenever possible withdrawn from treaties and trade agreements, especially those which were negotiated by the Obama administration. He has actually denigrated NATO, and congratulated those members who have become more nationalistic. His isolationist policies have diminished our role as world leaders. He seems to take great stock in personal relationships in international relationships which sometimes leads him to ignore his advisers. His denial of Russian involvement in our elections has been an impediment to our development of strategies to prevent future attacks. His persistent attacks on our various institutions including the news media and even his own justice department further undermine our confidence and respect for our country. He has at times endorsed violence as a means to limit dissent.
“A FEW MILLION HERE AND A FEW MILLION THERE……”?
Trump has insisted that he has had no dealings with Russia however; in a Newsweek interview (10/01/18), Unger expands on his book narrative by reporting that in 1984 a Russian mafia member purchased 5 Trump condos for $6 million dollars and since then Trump has sold 1300 condos world wide receiving commissions of 18 to 20%. Since most were bought through shell companies, Trump is able to plead ignorance of any knowledge of money laundering however; Unger asserts it strains credulity that he did not know who were the real buyers. Unger insists that the Russian mafia reports directly to Putin who is now said to be the richest man in the world. With all that in mind, Unger concludes Trump to be a Russian asset with strong connections to Putin. Other than with his verbal denials, Trump does little to refute these allegations. To the contrary, his professed admiration of Putin as a “great leader” along with his insistence that meetings with Putin and his ambassador be held in private only increase suspicions.
IT GETS WORSE
As disturbing as these suspicions may be, I found myself even more sickened by the chapter which listed in great detail those with prominent roles in our government who became involved as attorneys or lobbyists for the Russian mafia. The most disappointing was the case of Bob Dole the former Republican senator, candidate for President, and severely wounded WWII veteran. He is reported to have received a $560,000 fee to help one of the Russian billionaire oligarchs to obtain a visa to visit the US. There is also the strange case of William Sessions former director of the FBI, who had warned the world of the dangers posed by the brutal Russian Mafia, but a few years later took on as a client a Russian mob boss on the FBI’s 10 most wanted list.
WHAT DO FACTS HAVE TO DO WITH IT?
Since we entered the Trump era book writing about him has become a cottage industry with a new one seeming to appear every week with most painting an unfavorable opinion of him. They are summarily dismissed as fake news or left-wing propaganda promoted by left wing conspirators. However; this book is populated with dozens of unpronounceable Russian names and lists specific times and places their activities were carried out. It has an unbelievable 52 pages of references and a listing of 60 Russians he alleges to be involved along with the familiar names of Americans accused or convicted of nefarious Russian involvement. I can hardly imagine the amount of research done to produce such detail.
WAKE UP AMERICA!
For all who have an interest in learning about the vulnerabilities inherent in any democracy this is a must read. Even more importantly it illustrates that other than voting (an area in which we are sorely lacking), our best defense against authoritarianism is a free press. Those who declare the press to be an enemy of the people deserve close scrutiny in books like this.

