Pensamentos

2011-07-16T23:42:00.001-10:00

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july 12 final edit

2007-07-13T12:41:00.001-10:00

Half Jews and the Mid East mess.

2006-08-01T12:31:00.000-10:00

HJA Half Jews of America must chime in on what is going on in the Mid East. Perhaps we see things differently from our brothers and sisters in Israel and the surrounding areas. How can the Jews live in peace when they are surrounded by people who hate them and want them dead? I find it hard to believe that one would want to stay there. That is probably because I never had a real link to the institutions and or the rituals of Judaism, but I admire and hold very dear the traditions of scholarship and Freedom of inquery of the Jewish culture. Jews have proven that they can make the desert bloom and wastelands turn productive, this is the magic of their psyche, call it "chosen" or a dna linked genius.

I believe Jews should share their magic with the other races of the world--misceginate and maintain the high standards of intellect, reason and tolerance of all peoples without prosylitizing and hounding others to repent and etc, etc. In a discusion with anoother HJA I decided it might be a good idea to consider moving a new Israel to Florida, and or other areas where Jews would be welcomed as immigrants. As a People Jews are industrious, educated, Progressive and little inclined to criminal activities. They have some money and make altogether excellent additions to any Free society. The rise of Israel has proven the capacity of Jews to become a powerful force in all areas of national endeavor. Naturally Jews are not about to allow the same disaster to befall them again that took place in the not too recent past. It is for others to erase from their collected conscience the stigma put upon the Jews as "Christ killers", the fuzzy myth perpetrated by unscrupulous and ambitious Christians throughout the past two thousand years in the West. In the Muslim world it is hard to understand, for me, why two sons of Abraham hate each other so. I guess I'm blessed with having avoided an early indocrination into the blood drenched history of these otherworldly true-believers.

Short of the return of the Messiah, I just don't see Peace breaking out any time in the near future, most unfortunately! The Jews have proven their worth, they are at least as good as those who have hounded and persecuted them for centuries. Furthermore the contributions to human history made by this constantly harassed people is astounding and totally disproportionate to their numbers.

As for the Mid East? Maybe let em stew in it. Oil? We gotta break the habit and there's plenty in Canada and south of the border IF America stopped being the greedy imperialist interloper bully from el Norte. In short: be a truly Good Neighbor. Our Latino neighbors have been waiting for that for a long, long time.

Open to Ideas!

As the secrets of modern, ever more powerful weapons become available world wide there is no escaping the fact that Israel will forever be surrounded by hatred and in a position of perpetual defense; hardly a situation that can bring out the best in people and nations.

Observation and Memory Americano

2006-07-04T16:22:00.000-10:00

Born on July Fourth, I am stirred each year as the day to celebrate American Independence rolls around. Recently, thanks to an article by Jerry Burris of the Honolulu Advertiser, I was made aware of a Russian - Hawaiian connection in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

Following the bumps and links of the issue, I learned of a little known episode that measures the price of freedom in tumultuous times in challenging climes.

Back in 1794, in pre-Bolshevik Eastern Europe, the most dangerous people to the existing established monarchies were not bomb throwing anarchists, but intellectuals and revolutionaries enchanted and inspired by the recent events across the Atlantic in the newly independent United States of America, and more recently in France. A number of idealistic young nobles, fired up in part by the liberty-minded writings of a couple of Toms -- Paine and Jefferson, actually left their own homelands to join the struggle under George Washington. Some of these volunteers to the cause of American independence played significant roles in the outcome of the war.

Among those who came to the cause of the rebellious colonies was one Thaddeus Kosciuszko. At age twenty Kosciuszko joined with Washington and was dispatched to assist General Benedict Arnold in the battle of Saratoga which was the first real battle the Americans won against the British King's men. Kosciuszko helped in the planning and execution of the battle plan and proved essential to the victory, a victory that dispelled the notion in Europe that the Americans were no match for the British. Consequently, France entered the war on the side of the Americans and helped bring the struggle to a victorious conclussion. Kosciuszko, at twenty, was educated as an engineer and was a social visionary who dreamed of an egalitarian society where peasants and workers were equal to the master aristocrats who literally owned the life and destiny of the underclass. To the monarchies of Europe he was persona non-grata and hunted down as such.