My entire morning has been wasted by watching the Supreme Court hearings. At my age the supply of mornings left for me is limited therefore; I can’t afford to spend them recklessly. It was clear from the beginning that nothing worth watching would occur for as usual the two sides were lined up as in a giant tug of war, each hoping to drag the other into the mud. It would all be perfectly predictable, and since each side spoke with one voice there would be no evidence of independent thinking on either side for as journalist Walter Lippman once said: “Where all think alike, no one thinks very much”.
ME OLD?
With that in mind I decided to eschew political subjects and focus on my favorite subject, namely myself. It would also spare my conservative daughter Trudy from enduring the embarrassment caused by the writings of her radical left-wing old man. As you must have guessed from the title of this paper I have finally succumbed to the ravages of time and have accepted the fact that I am OLD. My rationale for writing this autobiographical gem is that it is to be a public service announcement designed to provide some insight as to what lies ahead for you who are fortunate enough to become old however; if it garners some sympathy for me that would be perfectly acceptable.
It is true that as an old person I have a lot of company. People are living much longer and according to the 2014 census figures there were 4 million women and 2.1 million men over the age of 80 in the U.S. (are you gals sure about that gender equality thing?). As I mentioned in a previous blog there have been unintended consequences of the increased longevity. As I mentioned in a previous blog we are now a liability since we gobble up a lot of resources and contribute little.
POWER TO THE PEOPLE
Actually, there is no such thing as an Old Farts Club although there should be. AARP was designed to represent us, but they have found the insurance business to be more lucrative. In spite of its name, flatulence, although favored, should not be a prerequisite for joining The Old Fart’s club, although nearly all octogenarians could satisfy that criterion. For that matter since there are so many of us who suffer from that malady why not put simethicone in our water supply as was done with fluoride. Another option is to develop a method to recover all that methane which would undoubtedly contribute to a solution of the climate change problem. Properly organized such an organization could even form a collective to negotiate the prices of non-prescription drugs which could save millions in stool softener alone, not to mention the money which could be saved on the over-priced low dose aspirin the vast majority of old farts are taking on the advice of their physicians or TV.
REALITY SUCKS
Should such an organization come into existence my membership could be easily confirmed as I would arrive with impeccable credentials. One’s bona fides must include well documented behaviors and physical characteristics including the one inferred in the title of our organization. I am sure Barb (my wife) would willingly attest to my possession of innumerable qualifiers. Denial is one of the most powerful of all the mental mechanisms, but in my case, it has been overwhelmed by reality. The evidence which I could no longer hide from myself was exposed last week as I bought a lift chair and a cane.
To give up my well worn but comfortable chair was especially poignant for me. It had offered me blessed sleep at times when I could not lie flat in bed. I had spent endless hours in it escaping from reality via stupid TV shows or reading trashy novels. It also brought up memories of times past when giggling little bodies would occupy “Papa’s chair” then run screaming in mock terror when I feigned an attack. That chair is now occupied by barb who has long coveted it. It was perfect for reading, watching, and sleeping but getting out of it had become a chore for me but a breeze for my petite and agile wife. The new chair works quite well, and I now jump up from it like a teenager. Floyd has accepted it also and seems to prefer it to the old one, but that may have to do more with his understanding of who the alpha is in our house.
TOO MUCH TO BEAR (pun intended)
I accepted my need for the chair, but to accept the need for a cane was or perhaps I should say is more difficult. Although on an intellectual level I accept my old fart status, I would prefer that others would not notice. To use a cane is like having a sign on your forehead which announces: “I am decrepit”. Barb had convinced me that a bruised ego was preferable to a broken hip, so I looked for ways to minimize my exposure. I recalled from my earlier days that some very dapper men carried a walking stick, even those who were in no need of ambulatory assistance. Such instruments could serve the same purpose as an ordinary cane, but rather than the curved handle the shaft was topped with an ornamental ball or figure usually of brass or silver. They were made to be shown off rather than hidden. I was able to locate a number of walking sticks on the internet which I thought would help to disguise my gympieness, however none were long enough for my freaky long legs. Consequently, I bought a conventional very boring cane, which I now use only when all the disabled parking spots are occupied.
AS THE GROUP DWINDLES
Fraternization becomes progressively more difficult as old farts become old old farts. One of my uncles once belonged to a group of other old guys who met for years every day when the weather permitted on a series of park benches which lined the main street of the village in which they lived. They called themselves the liars club. Shortly after my retirement, I sought to replicate this idea, but soon found that it was already too late, for there were not enough able-bodied old farts left. Although activities such as class reunions offer a chance to reminisce, one’s initial response is to wonder how all those old people got in, until suddenly reality sets in.
I WANT TO BE GROWN UP
Recently I have noticed patronizing behaviors on the part of younger people, and have worked diligently on learning to enjoy rather than feel insulted with little success. For example, I abhor being addressed as “honey” or “sweetie”. I am aware that there is a kernel of truth in the aphorism, “once a man and twice a child” but I would rather not be reminded of it. It is true that when someone offers to give me a hand as for example getting up from a chair I tend to react much as would a toddler who insists on doing something without help even though it is beyond his capabilities. The opposite more extreme and hurtful is when one is ignored as if his opinions or observations are tainted by his age.
As you who read my stuff probably realize, I am fond of all those aphorisms I learned in childhood, nevertheless I continue to often avoid making good use of such wisdoms. The “don’t cut off your nose to spite your face” tenet was violated recently when I visited a local pet shop to purchase dog food. As I was preparing to leave, the petite little girl behind the counter asked if I would like for her to carry my purchase out to the car. I responded by throwing the 40 pound bag over my shoulder as if it were a bag of feathers, marching out to my car, going home to take a couple of Tylenol while hoping the pain would only be temporary and that I wouldn’t need another back surgery.
COULD HAPPEN TO ANYONE
Undoubtedly, a previously disastrous visit to that store was a contributing factor to her kind offer. On that prior visit I was accompanied by my son-in-law, and we were there to make use of the store’s dog wash facility. The visit did not begin well, for Floyd immediately decided to leave his mark by lifting his leg to wet down the display of cat toys. He then noticed another dog in the back of the store and launched an attack. Unfortunately, as he whirled around me at full speed, his leash wrapped around my legs and I ended up seated on my scrawny butt on a very hard floor. It has always mystified me that as men age their buttocks atrophy while women’s grow larger. In any event at that moment I could have used a bit of extra cushion. After I was lifted to my feet, I went about my business in true macho fashion without a whimper.
THE ADVANTAGE OF VERTICALITY
We old farts spend a lot of time in doctor’s offices and funeral homes. We are often lonely and miss those who have gone before. We are plagued with a variety of aches and pains, but in spite of its problems old age is not without its perks. As has been noted by many it enables one to get away with much unseemly stuff. Candor is usually tolerated and sometimes even admired, although when overdone will often be interpreted as a prelude to senility. Nevertheless, it is liberating to speak one’s mind with little concern as to the repercussions. It even allows some to write blogs with such tasteless titles as the one you are now reading. In recent years I have noted that much younger and often attractive young women may smile and speak to me during chance encounters. I was initially puzzled as to why these cute chicks were hitting on me until I looked in the mirror at which point It suddenly came to me that I must remind them of their grandfather. With that insight I now feel comfortable with and actually enjoy responding to such overtures in a grandfatherly way without fear of garnering the label of dirty old man.
SHOULDN’T EVEN BE HERE
On a recent visit, my doctor answered one of my questions with the statement: “when you get old things don’t function as well”. My response to this illuminating statement was: “no shit!!!” as this was not exactly breaking news. Personal experience made me aware of that great truth some time ago. This body we occupy is indeed an amazing piece of machinery. Mine has served me well and continues to do so in spite of my unrelenting abuse of it. It has survived all these years of constant abuse and only in recent years has rebelled. I have poisoned it with tobacco, an unhealthy diet and ignored its needs to function in the manner for which it was designed. In spite of the fact that it doesn’t function quite as well as it once did, I continue to function reasonably well, but more importantly enjoy and appreciate life perhaps more than I ever have. It is true that old age ain’t for sissys, but as has been said many times it certainly beats the alternative and I feel blessed to have joined the club.
P.S. I suspect my feminist daughter will note that I have used the male gender throughout my story, but this is only because the female experience may differ. Besides, in spite of my best efforts like Freud I have never understood women.