Nevertheless, Kosciuszko returned to Byelorussia against the pleadings of Jefferson to remain in America. Kosciuszko dreamed of an independent homeland free of the oppressive yoke of the Czar in Moscow who ruled over Poland, the Baltic states, Byelorussia and the Ukraine with an iron clad fist that made King George III look like a sissy in pink panties. The oppressed united against the oppressor and in 1794 at the battle of Maciejowice, in a bloody and vicious battle, were overwhelmed by the czar's forces. In this battle Thaddeus Kosciuszko was taken prisoner and locked in a cage. The guards that accompanied the caged freedom fighter had orders to "Pee upon him all the way to St. Petersberg." Cruel and unusual? What must this noble spirit have thought while suffering this gross indignity?

Kosciuszko was released in 1796 after spending two years in prison, swearing to Czar Paul I never to return to Poland. He spent the rest of his life in France and Switzerland.

Thomas Jefferson in his correspondences wrote to Kosciuszko:

"The effusion of friendship and warmth (I hold) toward you will not time alter. Your principles and dispositions are made to be honored, revered, and loved, true to a single object: The Freedom and Happiness of Man."

The American congress, in appreciation of his struggle for American independence granted him citizenship, elevated his rank from colonel to brigadear general and gave him a 500 acre parcel of land in Ohio. He was also allotted $15,000 dollars.

......part two.......

To answer mama's question, "where did they learn such behaviour?"

Jersey DNA

Time and distance don't mean a damn thing in measuring the influence of DNA in genetics and the twists and turns of convoluted personality characteristics. Thrown partially hog-tied into the miasmatic miracle of modern technology, I too can go with the flow and found myself strangely ashore on the deja vu banks of grandpa's stompin' grounds somewhere in Byelorussia. Papa left it, but it didn't leave him, that life sustaining river in Belarus . He thought he found it on the banks of the Raritan back in 1913, but progress undermined that dream. The river was polluted and poisoned, but that's another story.

Let's say it's three thousand miles from Minsk to Jersey. You'd think the link to Minsk was severed, but not so. In this personal reflection I will try to piece it together, for as grandpa told me once in a dream: "All events and experiences that make up your life are essential parts of the puzzle that combined are you - the complete person. And everyday that doesn't kill you, improves you!"

Granted, there are some events we would rather forget, and some poor, unfortunate souls get more than their share of these. This may be fate, or DNA or pure circumstances at work upon certain personal propensities; I leave this to the metaphysicians and psychologistas to divulge. Intuition tells me that sometimes we must grab Destiny by the throat and make some demands of ourselves.

Way leads on to way and one defeated will usually seek revenge more times than not. Teen-agers are like that for sure. Teen brothers will seek dominance especially if separated in age by only a few seasons of love. Something must have been fermenting in his mind, or maybe he thought it would be fun to humiliate and upset his stronger, older brother when the younger brother hatched the ill conceived plan. And, so, when elder came home from his after-school summer job and passed under the porch overhang, the younger filled with demonic glee, executed his poorly thought through plan and pissed upon his older brother's head.

The porch was crowded with the neighborhood extended family and all who saw this event were shocked into a pregnant silence which quickly burst forth into debilitating laughter. In the micro minute it took youger to zip up and recover from his most brief celebration, he was doomed. His aim in part was to see the effect of the "golden shower" on his fraternal adversary, but by the time he was reconstituted enough to make his escape, his victim was up the steps, somewhat dampened by the shower, but with a certain fire glowing in his eyes. Younger vaulted the back bannister, but weakened by laughter, could not cross the neighbor's garage roof quickly enough for elder was bursting with adrenolin and was upon his younger sibling as a cat sets upon a wounded sparrow. Younger slid down the back fence, but elder jumped the eight feet to the ground and was only an arm's length away from his quarry when they met. Besides being older and stronger, elder brother was also a bit faster and in the ensuing brief chase, succeeded in snaring his victim, and determined to resurrect his wounded pride and prestige to the hooting audience above, an audience whose uproar had drawn others on the ground - curiosity seekers to the gathering - a double tiered event was unfolding.

Among those alerted to this sundown summer drama was Mama who usually came out to the porch only when the noise level signaled that something extraordinary was transpiring. This was one such. Meanwhile the elder had dragged his younger brother across the yard to a spot in the garden central to the clear view of all. Revenge is sweet some say, in this case revenge was also wet and yellow, for elder had laid numerous blows upon his writhing younger brother, and being equipped with a full bladder for the occasion proceeded to repay pee for pee, pissing heartilly upon the instigator of the affair trapped and securely pinned beneath the knees of the conquerer. Before his bladder was completely emptied, Mama, wielding the wooden end of the garden rake was into the fray shouting in Polish, in Yiddish, in Russian and English. She landed several blows upon the back of elder, enough to dislodge her trapped younger son, who, half laughing, half crying slithered out from under, righted himself and dashed out to the street and disappeared.

The older brother was usually less inclined to laughter, but in this instance of triumph, he felt a smile was in order and it radiated as he acknowledged the cautiously joyous extended family bursting to mimic and mock as soon as it was safe to do so. Mama, whom nothing surprised anymore, was doubly dismayed, first by the utter shamelessness of two of her nine children, and perhaps equally distraught by the shambles made of her tomato patch and delicately groomed rose bushes. Inside, later, I heard Mama lament aloud while cooking supper, where did they learn such behaviour?

Well, I think I found an answer for Mama these 56 years later, thanks to the world-wide web: It's in the DNA, historically linked.

Paul Robeson

2006-04-07T01:00:00.000-10:00

If they had only listened
followed the artist
for a change...

A giant of a man
a leader among men
A visionary and a dreamer
A realist
with a mighty shoulder to the wheel
Making to roll
that mighty wheel of Progress
through the muddy potholed path
of public policy
and foreign policy
turning the wheel of progress
ten cycles of progress
equals one notch of the Revolution
How many Revolutions
move the wheeled gear of Evolution?

Shouldere tot the wheeled
tote that barge
lift that bale
working man's blues
Ya gits a little drunk
and ya lands in jail.

If they had only followed mighty Paul Robeson
Let him alone to sing his song
carry out his destiny
America's righteous message to the world
Champion of Universal Brotherhood
and Sisterhood
Racism would be in the dung heap of history
its rightful place
on the shelf of past sins.
In serious self examination
America must ask of its own conscience
Why?
Why smother the great voice
that foreign lands
friend and foe alike
clammor to hear
and rejoice that such a voice
such a vision
should appear from any place at all
at such a time
after the most fierce and destructive conflagration
in all human history.
Such a vision is a gift
a gift to all mankind.
A way out of the man made monster
of cold wars and hot wars
and ignorance.

The son of the preacher knew
of what he spoke and sang

Finally they broke him down
and he died
after one helluva fight
for a future worthy of his dream for America,
and we are here today
his face on a postage stamp
and his dream in the heart
of all who struggle for
Liberty
and Justice
for All.

Happy Birthday to Paul Robeson
a Hero's Hero.

Joisey Dreamin'

2006-03-24T02:20:00.000-10:00

a son of a czaravitch
and heir to the vast empire
I sitting in the dark and cold coal shed
on a nasty and bitter February Jersey morning.
Other worldly me
while from above
the hustle and humbug
preparations for school
preparations for work
preparations for to heat the red brick run-down.
And i escaping into some murky fantasy
whose history gave barely a clue
just enough
to hang a flimsy dream of self importance on.

If I was a potential czar
what then of my other eight siblings?
Were they contenders to the throne?
or mere pretenders
like the rebelious peasant Pugachev
two hundred years prior?
Pugachevsâ€”pretenders to the throne
wannabees
I took some pleasure seated in the coal bin
fantasizing,
hallucinating their inferior position
as I sat above them
bejewelled
on my annointed throne
they'd mince about trying to impress
to win my favor
in competition with each other
like we competed daily in cold times
for the coveted warmest spot in the house
snuggled between the hot water heater
and the wood burning stove
fisticuffs were known to be thrown
for that niche of warmth

I sat and dreamed my dreams of nobility
under the house in the woodshed
where shiney black lumps of coal lay inert
holding within their house warming magic
It was another cold morning
and I was rudely awakened
by the angry voice of impatience
gravelled and authoritative:
â€œTommy, what in hell you doin down there?
You best get that bucket a coal up here
before I kick your lazy ass.