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Last week’s news was dominated by dueling funerals.  The lives of John Mccain and Aretha Franklin were celebrated with laughter and tears.  They both came from disparate backgrounds – McCain from a famous military family and Aretha the daughter of a minister in a black ghetto of Detroit.  They were both flawed, she twice a preteen mother who became addicted to alcohol and nicotine, and he a rebellious Annapolis midshipman who seemed to not have found a sense of purpose until suffering years of extreme torture as a prisoner of war.  Who could have predicted that these youngsters would be accorded such epitaphs?  She in an 8 hour funeral preceded by a week of celebration where she was feted as “the queen of soul” and a major civil rights activist.  Equally unlikely was that McCain would become an honored world-renowned political figure who nearly became President.

HOW DID IT HAPPEN?

Of particular interest to me was the transition of McCain from irresponsible hell raiser to one who came to be revered as a model of integrity.  His explanation was: “In prison I fell in love with my country”.  However; I suspect that it may be more accurate to say that he fell in love with his countrymen.  The bonding that occurs in situations where people must rely on others for their continued existence rivals that which we feel for our closest family members even our children.  Much military training is designed to encourage such bonding by doing everything as a group, marching, enduring hardship, suffering together and devising situations in which mutual dependency is essential to success.  Such bonds become so strong in combat situations that those who are forced to leave their buddies may actually grieve and request a return to combat.  After capture and his identification as the son and grandson of admirals McCain was subjected to extremely violent torture.  He credits the care received from his fellow POWs for saving his life, and he would continue to profess his love for them throughout his life.

THE GOOD AND THE NOT SO GOOD

It is not surprising that McCain would come to accept those codes of honor that were likely drilled into him ad nauseum as a child.  Mark Twain expressed it well with his statement:

“when I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around, but when I              got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned

  Whatever influences came to bear, the qualities of integrity, truthfulness, respect, courage, compassion, loyalty, devotion to duty, and humility were repetitively ascribed to this man by his eulogists.  These are all terms which could be listed under the term honor, a quality that finds particular emphasis in the military academies, and which undoubtedly was the standard expected of him as he grew up.   At some point in his life he seems to have adopted this code of honor which he attempted to apply to his political career.  He did not always behave in an honorable fashion as exemplified by his involvement in the Keating savings and loan scandal, and even worse his abandonment of his crippled first wife for a younger and more affluent one.

REMORSE HELPS

To his credit however McCain did assume responsibility for his actions expressed regrets for these dishonorable behaviors, and has sought to make amends.  He even berates himself for having broadcast a Vietnamese propaganda message after having undergone months of unbelievable torture.   Many (myself included) have disagreed with some of his positions, but his courage has only been questioned by one person – a guy who was rejected by his local draft board due to his bone spurs.

OK TO BE AFRAID

His idea of valor was: “Courage is not the absence of fear, but the capacity to act despite one’s fears”.  He was willing to take up any cause which he felt was righteous even those contrary to his party’s position.  To accomplish his goals, he was willing to work hand in hand with democrats as demonstrated by his co-sponsorship of the McCain Feingold act designed to limit the effects of big money on elections, or on an immigration bill with Ted Kennedy.  In both cases these guys were far to the left of McCain politically and these relationships did not endear him to the party elite.

GROW UP!

True to his ideal of never letting an opportunity go to waste the good Senator set about to arrange in minute detail his funeral and interment.  In my opinion, he did so with two goals in mind.  He had expressed a great deal of dismay about the divisiveness in our government consequently; he wished to set an example of how those with differing political leanings or party affiliations could come together and even be civil.  The seating arrangements sent a message that you should learn how to get along or at least tolerate each other rather than treat members of your opposite party as if they were fugitives from a Leper colony.  McCain must have enjoyed working out the seating arrangements.  I can imagine the chuckle as he seated Al Gore next to Dick Cheney.  I was heartened to see George Bush share a mint with Michelle Obama.  Of course, those of all political persuasions were invited, and the eulogists were likewise all former adversaries.

THE FUN PART

Yes, the hurrah for bipartisanship was an obvious theme, but I suspect the most delicious of his decisions was to publicly snub the one person who he has not forgiven.  It was made clear that President Donald Trump was not welcome to the party.  How this must have hurt the Donald for this is the person for whom the spotlight was invented, the guy who pushes other dignitaries out of the way in order to be front and center for the photograph at all those international meetings, the guy who demands not respect but adulation, who is on pace to wear out Air force one as he travels the country seeking crowds who will cheer him.  This is the guy who is never wrong consequently; does not need the word apology in his vocabulary.  It must have been humiliating for the greatest President in our history to be upstaged by a corpse.  Way to go John.