It was good to feel needed
part of the team
so to speak.

Early Jersey circa 1947

2003-06-21T00:01:00.000-10:00

Slaghatta's was poppin'
and papa was there
almost always the only white guy at the bar
surrounded by faces that built his adopted land
black faces.

Faces covered in sweat after the shovel
and after the pick are put to rest for the night
the night filled with shining faces
sometimes tired and dusty
sometimes shining and washed and oiled
workers' faces
hustlers' faces
eyes aglow with anticipation

The hustler's smile dances in the dark
quickest of wit
sharp as a tack
esquired patent leather pointed toe afoot
you aint shit if your shoes aint shined
feathered boller atop
nifty, slick, theatrical flair
swashbuckling fast feet
on the corner
overflow from the bar room
where papa sat
white russian in the jersey jungle.

Simple would've noticed him
Who's the white dude?
that's wally the russian
did you see the game
Yeah, good game, huh
what's he about
Oh, he's alright, he's a immigrant
Campy came through in the ninth
Yes indeed, but Jackie's still the buster
Buster and the hustler
stole another one today
So you all slickt up
Goin to Harlem?
Hell no, Harlem don't need me no way
there's a party and a game
just around the corner at Loretta's
Thought they closed her down
but she opened right back up again
You feedin' on these country negroes again?
they lay their money down they fishin
my business is to get fish if they be fishin
Most of these folks know nothing about ponies,,,
but they lay down the wager
they wager with their wages
wages needed to feed...
that aint none a mine business
if they're fish, i'm fishin

shame on you man, slick as you are
Hey if they get lucky
I pay off
It aint right, most of these folks
still covered in georgia dust and mississippi mud
don't know a thing...
yeah, but they learns fast
some ov'em too damned fast
what you teachin'
same ol 'sentials
dress nice, pay yo bills
keep an eye out for the man
always
always.

On the corner after the game
tv blaring from inside the dark bar
the street erupted
the overflow crowd let loose howls of jubilation
back slapping guffaws heard miles away in Brooklyn
Robinson stole home
and the Doddgers beat the Giants
Flash fire of joy
I was snatched off my feet
on my way to the store to get the day's number
passed about lilke some trophy
hand to hand
secure above the swirling black faces
little white boy getting an education
learning about America

Someone's got a hand in this.

Father's Day Thoughts

2003-06-04T01:20:00.000-10:00

Pop was part of it
The American Dream
His victory was far greater than he appreciated
in the lonely evenings
in the bar down the corner,
any corner in the neighborhood.

That's where the dream played out
for Vasili Andreivich
on the banks of the Old Raritan
first totally polluted major river in the USA,
son of a wannabe aristocrat
from Minsk
Which rhymes with Pinsk
also in Minsk.

In Russia he was something of a Jolly Wally
in translation
He claimed he was Vasili
or Sweet Basil
as I dutifully reminisce
America called him Wally
So did Mom.

Papa was twenty nine when he married Mama
she was twenty six
He spent nineteen years as a single White Russian
with some command of English
and powerful smart
with a hammer, a ruler and a saw.
His America was alive with young imigrants
from a Europe bleeding from Revolution
and the Great War;
Torn Loyalties in a new and often hostile America
If they thought you weren't acting
American enough
they'd Palmer you up and send you back
across the sea
to fight and die for a rotted corpse of a system.

So they hid in outhouses and herring sheds
these young immigrants with dreams
in America.

It was her blue eyes
Papa told me one melancholy day;
and I saw his face glow
and his eyes glimmer and shine
as when their love was the grand elixir,
Mama nodded in agreement
A slight blush radiating
but mostly she just kept on washin'
and scrubbin' cookin an' lookin'
after her little clutch a nine.

'Course Mama had to get thrown out
of the Jews' club
when she up and married Papa
a Russian and a gambler of sorts
But Papa Wally, as he liked to be called,
planted that seed
from whence grew the idea in America
that life could be
should be
'spozed to be
Good, Sweet
enjoyable
in America.

So Happy Father's Day to Vasili
Papa Wally
and to all of you out there
that ever had or have now
a Father
As a Father I give to you a thought
passed on to me:
What kind of a world are we leaving our children?
It's a simple and reasonable question.
Papa
for all his shortcomings
taught me that.