HE WILL BE MISSED 

In previous blogs I have expressed my concerns as to what I consider a lack of statesmanship in our government. Webster defines statesmanship as “wisdom and skill in the management of public affairs”.  It seems to me that we lack that wisdom in our congress.  Since McCain’s death and throughout this prolonged burial process I have heard many comments such as: “We will never see the likes of him again”.  That thought is indeed frightening to me for we already suffer from a deficit of the likes of him, and if there are to be no more we are in deep trouble.  For all his faults he was a statesman best exemplified by his oft quoted statement that “nothing is more liberating than to fight for a cause larger than yourself”.   Obviously were we to follow this motto many problems would be solved.  Unfortunately, such a strategy has no value in the case of those with narcissistic personality disorder for they are convinced there is no greater cause than themselves.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Daughter Trudy is one of my most loyal fans, but has difficulty dealing with our differing political orientations. On occasion our discussions of politics have even become a bit rancorous consequently; we have agreed to limit our conversations to apolitical topics. I have failed in spite of my best efforts to convert her to a more liberal point of view. She says I am brainwashed by CNN and MSNBC and I accuse her of being rigid (must have gotten that from her Mother). As a closely held critic, she has encouraged me to avoid political topics and stick to more pleasant subjects. She also admits to suffering Trump fatigue, a malady for which I can empathize. Nevertheless; as I expressed in a previous blog, I seem to be hopelessly addicted to this stuff, and in the tradition of addicts of all stripes feel compelled to “just do it one more time.”

Disclaimer + My View of POTUS’s Motivation
All this leads me to provide readers with the disclaimer that opinions expressed here are mine and mine alone. In my last lambaste of the President I opined that he was not unpredictable, rather that his behaviors were consistent therefore foreseeable. Today, as the coverage of his latest barrage of misdeeds at the NATO conference were covered non-stop, I heard the experts on TV question why he does and says such outrageous things as they are clearly unproductive. The only coherent speculation was that it was to please his base. I have a different idea, i.e., he may be playing to his base, but his major motivation is to please himself and what is most pleasing to him is attention.

Attention at any cost
The NATO thing was a glorious opportunity for Trump. It is hard to imagine a stage with a larger audience and he was ready to deliver a masterful performance. To be seen as predicted, front row and center, in the class photo was only exceeded by the video of him insulting the German government. I couldn’t help but wonder if he had arranged for the camera to be there for him as he kicked ass. After all, what good is it to be the toughest kid on the playground if no one knows it? I can imagine some of his more vociferous followers with comments like: “He sure put that Kraut in his place. He ain’t gonna take no shit from nobody” and other raves of adulation.

Cracks in the Trump Wing
This all seemed too much for even his ardent followers and hangers on in the Senate for in anticipation of his rant, they passed a resolution with a vote of 97 to 3 in support of NATO. To me this was the first inkling that Trumpsters in the Senate realizing the very serious consequences of alienation of our NATO allies were willing to put country ahead of domestic politics. It gave me hope that the democratic process has not been entirely subverted. The most frightening aspect of Trump’s performance is that it was carried out despite warnings as to the possible consequences by his advisors and practically everyone else. He was undeterred however and proceeded to show the world his unparalleled negotiating skills which some might deign to call bullying. Unfortunately, in this instance there were no children whom he could lock up to use as bargaining chips.

Danger Zone
If my thoughts on this matter have any validity, we are in great danger. If decisions affecting the country, and indeed the whole world, are based on the status of one man’s ego, we are already in trouble for this one’s is likely a bottomless pit. Theodore Roosevelt’s mantra was “Speak softly and carry a big stick.” Such advice is not likely to ever be heeded by our current President.